MONDAY During my naval service as a submarine navigating officer I once spent 53 days underwater and at that time it was the longest than an Australian submarine had ever dived and sometimes I think that it left an indelible mark on my character but right now there's no time to reflect on that because the target is on course. Luxon is bearing 37 degrees starboard and moving slowly. Actually he's barely moving. Submarine watch is set at six hours and for much of that time you're looking through a periscope at absolutely nothing other a visual of one-third sea and two-thirds sky but if you do see something that you have to do something about it fast. A message comes through from the conning tower. "Chris. It's now or never. Take out the fat boy. Do you read me? Over." I said, "Oh hi Erica, is that you?" "No names on this frequency!" Torpedo armed and ready. Open the outer doors. Fire in the hole! Prepare to dive. TUESDAY It's really an quite addictive thing being on a submarine because it's its own little world and by that I partly mean the lack of space and also the lighting because it's very dark but right now it's obvious the target has been hit and all hell has broken loose. Luxon demands an emergency caucus. A message comes through from the conning tower. "Mate." I said, "Yes, mate." "How are you, mate." "Good, mate." "Good. You know what to have to do tomorrow, mate. "Good. You know what to have to do tomorrow, mate." "Yes, mate." "Okay. Cheers, mate." Prepare to surface. WEDNESDAY Entry into a harbour is a dangerous time for any ship but especially a submarine because you have to navigate through shallow or confined waters and I thought about that as I looked from my office this morning onto the dangerous reefs of Wellington harbour but that's really the last thing I remember. I can only remember what happened afterwards in the caucus room in flashes. I was on my feet. Luxon was on his feet. Everyone was yelling. There was blood on the floor and I realised it was mine. THURSDAY The thing about being on a submarine is that when you're underwater you don't have any external reference point or access to visual aids so you're relying on your own calculations and if you get them wrong then you could end up on the sea floor. It doesn't help when crew assigned to the conning tower bugger off and leave you to it. FRIDAY One of the phenomenona of life as a submariner is that you learn the deep sea is very loud. There's a morning chorus and an evening chorus of sea life, of millions and millions of sea creatures all making noise. It's really quite incredible. At times like that, a submarine is a chamber of sound and none of it makes sense, it's just noise. I open the hatch and breathe in fresh, sweet air for the first time in a long, long time. Stepping onto solid ground, I watch the submarine dive back down, and salute the crew, knowing that I was loyal to the end. It's so very, very quiet.
