Down Periscope

Lt. Comd. Dodge:
Somebody find Buckman, launch him out a torpedo tube.

Rear Admiral Yancy Graham:
Now, call me a prude if you want, but I don't think it's good policy for the Navy to hand over a billion-dollar piece of equipment to a man who has "Welcome Aboard" tattooed on his penis.

Lt. Comd. Dodge:
Well, no disrespect to the USS Rustoleum here, but I'd be better off in the Merrimack!

Lt. Comd. Dodge:
She may not be the youngest girl at the ball, but she'll turn a head or two.

Lt. Comd. Dodge:
Speaking of age, what do you think about our boat, Pascal?

Executive Officer Martin T. 'Marty' Pascal:
I feel I need a tetanus shot just from looking at it. The only thing holding her together, are the bird droppings, sir.

Rear Admiral Yancy Graham:
You watch yourself, Dodge. You are addressing a superior officer!

Lt. Comd. Dodge:
No, merely a higher ranking one. Catch us if you can!

Stepanek:
Any way I can cause a problem?

"Sonar" Lovacelli:
No. We're pretty well covered for now.

Stepanek:
Sh*t.

Captain Carl Knox:
Hear something?

Orlando Sonarman:
Yeah. Almost sounded like... an explosion.

Lt. Cmdr Dodge:
Lt. Lake, you're almost out of uniform.

Stepanek:
What's our mission? Rescue Gilligan?

Lt. Cmdr Dodge:
Let's kick this pig!

Lt. Comd. Dodge:
All right, everybody, it's time to kick this pig! Leave Graham squealing from the feeling!

Planesman 1st Class Jefferson 'R.J.' Jackson:
Squeaking from the freaking.

Seaman Buckman:
Oinking from the boinking.

Adm. Dean Winslow:
What do you think, Mr. Dodge?

Lt. Comd. Dodge:
I think I'm gonna get my ass kicked, sir.

Adm. Dean Winslow:
Aw, don't think like that! Damn it to hell! Don't go by the book. Think like a pirate. I want a man with a tattoo on his dick. Have I got the right man?

Lt. Comd. Dodge:
By a strange coincidence, you do, sir.

Lt,. Howard, Chief Engineer:
Now... keep an eye on this string, 'cause the water pressure is gonna squeeze the hull of this boat like an empty beer can.

Lt. Comd. Dodge:
All right, ladies and gentlemen. We have fulfilled every requirement of this mission except one: Norfolk. Presently, there are several ships positioned outside the harbor to intercept us. To get in, we're gonna have to use a tactic that is somewhat bizarre, and extremely risky. If any of you feel it's not worth it, please let me know now.

Seaman Stanley 'Spots' Sylvesterson:
Uh, actually, sir, I think we prefer to go with the bizarre and risky. Worked for us so far.

RADM Yancy Graham:
It's good to see you again, Dodge. Been about four years.

LCDR Tom Dodge:
Something like that, sir; not since we were both at King's Bay.

Graham:
You're about to join the elite of the submarine service. The best the U.S. Navy has to offer.

Dodge:
Damn good feeling, sir.

Graham:
As a matter of fact, there she is right now: your new boat. [Dodge turns to look; a rusty old submarine is tied up at the pier.] USS Stingray, SS-161.

Dodge:
[Horrified] That! This can't be my boat, sir.

Graham:
Well, it most certainly is. Balao-class, refitted 1958.

Dodge:
Balao-class?! But that's a diesel sub! This is a joke, right? The Navy doesn't even use diesels anymore!

Graham:
They do now; she's been recommissioned.

Dodge:
Well, no disrespect to the USS Rustoleum here, but I'd be better off in the Merrimac! I was trained to command a nuclear boat!

Graham:
Are you refusing to take command?

Dodge:
...No, sir.

Graham:
Good. You'll meet your crew here tomorrow morning, at 0700.

Dodge:
[Sarcastic] They also left over from World War II, sir?

Graham:
No, Captain. They've been hand-picked. By me.

VADM Dean Winslow:
Here are some recent satellite photos of Petropovlosk, Vladivostok. That's where the Russians have got their diesel sub fleet. They're docked there. But each week, there are fewer. Cause they're sellin' 'em off like hotcakes, to countries like Iran, Iraq and Libya to name a few.

LCDR Tom Dodge:
With all due respect, sir, one American nuclear attack sub could defeat several diesels.

Winslow:
In a conventional battle, certainly, that's true. But one if you had one renegade diesel captain, decided to hit us- bam- suddenly, without cause or warning, like a terrorist intent on getting a nuclear warhead into one of our harbors. You think we could catch and kill a bogey like that in time?

Dodge:
Absolutely, sir.

Winslow:
Well, the Department of Defense and most of the Admiralty, they would agree with you. But me, personally? I'd like to know for sure. And that's why you're gonna clean the Stingray up and take her out, off the Atlantic coast, for a series of war games. One rebel diesel, against the U.S. nuclear Navy. Come on. [Shows Dodge a map] First, you're going to attempt to invade Charleston harbor. And if you're good enough to evade further pursuit, you'll attempt to sink shipping right here at the naval base in Norfolk. Simulated, of course. What do you think, Mr. Dodge?

Dodge:
I think I'm gonna get my ass kicked, sir.

Winslow:
Aw, don't gimme that! Damn it to hell, don't go by the book! Think like a pirate! I want a man with a tattoo on his dick! Have I got the right man?

Dodge:
By a strange coincidence, you do, sir. However, the task I have been handed here is close to impossible. If I pull it off- that is, get both ports- I would like command of my own nuclear sub.

Winslow:
Setting terms, now?

Dodge:
No, sir. But without command, once this exercise is over, I'm headed for a desk job, which means I'm out of the Navy.

Winslow:
I can't make you any guarantees, Dodge. But this is what I'll do. I'll give you two live torpedoes, set a dummy in Norfolk harbor. If I see that baby go up, then we'll talk about your boat.

Dodge:
Thank you, sir.

Dodge:
Marty, I'm a little worried about your health. Not exactly a people person, are you? I'm afraid you're headed straight for an ulcer if you can't ease up a little bit.

Pascal:
I'm-I'm not happy with this boat, sir. Requesting permission for a transfer.

Dodge:
What?

Pascal:
Commander, this-this boat... it's a rustbucket! It's a shitbox! And this crew is the most incompetent bunch of retards and a**holes in naval history! I mean, I know why you're here, but- I don't know why I was even considered for such an assignment-

Dodge:
'Scuse me, 'scuse me. Why am I here?

Pascal:
You know, your thing!

Dodge:
What "thing"?

Pascal:
The weenie tattoo.

Dodge:
[Laughs] Wow. Look, Pascal, I hate to disappoint you, but I may have had some other things going for me.

Pascal:
Yeah, yeah, yeah- I believe you, sir. Now, about my transfer. This post could seriously jeopardize my chances for advancement. I mean, I am this close to command, sir-

Dodge:
Forget it. You think you're the only one embarrassed to be here, you think this is the command I dreamed about? Well, we're all in this mess together, mister. And you and your career are in the hands of those very a**holes! Including this one. That answer your question?

Pascal:
Yes, sir.

Dodge:
Dismissed.

[Pascoe inspects the galley]

LT Martin Pascal:
Oh, my God! There are cockroaches in the flour! Your cigar ash is in the spaghetti! Jesus, Buckman! This stuff's been on the Stingray since Korea! This can expired in 1966!

Seaman Buckman:
What's the matter, sir? It still tastes like cream of corn.

Pascal:
Except- it's deviled ham!

Buckman:
Now that would be a problem.

[During the Stingray's homecoming]

Rear-Admiral Yancy Graham:
Sir, this entire exercise is invalid. Dodge left the containment area -

Vice-Admiral Dean Winslow:
- after you narrowed him down without proper authorization.

Graham:
He ignored a direct order!

Winslow:
Stow it, Yancy. He had higher orders... and you can forget about that third star. [Smiles and walks away]

Winslow:
Welcome back, Captain. You certainly pushed my order to the breaking point.

Dodge:
Thank you, sir. I mean, if that's a compliment.

Winslow:
However, under the circumstances, I will not be able to give you your own Los Angeles-class nuclear submarine.

Dodge:
Yes, sir.

Winslow:
Instead, you will be given a new Seawolf-class nuclear submarine and will attend its launching on Friday! And this time, you'll be given a proper crew, one commensurate with your tactical and leadership abilities.

Dodge:
Thank you, sir, but I'd have to decline.

Winslow:
Decline?

Dodge:
I would not be in line for such a promotion without the help of my present crew. I could not in good conscience accept another command without them.

Winslow:
Still setting terms, huh, Dodge?

Dodge:
Just respectfully requesting, sir.

Winslow:
Well, at least you got my son to face forward.

Dodge:
Your son? Stepanak, sir?

Winslow:
Yes. It's his mother's name. His salute still leaves something to be desired.

Dodge:
We'll work on that, sir.

Winslow:
You do that, Commander. [Salutes]

[During the Stingray crew's roll call...]

LT Martin Pascal:
Engineman First Class Brad Stepanek!

EN1 Brad Stepanek:
[looks at Dodge, unimpressed] Sit on it and rotate, sir.

Pascal:
WHAT?! What did you say, sailor?! You can't say that! [to Dodge] He can't say that!

Dodge:
Pascal, down! Down! Heel!

Stepanek:
By the Uniform Code of Military Justice, that constitutes gross insubordination, punishable by one month in the brig. [holds out his arms, as if for handcuffs] I'm ready to go, sir.

Dodge:
Board the boat. I like a challenge.

Stepanek:
You'll throw me off within a week. I'm a dedicated pain in the butt, sir.

Dodge:
Stepanek...

Stepanek:
What?

Dodge:
If I throw you off, it'll be in the middle of the Atlantic. [beat] Board the damn boat.

Stepanek:
Aw, man... [shoulders his kit bag and goes aboard] What's our mission, rescue Gilligan?

Pascal:
YOU'RE MINE, MAGGOT!

Dodge:
Ha! I love this job! And who's our next contestant?

[Pascal inspects the Stingray and arrives in the galley]

Pascal:
BUCKMAN! [Buckman turns around with a start] What the hell are you doing?!

Seaman Buckman:
Stocking the pantry, sir!

Pascal:
You forgot like an idiot, Buckman, because you're stocking the pantry like an idiot! [grabs two cans from the shelves] What are in these cans, Buckman?!

Buckman:
That one's coffee. That one looks like cooking lard, sir.

Pascal:
And which one do you think we're gonna be using more often, sailor? The coffee, or the lard?! You think we're all gonna jump out of bed in the morning and have a big, hot, steaming cup of pig fat?!

Buckman:
Well, it depends. If it's a cold morning, sir, you might go either way --

Pascal:
The lard... is in... your head, Buckman! [grabs Buckman by the ear, as Dodge enters behind him] Now you take a look at that galley chart, 'cause I want that cabinet repacked, regulation style, by eleven hundred! Do you know what time eleven hundred is?!

Buckman:
That would be after ten hundred, sir!

Dodge:
Marty.

Pascal:
WHAT?! [calmer when he sees it's the captain] Sir?

Dodge:
Can we speak? My cabin.

Lieutenant Commander Tom Dodge:
[After the Stingray's overhaul] Well done, guys. She may not be the youngest girl at the ball... but she'll turn a head or two. If she drives as well as she looks, we may even survive!

Rear Admiral Yancy Graham:
[Objecting at a meeting of flag officers regarding Dodge's command] There is physical evidence that, as an ensign, he did become so physically intoxicated that he not only allowed himself to be tattooed, but tattooed on his genitalia. Now, call me a prude if you want, but I don't think it's good policy for the Navy to hand over a billion-dollar piece of equipment to a man who has "Welcome Aboard" tattooed on his penis!

[The crew of the Stingray are cleaning, repairing, and overhauling her. On deck, as the rest of the crew is working, Dodge sees Stepanek on a lawn chair, sunning himself]

Dodge:
Stepanek, what are you doing?

Stepanek:
As little as possible, sir. I'm a detriment to the entire operation; total morale-crusher.

Dodge:
You know, of course, that the submarine service is entirely volunteer. All you have to do is quit.

Stepanek:
My old man won't let me. [mockingly] He's an admiral! Thinks sub duty will shape me up. Hah!

Dodge:
Well, then, I'm afraid you leave me no choice, son, but to relocate you.

Stepanek:
Really?

Dodge:
Really. Buckman!

Buckman:
Yes, sir! [Turns at attention, hitting Stepanek with an armful of mops he's carrying, knocking Stepanek off his lawn chair and into a trough of oil waste]

Dodge:
Thank you, Buckman. That'll be all.

[Graham, on the Orlando, radios the Stingray]

Graham:
Submarine Stingray, this is Submarine Orlando. It's been confirmed: you are targeted.

Dodge:
Submarine Orlando, this is Submarine Stingray, Stingray One speaking. We acknowledge the kill, and congratulate the Orlando and all the fine men on that boat.

Graham:
[delighted] Well, thank you, Captain.

Dodge:
However, at the moment of your transmission, I've already fired two torpedoes.

Graham:
...WHAT?

Dodge:
You can probably hear them in the water, and though we are "dead", our fish are still running towards the naval station dummy ship. If they hit, we still win. [pirate voice] Har, har.

Lieutenant Commander Tom Dodge:
[Hitting a golf ball off a submarine's deck] Oh get up there, you miserable little puke!

Lieutenant Commander Tom Dodge:
[Meeting the Stingray's crew for the first time] Nice pants. Lose the cigar. Oh, you better burn that shirt, sailor. [Under his breath] It's the crew from Hell.

Lieutenant Commander Tom Dodge:
[repeated line] God, I love this job!

Rear Admiral Yancy Graham:
[About to finally catch Dodge in the wargame] I've got you now, Popeye.

CDR Carl Knox:
[Catching Dodge hitting golf balls off the submarine deck] Oh, what the heck! Why don't we pull in so you can putt out!

EM "Mike" Nitro:
[testing wires] 1B, cold. 1C...[wire sparks a big flash] ...Hot!

EM "Mike" Nitro:
Radio's working like a Swiss...car.

CPO Howard:
Okay, boys. Down we go...ah, ha-ha-ha.

ST2C E.T. "Sonar" Lovacelli:
Approaching the bottom, sir. I can hear a couple of lobsters duking it out.

LT Emily Lake:
Balls to the walls, boys!