“No, it’s not even close to the worst place I’ve ever slept. Actually, the sleeps not bad. It’s definitely not the worst thing.”

“Really?”

“I’ll tell ya, boy, there’s nothing better after a long day on your feet than a hammock. Not a damn thing.”

“Huh. What’s the worst part then.”

“The worst part of life on a submarine isn’t the stink or the constant pressure outside or the grub. Not even close. The worst part is when the captain calls you to battle stations and then clams up.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Think about it, boy. You’re working on the engine, or somethin’ and the captain gets on the horn and says “run silent, battlestations.” You know something’s out there but you don’t know what other than it wants to kill you and all your friends. You dn’t know if its on top of you or underneath you or about to blow you up. If it hits you, you won’t know until your lungs pop. That’s the worst part.”

“How do you deal with it?”

“You cling to your friends and if you can’t, you go crazy.”