My Journal
By Harriman Nelson
45
“Beans & Franks?” I asked, incredulous, as Cookie appeared in
the Control Room with a clipboard.
“Well, since this here’s an American Naval exercise, I figure we’d
better go with American cuisine for a while....”
“Cookie,” Chip said, trying to be patient, “after that Corned Beef
& Cabbage, don’t you think Beans & Franks might have a few additional
consequences? Consequences we should do without, especially since we’re trying
to hide down here?”
“Huh?”
“He means,” I said, “excessive flatulence. We’ve
already had a few incidents. I don’t want anything additional added to it.”
“Oh...er...yeah...but those flattops and other subs can’t hear us
that good, can they?”
“Possibly not,” Chip said, “but we’re not going to risk it, okay?”
“Well, if you say so, sir, but...what can I fix that’s American
instead of it? We already had Mac & Cheese...”
“Why not Hot Dogs?” I said, “that way you can utilize the franks
without any waste.”
“Yeah, that’s a good idea...you know, I remember at cooking
school they told us that President Roosevelt served the royal Brits Hot
Dogs. There ain’t nothing more American.”
“Actually,” Chip said and I cringed, waiting for him to expound on
the history and possible mythology of the American Hot Dog, but instead I was
pleasantly surprised when he said, “the waffle cone is more American. Yankee
ingenuity at the St. Louis Exposition in 1903 or 4, I forget the exact year.
They had similar things, but not quite the same. It’s what made the Ice Cream
Cone as we know it, take off.”
“Oh,” Cookie said sadly. “We don’t got no waffle cones...not ready
made...wait...I can make waffles and get em’ twisted, homemade like!”
“It might take some time,” Chip said, “why not just use the wafer
cup kind we have on hand?”
“Nah, I want authentic. Thanks for the idea sirs...”
“You think he can make waffle cones?” Chip asked, shaking his head
as Cookie departed.
“It’ll keep him occupied and happy.”
“I suppose.”
“By the way, this is a good place to hide,” I said of the cavern
we’d backed into, “but...” I hesitated, having put my foot in my mouth.
“Okay, go ahead and say it. I scratched the paint.”
“Could happen to anyone.”
“Not to Lee. I remember hearing about Lee hiding in a cavern in
his earlier years. Aced a war game that
way. Not as old fashioned as using a freighter as a hat and moving around to
get the hounds confused. You know, I’m almost tempted to let the hounds find
us. Lure Lee back to Seaview if he sees that I’m inept.”
“He’d know it was a deliberate trick; and it would harm Seaview’s reputation. He'd be absolutely
furious....even if it did work to bring him back right away.”
“Then I have your permission to try to get us found?” he asked
hopefully.
“No, you do not! You will command Seaview exactly as Lee wants you
to. With the expertise he trusts you to use.”
“But....oh very well. The hounds will lick their wounds when this
is over....”
“Good man.”
“Excuse me, sir,” O’Brien neared. “Our acoustic relay overheard one
of the submarine hounds talking about searching the area for any caverns we might
have hidden in.”
“Oh they did, did they?” Chip asked.
“Yeah, seems the skipper used a stunt like that
before and...er....” he stopped, embarrassed.
“Yes, he did,” Chip said. “But if they’re on to us, in a manner of
speaking, let’s see if there’s a crevasse or something similar that we can use
instead...put them off the trail if they get too close and personal.”
“Aye sir...er...we also heard them talking about the skipper
abandoning Seaview. He didn’t abandon her! He went blind! And it’s not his
fault he wants to finish out his vacation. He’s entitled to, isn’t he, and...”
“Calm down, Frank,” I said. “People will always talk when they
don’t know any better...but...in all honesty, the captain hasn’t decided if
he’s coming back to Seaview. And if he decides to abandon her, in a manner of
speaking, it will be a decision he won’t take lightly. A decision he feels is
for the best, okay?”
“Okay but...do you think he’ll come back?”
“No way to know yet. I hope to God he will, but I can’t force
him.”
“Aye sir.”
And so, after perusing the latest charts, sonar and satellite
technology, here we are, in a ditch, only visible to the hound’s sonar, as if our conning tower is a large
undersea rock.
We’ve begun to whisper, with no unnecessary talking.
Quiet as a mouse. Unless you count the occasional human explosives.
Damn that Corned
Beef & Cabbage!
But as the fifth sub passed us by apparently taking the noise as a
methane vent, it was as good a place to hide as a cavern. Chip
would make as much a name for himself as Lee always had.
Hot Dogs and Ice Cream Cones weren’t as exciting as whatever Lee
and Joe might be having, but they were good. I had three helpings. Chip had
four.
Cookie is very happy.
