“Just get me the electric meter.” He shoved the cards into Fromley’s hands. “You just check off the list while I do the work, make the right log entries, and I’ll tell you if we should skip anything that doesn’t make sense.”
“What did I do wrong?” Fromley whined. “I ain’t done nothing wrong.”
“Did I say you did anything wrong, asshole? Did I? Did I?”
“No, but you sounded—”
“Sounded what? Pissed off?” Potts asked with a growl. “Damn straight, I’m pissed off.”
“But I didn’t do anything.”
What a stupid person. “Listen, From, just because I’m pissed off doesn’t mean it’s you. Okay?”
Fromley smiled. “Good. You know, Tommy, I can do the checks, if you want.”
“Yeah, and you can blow us to kingdom come. Just get me the voltmeter and let’s get started. The sooner we start, the sooner we finish.”
EIGHT
Arms crossed, Shipley leaned against the starboard bulkhead of the conning tower, watching Logan and his two communications technicians trying to rig the camera to the search periscope for the third time.
The conning tower was the highest compartment in the Squallfish. It was in this eight-foot-diameter, fourteen-foot-long cylindrical compartment where the hatch above was the only thing keeping the ocean now covering the bridge area from drowning everyone in the boat. It was here skippers fought their submarines. Two periscopes protruded from the deck. The one Lieutenant Logan and his gang of two were working on was the search periscope.
“Skipper!” Arneau’s head emerged from the hatch leading down to the control room. The XO’s eyebrows wrinkled in puzzlement as he caught sight of the intelligence team around the search scope. Then he crawled into the conning tower.
“How’s it going?” he asked quietly.
Shipley took a sip of his coffee. “Don’t know. Lieutenant Logan had asked us for the attack periscope, but when we discussed what he was trying to do, I figured the search periscope was better. Wider optics than the attack periscope.”
“Don’t think it’ll mess up the radar on it, will it?” Arneau asked softly.
Shipley’s face creased for a moment as he considered the question. “I don’t see how,” he whispered, shaking his head. “The contraption they seem to be having problems getting secured to the eyepiece is down here. I think the controls beneath the eyepiece are complicating their effort.”
Lieutenant Logan took a couple of steps to where Shipley and Arneau stood. “Yes, sir, Captain; you are right. We are having a challenge securing the camera to the eyepiece. According to Petty Officer Brooks, who worked with Naval Sea Systems Command in developing the connections, this is a different periscope.”
“Well, Squallfish is a World War II-era submarine, Jeffrey,” Arneau offered. “I think there are only a few subs left in service who use the—”
Logan interrupted, “Yes, sir; I know. We worked on the Koll-morgan attack periscope, which was similar to this one.” He scratched his head.
“Then maybe the camera won’t work on the search scope?”
“Aye, Captain,” he answered. Logan reached up and zipped his foul-weather jacket up to his chin. “Cold down here,” he said.
“When we’re on battery power, we have limited spare power to provide a lot of heat to the boat.” Shipley looked at the thermometer. “It’s thirty-five degrees. This is a heat wave in comparison to what it’ll be if we have to go farther north.”
Logan nodded, as if he understood why diesel boats were perpetually cold. He pointed at the camera, now sitting on the deck. “There is the possibility we may have to go back to the attack periscope and see if we can mount it there.”
“What if we have to fight our way out, Lieutenant?”
“It disconnects quickly, Captain.”
Shipley looked at Arneau as he gave thought to the idea of taking away his attack periscope even if it could be returned quickly. But their mission wasn’t to fight the Soviets, just find out what they were doing and sneak away with the current without them being aware the American dogs were anywhere in the vicinity. If he had to fire torpedoes, then he had better be willing to risk a wider war.
He let out a deep breath. “Then, give the attack periscope a try, Lieutenant Logan, but if I need the scope and it doesn’t come off quickly, I will rip the contraption down and toss it in the corner. I am uncomfortable with tying up either of the scopes, but the attack scope is what makes this submarine a war-fighting boat.” Logan looked at the two sailors who had been watching, and he nodded.
“How do you know you are taking the photographs you need?” Arneau asked.
“Sir, we can focus the camera by looking through the lens. Might take some tweaking to coordinate the camera lens and the periscope lens, but we should be able to do it.”
“About damn time,” the one with the name “Cross” stenciled on his dungaree shirt mumbled. “Christly twits.”
“What did he say?” Arneau asked Logan, uncrossing his arms and straightening.
Logan shook his head. “He’s referring to the engineers at NAVSEA.” The intelligence officer smiled. “Petty Officer Cross has been enlightening us to his experiences of working with government and contractor engineers.” Logan spoke loud enough for the two sailors to hear. “He believes engineers never complete a project. They always find much, more, better things to improve, so unless you jerk it away from them, it’ll never be done.”
Shipley nodded with a smile. Quick on your feet, Lieutenant; but taking care of the troops can be a double-edged burden. “You’re pretty quick, Lieutenant.”
“That’s why I’m in intelligence,” Logan said with a twinkle in his eyes.
“And why do you think we’re in submarines?” Arneau asked, crossing his arms.
A couple of seconds passed. “Because, XO, you are brave, selfless warriors willing to put personal comfort and families aside for the sake of our nation, or—”
Shipley grinned and looked at Arneau. “He is quick.” Arneau’s face reddened slightly. “Too smooth, methinks,” he replied, trying to make light of it. He motioned at Logan. “Go ahead, finish the sentence. ‘Or’. . what?”
“Or you love the cold.”
The sound of hydraulics raising the attack periscope drew their attention.
Shipley pointed at the search periscope and nodded at Lieutenant Junior Grade Olsson. With a finger he made a downward motion.
“Lower the search periscope,” Olsson said.
Chief Topnotch stepped over to the search periscope, shoved the handles up, and said, “Down search periscope.”
The light noise of the hydraulics increased slightly, emanating from inside the periscopes where hydraulic cylinders above the conning tower worked to lower one periscope while raising the other.
Lieutenant Logan used the opportunity to move the few steps back to his men. The small size of the conning tower meant everyone rubbed against each other, as only inches separated them, but here was where the submarine was fought. You could still fire torpedoes without a conning tower, but you had no idea where they were going, much less if they hit anything unfriendly. Nope. No conning tower, no effective submarine, and most likely the boat would be heading down to the ocean depths — a tomb for all on board.
Shipley finished his coffee. From what he was seeing, the two sailors were having no more success with the other periscope than they had with the search one. Be something if the Navy sent the Squallfish all the way into the Soviet backyard to collect intelligence on them only to discover the intelligence shit didn’t work. He smiled.