Under the Ice

“He must have been right out of dental school, because not only did he look as innocent as a choir boy, he had pimples as well. But that’s beside the point, because the next thing I know he’s got me in the chair and that’s when the fun really began.”

“Did he use the drill?” quizzed the wide-eyed torpedoman who had temporarily abandoned his silverware.

Stanley shook his head.

“No, he only poked around a bit with some sort of probe. Then, after scraping off a bit of tartar, he treated the gum with some horrible-tasting medicine and dismissed me with a warning to brush and floss after every meal or I’d lose that tooth for sure.” While carefully rubbing his lower jaw, Stan added.

“Right now, I’m beginning to wonder if he shouldn’t have pulled it right there. At least it still wouldn’t be bothering me.”

Compassion etched his dining companion’s face, as Brian picked up knife and fork and responded while cutting up the remainder of the T-bone.

“I don’t know about that, Stan. The pain has got to go away sometime, and why lose a perfectly good tooth if you don’t have to.”

“Jesus, Mac, I’ve had this damn toothache for over two weeks now, and it’s really starting to get to me!

Why I can’t even get down a cup of hot coffee without it killing me.”

“Now that’s serious,” retorted the torpedoman between bites of meat.

“Say, didn’t those painkillers Pills gave you last week do some good?”

Stanley pushed away his bowl of half-eaten oatmeal and replied.

“Sure, they took away the ache for a while, but in the process they left me so doped up I couldn’t even stand my normal watch. And when they eventually wore off, I was stuck with that same damn throbbing pain all over again.”

“My friend, I really do have compassion for you,” offered Mac as he cleaned off his plate, mopped up the remaining juices with a piece of bread, and reached for a big slice of apple pie.

Sickened by this sight, Stanley retorted.

“At least your compassion hasn’t spoiled your appetite any.

Christ, Mac, you’re worse than a pig!”

Not taking this remark seriously, the torpedoman attempted to change the subject.

“Lighten up. Roth.

That toothache will go away, and you’ll be right back here wolfing down the chow with the best of ‘em. But until then, you’ve got to get your mind onto something other than what ails you. Otherwise, you’re going to wig right on out of here.”

“I’m afraid that sounds a lot easier to do than it actually is, Mac.”

“I don’t know about that, Stan. You haven’t by any chance seen the latest addition to the Defiance’s crew as yet, have you?”

As Roth shook his head indicating he hadn’t, his grinning shipmate glib’y continued.

“Well you’d better prepare yourself, sailor, because one look at that face and body and you’ll forget all about that damn toothache of yours.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Mac?”

“I’m talking about a young, good-looking dame, living right here inside this very same hull, along with you, me, and the rest of the boys!”

“Aw, come off it, Mac. What kind of sucker do you think I am? Everyone knows that the US Navy doesn’t allow women aboard it’s submarines while they’re on patrol.”

“Are you calling me a liar. Roth? Or perhaps you don’t think I have enough experience to know the difference between a man and a woman when I see one. Because I’m telling you we’ve got a female on board this submarine, and a stone fox at that!”

Though still thinking this all a mind game, Stanley couldn’t help but be impressed by his shipmate’s sincerity.

“So the Defiance has a woman on board. I guess next you’ll be telling me she’s been assigned to share the crew’s berthing facilities.”

The torpedoman snickered.

“Very funny, Stan. Actually, from what I heard from the chief, she’s staying in Lieutenant Commander Layman’s cabin. The XO’s moved in with lieutenants Marshall and Sanger.”

With the sudden realization that this wasn’t a joke after all, Stanley further probed.

“Is this female you’re talking about in the Navy?”

Mac was all business as he answered.

“Again it was the chief who explained that she’s some civilian hotshot with the Naval Arctic’s lab. Seems she was sent on the Defiance to have a look at that surface-scanning Fathometer that was almost responsible for deep-sixing us back under the ice. Since she barely had time to look at the unit before we were ordered back to sea, and since scuttlebutt has it we’re returning to the ice once again, she was sent along to repair it while we’re on the way.”

“Well, I’ll be,” reflected the senior sonar technician.

“I thought the crew looked a bit more dapper than their normal grubby selves when I boarded late this afternoon.”

A sudden thought entered MacMillian’s mind and his eyes widened.

“Say Stanley, isn’t that new Fathometer somehow tied in with your sonar gear?”

“As a matter of fact, it is. Why do you ask, Mac?”

A bit more excitedly, the blond-haired torpedoman answered.

“Because that means she’ll most likely be working in the sound shack. Damn, you lucky stiff!