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“I am pretty old, it’s true. Most of the submarines were still diesel boats when I first went to sea,” he said to Angi. “Some of the old timers were World War II guys back then…I wish I would have gone to sea with some of them, heard their stories.”

That prompted Angi. “Captain, have you ever heard of a book called Rig for Dive?”

“Sure…it’s a classic. Written by Crush Martin, captain of the USS Wrasse in World War II. In his first two patrols he sunk something like eighteen Japanese ships. Became a war hero and wrote that book.”

“Did you ever meet him?”

He shook his head. “No…he wrote that book, left for his next patrol, and never came back. They think the Japanese got him somewhere in the Yellow Sea, but we’ll never know. It happed to a lot of those guys…it was unbelievably dangerous. But Crush Martin is kind of a patron saint of the sub force…a real warrior.”

“Wasn’t he controversial somehow?” said Cindy.

Mario nodded, impressed with her knowledge of submarine history. “Yes…in his first patrol, he sunk a Japanese troop carrier with a torpedo. Then they surfaced, and a bunch of the crew were floating around, clinging to wreckage and lifeboats. Martin ordered his men to machine gun the survivors.”

“Oh my…” said Angi.

Soldato shrugged. “They say that’s why he didn’t get the Medal of Honor — that incident. Because by any measure, tonnage, number of ships, he was our most successful submarine captain in the war. This was at a time when the Japanese were winning every single engagement they were involved in: they almost didn’t lose a battle for the first two years of the war. We nearly lost Australia! The allies were devoting everything they had to Europe, and the only thing, I mean the only thing, slowing the Japanese down were the submarine skippers like Martin. Japan has virtually no natural resources, they depended on sea lanes to feed their people and feed their industry. Martin was making them starve. And he died doing it. But enough people thought he was a war criminal to keep the medal out of his hands.”

“Do you think he was a war criminal?”

The captain reflexively shook his head ‘no,’ but Angi could tell he was thinking about it. “I think…I think war makes you brutal.”

There was a heavy pause, then Cindy leaned in toward Angi, catching her slightly off guard. “So,” she said, “I hear Muriel Taylor has left town.”

Angi shifted uncomfortably. “Yes, I think that’s true,” she said. Cindy was a virtuoso gossip, Angi knew she couldn’t outmaneuver her. She decided just to say as little as possible.

“You two used to be good friends, didn’t you?”

“Yes…still are. Still good friends.”

“I wonder why she went home?” she said.

“Maybe she just needed to get away,” said Angi, trying hard to convey as little information as possible. Part of her wanted to discuss it with Cindy, and that’s what Cindy was counting on, she knew. And she resented Cindy for that, for trying to play her so she would have all the available information about all the wives. And even if she and Muriel had drifted apart, she wasn’t about to make her friend’s heartbreak part of a story that would circle Puget Sound before she got back home.

But if she had been at lunch with Mario alone — she would have liked to tell him. She wanted to know what a man of his experience would think of Mark Taylor’s odd behavior. Was it something that happened all the time to officers who’d been at sea for too long? She could certainly understand that, didn’t see how anyone could spend years of their lives underwater without going a little crazy. Or was it cause for genuine, immediate alarm?

“Well, I hope she enjoys herself,” said Mario, and Angi could hear the disdain in his voice. He knew she’d fled. And Angi could also hear his suspicion that she’d fled into the arms of another man — it was, unfortunately, far from unheard of. Two patrols before, one of the JO’s had run his car over their dog shortly before they’d gone to sea. His wife had ended up leaving him for their veterinarian, and, bizarrely, the JO always blamed himself. She could hear then in Soldato’s voice an absence of mercy, a rare glimpse for her of the captain that Danny and the other JOs feared so much: hard and unforgiving.

He wiped the corners of his mouth with his napkin. “New topic.”

“So…did you buy a crib yet?” asked Cindy.

“Not yet…none of that stuff. My mom is coming out, we’ll do it together. I think she wants to help.”

“Of course she does. Does she have any other grandbabies?”

“No, this will be her first.”

“Oh my…how about Danny’s folks?”

“Them too…this is the first grandbaby all the way around.”

“How wonderful,” said Cindy. “Your mom must be thrilled.”

“I think she is…I also think she thinks I’m not ready.”

“Well you’re not! None of us ever are.”

Angi nodded at that.

“Have you scheduled the baptism?”

Angi nodded. “I’m going to wait until Danny gets home.”