After every disaster there are always the exasperating inquiries, the morbid inspections, the fixing of the blame. . . .
One night almost a year ago, the 3,000 ton freighter City of Rome towered over the gashed, sinking hulk of the S-51. Thirty of the crew died beneath the waves of Long Island Sound; 24 of them had swallowed the inky brine which swirled within the submarine, finally, the ghoul ship was raised from the ocean floor (TIME, July 5 et seq.) ; now the 24 sleep in Arlington Cemetery.
The Navy Board...
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