There was a plaintive note in Jim's voice. 'That's what I want, too, but I'll never get it with you.
'That's exactly where you're wrong, Jim. There's a lot more to submarining than running a boat up and down the Thames River. The future of the submarine force is in boats like the Walrus, not in old antiquated ones like this one.'
'But don't you see? I don't want to go with you. I want to stay where I can do some good. Where people respect me.'
'What can you do here that you can't in a fleet sub?'
'I might be able to take over one of the school boats, if I can get with a skipper who'll recommend me.'
'What about the war. Don't you propose to get in that?'
Jim looked away. His voice was strained, as though it might he a struggle for him to speak.
'I'm looking out for Number One, from here on. Nobody else will, not you! To bell with the Walrus and to hell with the war, too!'
I couldn't tell Jim of my conversation of a few weeks ago with Captain Blunt, but there was another way. Heretofore I had used the friendly approach, had stood for his silence and sullen bad temper. Maybe this was the time to change, though it would give Jim cause to hate me all the more. I stood up from the wardroom table in S- 16, picked up his neatly typed request, and held it in my hand. I made my voice emotionless.
'Listen, Bledsoe, what you've just said is disloyal and disrespectful. The Bureau of Naval Personnel has ordered this whole ship's company to the Walrus. That was your chance to register an objection, but you didn't. I was asked if I wanted you for my Exec, and I said I did. You have already received official orders to that effect. It's too late to change your mind now. Furthermore, I've stood for your bad temper long enough. It's time you stopped acting like a spoiled child. If you deserve command, you'll get it.'
Navy regulations specifically forbade my doing so, but as I finished I ripped the paper in half twice and threw it back on the table. Jim had half-opened his mouth to speak, closed it uncertainly as I tore up his request. For a moment he stood, irresolute, and then, muttering something under his breath, he turned and stalked away.
Jim knew the regulations as well as I did but the bluff worked nevertheless. There grew a new wariness about him and we concentrated on our job: organizing Walrus. There was a lot to do, and the burden, of course, fell primarily on Jim. We ate, slept, and breathed the Walrus. We lived in a little world of our own, sometimes not even recognizing the fact that other submarines, some more nearly completed than Walrus and others not so far along, also were going through the same processes alongside us.
And then one day I realized that Jim's sulkiness had been gone for some time. He was not the same as before, of course, and there was this new contemplative awareness. He did his job as usual, organizing not only the official watch sections and administering responsibilities of the ship but also the extracurricular activities such as baseball teams, bowling leagues, and the like. It was not a complete about-face, but distinctly an improvement. At times I thought he might have finally understood. They were followed by moments when it seemed more probable that he was only submerging what feelings he might have, perhaps awaiting more appropriate expression. Whatever it was, I was too grateful for the improvement in our relations to want to question it even had I been able to do so.
And I realized another thing, too. When I finally saw Laura, there was no longer the warm friendliness I had once felt so strongly. We got up a ship's party as a parting gesture for the S-16. It was almost a command performance for all of us, enlisted and officers, to attend. I wondered whether Jim would bring Laura, and when he was late, for a few uneasy moments it looked as though he might have decided to ignore the party after all.
When the door to our hall opened and he and Laura stood there, I had the sudden feeling of cold ice on my backbone.
She was as beautiful as ever, and they made a pleasing picture as Jim, with a solicitous, possessive air, led her through the crowd to the table set aside for us.
'Here comes Mr. Bledsoe!' Kohler spoke in a loud, carry- ing voice. 'Now the party can begin!' Jim turned and waved to him, then acknowledged with a grin Larto's violently gesticulated, white-toothed greeting.
Somebody let out a low-pitched whistle from the middle of the crowd, and the irrepressible Russo stood up on a chair to get a better look. 'When you going to let me bake you that cake, Mr Bledsoe?' he yelled at him. Jim grinned and shook his head slightly.
Laura's cheeks were flushed and her eyes were dancing as she sat down. She nodded hello to Tom and Cynthia Schultz, greeted Keith warmly, and tossed me a curt, cool hello.
Throughout the evening she avoided my glance, applied her- self assiduously to gay repartee with the other members of our party, answered my attempts at conversation in monosyllables. I couldn't avoid asking her to dance, and it was as I had feared, like holding a faultless dummy in my arms. Jim claimed her as soon as he decently could.
The party, as far as I was concerned, was a flop. I had expected some such reaction from Laura, especially after realizing the store she and Jim had set by Jim's qualification for submarine command. Someday, perhaps, after Jim had become a skipper, she might understand why I had had to do it. But it was hopeless to try to explain. The hurt was deep, and I had to let it go in silence.
The Poles stayed in New London for several weeks after we turned S-16 over to them and then one day, as I was sit- ting in our second-floor office poring over Walrus' fire-control setup, I saw her beading downriver on her final departure from New London. The Blyskawica, or Blinks-a-Wink as we called her, was low in the water and down by the stern, loaded with fuel in her after main ballast tank for the long voyage.
She looked tiny and bold and a little forlorn, standing bravely down the Thames River with the white ensign of Poland fluttering from her flagstaff. Her crew was at quarters on deck as she passed under the bridges, and as she came by the dock where the Walrus lay I saw them stiffen to attention. The notes of a bugle wafted across the muddy waters of the river.
I had not known the Poles carried a bugler and I don't think anyone else saw her, but I stood up and returned the salute, bare-headed and indoors at that, feeling all choked up inside and just a little ashamed at the sentimental feelings suddenly evoked. I knew I would never see her again.
Walrus was half again as long as S-16, and she was at twice as much submarine. She had four huge diesel engines of the latest type, the same as in our latest diesel railroad tractors, in two engine compartments. There were ten torpedo tubes-six in the bow and four in the stern-and of course two torpedo rooms. Her battery was more than twice as large as S-16's, also located in two compartments, one just forward and the other just aft of the control room. Her control room was commodious compared with that of the S-16, and crammed with new equipment. Best of all was the conning tower, consisting of an eight-foot-diameter horizontal cylinder above the control room, — in Walrus a real fire-control station, from which the periscopes could be operated, the ship maneuvered, and torpedoes fired.
In the after end of the conning tower, curved to fit against its shell, was installed the computing machine by which we would solve for enemy course and speed and automatically send the proper torpedo gyro angles to the torpedoes. Its official, designation was 'Torpedo Data Computer,' and it was known by its initials as the TDC. I had become acquainted with an earlier version of it in the Octopus and therefore, fortunately, had some understanding of how it could be used.
The whole ship, for that matter, reminded me greatly of an improved Octopus, and I was soon grateful for my three years service in that vessel.
We had only a short time, two months, to get the Walrus ready to go to sea, and only four weeks after that to prepare for our voyage to the war. The emergency of the war had affected the shipyard workers, planners, and supervisors alike; they did their jobs with certitude and speed as though every welding bead they ran, every bolt they tightened down, were a personal attack on the enemy. We had our hands full keeping up with them, so that we would be ready for our new ship when it was delivered to us. All the new boats at Electric Boat had the same problem.
Most of the crew of S-16 had volunteered to come along to the Walrus. Kohler, Chief of the Boat and now additionally in charge of two torpedo rooms instead of only one, was in his element. He had long envied the fortunate submariners serving in the new 'gold-platers,' as he termed the fleet boats, and his pleasure in ours was good to behold. Larto, First Class Electrician's Mate in S-16, was notified of his appointment to Chief at the same time he was assigned to the electrical control station or 'Maneuvering room' of Walrus. Quin happily took charge of a 'really commodious'-as he termed it, little office all his own about four feet by three feet by five and a half feet high. It was, indeed, much bigger than the part-time corner he had been assigned before. Rubinoffski took over the
