Radio and television mirror (Jan-June 1942)

f jAAAi^eii''V}\4x/n> AAt l^xdio FAR out at sea, deep beneath the rolling surface of the water, a sleek gray-hulled submarine, modem symbol of one of America's first lines of defense, slipped through the murky depths like some giant, sightless creature of the uncharted ocean. Inside the steel hull of the 2SV4 the voices of its designer, Charles Grayson, and its commanding officer. Captain Denning, rose above the soft throb of its engines. "I'm afraid to take a chance, Mr. Grayson. Why, man! — we're down to 280 now!" "But, Captain, the purpose of this test run is to prove that my ship can stand the pressure at 400 feet and better. Every navy in the world has tried to perfect a submarine that will stand the enormous pressure of great depth. And this vessel will do it! I'll stake my life on it!" Though besieged by doubts and memories of other tests which had failed, the Captain finally yielded. His voice didn't reveal his uncertainty as he called his diving officer on the communiphone and ordered: "Submerge to 350!" There wasn't a tremor as the new vessel reached 300 feet — a depth at which any other sub would have been a mass of twisted wreckage. Then— down— down— 320— 330— 340 — 350! Jubilant reports came in from all stations. Every seam was tight. The 2SV4 was performing perfectly. But then, without warning, a frantic call came from the engine room: "Captain, the motors are turning up 3000 — but we're not moving!" As the Captain ordered full speed ahead, the tense ears of the crew heard the sounds of a queer scraping on the hull. What could it mean? What had happened? No one could answer. All anyone knew was that every attempt to move was useless! Trapped — at 350 feet — the newly designed submarine hung suspended as though in the grip of some huge sea monster, unable to move in any direction. Meanwhile, back at the Naval Base, crowds milled at the office of the Squadron Commander as the bad news traveled like wildfire. But one man, mild-looking, spectacled, was able to push his way through. It was Clark Kent. Kent who, in his disguise as star reporter of the Daily Planet, was really — Superman, Champion of the weak and oppressed! In a moment Superman had reached Commander Leeds. From him he got the complete story. Leeds, who explained that the new sub had been equipped with a special deep sea radio sending and receiving set which was still operating, couldn't understand what might have happened. The sub had not sunk. It was in perfect running order. But it couldn't move! Leeds led Superman into the radio room. They were just in time to hear the voice of Captain Denning say: 40 They heard the radioed voice of the Captain say: "We seem to be caught by something." As the torpedo neared him, Superman's great arm reached out — he stopped it dead! 'So, Americans are stupid, are they?" Superman said, and he sprang at the two Germans. "... we seem to be caught by something. We hear peculiar noises on the hull as though iron chains were scraping against it. Wait!— We seem to be moving — yes — something is dragging us — something — " The radio went dead. The base operators, trying desperately, couldn't raise a signal from the 2SV4. What could possibly drag a submarine as powerful as that? Quickly, the commander took action. They must go after the 2SV4 in another sub. True, no other vessel could go below 250 feet — but they could locate the missing ship on the magnetic finder. Minutes later, the S23, with Superman aboard, was deep down in the ocean waters. They had reached the approximate position of the missing vessel when, suddenly, there came a sound like the clankin'g of chains on the hull. And then, though the motors turned, the S23 didn't budge! Superman— unnoticed — slipped into the stern of the trapped submarine. The time had come to resume his rightful guise to become Superman, to leave through the escape hatch and investigate this strange mystery of the sea! Before anyone could see him, Superman opened the hatch and shot out into the icy depths of the sea. Cutting the water with the speed of the fastest torpedo, he circled the S23. Then, amazed, he saw and touched huge steel nets which had closed tightly around the sub. Great steel cables, stretching far off toward the shore, were attached to them. And, even as he inspected them, he felt a tug and the ship moved. Wasting no more time, Superman grasped the gigantic steel strands. As if they were silk thread, he snapped them. The cables jerked back as Superman tore off the encircling nets. Instantly, the S23 moved, free, and shot up toward the surface. Waiting for nothing else, Superman, racing faster than any bullet, swam underwater, following exactly the direction of the cable. Seconds later, sure of his bearings, he cut upward through the sea and on up — up above the surface, his eagle eyes now searching eagerly everywhere for some sign of the still missing 2SV4. He knew that it must have been captured by the steel nets. But would it be at the end of the cable — or would it have disappeared already? With an inward surge of pride, he noticed the gray shape of a sleek American battleship looming up in the darkness below him. But then, in a flash, every muscle in his great body jumped to attention when his x-ray eyes saw, hidden below the surface — only hundreds of yards from the ship, the long steel shape of the missing Grayson sub! Even as he watched, 2,000 poimds of sudden death, whining like a banshee. Continued on page 85 RADIO AMD TELEVISION IMmWOR