Keith instinctively moved closer, spoke even more softly. “The commodore has told just about everybody in the wardroom that Lichtmann is sabotaging the plant on the sly. No explanation how he knows. He says it’s obvious, and that Lichtmann’s name is even German. He says if anyone catches Lichtmann fooling around with the plant, he should shoot him on the spot! It’s got so that beginning last night we set up a watch list of officers to stick with Blunt all the time. Larry relieved Buck, just now, so that all three of us could talk to you about it.”
“Nobody in the crew has heard of this yet, Skipper,” said Al, “but they know something peculiar is in the wind. There’s nobody sabotaging the hydraulic gear — that’s just the commodore’s idea. We think we know where the problem is, and we think we’re closing in on it. But nobody can work looking over his shoulder all the time for fear somebody will come along and shoot you!” Dugan was breathing deeply. He was obviously under heavy stress.
Richardson felt himself treading the edge of an abyss. Its depth could not be known, but the boundaries were clear, the paths that led to disaster well marked. If Eel’s crew were to learn of the concerns just stated, the effect would be instant. In the taut confines of a submarine on war patrol, the one all-encompassing fact, from which all others automatically flowed, was the total interdependence of all its parts, human or mechanical. The unreliability of the hydraulic system had already taken its toll in terms of effectiveness and confidence. If to this must now be added the dreadful fear of hidden disloyalty, it would be like a cancer, eating at the heart of morale. Thenceforth, no member of the crew could go about his duties in the certain knowledge, so imperative in their exposed condition, of complete support. What lookout did not already harbor the secret fear of being late to the hatch, of a miscount of persons through it, of finding it shut in his face with the boat diving? What maneuvering room electrician, receiving a signal for emergency speed, did not fear the circumstance which had caused it? What member of the crew, officer or enlisted man, upon hearing the call for battle stations did not feel a clutch of apprehension lest the enemy, this one time at last, be able to overwhelm their own best efforts?
Again, it was only their confidence in themselves and in each other, and each in all the others, that enabled this ever-present fear to be set aside. What, then, if the very basis of the tenuous fabric of cohesiveness were ripped asunder? Even if there were demonstrably no truth in the accusation against a crew member, what would be the effect of its having been voiced?
Richardson could feel himself shriveling inside as he contemplated the certain ruin that would result. No matter how carefully the thing was handled, it would be a disaster. Lichtmann might or might not have been able to create a secure position for himself during his short time with his new shipmates, but there was no way he could remain unaffected if the suspicion were to become known. Richardson must, somehow, at all costs, prevent the situation from progressing further. Certainly he must get Blunt to explain the source of his suspicions and, if possible, allay them.
The greatest danger lay in the crew’s becoming aware of what it was their officers were discussing so earnestly. Keith’s action in ensuring that someone was with Blunt at all times had been the right move, but even this might become too obvious if continued much longer. Richardson would have to rescind the order soon, before either the crew or Blunt became aware of it. Perhaps he could take the surveillance duty himself — and then he realized he had already been doing so, up until the time of his enforced absence.
But he was undetermined, irresolute. What could he do? If the situation had continued to retrogress during his absence to the point now described, what could anyone do? Buck Williams was obviously waiting for a chance to say something. He might have some clue, suggest a direction in which movement was not yet foreclosed. “What do you think, Buck?”
“I’m out of it pretty much,” said Buck Williams. “All the commodore thinks and talks about is the hydraulic system, and that’s not in my department. But I sure do agree that there’s something wrong with him. He doesn’t sleep. Sits around most of the time in the wardroom smoking his pipe. Then, when he does start wandering around, we all wish he’d go back and be quiet again. I think if he could only get some sleep and relax a little bit, he’d be a lot better off. I know we’d all be.”
The comment triggered a thought in Richardson’s mind. “Keith,” he said, “who succeeded to command during my absence?”
Keith looked uncomfortable. “Well, he said he would, because he was senior officer present. But then he didn’t do anything. At first I tried to carry on as I had for you, but he wouldn’t make any decisions, except to turn us down on everything. So finally I just had to go and take care of things myself without telling him.”
“What Keith’s saying is not exactly true, Skipper,” said Buck, interrupting. “All of us told Keith that he just had to take over. Things were going to hell fast. It was a pretty serious situation down there on the bottom, and with you and Oregon gone. Our morale was already about zero. The commodore was no good at all, sir. Besides, I don’t think he even could qualify in this submarine if he took a test right now. Lots of the orders he gave we couldn’t carry out because they didn’t apply to this ship.”
“That’s right, Skipper,” said Dugan, “we just said ‘Aye aye, sir,’ to him, but then we’d ask Keith. He was the real skipper while you were gone.”
“All right, fellows,” said Rich, “I promised you I’d take care of him, and I will.” But it was an empty promise. He had no plan, no notion of how to begin or what to do. He was still covered with bandages and liniment. His mind was barely functioning. He was perilously close to admitting his inadequacy when the man on telephone watch in the compartment interrupted him.
“Captain,” he said, “there’s an op-immediate coming in for us in the radio room.”
When decoded, the message said:
INDICATIONS ARE THAT ALL YELLOW SEA TRAFFIC IS MOVING CLOSE INSHORE X MANY SMALL TO MEDIUM SIZE CARGO SHIPS CONVOYED INSHORE OF ISLANDS ON WEST COAST OF KOREA X TRAFFIC ALONG CHINESE COAST MOVING INSIDE TEN FATHOM CURVE X SPECIAL FOR BLUNTS BRUISERS X GO GET EM BOYS
-7-
“Commodore,” said Richardson, “this message is a directive to get in as close to the coast of Korea, and maybe China too, as we can. This large-scale map of the area”—he tapped for emphasis a chart laid out on the wardroom table—“is an official Japanese Navy chart that we grabbed from that patrol boat. As you can see, there’s a chain of small islands varying from five to ten miles off the west coast of Korea. We checked out the depth markings — it was simple; they’re just in meters. There’s at least two hundred feet of water all around them, all the way up to the mainland of Korea. That’s almost as deep as it is anywhere in this area. The combined submarine track chart shows that most of our submarines have concentrated on the middle of the Yellow Sea. Once the Japs realized this, it made sense to stay close in to shore whenever they could. They probably do that whether or not they think there might be a submarine somewhere around, for the little they might save by heading straight across the Yellow Sea is nothing compared to the losses they would take if just one aggressive submarine got loose in a medium-sized convoy.”