Wilson closed his eyes and leaned back against the hard metal of the submarine that he commanded. He then opened his eyes once more and saw the dim red lights, a tell-tale sign of a U.S. sub. He thought of all the good times and all the bad times he had had on this sub and wondered if there were to be anymore. He could hear the depth charges exploding on all sides and literally feel the shockwaves vibrating the air. At thirty-one, Wilson "Hawkeye" Xavier had blonde hair and brown eyes with a slight double chin; you could easily distinguish stress wrinkles that probably wouldn't have been there if not for his job and slight limp from a piece of shrapnel that hit him in the Atlantic. His big southern drawl bellowed, "Five degrees down bubble, lets see if he can follow us to crush depth." He looked around at his crew, only one had graduated from Annapolis with him in forty-one, but he had worked hard throughout sub-school and in the field to earn this command. And he wasn't afraid of those who resented him for moving so quickly through the ranks. His tattered uniform vibrated again as another depth charge was felt and heard throughout the ship. Wilson thought about his wife who was back living with his son and how he just could not die, he must live to provide for his family. He thought about that for but a second and then his mind was back on the job at hand.