Cold Choices

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Jerry Mitchell braced himself. There was no sensation of a hit, but the force of the inrushing water almost knocked two sailors off their feet. The liquid roar fought with the loudspeaker. “FLOODING IN ENGINE ROOM LOWER LEVEL!” The mechanical voice echoed off the metal bulkheads. He felt the air temperature drop, which gave only the briefest warning when the cold spray reached where he stood.

Jerry fought the urge to rush in and help. Like all submariners, he was trained to run toward the sound of rushing water, but he was also supposed to lead these men. They struggled against the multiple fire-hose jets, but there were enough guys to get the job done. That was one of the first things he looked for, then whether they had the right equipment to plug each leak. But as he watched them work, he relaxed, as much as any submariner could with water lapping around his ankles. His men were on top of it. They knew what to do, and they were working together.

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