Below

This is almost a day behind us.

Well, who are they?

Americans? Brits? Italians?

It doesn't even say.

Well, I think we can assume they're friendly, Mr. Loomis.

Besides, it doesn't appear to be a suggestion, does it?

What the hell?

Might get a Silver Star out of this patrol yet.

Just have Coors plot it out.

Gunners mate standing by, sir.

Stow the weapons. They're British.

- You can tell that from here? - It's the sail.

The krauts use white on their lifeboats. The Brits use red.

Don't they teach you that in OCS, ensign?

Afraid not, but I can recite the submariners' motto in Latin.

Radar contact... starboard beam, seven miles out, sir.

God damn it!

What if they see us?

Well, they're pouring on the coal for somebody.

All ahead... emergency. Rudder to midship.

Crew to battle stations.

All ahead... emergency. Rudder to midship.

All crew to battle stations.

All right, do this at flank speed!

I want you to grab what's breathing on that boat

and you leave everything else behind!

Stand by to board survivors.

I got him! I got him!

Wounded coming down.

Next man, let's go.

Come on!

There's a warship approaching, guys.

Let's move! Move! Introductions later!

Ow! Ow! I'm going, okay?!

Next man. Next m...

What have we here?

Let's pull the plug.

Periscope depth.

Periscope depth, make your depth 65 feet.

Make depth 6-5 feet.

Bleed air in the boat.

Bleed air in the boat.

All hatches indicate closed.

All vents indicate open.

Pressure in the boat.

Pressure in the boat.

It's a two-stacker...

about 3,000 tons.

It's not a friendly.

Possible Z-class.

If it is, rear recs, no side throwers,

four 5-inch guns, grapple hooks.

Fast screws, Mr. Brice.

30 knots or better.

2-5-0 feet.

Make it 2-5-0 feet.

2-5-0 feet. - Hard left rudder.

Hard left rudder.

Live to fight another day.

Smart move.

Three survivors... Brits... and get this...

one's a woman.

Three Brits... one's a skirt.

Three limeys... one's a female.

Hey.

Three Brits... one female.

Guys, listen up.

We've got three survivors... all Brits.

One's a woman, eh?

Hey, look lively. Woman onboard.

Hey, Hoag, spread the news... three tea bags,

and I hear one's, uh, bazooma.

We got ourselves a filly?

Ohh!

Sweet holy Jesus.

You're gonna wanna hear this.

Hey, boys... here's the news.

Front page...

we got three redcoats, and guess what.

One of them's a bleeder.

Aw, great. That's all this boat needs...

another piece of rotten luck.

Yeah, well, if it means you guys

finally wash the butt squirt outta your shorts,

I'm all for it.

So what exactly happened to your shi...

Um... your ship?

Hospital ship.

We were attacked two nights ago.

Two nights?

I'm... I'm sorry. My brain's a bit foggy.

Although I'm reasonably sure my name's Claire Page.

The rest of the details will emerge, I'm sure.

That's just a whale.

It's okay, really.

The sounds down here still get to me, too.

Make a hole. Comin' through. Make a hole.

Yow. Mind your pretty toes.

Best-lookin' bad luck I ever saw.

Doesn't look good, sir.

Why don't you get those clothes off of him

and see if you can get a better look at the wounds?

I can dress the wounds.

Other than that, I think it's best to leave him be.

Okay. All right.

Maybe I didn't make myself clear.

I saw it.

It crossed the moon's reflection just before the explosion.

Yes, it was dark, but I... I did see it.

It wasn't a mine.

I... It was a U-boat.

What class?

Type 7?

Was it an older boat or one of their newer ones?

Um...

Like this? Clean at the bow?

- You know... - No net cutter?

It was just a couple of seconds. I really couldn't say for...

So you were... you were on lookout that night, mister...

Kingsley... second mate, merchant navy.

Uh, no.

I was on the starboard deck grabbing a gasper.

Having a cigarette.

And how many aboard your ship?

About 300 patients.

At least that many.

Out of North Africa.

Yeah, plus over 70 hands crew.

So, um...

You said they fired only one torpedo?

O'Dell...

you better tell sonar we've got an enemy sub in the area.

Yes, sir. Just let me finish...

Now. Do it now.

Yes, sir.

I'm... I'm sorry that we couldn't save more. I...

Now this... the third member of your party, he's...

One of my patients.

Well, under normal circumstances,

I'd be able to drop you at the nearest port in England,

but, uh, it's a 300-mile detour for us.

So I'm sorry.

It seems as though we're stuck with each other.

Oh, uh, last thing.

Just try not to fraternize with the men.

Most of the men are fine,

but some of them get a little strange about having...

"Strange" as in "superstitious"?

As in "strange."

"Suddenly, his heart rolled over backwards in his chest,

"and he saw this huge, wretched thing before him.

"Instantly, its mouth widened

"into a terrible and hungry menace.

Now the malediction uttered a deep-throated sound."

- Malediction? - Look it up.

"And its breath stank gloriously

"of rotted carp and matted gorilla skins.

"Now... it slouched toward him...

"not fast, but slowly...

"slowly...

so very slowly."

Silly boy. Just the bulkhead shifting.

What'd you think it was?

The malediction?

Wahh!

What exactly bothers you, O'Dell?

Well, you have a ship

that's sinking slow enough to get a few lifeboats off,

but the submarine only fires one torpedo.

I mean, that's not textbook tactics.

You fire upon the target until the target is sunk.

So it was their last torpedo.

Yeah, but... why not use a deck gun?

O'Dell, isn't this your first patrol?

My second.

Yeah.

And your first was a little shakedown run

off the coast of Florida

in one of those old school boats, right?

I'm just wondering if the story didn't seem a little off.

I wouldn't worry about it, champ.

They got here somehow.

- You want coffee? - Sure.

I take it black.

Tell Broadway make sure it's hot.

Try to sleep.

I know you're in pain, but you must try.

Please.

Be quiet.

Sonar contact.

220 turns per minute, Mr. Brice.

Maybe the Z-class.

Maybe we didn't shake him after all.

- Full stop! - Full stop!

Boat stands at full stop.

Mr. Coors...

- flood negative. - Flood negative.

O'Dell, get on the thermograph. Find us some cold.

Conn, 5-degree gradient at 2-7-0 feet.

Cold water deflects sound waves just in case they decide to...