by Larry Bond
As they picked up their masks, gloves, fins, and flashlights, Reynolds looked over to Jerry and said, “Time for you to become a true Bluenose, Mr. Mitchell.”
The wide grin on the COB’s face left Jerry feeling a bit uneasy. “Why do I get the impression that I should feel honored?”
“Because it is a true honor to actually swim in the realm of King Boreas. An honor that goes far beyond merely being sprayed down with seawater during the baptism.”
“Really? Well, I’ll take your word for it, Your Majesty. Just no more of that Prussian blue crap,” warned Jerry adamantly.
Reynolds laughed as he climbed the ladder up into the forward escape trunk. For a moment, Jerry wasn’t certain that the COB would fit through the hatch. He was such a big man to begin with, and he now had most of his diving gear on as well. But with surprising ease, the COB deftly navigated the hatchway. After all their other gear had been handed up, Jerry started climbing up the ladder.
“Press your chest onto the ladder, sir. That way you won’t snag the hatch seat,” coached Reynolds. Once Jerry’s tank was clear of the hatchway, Reynolds reached down and bodily pulled him up into the escape trunk. After being set down on the grate, Jerry called down, “Is that drogue and power supply ready?”
“Right here, sir,” responded Boyd. Jerry then heard a guttural, “Umph!” Followed by, “Sir, if you don’t mind, I could use a little help.”
Reynolds knelt on the grate and helped Jerry grab the large box in Boyd’s arms. It was rather heavy, and even the COB had to exert himself to lift it into the escape trunk. “Son of a buck!” Jerry exclaimed. “I thought Davis was going to make this thing portable!”
“Well, sir, it is—kinda. You can move it.”
Jerry was unimpressed and showed his concern. “Petty Officer Boyd, if we take this thing out of the escape trunk, we’ll go straight to the bottom.”
“Uhh, yes, sir, we know, sir,” replied Boyd with a smile. “That’s why we made sure there was enough umbilical cabling so you don’t have to remove the power supply from the escape trunk. Dr. Davis says all you have to do is point the drogue down over the starboard side and push the black button. As long as the button is depressed, it’ll keep transmitting the homing beacon.”
As Jerry pulled the cabling into the trunk, Boyd and Greer lifted the drogue and pushed it up into the trunk for the two men to grab. As they lifted the drogue, Jerry noticed that it weighed almost as much as the power supply. There were two metal gas bottles taped to it, too, one on each side. “What the hell are these for?” he asked, pointing to one of the cylinders.
“It was Dr. Davis’ idea, sir. They’re empty. She said their buoyancy should make the drogue easier to handle once you’re out in the water.”
“Would you please thank her for us, TM2? And we’ll see you when we get back.”
Once everyone was clear, Reynolds shut and dogged the lower escape trunk. With the hatch closed, Jerry repositioned the drogue and the cabling so that he and the COB had at least a little room to don the rest of their gear. “It’s a bit tight in here, isn’t it?” remarked Jerry tensely. As Jerry started to put on his fins and gloves, Reynolds saw that he was agitated, uneasy. As the COB put on his fins, he glanced over at Jerry and asked, “Nervous?”
Jerry let out a brief sigh and then admitted, “No COB, I think a better word is ‘scared.’ I’ve never left a submerged submarine before, and I’ve never made a dive hundreds of miles from the nearest shore.”
“That’s okay, Mr. Mitchell. It’s all right to be a little scared. I actually prefer it that way because I know you’ll be more careful. Now, once we get out there, we stay in each other’s sight at all times. There is no reason for us to be apart, understood?”
Even though Jerry was an officer and Reynolds a senior enlisted man, Jerry knew that the COB had the authority of experience, and in this situation, he gave the orders. “Understood, COB.”
“Okay, then,” said Reynolds as he opened the valve. “Let’s get wet!”
Below the grate, Jerry heard the rush of seawater as it quickly began to fill the escape trunk. He could feel the temperature inside dropping sharply on his face as the water rose up over his feet. Reynolds reached down and scooped up some seawater and swished it around in his full face mask. As he put it on, he leaned over to Jerry and shouted, “If you think the dousing I gave during the Bluenose ceremony was bad, you ain’t seen nothing yet!”
Jerry did the same, but waited until the last minute before pulling the mask down over his face. As he adjusted the straps, the frigid arctic water rose over his head. Suddenly, a sharp chill clawed its way down Jerry’s back, as a few drops of seawater slipped between the facemask and his dry suit. The unexpected cold caused Jerry to inhale sharply. Reynolds shook his head, a broad smile on his face. Moments later, the trunk was filled with water and Reynolds opened the upper hatch. A small amount of air bubbled its way to the surface.
Reynolds exited first and then reached down for the drogue. Jerry handed it to the COB, and after making sure that the umbilical cable wouldn’t get caught on anything, pulled himself out onto Memphis’ hull. The sea that greeted Jerry was grayish-green in color and the visibility wasn’t too bad. The sail of the submarine was clearly discernable, but the rudder was harder to make out. Looking up, he could see the ocean surface. The sun was bright and rippled by the low waves. Jerry heard a long, low moaning sound in the distance: whale song.
Jerry’s heart rate increased significantly, as did his breathing. He had to force himself to breathe more slowly, and he tried to think about things that would soothe him. He had to calm down or he would expend his air too quickly. Reynolds motioned with his light for Jerry to follow and they swam past the sail, looming darkly to one side. When they reached the weapons shipping hatch, a dull glow could be seen over the starboard side. It was the light on the retrieval arm.
Jerry tapped the COB on the shoulder and motioned for him to give Jerry the drogue. Reynolds passed it to him, and with the drogue firmly under his arm, Jerry swam about twenty feet away from Memphis. He then pointed it down and pushed the button. He had no way of knowing if the homing signal was being transmitted or not. The frequency of the pulses was about twenty times higher than the human ear could possibly hear. All he could do was keep his position in the water and press the button.
After about five minutes, Jerry’s eyes made out a very dim, ghostly cloud that seemed to be coming toward him. He pointed his flashlight at Reynolds and then swept it down in the direction of the faint glow. Reynolds looked downward for a few seconds, and then he suddenly looked back up at Jerry and gave him the “okay” sign.
As Duey came up, Jerry could see that it was still too far away from the sub, so he kept on transmitting the homing signal. He hoped that as Duey got closer it would adjust its speed as it tried to find the docking signal. True to its programming, the ROV did indeed slow as it got closer and closer to the drogue. This gave Jerry an idea.
Signaling for Reynolds to follow, Jerry started swimming down toward the starboard tube nest. Holding the drogue about two feet from Memphis’ hull, Jerry and Reynolds watched as Duey obediently followed the homing signal. When it was about ten feet away, the bright lights on the ROV turned themselves off. The light and the camera assembly then retracted itself back into the ROVs body and Duey seemed to coast the remaining few feet. Reynolds then reached out and wrapped his huge arms around the ROV’s midbody. Jerry released the drogue, which bounced harmlessly against the acoustic tiling on the submarine’s hull, and he too grappled with Emily’s lost “baby.”
For the next fifteen minutes, the two of them wrestled with the ROV as they tried to get it into the reach of the mechanical arm. After a lot of tugging, pushing, and shoving, they finally managed to coax the vehicle toward the open torpedo tubes. All of a sudden, they felt a jolt and heard a sharp metallic noise as the retrieval arm finally captured the ROV. Both men quickly moved away from the vehicle and watched as Duey was gently
guided back into torpedo tube number three. Just to be sure, they stayed until both shutter doors were closed. Then they retrieved the drogue and made their way back to the forward escape trunk.
Once they were safely inside, Reynolds shut and dogged the outer hatch. As he opened the drain valve, Jerry finally felt himself relax. He also realized that he was shaking. The cold had set in faster than he had originally thought, particularly around his hands, feet, and face. On top of that, his body ached from the exertion of playing tug-of-war with a recalcitrant ROV. When the air bubble in the escape trunk was large enough, Reynolds spit out his mouthpiece, and with shivering blue lips said, “Not too shabby for your first dive, sir.”
“Thank you, COB. It was an honor,” replied a very tired Jerry.
Seven minutes later, Reynolds opened the lower hatch and the two of them wearily lowered their gear—and themselves—onto the deck. With a little help, the two slowly walked to the crew’s mess. Jerry and Reynolds had just plopped down onto a couple of chairs when Bair showed up.
“Well done, you two! I guess I don’t have to tell you that Doctors Patterson and Davis are ecstatic over your successful recovery of the ROV.”
Jerry could only nod in response to the XO’s compliments. He was pleased they had succeeded, particularly for Emily’s sake, but he really needed to warm up before he could celebrate.
“For your outstanding efforts, I’m awarding you both a fifteen-minute hot shower. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be able to thaw you guys out until tomorrow morning.” Jerry appreciated the XO’s humor almost as much as the idea of a long hot shower. As the two divers started to remove their gear, Bair slipped over to Jerry and whispered, “The Captain wants to see you in his stateroom in forty-five minutes. Don’t take too long, okay?”
Somehow Jerry knew this was going to happen. Hardy still wanted to pin the blame for this disaster on someone, and he expected Jerry to give him that someone. Again, Jerry nodded his acknowledgment of the XO’s message. Twenty minutes later, hot fresh water was pouring over his cold body.
Jerry was still getting dressed when he heard a knock at the door. “It’s Emily Davis, Jerry.”
“Wait one,” he answered and quickly pulled on his coveralls and zipped them up. Still in his stocking feet, he opened the door. “Please come in.”
He motioned her to a seat, but she shook her head and remained standing. With Hardy waiting, he felt a little rushed, and sat down to put on his shoes.
“Jerry, I want to apologize for the things I said earlier.”
“Emily, you were upset. Nobody’s mad at you. We understand how much those ROVs mean to you. They’re important to us, too.”
“And I knew that too, but I still yelled at you. I guess it was because I was still afraid. The roar of that water coming in, the smoke and fire, and there was no way to get away from it. It was my worst nightmare.” She shivered, holding her shoulders. “I’m still shaking.”
As he listened, Jerry finished dressing and took a moment to check his appearance in his mirror. He had to report to Hardy shortly, but he didn’t want to look like a slob when he did.
Jerry turned to face her and tried to sound as positive as he could. “But you got through it, just like we all did. We were all scared. We all got through it because of our training. And next time, if there is one,” he added reassuringly, “you’ll be better prepared for it.”
Jerry stepped toward the door and Davis moved to one side. “Excuse me, but the Captain’s waiting.”
Followed by Davis, he climbed the ladder to the upper level, heading for Hardy’s stateroom. Dr. Patterson was in control when she saw Jerry climbing up the ladder and stepped out to meet him.
“Lieutenant Mitchell, thank you very much for recovering the ROV. You and Master Chief Reynolds risked your lives for our mission. I won’t ever forget that.”
Patterson spoke so warmly that Jerry fought to keep the surprise from his face and had to pause a moment before answering lamely, “Thank you, ma’am. I’m glad we were successful.”
“I was afraid the whole time you were out there. For you two, of course, and for the mission, and for what almost happened in the torpedo room. I promise never to complain about drills again.”
“Mr. Mitchell!” Hardy’s impatient call interrupted Jerry’s weak reply. Leaving the two women, Jerry took the few steps necessary to reach the Captain’s stateroom.
Out of habit, he knocked on the doorjamb as he answered, “Lieutenant (j.g.) Mitchell reporting as ordered, sir.”
“Get in here and close the door behind you.” Jerry did as he was told and stood, unprompted, silently at attention.
Hardy sat in his chair, outwardly relaxed, but his face showed the strain of the past few hours. “Mr. Mitchell, this entire sorry episode is further evidence of your poor leadership and lax control. A small leak becomes a fire which almost costs us mission-critical equipment, and the only way to save the situation is to risk the lives of two members of my crew.”
“Yes, sir.” Jerry couldn’t think of what else to say, but evidently it wasn’t what Hardy was looking for.
“ ‘Yes, sir?’ Is that the best you can do?” Hardy stood up, as if to pace or somehow burn off nervous energy, but there was little room. “We could have lost this submarine and the lives of everyone aboard. Even after the danger to Memphis was ended, we had to take more risks to get the ROV back.
“You could have failed and left us short an ROV. You and Reynolds could have failed and died, which would have left us short an ROV and two crew.
“And I’m the one who’d have to go back and explain everything to a lot of very disappointed flag officers.” Hardy sat heavily in his chair, looking drained. “It’s easy when you’ve only got yourself or a small group to be responsible for. I’m responsible for this boat, and all the men aboard and everything they do, and the mission on top of that. If anything goes wrong on Memphis, I’m the one who will have to account for it.”
Hardy paused, then continued in a more businesslike tone. “So I want to know exactly who screwed up. I’ll make sure he never makes that mistake again, and everyone else will see what happens to those who do make mistakes.”
Jerry was appalled. Moran had screwed up, but he wasn’t the root cause of the casualty and he certainly didn’t merit the kind of punishment that Hardy seemed to be planning. He quickly answered, “Sir, Petty Officer Moran had been told by Dr. Davis that the fitting would leak a little. In fact, she told that to Senior Chief Foster and me as well. When it started to leak faster, Moran immediately called Senior Chief Foster to come and look at it, since he had observed the fitting during the first trial. Before Foster could do anything but look at the fitting, the gasket failed for reasons still unknown.”
Jerry didn’t mention that these highly trained men each failed to act because they were afraid to make a mistake. Better to do nothing than goof and get punished. Better still to find someone in authority, so it’s not your fault. In the meantime, of course, things went to hell.
“And while everyone’s running around deciding what to do, the sub and the mission and everyone’s life is in jeopardy. Successfully recovering from a casualty is not an acceptable substitute for safe procedures in the first place.”
Jerry screwed up his courage, but he found it easy to say. “Sir, with all due respect, I do not believe Moran’s actions merit any punishment. He acted as soon as he saw a problem.”
“Then why did we almost lose the boat?” Hardy countered angrily. “Don’t think that defending him will reduce your guilt in this business. You are ultimately responsible for everything that happens in your division. Just as I am responsible for everything that happens on Memphis.” He sighed heavily. “Get your division in order, mister. We were lucky this time. There will be no next time.”
“Aye, aye, sir.” Jerry responded dutifully.
“Get out.”
Jerry got out quickly and immediately headed down the two decks to the torpedo room. Almost all of the d
ivision was there, working on the space. While it had been dewatered, there was a lot of cleanup left, as well as the repairs to the weapons launching console and the ROV.
Hardy was right. Jerry did have to get the division in line.
Senior Chief Foster was working on the console with FT1 Bearden when Jerry entered the torpedo room, “Senior Chief, I need to talk to the entire division right now for a few minutes. Please call them together. And make sure that door to berthing is closed,” he said, pointing to the opening in the back of the space.
Puzzled, Foster nodded and barked an order to Jobin. “Get Davidson and Willis out of berthing. And Larsen, close that door.”
The rest of the division was curious as well and stopped work to gather around their division officer and senior chief. By the time Larsen had closed the door, isolating them from the passageway and the berthing area, the other enlisted members had arrived.
