noise created an acoustic fog that would confound the Georgia’s torpedo targeting. Of course, it would also do the same for the Russians.
Dixon suddenly began to laugh. Everyone on the sub came to the same realization at once—everyone except Henry, who had no idea what was going on. “Make 270 west, flank speed,” Dixon ordered. Then he noticed Henry’s puzzled expression. “Shrimp, Henry!” he said. “We’ve been rescued by the snapping shrimp.”
Later, Dixon ordered a ration of beer for the crew, which he stored for extraordinary occasions. Henry heard them singing:
Submarines once!
Submarines twice!
Holy jumping Jesus Christ!
We go up
We go down
We don’t even fuck around!
Oooga! Oooga!
In the wardroom, Dixon brought out a bottle of Gunpowder Irish Gin and mixed up martinis for the officers. Henry had never seen this crew so merry. The relief on their faces made even clearer to him how much danger they had been in.
“I still don’t understand what happened,” Henry said. “Shrimp made all that noise?”
“The snapping shrimp, such an amazing creature,” said Dixon. “We think humanity has the best weapons, but the snapping shrimp has a claw that closes so fast it creates a shock wave that kills its prey. The noise you hear is the air bubble popping when the claw snaps. They create a microburst of heat that is about the temperature of the sun. And they sure light up the sonar. We were looking for an acoustic pocket to hide in, and along comes a heavy metal band!”
The officers began to sing the submarine song, which became even more inventively profane. Soon they would be home.
IV
October
48
Dolphins
When the commander of the Kings Bay submarine base learned of Henry’s part in saving the Georgia’s crew he swore that, by God, he was going to nominate him for the Navy Medal of Honor, the highest accolade the Navy awards, although Henry was rather certain he wouldn’t qualify. “There’s only one request I have,” he told the admiral. “I must return to Atlanta as quickly as possible.”
“There’s damn little transport, I’m afraid,” the admiral responded. He was one of those savvy country boys that Henry had once distrusted but had come to admire for their solidity. “Roads aren’t safe. Even for us. We travel in convoys when we go out. We’re all pretty much confined to base, under the current threat level. Goddamn,” the admiral said ruminatively. “I’ll tell you what. They got a naval air station in Marietta, right outside Atlanta. I’m gonna have ’em fly down here and pick you up. I’ll come up with some fabulous excuse. This is strictly out of bounds in every respect. Meantime, come to dinner tonight at the Dolphin House, soon as you get cleaned up.”
The cleaning up was an order. Submariners stank when they came ashore. Solid waste on the boat was compacted before it was discharged into the ocean, to prevent any bubbles from giving away the location of the vessel, but the gas stayed on the boat. It was partially neutralized by a disinfectant that had its own powerful imprint. Eventually the boat came to smell like a giant perfumed fart, but so gradually the crew didn’t notice. But their spouses certainly did when they greeted them, pale and stinking like rotting fish.
Henry was dropped off at the Navy Lodge just outside the gates of the base. It was a modest cinder-block government building set in a forest of pines and run by a delightful woman named Theresa who immediately directed him to the washing machines. Outside of the military, nearly everything electrical was shut down, but the Navy Lodge was on a generator for four hours a day.
He felt the strangeness of being back on land mainly in his vision. For weeks there was nothing in the range of his sight that wasn’t a few feet away. But when the van picked him up to take him to the admiral’s quarters, Henry had a hard time focusing. Everything was so far apart. It was disorienting and headache inducing to look down the endless highway. The sky that he had longed to see again was forbiddingly bright and distant. He found himself staring at the dashboard.
Dolphin House—the admiral’s quarters—was a redbrick home banked by azaleas in a palm-lined cul-de-sac. Henry was a little abashed that all the other officers were wearing their dress whites, while the best he had to offer were the blue overalls that Murphy had tailored for him. Liquor was served in abundance, and the room was soon full of laughter, but