The Run Silent Hunt For Red U571 Crimson Tide

Donald Trump’s campaign is at that contractually obligatory moment in every submarine movie where the captain is under siege so badly from depth charges, that he has no choice but to bring the sub below the maximum allowable depth. 

The crew is sweating profusely while inexplicably wearing leather jackets - even if it is a 20 billion-dollar nuclear powered ship which should be able to control the temperature -  they all eye the depth gauge in terror as the arrow passes well past the red line. 

One at a time, bolts explode off of the pipes from the pressure and zing across the cabin like bullets and water shoots out from their newly vacated spot. (Which secretly has to feel good sweating in those leather jackets) The glass on the depth gage shatters.

Not a good sign.

There is no choice but to stuff the torpedo tubes with oil and garbage and the odd dead body and release them to the surface in the hopes the captain of the destroyer shelling them is the only person who has not seen this trick in a submarine movie before.