The Enemies:

Added and Altered Scenes

Episode 29, first shown 3/29/1965

Missing scenes and slightly altered scene

(Author’s note:  When I watched this excellent episode, written by William Read Woodfield, I was enthralled by it.  It was a riveting examination of the concepts of friendship and hatred, and Richard Basehart and David Hedison were superb.  You could feel the various emotions played out, at times with subtlety, (as when Crane was in his cabin and Nelson walked in).  But as good as it was, there were a couple of things that I felt were missing.  The first was how the devil did Morton decide that his commanders were still alive when the diver had found evidence to the contrary.  The other was the too pat and too quickly ended final scene.  ‘Relations with a friendly county?’  I don’t think so.  This was the People’s Republic, after all.   Anyway, I felt impelled to present my version of the final part of ‘The Enemies.’   Please be aware that there is some language that may offend, but I tried to keep it to a minimum.  Begins about two/thirds of the way into the episode.)

      ^^^^^^^^^^^

Chip Morton stared at the broken watch and the flashing signet ring after the diver’s pronouncement.  They couldn’t be dead.  It wasn’t possible.   How could they get killed making a simple run from an island to the Seaview?  He looked at Morgan again.  “Are you sure it was the skipper and the admiral?”

The diver began to nod and then he stopped.  “Sir, it sure looked like them, but like I said, the mini-sub was crushed, the plexi shattered and you know what it’s like at 2000 feet, and well, I, uh….   Well, it looked like them,” he ended softly. 

Chip realized exactly what it was like for something like the mini-sub at 2000 feet.  And he knew what it was like for an unprotected human body at that depth.  He knew, but didn’t want to think about it.  The only way they would have ended up like that was if those heavy-handed goons on the island had done something to them.   Look what had happened to Richardson and Williams.   The claxons sounded in his head.  Something wasn’t right and it wasn’t just the two bodies on the bottom.   He turned on his heel and headed for the control room, the broken watch and shiny ring clutched tightly in his hand. 

When he got there, he began barking out orders.  “Take us down to the wreckage of the mini-sub.  I want the nose cameras at full magnification.”  He wondered why he hadn’t thought of doing this earlier.

“So that was what sonar had picked up?” O’Brien asked softly, his eyes large. 

“Yes, but the rest may not be real.” 

“What rest, Mr. Morton?”

“The bodies,” Chip murmured.  But everyone had heard and were looking at him in shock.   “Everyone back to their posts.  We need to keep a sharp look out.  The Angler was lost here and I don’t want any more casualties because of inattentiveness.”  As one, the crew did just that, but the tension was palpable. 

“Five hundred yards and closing, sir,” the sonar man announced. 

Chip took the mike.  “Slow to one third,” he ordered.  He felt the nudge of the slowdown. 

“Two hundred yards.” 

“Dead slow,” Chip ordered.   He took a long breath and then let it out slowly.  

“We’re within five hundred feet, Commander.”

“All stop,” Morton commanded.  “Bow and belly cameras.”

The view screen lit up and showed the scene from the nose.  Morgan had been right.  It was the mini-sub and it was a mess.   And there were bodies.  But something wasn’t right.  Closer and closer they drifted.  Shuddering, he saw the bloated bodies laid out in pieces and then he realized what was missing.  There should have been fish.  There were too many ‘pieces’.  Gruesome as it sounded, predators should have already been after the bodies, even with the wetsuits.  And the masks were nowhere to be found.  Convenient, letting them see and identify.  It was hard to put this gruesome scene into some kind of sense, but even as he stood there watching what appeared to be his commanding officers’ dead bodies, he knew they weren’t real.  

“Oh, God have mercy….” murmured one of the crewmen.

“Take it easy, Armstrong,” Chip said loud enough for the rest to hear.  “Those aren’t real bodies.  That’s not the admiral or the skipper.”

“What?”

“You heard me.  Look again and analyze the situation,” he ordered.  It was now obvious, that although the deception had been quite good, those were not real bodies down there.  “Prepare to surface.  We’re going back to that island and find both of them.  And that crack-pot general isn’t going to stop us this time!”   Morton picked up the mike again and spoke into it.   “Take her up to two hundred feet.”  He turned to the navs.  “Bearing….”  He glanced at the charts.  “Two-two-five.  Full speed ahead.  Take us to one mile off shore.”  Again he spoke into the mike.  “I need a crew to man a skiff.  Fully armed.”   Turning to O’Brien, he said, “I kind of took over, but you have the conn now, Mr. O’Brien.”

“Good luck, Mr. Morton,” the younger man said.

                       ===============================

Rage!  Pure rage.  Rage hotter than the center of a nuclear explosion.   He had to kill Nelson.  Why?   Because of his smug superiority.  His almighty know-it-all-ness.   Like some kind of God or something.  King Harriman the first.   Snappish, growling, obstinate, pig-headed jackass.   Damn him!  He was always right, even when he was wrong.  Trying to tell him he was his friend.  If he had been his friend, why didn’t he get him for Seaview when the keel was laid?  Why did he wait until he had to get him—until the Navy had selected him?   Yeah, that’s right.  Nelson hadn’t even made the choice.  The Navy had.   Why hadn’t he seen all this before?   Why hadn’t he seen any of it before?   There was such clarity in what this so-called friend was doing.  Nelson had finally shown his true colors when he had attacked him and thrown him down the cliff.  Finally tried to kill him.  And again when Nelson ambushed him.  What a pitiful attempt!   A little stick to the ribs wouldn’t stop him.  Leading him to that quicksand wouldn’t stop him either.  That was clever.  And he had almost fallen in.  Nelson would have liked that, wouldn’t he?  Crane snarled as he followed the admiral’s trail.  He would succeed in doing what should have been done a long time ago.  

Crane stopped and searched the trail.  Looked ahead.  Narrowed his eyes.  Yes!  There he was, running away, thinking he was safe.   With a feeling of triumph, Lee turned and went another way.  He couldn’t understand why he hadn’t hit Nelson before.  His aim was usually pretty good, but each shot had been short or over his enemy’s head.  But this time, he had him.  And he would kill him.  Crane went above and ahead of Nelson, heard him on the move.  Not this time, damn you.  I’ve got you.  I’ve got you, you….  He rose up and tackled Nelson.   They fell to the ground and Nelson grabbed the gun in an iron grip.  Was on top of him, trying to rip the gun away from him. 

Damn you!  Where did the old bastard get his strength?  “Kill you,” he cried out, rage and frustration consuming him. 

“Lee!  Lee, come out of it!” Nelson cried, even as he tried to take the gun away to kill him.

Crane continued to wrestle with his enemy, trying to get the gun away, wondering again why he couldn’t best Nelson.   He was stronger—Nelson should already be dead.  Finally he had his leg in position and pushed the admiral off of him—and back into the quicksand.  The admiral had the gun, but that didn’t matter now.  Nothing did except killing his enemy.   Kill him more quickly, his raging mind was screaming.  He reached around, found a stick.  Yes!  Bash his head in.  Leaning forward, he swung—and missed!   What the hell?  Why can’t I do this simple thing?  Nelson, even as he was sinking, dodged to one side and shot at him.  So that’s the way it is.  Crane swung, swearing incoherently.  What the hell was Nelson doing?  He still couldn’t hit him.  Something splashed into the quicksand near them.  Another man had fallen into the quicksand.  Tau, but that was of no consequence.  Only the need, the overwhelming need to kill Nelson held his attention.  He continued to swing—and miss.  He was almost crying in frustration.  Nelson was sinking, but not fast enough.  He swore, raged and kept swinging.  Everything blurred except for Nelson—taunting him with his ability to divert the stick. 

Suddenly there were others.  Others trying to save the admiral.  No!  NO!  He kept swinging and felt hands pulling him back, thwarting him.  “Kill him!” he choked out. 

“Skipper!  Take it easy, Skipper!”

No!  His victory was being taken away.  His own men were against him. He fought, but they held him down.   He raged and swore, tried to shove them aside, but the two were joined by two more.  It was hopeless but still he fought.  He fought until he was exhausted and then he fought some more.  They threw him on his stomach, trussed him even while Nelson was talking about him.  He couldn’t hear, but he didn’t doubt what was being said.  He felt the humiliation of the bindings, the anger and frustration rising like bile in his throat.  Finally there was nothing left but the raging anger and no way to deal with it except to cry out, then he felt something hard against his head and then everything went blank. 

“What in the world, Admiral…?”  Chip was gazing in horror at the unconscious form of his captain.  He had done as the admiral had ordered, using the rifle stock to knock his friend out, trusting Nelson, but at the same time wondered what had come over Lee. 

“Drugs, Chip.  It was even in the plants here, certainly in the water.    Lee ate some fruit before we realized what Tau’s game was.”  His hands were shaking.  It had been too close.  In fact he wondered why he was even still alive.  The drugs must have not only taken away judgment and reason, but also coordination.  But even as he thought it, he wondered.  “We would never have been able to get him on board Seaview if we hadn’t knocked him out.  This is exactly what happened to Richardson and Williams, except they must have immediately gone back to the Angler after they had eaten.”

“So Lee was really trying to kill you?”

Nelson nodded, even while still pondering everything that had happened.  “We’d better get out of here.  Even though Tau’s dead, his men may be out looking for us.  Is that skiff going to be able to carry all of us?”

Chip nodded.  “Barely, but we’ll make it.  We have to.  I don’t want to leave anyone here, even for a minute.”

Nelson sighed.  “I agree with you.  Let’s get out of here.”

                   ==================================

Lee woke up in sickbay with a huge headache, the groggy feeling of having been given a sedative, and painful memories.  He tried to rub his forehead, but his hands were in restraints.   Remembering that time on the island, he could understand why, he thought dolefully.  Through the bright lights of sickbay he saw several people gazing at him. 

He couldn’t look at the admiral, standing over him with deep concern in his eyes.  Instead he turned his head away.   The anger was replaced by intense guilt, but he remembered the anger.  Oh, he remembered all right.  I tried to kill my commander—my best friend!  Only by the grace of God, I didn’t succeed.  Only by a miracle.

He felt a hand lay on his shoulder and he shuddered.  Yeah, his mind told him it was the drugs, but still….   I tried to kill one of the best men I have ever known; a brother in arms!   What kind of person would do that? his guilt ridden mind railed.

“Lee, it’s okay.  It was the drugs.  You couldn’t help yourself.  That is exactly what they wanted you—us to do.”

“Except you were smart enough to realize what was going on,” Crane said bitterly, his head still turned away.  “I should have given you my gun right then and there.”

“I should have asked.  So you see, I’m not that smart after all.  I underestimated the power of that drug.  Forgot what happened to Richardson and Williams.”

“I tried to kill you,” Lee said softly.  He turned to look at the admiral and cried out.  “I damn near did kill you!  If Chip and the others hadn’t come, I would have killed you!”

“Maybe.”

“What do you mean, maybe?  I tried to kill you!”

“Captain, you’re still under the drug’s influence,” Doc said soothingly.  “A counter reaction, if you will.  I want you to sleep now.”

Suddenly a needle pricked his arm and Crane looked resentfully at the doctor and then at the syringe.   “I don’t want to sleep.”

“You’ve been outvoted.  A little while and then you can finish recuperating in your cabin.”  

It didn’t take long.  Soon he was asleep.

“So this guilt?  It will go away when the drugs are completely out of his system?” the admiral asked.  Almost as shocking as the intense killing anger had been the look of self-recrimination and guilt in the captain’s eyes.  Chip was standing behind him, but had said nothing.

“No, Admiral.  Lee Crane, despite knowing intellectually that the drugs were making him act the way he did, will feel guilt.  I leave it up to both of you to deal with that.  I don’t think it will take much for his psyche to realize the same thing that you are trying to tell him, Admiral, but I think it will be because you and he talk about what happened.”

Harriman nodded.  “How long will he be out?”

“About five or six hours.  I didn’t use a strong sedative this time, only something to relax him.  I would wait until he’s in his cabin.  It will be more private and I think the captain will feel less threatened.”

“All right.  Let me know when he’s been released from your clutches.”   Nelson walked out of sickbay.  Chip hesitated a moment, gazing at the sleeping man, and then followed. 

                                  ==============================

The next time Lee awoke, Doc was alone.  “You said I could get out of here?”

Doc smiled.  “Let me check you over first and then if everything is okay, yes.”  The examination was quickly finished.  “Your last blood test showed no residue of the drug.  Yes, I would like for you to continue to rest in your cabin.”

“How long?”

“When’s your next watch?”

Crane looked incredulous.  “You’re kidding, right?  The admiral is going to let me go back on duty?”

“Of course, Captain.  Why wouldn’t he?  Why wouldn’t I?  You were under the influence of a drug that has since passed out of your body.”

Lee couldn’t answer for several minutes; he only looked at the doctor.   When Doc said nothing, he asked, “What day is it?”

“Thursday.  You’ve been in here for two days.”

Lee thought for a brief moment.  “Second watch.”

Doc shook his head.  “That’s only a couple of hours away.  Too soon to recover from the sedative.  Next watch after that will be soon enough.”  When Lee didn’t argue, Jamieson felt a quick stab of alarm, but he didn’t say anything.  “I had Frank get your pajamas and robe.  He can help you change if you need him to and then he’ll accompany you to your cabin.  I’ll have Cookie send you something to eat.”

Lee sighed.  “Not hungry.”

“You are, too.  Food will get rid of that sedated feeling more quickly.”

There was a quirk of a smile from Crane.  “All right, since you put it that way, Jamie.”

Soon he was in his cabin and lying on his bunk.  His thoughts returned to the horrifying events on the island.   Shuddering, he couldn’t help feeling the horror of what he had tried to do.  The thoughts that had been in his head.   There was a knock on his door and he sat up.  “Come in.”   

It was a galley mate with a tray.  “Cookie sent this up, sir.”

Lee walked to the desk where the tray had been set down and gazed at the food.  “Some meal!”  Chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, sliced carrots, a roll and what appeared to be apple crisp.  

“Yes, sir.  Cookie saved some of yesterday’s menu items and cooked it for you when Doc told him you were leaving sickbay.”

Crane nodded, but couldn’t help but wonder if the crewman knew what he had tried to do two days before.   “Thanks, Paulsen.  And tell Cookie thanks, too.”

“Sure, Skipper.”  The rate left.

He sat down and picked up the fork.  As enticing as it smelled and as good a job as Cookie had done, Lee wasn’t really all that hungry.  But he remembered Doc’s words and took a bite of the potatoes.  As usual, the cook had outdone himself.  Lee ate some of everything before finally pushing the tray away.   He got up and walked the two paces to his bunk and sat down.  Then he lay down and stared at the ceiling just above his head.  He got up and paced the cabin, then sat down again.  He was tired for some strange reason, but still keyed up.  And he certainly couldn’t sleep.  Finally, though, Crane lay down again and pondered.  Yes, it was the drug, but the ugly thoughts kept haunting him along with the repeated visions of him pointing the gun at the admiral’s back.   It was the drug, he kept telling himself.  How could he have even entertained such things?  Did that kind of ugly resentment reside deep down inside?  He and the admiral had calmly and lucidly discussed the hate drug after he had thrown the remaining berries away.  Harriman Nelson realized what the import of those berries was, but had continued to act as though nothing had happened.  He had trusted him, and Lee had tried to kill him.

Even while he pondered, the galley mate returned and took his tray, looking somewhat disapproving at the half-eaten meal.   Doc would soon know about that, but Crane didn’t care all that much.   He only murmured a thank you and the young seaman was gone.  With a sigh, Crane continued to think.  It was Tau’s drug.   Even the admiral didn’t blame him, but what if he had actually killed him?  No amount of blame on drugs would bring back his friend and mentor if that had happened.

Another knock.  Lee sat up again.  “Come in.”  

Almost immediately, the admiral entered the small room and gazed at him.  “You feeling better?”

“Yes, are you?”  Crane gazed at a dark bruise on the admiral’s jaw line.  “You have a bruise,” he stated, feeling the stabbing of guilt again.

The admiral walked to the bunk and smiled.  “Believe it or not, it was from a branch I ran into, nothing that you did.”

Lee grimaced.  “Well, it wasn’t for lack of trying.”

“It was the drug, Lee.  You have to remember, it was the drug.”

“I know, everyone keeps telling me that.”

“Are you telling yourself that, lad?”

“Yes, but I keep seeing me trying to kill you and wondering what if I had.”

“I have wondered about that, too,” Nelson said, rubbing the back of his head in thought.   He leaned up against Lee’s desk. 

“You have?”

“Of course, I have.  With your training, you’re quite proficient with a gun, especially in combat situations.  Same with other types of weapons.”

“Like a stick,” Lee said.  He wondered where the admiral was going with this.

“Yes, like a stick.  You know, you came mighty close with that thing, but you never hit me.  I have continued to wonder about that.”  Nelson smiled. 

“Drug messed with my coordination?”

“I considered that, too.  But it was selective if it did.”  Harriman sat on the edge of Lee’s desk.  His eyes were shining with the same light that they held when he had discovered something new.  “I think you didn’t hit me for the same reason you didn’t pull the trigger when you had been brainwashed.”

Lee gaped in surprise.  “Uh, what?  You mean….”

“I mean that deep--way down deep inside you didn’t want to kill me and that deeply buried subconscious desire affected your aim.”

“That’s a stretch, Admiral.  I remember how I felt during that time on the island; how much I wanted to kill you.”

“Is it really such a stretch?  Can you think of a better explanation?” Nelson leaned forward and laid a hand on his captain’s arm.  “I know how we both really feel about each other.”  The fingers gripped tightly, as though trying to emphasize the words.  “Hell, Lee, we get aggravated, even angry with one another at times.  We snap and growl; have the rates scurrying for cover.”  Here Lee smiled.   “It’s natural, but still, when all is said and done, we are friends, even more than we are co-workers.  We are friends, Lee.  I respect you more than you can imagine.   I know that and you know that.  Tau couldn’t take that away from us.”

Crane felt the relief flood through him as he gazed into his mentor’s eyes and saw the truth of the words.  “I just wish we could blow that island off the map,” he finally said in a soft voice.

“We will, once we are assured that no one is left on it.  SUBCOMPAQ gave the orders, but I am more than willing to carry them out.”  He saw Lee nod in satisfaction and went on.   “When they realized that I had moved their water pump to a contaminated lake, they began packing up and going.  We monitored and listened to some doozy arguments, saw a few fistfights, heard shots, and then about a dozen people left in their hidden skiffs.  We picked up a larger ship on our scopes a few miles out in the ocean, which we assume is a People’s Republic ship that responded to their call for help.  Even that’s gone now.   Chip took a landing party about a half an hour ago to search the facility and make sure there is no one left.”

“Good.  The only bad thing is that they still have the formula, and probably the scientist who developed it.  They can do this again.”

“Perhaps, Lee.  I would imagine they would be much more careful with it now that they have seen how devastating it is for their own people.  It was easily turned against them.”

“But next time, Admiral, what happens next time?  Despite everything you have said, I came too close to actually murdering you.”

“Lee,” Nelson said with a smile.  “Just as we did two days ago, we’ll deal with that when the time comes.”  Again Crane nodded.  “By the way, I want you in your uniform by the time Chip gets back.”

Lee looked at him in puzzlement.  “Doc won’t release me for duty until tomorrow.”

Nelson laughed.  “No, I don’t want you on watch.  I just want you in the missile room to order and then carry out the destruction of that island.”

Lee grinned.  “Aye, aye, sir!”  He would be ready, he thought, as this was an order he definitely wanted to carry out.

(Fade out)