In Chapter 22, Jack describes the way he lies in bed with Babette. He and his wife have a nightly ritual in which he lies in the same way on her chest. This time, though, Jack needs the comfort of lying with his wife more than ever, having learned of the adverse effects of Nyodene D exposure and fearful for his health. He describes this feeling in a metaphor that turns him into a military vehicle:

Her body became the agency of my resolve, my silence. Nightly I moved toward her breasts, nuzzling into that designated space like a wounded sub into its repair dock. I drew courage from her breasts, her warm mouth, her browsing hands, from the skimming tips of her fingers on my back. The lighter the touch, the more determined I was to keep her from knowing. Only her own desperation could break my will.

Jack says he moves toward Babette's breasts "like a wounded sub into its repair dock." Jack makes himself into a submarine, battered in the field of combat. It is likely that Jack, a Hitler scholar, here thinks specifically of Unterseeboots, or U-boats, the submarines used by Nazi Germany. He compares himself to a large hunk of metal that needs to be fixed; Jack does not see himself as fully human until he has "docked" onto Babette. She does indeed repair him, as he "[draws] courage" from her gentle touch. As so often in the novel, Jack loves Babette insofar as she makes him feel healthy and virile. But here, Jack fears so much for his survival, having been exposed to Nyodene D, that he can only understand his danger through mechanical objects. Jack's fear of death subverts his relationships and his own humanity.