Crash Dive

Synopsis: Against his personal preference, PT boat commander Ward Stewart is made executive officer of the submarine USS Corsair. On leave before sailing, he meets schoolteacher Jean Hewlett and gives her a romantic rush...unaware that she's the sweetheart of Dewey Connors, his new commander. At sea, the men bond while fighting German Q-ships. When will they discover their mutual romantic rivalry? Will it interfere with a spectacular commando raid on a secret German base?
Director(s): Archie Mayo
Production: Twentieth Century Fox
106 min

Hear that, Mommy?



- P.T. boats! Off the port beam!

- Where?

Here we are!

Tell number 14 to drop out,

pick up survivors.

Survivors off the starboard bow.

Tell 'em I got it.

Throw 'em a line.

- Any water, mister?

- Yes, plenty, laddie.

Periscope off starboard bow.

Everybody, back in the boat.

Take your stations.

Cast off!.

We'll be back for you.

Man your battle stations.

Stand by for depth charge attack.

The sub's been stalking that lifeboat,

trying to knock off a rescue ship.

We'll see what

we can do for him.

- Yes?

- Captain Bryson?

Captain Bryson is not here.

This is Admiral Stewart. What is it?

Somebody to see the commandant, sir.

Lieutenant Ward Stewart.

- Shall I have him wait?

- No, have him come in.

- Hello, Ward.

- Why, Uncle Bob...

what are you doing

so far from Washington?

I'm here on an inspection tour.

Come in.

Thank you. Well, it certainly is an

unexpected pleasure seeing you here.

I was supposed to go back this morning,

but I'm staying till tomorrow night.

And I'm glad, because it's given me

this chance to see you. Sit down.

Thanks. Maybe you can tell me

why they sent for me.

Oh, yes.

Well, we'll come to that.

First, I wanna tell you what a swell job

you did sinking that submarine.

- Thank you, sir.

- It was a neat job of work all around.

Tell me about it.

Well, there isn't much to tell.

That U-boat never had a chance.

Matter of fact, no submarine has much

of a chance against those P.T. boats.

You like the P. T. boats, eh?

Like 'em? It's absolutely

the best branch of the service.

You said that about battleships

when you were in one.

Well, P.T.'s a flyweight battleship,

only much more maneuverable.

And I recall your enthusiasm for cruisers

when you were serving in them.

P.T.'s a bantam cruiser,

only much easier to handle.

And when you were

in destroyers.

P.T.'s a lightweight destroyer, only faster.

It's a great fighting ship.

I understand

exactly how you feel.

I feel the same way about submarines

and the men in them.

They're picked men.

Picked for their character.

Their sense of duty and discipline,

their hearts and their heads.

They're a wonderful body of men.

Not enough of them.

There's a shortage

of trained officers.

Um, about my being ordered

to New London, sir.

That was my suggestion, Ward.

- How long were you in submarines?

- Two years.

- With an excellent record, as I recall.

- Thank you, sir.

I was mighty glad to get out of them

if you don't mind my saying so.

That's quite all right. I'm interested

in your views on submarines.


Go ahead.

- Off the record, Uncle Bob?

- Off the record.

Well, as far as I'm concerned,

it's no life for a dog, even a sea dog.

I'd much rather sink 'em

than sail 'em any day.

Well, my boy, it looks like

you're going to sail 'em.

But the P.T.s, Uncle Bob. I wouldn't be

happy in any other branch of the service.

The Stewarts have been in the navy

for three generations.

- They've been happy in any branch of the service.

- Yes, sir.

Do you think I'm tied to my desk

in Washington because I prefer it?

No, sir. I'm serving

where I'm needed most.

And you're being assigned

where you're needed most.

Yes, sir, you're right. I'm sorry.

I- I'll be very glad to get back to submarines.

- That's the spirit.

- Still, um...


- If I may say so-

- Go right ahead.

Those P.T.s are a work of art, sir.

So are the submarines.

- That's right.

- I'll have you meet Captain Bryson.

- He'll introduce you to your new skipper.

- They, uh...

they shipped me up here so quickly,

I didn't have a chance...

to attend to some personal business.

- I wonder if I could have weekend leave.

- Why, certainly.

You rate a bit of leave.

I'm sure it can be arranged.

Thank you, sir.

There they go... out to sea.

Well, there they go.

Yeah, we'll be going

this time next week.

Yes, sir, maybe.

What do you mean maybe,


Well, we can't leave without

an executive officer, can we, sir?

- Certainly not.

- And we ain't got no executive officer, have we, sir?

Captain Bryson promised

we'd have one last week.

Yes, sir, but we didn't

get one last week.

We didn't get one

this week.

And we probably

won't get one next week.

No? We'll see about that.

- How are you, Dewey?

- Good morning, sir.

- You look as though you had steam to blow off.

- Yes, I have. May I blow it?

- Go ahead. Open the valves.

- A whole slew of submarines just pulled out of here, sir.

Every day, boats are shoving off

and we stayed tied up to the dock.

My men are getting fat,

and my boat's getting barnacles on it...

all on account of a replacement,

one measly replacement.

- You're not due to leave until next week, are you?

- No, sir...

but we won't be able to leave then

unless we get that man.

What's the matter with Washington, sir?

Why don't they unscrew that guy...

from his swivel chair and send him down

here so we can get away from that dock?

I take it you're inquiring about

your new executive officer.

- Yes, sir.

- Well, here he is.

Mr. Connors,

meet Lieutenant Stewart.

- How do you do, sir?

- I'll see you later, gentlemen.

Glad to meet you, Stewart.

I hope you'll overlook that crack

about the swivel chair.

- Sure, sure.

- What was your last ship?

Mosquito boat, sir.

P.T. 14.

Oh, I certainly hated to leave it.

I developed quite a yen

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Jo Swerling

Jo Swerling (April 8, 1897 – October 23, 1964) was an American theatre writer, lyricist and screenwriter. more…

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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