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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...

...Aah!

Splashes!

...Splashes!|...Splashes!

God damn it!|Keep it steady!

Scared you, didn't it, kid?

Damage reports.

Well, maybe that Z-class|just happened to be there.

And maybe the phonograph|wasn't secured.

But God damn.

And maybe someone doesn't|want us to make it home.

Miss Page claims she was in|the control room the whole time.

Yeah, that's right.

...So what about the other guy?|...Kingsley?

Hmph!|If that's his name.

Where was he|when it all happened?

I'm not sure.|Maybe he stepped out.

Stepped out... or slipped out?

You know, maybe we're spending|more time watching that broad

than watching our backs.

Who, me?|I've talked to her twice.

I heard you were|bird-dogging her, O'Dell.

Been running your mouth, ensign,|about boat matters?

Gentlemen, gentlemen.

As for the record player|going off,

well, yeah, that's strange.

But I don't think it calls for|a lynching party.

I think we should all|just take a deep breath.

...Conn, Brice.

Where'd you find it?

Make a hole!

Lieutenant, I was all set|to toss these pants,

then I noticed this, sir.

And these came from...

The half-dead guy, sir.

Must've been him|done that record player.

Wake him up.

I-I'm sorry.|I'm not quite sure...

Wake the German up.

Hello, "mein Kapitan".

Jesus.

It was me.|It was my idea.

I was the one who told him|not to speak.

She had him under our noses|the whole goddamn time.

Aah!

...Wait!|...I'll tell you.

I'll tell you everything.|His name is Ben Archerlift.

He's a downed aviator.|He's a patient of mine.

He's a prisoner of war,|and under the Geneva Convention,

he's entitled to|humane treatment!

He has a wife and family.

He wants to get home|just like you or me.

Everything will be all right.

You should've told me.

Maybe I was afraid you'd do|exactly what you've just done!

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