Yet, how could you figure out a girl like Joan? Their lovemaking had been swift, fierce, and unrestrained, each seeking something for himself, or herself, at the same time as each gave to the other with the most unselfish and vulnerable completeness. Once, when both were for the moment sated, she murmured that she had planned how they would finish the evening from the instant she had seen him. He was different from the others, she said (astounding how frank she was!), for while they also had the drive of the war and of the risks and the fighting, none had so clearly, so plainly, needed that little thing she could do for them. Rich had never thought of a girl in quite this way. Joan was totally feminine, totally desirable. A very private person, yet completely honest about herself. In her own very womanly way, she was as aggressive as any man, but unfeminine she clearly was not; completely the opposite. Promiscuous, his instincts flatly denied. Free, most certainly; but his every apperception told him the freedom was hers, not that of others. Many men would campaign for her and fail — and some would salve their egos by groundless leers and innuendos.
A woman like Joan, despite her natural privacy, would generate gossip from disappointed men and jealous women alike. But to know Joan was to realize that those who had been allowed to feel the real abandon of which she was capable would not be the kind who would lend themselves to gossip. While Jim was drunk, Rich remembered, he had once — and that was the only time — nearly alluded to his relationship with her. But the inferences had all been Richardson’s. Jim had actually said nothing, had never actually mentioned her, had only scourged himself for some unstated failure regarding Laura.
Rich had a warm feeling at the thought that at first sight Joan had trusted him. Blunt’s extraordinarily crude comment, when he expressed surprise at Rich’s “success” his first night ashore, had been far more right than he would ever appreciate. Then Rich remembered that Jim had (her own words) spoken highly of him.
Oddly, the inner glow remained. Perhaps both he and Joan were brutalized by the war. He had killed Nakame in defiance of the still honored code of the sea, which prescribed forbearance for men in lifeboats. He had also violated the code which his father, the preacher, had so thoroughly inculcated. It should be degrading to think of himself as only one among many in Joan’s life, but in a seldom visited corner of his soul he felt cleansed of something. Somehow, the thought that Joan was not and perhaps never could be for him alone made no difference. It made no difference at all.
He would have to be grateful for her favor, to be one of those she admitted to her private inner circle. He could not hope to be the only man to be with her. Certainly, she would not sit alone while Eel was at sea! But she had done a lot for him, could do a lot more. After last night, he had hopes that he might also be able to do a little for her.
The rest of the trip was in silence, for which Rich was at first grateful and, gradually, a little concerned. Perhaps Blunt had been hurt, perhaps angered. Perhaps it had all been a game. It would not be the first time Blunt had acted a part to get someone’s goat. That must, on second thought, be the explanation! Almost, Richardson convinced himself; but in the back of his mind there lingered something unsatisfied, something unexplained. Probably it would eventually go away. The strain of the just-finished patrol must have made him overquick to react.
The realities of the night before receded more and more as the gate to the navy compound at Pearl Harbor approached. In their place, the harder realities to be faced during the day — the war and the submarines — once again reasserted their predominance over Richardson’s thoughts.
The chief of staff, no doubt, had a desk covered with papers and messages accumulated during the night watch.
For his own part, Richardson wanted to read the daily file of dispatches from submarines on patrol which was maintained in a room off the Operations Office. He needed to see Eel’s refit started; and he wanted to investigate any new devices or technical improvements which might be applied during the two-week repair period. Particularly, he resolved, he must look into that new radar periscope.
By the time Blunt stopped the jeep at the head of the pier where Eel now lay — she had been moved late the previous afternoon — the old relationship seemed almost restored. “Rich,” said Blunt as they shook hands, “will you come to my office about 10 o’clock? There’s some things we should talk over.” With relief Rich promised, saluted, walked down the pier and across the narrow working gangplank to his ship.
Already, much work was going forward. The shattered Target Bearing Transmitter on the bridge, he noted, had been removed during the night. This was a vitally important instrument. Consisting of a specially waterproofed (and pressure-proofed) pair of binoculars, mounted permanently in what amounted to a set of gimbals so that they could be trained on any bearing, it very accurately sent this information to a set of dials near the Torpedo Data Computer in the conning tower. Thus the “TBT” permitted torpedoes to be aimed from the bridge as accurately as the periscope could aim them when the submarine was submerged.
Walrus had a much smaller and less accurate TBT in which the OOD’s own binoculars had to be fitted into a bracket to send the bearings to the conning tower. The new design, bulkier but much more precise, also had the convenience of a built-in buzzer — to give the “mark”—in one handle. Being solidly attached to the ship’s structure, it additionally gave physical support to the man using it in bad weather — a matter for which Rich had been most grateful a few weeks ago. Tateo Nakame had destroyed Eel’s forward TBT (there was one forward and one aft, necessitated by the periscope supports which obscured all-around view). It was good to see that its replacement had high priority.
Among the items Richardson had requested in his refit book, submitted on arrival, was installation of an additional five-inch gun on the main deck forward to match the one Eel already had aft. To go with it, Buck Williams had suggested a rudimentary fire control system, making it possible to use the TDC for coordinated control of both guns from the bridge during gun action. An aiming system could easily be devised if the submarine base could be persuaded to mount the two TBTs side by side, port and starboard, instead of fore and aft.
But moving the TBTs would be quite a job, involving moving electrical connections and making structural changes to the heavy steel plating of the bridge bulwarks. Rich could show the desirability of the new system, but strong arguments would be needed to get the submarine base to alter the standard arrangement. It would require his personal and primary attention.
There would be a conference later on today, at which Keith and the other officers would all be present, to review and plan the refit work. Most critical of the repairs was the matter of the ship’s hydraulic system. During the latter stages of the previous patrol the frequency of its recharging cycle had nearly doubled. This presaged trouble; a thorough overhaul was mandatory. Eel had many more hydraulic devices than the old Walrus. Her torpedo tube doors were hydraulically operated, for example, and her periscope hoist mechanisms had long, thin hydraulic hoist rods in place of Walrus’ electric motors and wire hoist cables.