Sunday, January 31, 2016

Diesel Boat Chapter 5

                   
   
  Diesel Boats Forever was our slogan            
                                                                                                                                                                            I was still wet as I returned to the galley and the crew's area. The galley had been destroyed. Poor Richard, the food was on the walls. The kitchen was tossed. His vision of  our first dinner at sea, had turned into a nightmare. The dramatic up and down angles were really felt in this space. Richard had grabbed a metal pitcher of milk before it flew off the table. He was holding it in place. The milk hit the wall. The floor had changed to the aft bulkhead wall. This was sure not an aircraft carrier, he said. The two of us put the space back in order and served cold sandwiches instead. I wasn't very hungry that evening.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 The torpedo room flooding was epic, try to imagine a pipe open to sea that's 24 foot long and 3 foot in diameter. Then think what kind'a pressure there is at 300 feet down. Now you got a clue about having ten of these sewer pipes  on a sub. Thank God, the outer door didn't malfunction too. This crew was amazing. They were all qualified fleet boat sailors and proved it. Each man knew his job, their reaction time was instantaneous. The compartment full of water was balanced by forty guys running to the aft torpedo room to offset the weight of sea water flooding the bow. That said, the seven watertight doors throughout the boat were all shut before the incident was controlled. The bilge pumps were running before I fell out of that bunk. The internal salvage air was pumped into the room to pressurize that space. No fear was shown. These sub sailors were like a well oiled machine working together. That was my crew.... I had a lot more to learn.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               That next morning, we returned to the docks in Norfolk and the Yard Birds departed. They some how looked even older. This Destroyer and Submarine dock had a tender ship, Orion and many other boats tied there. Just another day at the office, "yeah right!"  I was starting to meet the crew and hearing their personal stories. Mess cook was more than dish washing and coffee making, I was a sub sailor too.  The galley was my office where all the guys relaxed and shared conversation. These crew men helped me learn my job and theirs. We were a team and  family. The Cubera had sixty-six enlisted men and maybe eight to ten officers. This navy submarine was three hundred and nineteen feet long. She had a beam of twenty eight feet. Her displacement submerged was two thousand four hundred tons. The draft on the surface was sixteen feet deep. Surface speed well over eighteen knots. Underwater she made nine knots.Those kind of things, I had to know by heart and a lot more. She was built and launched June of 1945. The systems and operations must be learn by all.  That's enough technical stuff. The systems and operations took me ten months to know by heart. The rewards meant longer hours and more responsibility. I was part of something bigger than myself.                                                                                                                                                                    
                                                                                                                                                                                                  Richard and I studied together and learned every valve in the compartment. The food freezer and chill box, both were walk-in units. The canned goods and dry storage lockers. The stove and cleaning station. The equipment running on one of these boats was unbelievable. The toilets on the boat came with a manual, any wrong move was not pretty. The back pressure and poop don't play well together. Just saying, the next few months passed. I got qualifying topside watch. Went from mess cook to engine room bilge rat. My fireman rating was in play, I was training for diesel engine oilier and if you know me that's was real funny. Yogi the throttle man kept me busy. Ragging out the bilge and standing still watches. The making of fresh water was also very important and a really hot job. The engines used most of it and the rest was for coffee. Once a day, we got about eight ounces for personal hi-gene. We had a shower stall that was where the potatoes were stored. The sailor caught using more water than allotted, stood still watch for a couple of days. This was not any fun but great if you wanted to sweat off a few pounds. Life was interesting.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   They called us “pig boats.” Two weeks at sea, this odor killed your sense of humor and smell. That said, I loved every minute of it. Cleaning bulk crude oil to make purified engine fuel was another terrific job. This sailor turned eighteen at sea. January of 67,' it was a bitter cold season on the Atlantic seaboard. Traveling up the eastern sea coast, the boat was on its way to New York City. I was standing lookout topside. This was fun, some of the time, got to air out my arm pits. This trip not so much. The boat was running on the surface, it was a lot faster than when we were submerged. The storm came out of nowhere. We had to close the upper conning tower hatch onto the bridge. This to keep the water from coming down into the boat. I was dressed in foul weather gear and armed with my coffee cup. I had to climb the ladder into the sail station and bridge area. This sailor was the lookout on the starboard side. The bridge on topside was a three man watch. The officer of the deck and two lookouts stood a two hour shift in place.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    Standing in this open weather. The watch duty had a real bite this morning. The first wave over the bow turned my hot coffee into a bowl of cold sea water.  The sea  tried to toss us three men under its force. Hold on! here comes another one, yelled the officer. This holding your breath as the sea passed over, got old quick. See the fact was this submarine had a South Atlantic sail. It wasn't as much fun on the surface, especially in a storm and rough seas. This step sail section was much lower to the deck. We had a plastic half dome bubble but it wasn't quite over us, it was just a windshield not a watertight space. The decision to keep the three of us up there was based on maritime rules. When any submarine was running on  the surface, they had to set the watch for cruising. one day and night running on top was quite enough.  Captain made the call to submerge the boat.  The storms intensity increased, running slower underwater seemed smarter to me. I got my first hot bath and a shot of brandy at sea. These seas even at a hundred feet deep could rock this old boat. We were moving north slower now.. The relentless sea tossed us around. Who knew the bottom of a wave could be as bad as the top of one.  The Nor' Easter made a big impression. This was my first East Coast winter. Two fishing trawlers were lost in this storm, a father and son had been reported missing. Dead fishermen were a fact of life on the open seas. These seas were treacherous, this time of year.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                              The first eighteen hours submerged in this storm was the pits.  The problem was now the air was getting bad. The submarine needed to snorkel and exchange air. Our skipper was afraid that might be tricky. See the bottom of the boat is full of flood ports, open to the sea. Saddle tanks with air  captured at the top making the boat float, if a wave turns you upside down the air runs out. The submarine floats no more . These thirty foot waves could make us a sinker instead of a floater, but having a bad atmosphere is not good either. We had to much CO 2 in the boat. Everyone not on watch was ordered to there bunks. Breathing less air was the plan.  Then we lit off  the carbon dioxide scrubber cans forward and aft. We started burning the CO 2 off. The air was getting really stale.  The boat was submerged twenty-one hours or more. We had to come up soon and that was the captain's orders.  The boat is going to the surface, safe or not?  Better than trying to snorkel. The boat was at least higher in the water and we could see the waves approach. Bigger balloons make women float better too. This girl had big ones. Back on watch topside, the three of us went up to ride these seas again. The Atlantic ocean eventually calmed. The third day at sea was much better. The boat had fresh air and a better cruising speed. New York City here we come...            
                                                                                                                                                               

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