Stand by for Action

1

Out of unsuspected skies,

a day of infamy dawned.

A nation at peace,

staggered by a treacherous blow.

Rallied and grimly gathered in

strength to fight for existence.

But in those early months,

the war was still far

off to most Americans.

Even amid the busy clatter

of a West Coast Navy yard,

many still found time to play.

- Fine. - A little off

your game, Commander.

Forty-love,

match point coming up.

I can count!

Go ahead and serve.

Isn't that Lieutenant Masterman?

Yes. Lieutenant Masterman of the Harvard

and Boston, Back Bay Mastermans.

Where the Cabbots only

speak to the Lodges,

and the Lodges speak

only to the Mastermans.

Shot!

Thank you.

- He's quite athletic?

- Hm?

I mean, very good, isn't he?

Well, I suppose it has

to come sooner or later.

You'd like to meet him,

of course?

- Oh... - I recognize the

symptoms, they all do.

- Hey Gregg!

- Hank!

Thought I left you moored in Washington.

When'd you drop anchor out here?

- Last night.

- Great. What's your duty?

- Destroyer.

- Serves you right.

Oh, pardon me, may I present

Lieutenant Gregg Masterman.

- Presently gracing the United

States Navy. - For the duration.

- Miss Susan Garrison, Miss Audrey Carr.

- How do you do?

Gregg and I put in three

of the loveliest afternoons

pushing each others

faces in the mud.

They called it Navy versus

Harvard on the program.

Aren't you in charge of the reception for the

Senate Naval Affairs Committee, Lieutenant?

- Why yes, I am. - Oh, Mr. Masterman,

anything we can do to help.

Well, the details are

practically all taken care of,

but the Admiral's Junior Aide doesn't

have any partner for the dance.

- Would you...

- I'd love to!

Lucky dog, Admiral's

Junior Aide. Who is he?

I am.

Say, why don't you sit down

and have a drink with us?

No, no thanks. I'm late

for office hours...

Old Iron Pants is running

the Navy by a clock.

- See you around, Hank.

- Right, Gregg.

Anything you want,

just let me know.

- Goodbye, ladies.

- Goodbye.

Any word from the

Commandant's office yet?

- Not yet, sir.

- Holy smoke.

I wonder if they realize how

long we've been tied up here.

Having a little trouble, sir?

A little? Plenty.

You don't happen to know Lieutenant

Masterman, the Admiral's Aide, do you?

- Why, yes. Very well.

- Is he still up at the club?

- No, he just left.

- About time.

- Something urgent?

- Urgent?

Only my ship here, the Crenshaw,

you can see what happened.

Just made it in here

yesterday morning,

nothing's being done to make

her ready for sea again.

What makes you think Masterman's

keeping your ship tied up?

The repair plans and estimates have

been on his desk since early yesterday.

There's a war on, you know?

Well, why don't you go

straight to the admiral?

He just loves to have people

come to him with their troubles.

I'm sure he'll straighten

you out in no time.

Go south! Go south!

Yes, yes...

Old Iron Pants sure has

a full head of steam up.

He sure has...

Yes, yes, I can hear you.

Yes, yes. Of course.

What's that?

The Warren? That hulk?

It didn't take an overhaul and

refitting job to put her in shipshape,

it took a miracle.

Why didn't you fellas build

some ships while you had time?

What? Hm?

You know, I'm trying to

get on with this job here.

Fine, fine.

Always glad to have one of

these friendly chats with you.

Goodbye.

Resurrecting ships

from the graveyard...

Masterman!

Masterman, the Warren is to be

made ready for sea at once.

Sir?

Where's Masterman?

You're not Masterman.

No sir,

Lieutenant Commander Roberts.

The Executive Officer

of the Crenshaw.

Lieutenant Masterman was

not in his office, sir.

- So, I took the liberty.

- Oh... You took the liberty.

Do you realize, sir,

that I am an island

entirely surrounded by bright

young men known as aides

just to prevent people

from taking the liberty?

There is an old custom

in the Navy, sir,

which demands that an officer should be

announced to his commanding officer.

Begging the Admiral's pardon, sir, I'd hoped

he'd dispense with formality for the moment.

- This is urgent. - Everything

about this office is urgent.

Even "good morning" is a crisis.

But don't let that

discourage you.

Thank you, sir. It's about

my ship the Crenshaw.

In the absence of my

commanding officer,

I'm responsible for her repairs.

What do you want me to do?

Roll out with a sailmakers

palm and needle to hem stitch

- some plates onto your precious ship?

- No sir.

I'm just anxious to

get back to sea, sir.

So am I.

I'm more anxious to get

back to sea than you are.

But am I badgering the

Secretary of the Navy about it?

Yes, sir.

I think you are, sir.

Hm? Oh, you do, do you?

Well, you're quite right.

I am.

It's the only place

for a sailor. At sea.

Yes sir, I think so too, sir.

Your face is familiar to me.

- Weren't we ever shipmates?

- No sir. I think not, sir.

Weren't you Charlie Harridge's

communications officer

on the old Norris destroyer,

division seven, patrol 1918.

- Yes, sir.

- I knew it.

I never forget a face.

I was your division commander.

I was commissioned ensign

from chief boatswain's mate

the day we went into

that action, sir.

Great show, Roberts.

- Great show.

- Yes, sir.

But this is a bigger one, sir.

Hm... Haven't got across?

Foreign service?

No, sir. I was retired

as a lieutenant in '37.

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