It was Thanksgiving and the diesel-electric submarine, USS Tigrone (SS-419), was running on the surface during a strong hurricane in the Atlantic ocean. Its assignment was to play rabbit for a nuclear fast-attack submarine running at a deep and comfortable depth.
In case you’re thinking “why didn’t you just submerge to calmer depths?” Because there’s a physics issue: when a boat submerges or surfaces, its center of buoyancy and gravity coincide, eliminating its righting arm – a large wave from one side could tip the boat over. Plus, once a boat is submerged, there’s no way to know what the weather will be when surfacing becomes necessary to recharge batteries. So we remained on the surface, getting slammed around by the fierce storm.
When it was time for the holiday turkey dinner, the head steward, V.B. Da Lima, only set two places at the eight-seat wardroom table because the other officers were too sick to eat – one seat at the forward end for the Ensign, R.D. McPheters, and the seat of the Captain, A.R. Thompson, at the other end. We both held down plates and utensils to keep them from flying off the wardroom table as the boat pounded, swerved and lurched. Da Lima served mashed potatoes first to the Captain, then to the Ensign before slamming the plate of potatoes on the counter in the small kitchenette behind the Ensign. The steward then jumped through the hatch to the forward torpedo room, yanked open the door to its head and began retching. When that calmed down, the steward returned to serve turkey. The meal continued in normal order but in more-or-less similar fashion. 
