Outside its trying to snow. Trying because the air is too warm, Snow flakes are not landing. Suits me. I’m inside and snug, inside a submarine in the western Pacific. We’re on war patrol – its 1943. Binge watching a 1950’s TV series called, “The Silent Service”. Having YouTube play one episode after another without intervention soothes me somehow. Being stuck inside, underwater, under a sea change, I can identify with these submariners. They were plucked from a normal life by the war. They never knew if they’d make it back to Pearl Harbor or Midway or Australia. Returning to the USA, resuming their lives, that seemed too distant to contemplate. Often they couldn’t see what was attacking. Aircraft dropping bombs. Depth charges that threaten to send them to the bottom. An anology? Unseen enemy with a deadly weapon. Hiding, diving for deep water to avoid the invisible? Tired of the confinment but always reminded that isolation was the best defensive weapon. They had radar and sonar. I navigate blind. I have the daily numbers, 1.3 million and 75 thousand right now. Those guys tallied thousands of tonns of enemy shipping. They could fight. I can only hide. Some of our “leadership” says the fight against CV is a war. I feel more like something in a Petri dish. So I go to war in a virtual way, a couple of years before I was born. Like those young submariners we will win. Like them that victory is years away. Clear the bridge, dive!, dive!