The future mission of the Viperfish remained a secret to all of the crew.
7. The dolphins
Protests against the Vietnam war, fueled by the energy of students soon to be eligible for the draft, began to expand during the early months of 1968. Spreading across the country, the turmoil escalated as the civilian population became polarized into "hawks" versus "doves," and the young became alienated against "anybody over the age of thirty." The peace symbol emerged as a protest against Vietnam and all military policies. The hawks promptly ridiculed this clawlike representation and called it the national symbol of the American chicken.
In Vietnam, 7,500 U.S. soldiers were shifted north toward the DMZ to support South Vietnamese Premier Nguyen Ky's efforts to stop the influx of Communist troops. As the Vietcong attacked American troops, protesters in the United States began burning their draft cards. Protesters numbering in excess of 100,000 were led by Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.; Stokely Carmichael; and Dr. Benjamin Spock on a protest march from New York's Central Park to the headquarters of the United Nations. Other protesters, sponsored by the Spring Mobilization Committee to End the War in Vietnam and led by Black Nationalists, later marched in California; 50,000 people heard antiwar speeches at San Francisco's Kezar Stadium by Coretta King, wife of the Reverend Dr. King, and Robert Scheer of Ramperts magazine. As protesters urged students across the country to mobilize against the war, J. Edgar Hoover, director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, reported to President Lyndon B. Johnson the details of "antiwar activity". On NBC-TV, Secretary of State Dean Rusk said, "Communist apparatus is behind the peace movement all over the world and in our own country."
Sea trials for the Soviet's Echo II submarine, conducted in the Sea of Japan and the western Pacific Ocean, tested the new SSGN vessel to its designed test depth of 1,148 feet while working to remain well above its collapse depth of 1,900 feet. The extensive testing program included test firings of twenty-one-inch diameter torpedoes, and putting the FENIKS-M sonar and SNOOP SLAB radar systems through their electronic paces. Although the men serving on board submarines of this class did not know it at the time, their submarines were to become infamous as the most dangerously unsafe class of vessel in the Soviet's nuclear navy, with four serious disasters during the decade ahead. Another major problem for the Echo IIs involved inadequate radiation shielding, which endangered the physical health of the crew. The twin reactor system (designated first-generation HEN reactors) of this class, with its associated increased shielding needs, further magnified the dangers to the crew as a result of excessive doses of neutron and gamma radiation. This issue was brought into harsh focus when the Soviets made the shocking discovery that their "dirty" (high-radiation emitter) boats actually could be tracked by surface craft designed to detect the "radiation wake" of the submerged submarines.
After completing our shakedown cruise to the West Coast, several fundamental changes occurred on the Viperfish. The first and most significant of these was to welcome on board the new captain of the Viperfish, Comdr. Thomas Harris.
All of us were used to change-of-command ceremonies on board the Viperfish. Whenever anybody of prominence moved in or out of the submarine base command structure, our boat was chosen as background scenery for the ceremony. The reason for this tradition apparently related more to our substantial deck space than to anything we offered as a submarine. Although the ceremonies were generally conducted on the pier next to the Viperfish, common practice was to have sailors in dress whites in the background of any major event. The ceremonies usually had nothing directly to do with the Viperfish; however, because our wide deck could accommodate several rows of photogenic enlisted men, we were often put through the paces.
Wherever we might be moored at the submarine base, the word regularly came down from above to sever our shore-power cables and prepare to move the Viperfish to a central pier location, in front of a cluster of chairs, for another ceremony. Those of us who either happened to be on duty that day or could not otherwise escape our impending fate were then ordered to put on dress whites, with the traditional black silk ties; balance sailor hats on our heads in the proper manner; and "lay topside" to relocate the boat and partake in a ceremony.
After moving the Viperfish across the base to the waters in front of the ceremony location, we formed several rows of clean-cut sailors standing at various degrees of attention in the relaxed manner that was classic for submarine sailors everywhere. We listened to long speeches about people we did not know, we watched boatswain's mates "pipe" incoming officers into their new command positions, and we stared at the seated spectators on the pier who stared back at us[5].
At the conclusion of the ceremony, the new officers were in, the old officers were out, and most us returned to whatever we were doing before we were so rudely interrupted.
The arrival of Commander Harris was a different matter entirely. As our new captain, he was important to us because he would set the stage for the quality of our lives and play a major role in accomplishing the mission of the Viperfish. We had been told of his extensive background. He had served on board the USS Trigger (SS 564), Sea Wolf (SSN 575), and Trinose (SSN 606), and he was executive officer of the Polaris submarine, USS Woodrow Wilson (SSBN 624). We also knew that he had completed Admiral Rickover's "charm school" for the preparation of nuclear submarine commanding officers. There was a rumor that at the last moment, he had been diverted from going to sea on board the Thresher on her fatal voyage and that, as a result, he had recognized a higher calling. We had not yet seen the man, however; as far as we were concerned, Captain Harris was still an unknown factor.
When this change-of-command ceremony was announced, therefore, we paid close attention to the details. We moved the boat across the submarine base as usual and formed our rows in front of the same pier holding the same chairs. After listening to the same kind of speeches, we looked at the brow spanning from the pier to our boat and attentively watched Captain Harris come aboard.
He was a solid-looking man with a square jaw and bright blue eyes burning with the same kind of intensity that I had seen in Captain Gillon's. His manner appeared authoritative, yet reserved. In his brief conversation with us at the end of the ceremony, he spoke in a strong and deep voice. Although he gave away no secrets and revealed nothing about our future, he demonstrated a solid, intelligent style that reassured us. His final grade was still to be determined, but Captain Harris passed the crew's initial inspection.
His first action on board the Viperfish was to order replacement of all flickering or dim neon lights throughout the boat. Second, he established a higher level of cleanliness, underscoring the philosophy that morale and pride of serving on the Viperfish would improve. Third, he increased security for all of the secret documents on board. This action was the best clue that no word of our mission would ever leave the boat except under specific extraordinary circumstances, reserved only for information classified as "compartmentalized top secret." Because no information was provided to the crew, we assumed that everything relating to our mission was within this classification and continued to remain mystified about what lay ahead of us.
For the next several months, the men assigned to the Special Project team worked to refine the Fish and bring it up to operational capabilities. This required a series of trips from Pearl Harbor into the waters surrounding the Hawaiian Islands. Over and over again, our huge spool holding thousands of feet of cable was unreeled into the water. Far below us, the Fish was towed a few feet above the bottom of the ocean, and technical information acquired in this manner was evaluated and delivered back to the Viperfish.
Each trip lasted from a few days to several weeks, depending on where the Viperfish traveled and what activities were necessary. On some of the trips, we fired torpedoes and engaged in other actions that repeatedly went amazingly well. Our torpedoes were accurate, and our efficiency was high. As a result, the Viperfish earned the coveted Battle Efficiency "E" and the Fire Control Excellence A
ward for overall performance, reactor operations, torpedo firing capability, and operational capabilities. Captain Harris was off to a very good start.
In the traditional manner of Navy crews that earn their Battle Efficiency "E," we returned to port and proudly painted a large white "E" on the side of our sail. Although it occurred to many of us that the "E" was underwater and entirely out of sight most of the time, it provided us with a sense of camaraderie that was important to the morale of our crew and, hopefully, to our future success.
After each of our numerous patrols back and forth to the deeper waters east of Honolulu, Waikiki continued to beckon with the usual incentives to blow off steam. I became tired of paying the hefty fees for taxi rides between Pearl Harbor and Waikiki, so I finally purchased a blue 1955 Chevy from one of the many car lots in the Honolulu area. Although its metallic blue paint was scratched and slightly rusted, its front window had a small crack, and its carburetor leaked gasoline when the float repeatedly sank, it did have a sterling high-speed gearbox, definitely an outstanding feature of the car.
The first time I drove it off the base, Marc Birken challenged me on Kamehameha Highway as he revved his TR-3 engine and grinned like a fool. From his perspective, if it wasn't a sports car, it wasn't a real car. Meeting his challenge, I speed-shifted my new car up through the gears until the carburetor float sank and gasoline drowned the engine. Worried about fire and explosion from the reeking fumes, I quickly pulled over, ripped the carburetor apart, and listened to Marc contribute a long string of obscene and irreverent thoughts about my vehicle. I finally jammed a toothpick into the carburetor float hole to plug the leak forever, I hoped.
My qualifications efforts on the Viperfish continued, whether we were at sea or alongside the pier, as I struggled to learn every system on board the boat. Because I was finished with the nuclear qualifications work, the pressure in the engine room eased and my existence marginally improved. Also, because I was now standing watches at the reactor panel, I felt that I was finally carrying my own weight and contributing to the operations of the Viperfish. I visited Waikiki regularly, however, and surfed the waves at Sunset Beach on the island's north shore at every opportunity. Although I did not fully appreciate it at the time, being in the Navy and stationed in Hawaii probably constituted the best duty that any man could hope for.
On one of my trips to a dancing area in the Hilton Hawaiian Village, I asked a beautiful young lady to dance to the sweet Hawaiian music. She was a teacher, she said, at the Kamehameha Schools on the side of the hill behind Honolulu, and her name was Keiko. An hour later, she said she would certainly enjoy a midnight tour on a genuine nuclear submarine at Pearl Harbor. Her girlfriend and her date asked if they could come too, and soon all four of us piled into my Chevy for the run up to the submarine base.
After a few scans through the control-room periscope to look at the distant lights of Pearl City and a stroll through the remainder of the Viperfish's control center, we took another tour of Makaha Beach under the moonlight at two o'clock in the morning. After that remarkable evening, Keiko and I dated every night that I was in port. We found ourselves aware of an emerging intensity and a new fulfillment that strongly attracted us to each other. As we spent more time together, I found it increasingly difficult to break away from the sweet time on liberty with her, to drive back to Pearl Harbor, and to climb down the engine-room hatch as the Viperfish prepared to go to sea.
Keiko flew back to Los Angeles to continue working on her master's degree at the University of Southern California, while her girlfriend stayed behind and married the young man she had met that night. That was when Keiko informed her parents, both working full time to finance her USC tuition, about the sailor in Hawaii who had asked for her hand in marriage.
"And, you told him?" her father asked, his voice hardening, his mind struggling to remain rational.
"I told him, 'yes,'" Keiko answered, bracing herself.
"And, this man is an officer in the United States Navy?" His voice rose an octave.
"Well, sort of. He works in the engine room of…"
"Then, he has completed college?"
"Well, he does have some college credits, before he joined the Navy. At least, I think he finished part of the first year. He is planning on going back to school after he's out of the Navy."
"Keiko!" Her father's voice assumed a rigid quality and sounded like it always did when there was to be no further discussion.
"Yes?"
"I think you should wait."
"Dad," she said patiently and without hesitation, "when I finish my master's program next year, we are going to get married."
Her mother stopped knitting. After a moment of silence, she finally provided the maternal viewpoint, "I'm sure this boy is a fine young man."
Keiko continued her education at USC, and her parents scheduled an engagement dinner in Southern California.
For the next two months, the Viperfish sat anchored two miles off the northwest coast of Maui, near the small town of Lahaina. The waters were stunningly clear. Looking straight down from the edge of the deck, we could see details in the sand at the bottom of the ocean. We were going to finish testing the Fish, Captain Harris told us. This would include its electronic capabilities, to be evalu- ated in shallow waters, and the clear water off Maui was perfect.
Anchored within viewing distance of Lahaina, our large black submarine was a strange sight. Many of the tourists showed considerable curiosity about our boat. Various sailboats and catamarans set out from the Lahaina harbor to encircle us. People took pictures and waved, called "Aloha!" and exchanged pleasantries with us as we wandered around in dungarees on the topside deck. For those of us not actively involved with testing the Fish, the days were filled with long watches in front of our nuclear control panels in the engine room. The civilians worked vigorously with the complex Fish in the hangar compartment and created a number of enhancements that would allow the future accumulation of data from far below the surface of the ocean.
Much of the Special Project testing was done at night in order to simulate the great depths of the dark ocean. The brilliant lighting system of the Fish created flashing distractions for cars moving along the Honoapiilani Highway. We received reports from Lahaina that the bright strobe flashes, lighting up the ocean at odd times throughout the night, contributed to a couple of automobile crashes, although we were never able to confirm the details.
Except for the occasional bombs exploding on the Navy's Kahoolawe Island bombing range twenty miles across the Auau Channel, most of us felt that we had entered the ultimate paradise of submarine duty. We enjoyed barbecues on the topside deck as we watched smiling bikini-clad beauties passing by on sailboats. We also played on rubber rafts around the Viperfish and dove into the ocean, from time to time, to look at the colorful fish.
When the bombing became intense, as it sometimes did, Paul Mathews or whoever was on duty in the control room announced over the loudspeakers, "Navy jets closing off starboard bow!" Those of us not on watch scrambled out of the hatches to watch the high-speed Navy fighters streaking across the ocean, pointing directly at us, and presumably lining up the Viperfish as a target. After screaming over the top of our boat, the aircraft fired their afterburners and headed directly up the side of the nearly 6,000-foot peak of Maui's Puu Ku Kui mountain behind Lahaina. Finally, they flew straight up into the sky and disappeared from sight. Although the Vietnam War seemed a million miles away as we floated on those peaceful Hawaiian waters, we suspected that many of the pilots crossing over our boat were en route to Southeast Asia. A glance at any daily newspaper told us that many of them would not return.
When I wasn't staring at the meters on the reactor control panel or watching strafing runs on the Viperfish, I continued with my qualifications activities. I was moving progressively closer to learning everything I could about our submarine. The entire process seemed endless, but the list of systems that I still had to learn was getting shorter and the precious do
lphins began to appear attainable. The biggest activity of the Viperfish, the Special Project with its team of engineers, was not on my list. We still had been told virtually nothing about our secret Fish and its miles of cables. Because we did not have a "need to know" for performance of our duties, silence on the subject was the order of the day.
Another thirty or forty jets completed their runs on the Viperfish during the following month. We watched every one of them. The Fish strobe light illuminated most of the undersea life near the western coast of Maui, and we scanned and photographed everything within sight. After enough experience with the Fish had been accumulated to satisfy Captain Harris and the hangar scientists, we pulled everything related to the Special Project inside the Viperfish and returned to Pearl Harbor.
On a beautiful Monday morning several weeks later, Captain Harris ordered ten of us to report to the topside deck in our dress whites to receive our coveted silver dolphins. It had taken more than a year for me to master each system that filled the compartments of the Viperfish, and this award signified an end to that long struggle. I now belonged to the select club of those who are deemed "qualified in submarines."
Captain Harris lined up the ten of us in front of the rest of the crew. He said some words about the importance of our accomplishments and his personal appreciation for an increase in the number of men qualified on the Viperfish. After pinning the dolphins on our spotless uniforms, he posed with us for the official photograph documenting the event and then quickly moved from the area as we came under immediate attack by the rest of the qualified crew of the Viperfish.
Led by Paul Mathews and Randy Nicholson, they cut off our escape and went after each of us with great enthusiasm. We scattered across the deck. I fought valiantly, but several of the nukes caught me scrambling up the side of the bat-cave hump. Holding my arms and legs, they dragged me to the edge of the Viperfish deck to begin swinging me for the launch overboard.
Spy Sub: A Top Secret Mission to the Bottom of the Pacific Page 12
