March Anson and Scoot Bailey of the U.S. Navy

by Marshall McClintock

  CHAPTER FIVE

  FIRST DIVE

  The next day classes started for March and Stan and the other newofficers going through the school. Expecting the most difficult andintensive of studies, March was a little disappointed in the firstday’s work.

  “Just ground work, I suppose,” he said to Stan at mess that evening.“They couldn’t start throwing the whole book at us on the first day.”

  “I think they did pretty well,” Stan said. “I got a big dose of thehistory and development of the submarine and the construction of modernpigboats. Back in college we’d have taken a week to cover what we gotin this one day. But, of course, you’ve read a lot of general stuffabout subs. I was so busy studying engineering in college I didn’t lookat anything else.”

  “Yes, I _have_ read a good deal about the underwater ships,” Marchsaid. “I always did think those first experimenters had a lot of guts.Imagine that Dutchman, Van Drebel, submerging a boat more than threehundred years ago.”

  “Sure, and he stayed down two hours,” Stan agreed. “Made about twomiles—with oars for power!”

  “He must have been a clever guy to have those oars sticking out throughleather openings sealed so tight that not a drop of water could comein,” March said. “But it was the Americans who really made submarinesgo.”

  “Yes—isn’t there a ship named after Bushnell,” Stan asked, “the man whomade that submarine during the American Revolution?”

  “Sure, a submarine tender, naturally,” March replied. “Too bad his ideadidn’t work better. It was a clever one.”

  “I had never realized until today,” Stan said, “that Robert Fulton hadanything to do with submarines. I thought inventing the steamboat wasenough for any one man. But now I find out he invented pretty goodsubmarines long before he did the steamboat. But he just couldn’t getanybody to listen to him.”

  “Well, the sub really couldn’t develop into a reliable ship,” Marchsaid, “until electric motors and storage batteries came along. Therewere some pretty good attempts, of course, and John Holland and SimonLake, the two Americans who really made subs that worked, turned outsome fair ones driven by gasoline engines, steam engines, andcompressed air.”

  “And don’t forget the Diesels!” Stan laughed. “My sweethearts, theDiesels! They were the last things needed, after storage batteries andelectric motors, to make subs really dependable and good.”

  “I won’t forget your Diesels, Stan,” March said. “I’m going to have tolearn plenty about them in the next few weeks, and I know almostnothing now. And you’ve got to learn plenty about other things, too.”

  “Sure, it’ll be tough going,” Stan said. “But it’s a wonderful idea tohave every officer, no matter what his specialty, able to take overalmost any department on a sub if he has to.”

  “Yes, if I get knocked cold just when we’re trying to slip away throughsome coral atolls to miss a depth-charge attack,” March asked, “won’tyou be glad you really learned how to navigate?”

  “Why, all Navy men know how to navigate,” Stan protested. “I know mynavigation pretty well.”

  “Maybe so,” March agreed, “but do you know it well enough to take aship a few hundred miles under water without ever a chance to look atthe horizon or shoot the sun or get a fix on some landmark? I know Icouldn’t do it, and navigation’s been my main job so far.”

  “Navigating a sub’s no bed of roses, of course,” Stan said, “butnursing my pretty Diesels is no easy task, either. When you’re workin’on those babies, you pay attention and be good to them.”

  “I’ll be good to your Diesels, all right,” March laughed. “But what I’mmost anxious to learn about are all the new sound-detection devices.Pretty secret stuff, some of it, though we’ve had some of it on oursurface ships.”

  “I know,” Stan said. “You don’t feel so blind and lost in a sub anymore, I guess. You can tell from the sound devices just how many shipsare near by and even from the sound of their engines what kind theyare, where they’re goin’ and how fast. But you know what I’m anxious todo—really get inside a pigboat and look around. Those cross-sectioncharts are fine, but there’s nothing like seeing the real thing foryourself.”

  “I think they’ll be taking us down for a dive within a couple of days,”March said. “Just for the ride, you know, and to see how we react. Andit had better be pretty soon. That Scoot Bailey has probably been up ina plane half a dozen times at least and I haven’t seen the inside of asub!”

  The next morning they looked for an announcement that they would godown in one of the subs but there was nothing of the sort. They spenttheir time in the classrooms, and they began the really intensive workthat March had been expecting.

  “One day of preliminary stuff was enough, I guess,” he said to Stan atlunch. “They really put us to work this morning.”

  The classrooms and laboratories of the officer-students were in thesame building as those of the enlisted men. Officers and men alike hadgone through the same preliminary tests, but now their paths separated.March saw the men regularly, of course, in the halls and around thegrounds. He stopped and chatted once in a while with Scott, theradioman, who struck him more and more as a pleasant and serious youngman ideally suited to submarine work. He saw the pharmacist, Sallini,and also Marty Cobden, the fellow who had gone to pieces at thefifty-foot level in the escape tower. He was going at his studies likea demon, as if to make up in some way for his one failure to date.

  March and Stan saw them that very afternoon again, when they reported,according to instructions, to one of the Chief Petty Officers at thesub base below the school buildings.

  “Wonder what’s up?” Stan said. “Something for officers and men alike,whatever it is.”

  “There’s only one thing left of that sort,” exclaimed March happily.“That’s our first pigboat ride! Come on, Stan!”

  Stan noticed that there were only about a dozen enlisted men gatheredtogether rather than the whole class.

  “Why only some of them?” he wondered.

  “Sub won’t hold many more, in addition to the regular crew,” Marchsaid. “And now these boys are really beginning to team up. You know howwe’ve had it drilled into us already that teamwork is the mostimportant part of submarining? Well, they’ve started to put their teamstogether. This bunch is a diving section—just enough men for one shifton a sub to handle everything that needs to be handled. They’ll worktogether all through the course, get to know each other, to work welltogether.”

  “What if one of the men fails the course?” Stan asked. “There’s MartyCobden, for instance. If he doesn’t manage to overcome that fear of theescape tower he’s through.”

  “Then they’ll have to replace him,” March said. “But that will be justone man out of the section—or maybe two at most will not be able tomake it. Well, the majority of the team is still intact. The new mancan fit into a well-functioning team pretty fast.”

  “Will they eventually go out on duty together?” Stan asked.

  “Probably,” March replied. “When a sub gets three diving sections thathave trained together, then it’s got a real crew. Of course, theyusually try to put in just one new section with two old ones, menwho’ve been through the ropes. The new section, already used toteamwork, fits in with the experienced men well, and learns so muchfrom them that they’re veterans after one patrol.”

  “What about us officers, though?” Stan wondered. “Maybe there’s achance we’ll go on the same sub.”

  “Maybe,” March agreed. “They may put two new officers on a sub withthree or four veterans. Probably no more, though. Look, here comes theChief!”

  In a few minutes they were all walking down toward the docks where theold O-type submarines used as trainers lay bobbing gently in the watersof the Thames River. March saw that some of the crew were busy aboutthe deck of one of the subs, to which a narrow gangplank led from thedock. As they walked, the Chief Petty Office
r was talking to thestudents.

  “When it’s in the water,” he said, “you can’t see much of a sub. Theflat deck is just a superstructure built up on top of the cigar-shapedhull. You can see part of the hull itself where the superstructuresides slope down into it. But most of it’s under water, where it oughtto be on a pigboat.”

  March’s eyes were going over the long slim craft swiftly, not missing adetail. He saw the fins on the side at bow and stern, folded back now,but able to be extended so as to make the planes which could guide theship up or down. He noted the looming conning tower which served as abridge for the officers when the pigboat traveled on the surface. Fromthere, he knew, a hatch led down into the center section of the ship.He saw, too, that the fore and aft hatches were open, one leading downinto the torpedo room and another into the engine room.

  “Look at the deck gun,” Stan said. “Wicked looking little thing.”

  _They Watched From the Dock_]

  He pointed to the 3-inch gun mounted on the flat deck forward of theconning tower. It was tightly covered with what appeared to be a canvascover. March knew that the crew could have that cover off and the gunin action in a matter of seconds.

  March and Stan walked across the gangplank and looked up at the officeron the bridge of the conning tower. Saluting, they reported, andreceived a welcoming smile and the words, “Come on up!”

  They scrambled up the ladder and found themselves on the crowded bridgewith two other men.

  “I’m Lieutenant Commander Sutherland,” said the man who had greetedthem, “Executive Officer.” He turned to the other officer on the deck.“Captain Binkey—Lieutenant Anson and Ensign Bigelow reporting.”

  The Captain smiled as he returned their salute and then lapsed into hiscustomary informal role.

  “Glad to have you aboard,” he said. “First ride, eh?”

  “Yes, sir,” March and Stan replied, feeling at ease at once in the oldveteran’s presence.

  “Sutherland will show you around after we get started,” the Skippersaid. “I imagine you’ll want to stay up here till we’re under way.”

  Sutherland turned to them. “You probably know from your studies whatmost of this is about,” he said. “Just a matter of seeing and feelingit to be at home. I know I don’t have to tell you every little detailthe way the Chief down there is pointing out every steel plate to thoseratings.”

  March and Stan glanced down to see that the Chief had led his enlistedmen on to the deck of the submarine, where they were mingling with theregular crew who were preparing to cast off when the Captain ordered.

  “Whenever you want to know anything,” Sutherland went on, “just ask meand I’ll try to give you the answer. I imagine we’ll be casting off ina minute.”

  They saw the Chief Petty Officer leading his students down thetorpedo-room hatch to the interior of the submarine, and for a momentMarch wanted to join them.

  “That will come later,” he said. “It’s important to see them cast off.”

  And that operation came without delay. At a word from the Captain, theexecutive officer began barking orders to the crew and to the enlistedmen who stood at the controls on the bridge. The gangplank was takenaway by men on the dock, the electric motors began to turn in the shipfar below them, and lines were cast off. Slowly, trembling slightlybeneath their feet, the pigboat slid back into the river away from theshore, churning up the water only slightly as it moved.

  Then suddenly, with a roar, the Diesels caught hold and white smokepoured from the exhaust vents on the sides of the boat. Stan grinned ashe heard them, and March said, “Makes you feel at home to hear them,doesn’t it?”

  “Oh—is he a Diesel man?” Sutherland asked.

  “He dreams about them,” March replied. “I think he’s going to marry aDiesel some day!”

  The pigboat was now in the middle of the river and swinging about tohead downstream. On the deck below there remained only a few men of theregular crew needed for duties there. March looked around, feeling thethrill of pleasure that always came when a ship set out. The coolbreeze fanned his face, and he looked at the shore slipping by, thenthe buildings of the city. It seemed only a short while before theywere in the choppy open water of the Sound. Here there were almost noother ships, and the waters were deep. Soon they would dive!

  Below, he knew, the regular crew were at their stations, with thestudents looking on—each specialist observing the work he would one daydo himself. Engine men were in the crowded engine room, peering eagerlyat the huge Diesels which powered the ship on the surface. Scott, theradioman, would be standing beside the regular radioman, and Salliniwould be going over supplies and equipment of the regular pharmacist,while keeping his eye out for everything else he could learn, too.Every crew member had his special duties, but every one had to be ableto take over the duties of any other in an emergency. That was one ofthe reasons they all liked submarine work, officers and men alike. Theylearned so much, in so many different fields, in such a short time!

  “Rig ship for diving!” said the Captain quietly, and Sutherland, whoserved also as diving officer, spoke the order into the interphone onthe bridge. Throughout the ship below, March and Stan knew, men hadsprung to their stations in every compartment. The cook was “securing”the sink, stove, pots and pans. Men at the huge levers controlling thevalves of the ballast tanks tested them. The diving planes were riggedout. Below on the deck, the last of the crew slid down the hatches andmade them fast from the inside.

  Then the reports began to come back over the phone that all was readyinside the boat. An officer in the control room below heard thedifferent rooms of the submarine check in one by one.

  “Torpedo room rigged for diving!”

  “Engine room rigged for diving!”

  When all rooms had reported, the officer below phoned to the Captain onthe bridge that the ship was rigged for diving.

  “All right, Mister Anson and Mister Bigelow—down you go!”

  March quickly moved to the opening and slid down it, his feet reachingfor the steps of the straight steel ladder. He was followed at once byStan and then by Sutherland. Next came the enlisted man who had stoodat the controls on the bridge, and finally the Captain himself. Thehatch was made fast behind him and everyone was inside the boat.

  March glanced around him quickly. And despite the number of drawingsand pictures he had seen of the control room of a submarine, he gasped.Never had he seen such a myriad of instruments and wheels and leversand dials! Everything in the entire submarine was really controlledfrom this one central room. Beside him, in the middle of the room, werethe two thick steel shafts which he knew were the periscopes. Theirlower ends were down in wells in the deck and would not be raised untilafter they were submerged and the skipper wanted to look around.

  Facing the bow of the ship, March saw the forward bulkhead of thecontrol room. Yes, there was the huge steering wheel with the helmsmanholding it lightly. It seemed strange for a helmsman to be looking at awall, or instrument panels on a wall, rather than at the open sea overwhich he steered. March knew that the controls were electricallyoperated by the wheel and thus easy to handle. But every man was madeto steer it by hand on occasion—and that took real strength!—in orderto be ready for that emergency that might come when the electriccurrent failed.

  Forward, also, were the wheels controlling the angles of the divingplanes. There was the gyro-compass dial, and near by the little tableat which the navigation officer sat.

  “Some day that’s where I’ll be,” March said to himself.

  He didn’t have time to look carefully at the many other dials againstthis wall, but he knew they showed the ship’s depth under water, thepressure, and other essential data. Along the sides were still moredials showing the amount of fuel in tanks, the number of revolutionsper minute being made by the propellers. He recognized theinclinometer, which showed just exactly the angle of tip assumed by theboat in diving or coming up.

  On another side were the long levers an
d wheels controlling the bigKingston valves which flooded the ballast tanks with sea water when theship was to dive, the air vents, the pumps, and other equipment used indiving and surfacing. The regular crew stood tensely at their postswithout a word, and the students who stood near by were completelysilent.

  March glanced at the Skipper and saw that he was looking at a hugepanel on one wall. Yes, this was the “Christmas Tree!” It was a largeelectric indicator board covered with red and green lights. It showedthe exact condition of every opening—hatches, air induction vents, andall—into the ship. Everything having anything to do with diving had itsindicator there on the board. March saw that most of the lights weregreen, but many were still red. He knew that every light had to begreen before the ship could dive.

  “Stand by for diving,” said the Skipper in a quiet voice.

  Sutherland, standing behind him, sang out, “Stand by for diving!” Thetelephone orderly repeated the order over the interphone to all partsof the ship and March jumped as the klaxon horns blared out theirraucous warnings. For a moment their sound reverberated in the smallsteel room, and then Sutherland barked new orders.

  “Open main ballast Kingstons!” March saw the men move the levers as herepeated the order, and a few lights turned to green on the “ChristmasTree.”

  “Stop main engines!” The order was repeated over the phone to theengine room. March felt the trembling of the ship stop as the Dieselswere shut off and the electric motors switched on again, taking theircurrent from the huge banks of storage batteries under the deck of theship. At the same time other lights turned to green on the board.

  “Open main ballast vents!” called Sutherland.

  One after another the necessary orders were called by the divingofficer, they were carried out with precision and reported back atonce. Finally, the last red lights on the board winked out as the mainair induction valves were closed. Then Sutherland ordered, as the lasttest, that air be released from the high-pressure tank into theinterior of the ship. March watched him look at the dial indicating airpressure within the ship. The hand moved up a little, then held steady.This showed that there was no leakage of air from the boat.

  Sutherland turned to the Skipper. “Pressure in the boat—green light,sir.”

  “Take her down!” said the Captain with a nod.

  When the diving officer repeated the order the klaxons blared againtheir final warning before the diving officer called out one orderafter another. March had been able to keep close track of everything upto this point, but suddenly, just at the crucial moment, there was toomuch going on. He heard an order that sounded like “Down bow planes!”and felt the ship tip forward slightly. But at the same time he heardthe roar of water as it rushed into the ballast tanks between the innerand outer steel hulls of the ship, the rush of air forced out of thevents by the inrushing water, and the whine of the electric motors.

  Sutherland gave an order about the trim tanks which March did notcatch, then heard the Skipper say, “Steady at forty feet.”

  As the order was repeated, March found the dial which indicated theship’s depth and saw the hand approach the forty mark. There the shipleveled out again. The sound of rushing water and bubbling air hadceased and the only sound was the steady hum of the motors.

  “We’re down!” Stan muttered, almost to himself. March had almostforgotten his companion’s existence, but now he turned to him.

  “That’s right!” he said. “I was so intent on what was happening Ialmost forgot about that. There’s nothing special about it, is there? Imean—being here in this room where you can’t see outside—it doesn’tmake much difference whether you’re on top of the water or underneathit.”

  “Only when I heard the water rushing into the ballasts,” Stan answered.“Then I had a little sensation of going under water. It was fast,wasn’t it?”

  “So fast I couldn’t keep track of everything,” March replied. “I wonderhow long it took from the time the Captain ordered the dive until weleveled off at forty feet.”

  Sutherland overheard him. “Just sixty-eight seconds!” he said.

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