SUBMARINES
The bluejacket was sweating a little in his clean and faded dungarees. His answers came jerkily and he was nervous. He was being tested for admission to the U.S. Navy's corps d' élite, the submarine service.
Said the psychiatrist in lieutenant commander's uniform: "Stand here, son. Put your arms out like this." A pause. "How old were you when you stopped wetting the bed? How much do you drink? Now wiggle your wrists like this." The answers came at first reluctantly, then freely. The questioner went on. "What does your mother think about...
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