U-571 | 2000

Look at them sons of bitches.

You know my pop was a fisherman?

He had this old 60-footer he'd run all over the gulf.

Noisy two-stroke diesel.

Rotten to the gunnels, that thing.

I could scrub that deck three times a day, and it still stunk like fish.

And I swore I'd never skipper a boat like that, Chief.

Hmm, I saw myself...

standin' on the bridge of a battleship.

A real sea captain.

Mr. Tyler, permission to speak freely?

Of course, Chief.

This is the navy,

where a commanding officer is a mighty and terrible thing...

a man to be feared and respected.

All knowing, all powerful.

Don't you dare say what you said to the boys back there again... "I don't know."

Those three words will kill a crew, dead as a depth charge.

You're the skipper now,

and the skipper always knows what to do, whether he does or not.

Aircraft off the port bow!

Shit!

Real sorry, sir. It dropped right out of the clouds.