Sunday, January 31, 2016

Pig boat Chapter 4

            Pig boat  Chapter 4
The day had finally arrived; this young pirate had graduated from sub school. I was proud to get my submarine certification. The captain of the base shook my hand. I had made the grade. The navy hadn't beaten me yet as I walked proudly out of that school.  Seaman Alley caught the train south to New York City. I wasn't afraid of the future anymore.  Now to catch a Greyhound bus, I rode it the rest of the way down. Virginia here I come.
                                                                                                                                                                      My orders, report to the Norfolk's Naval Shipyard. The town of Portsmouth was across the channel. One of the oldest ship repair yards on the East Coast. This place was two hundred and fifty years old and counting. Portsmouth had built "Merrimac" the (iron clad warship) during the civil war. That's where my diesel submarine was berthed. The Cubera was built in 1942. The diesel boat a "guppy- two" class sub was floating on the sea again. The yard had cut her open and removed one engine, that left three others. It was called a soft patch. they then welded up the big hole in the pressure hull. This submarine had been in the same dry dock as the Virginia aka Merrimac in the eighteen-sixties. Some of the yard guys looked old enough, they might have worked on that old relic too. This high tech crew seemed unkempt.  My crew called them “yard birds.” I had made seaman and was ready for my new assignment.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             That first day of my arrival; I walked from the front gate to the old boat yard. This submarine was in the water along a pier, tied up to the work dock. It was early about ten o'clock in the morning, October 11, 1966. That day, a couple of ambulances were sitting at the dock loading sailors into it. My heart almost stopped. I walk into to the office next to the pier. Seaman Alley reporting for duty, "sir". The office staff looking out the window at the scene unfolding. The Cubera's captain and the others were real concerned about these guys. They were being taken off the sub, some on stretchers. Things started to settled down, the whole story was eventually told.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           They had this skeleton crew on-board, they were operating a simulated dive. That meant you close all the deck hatches. The light panel shows all green which means good to go, the crew pretends  to submerge. They raised the snorkel mast to taken in air and they fire off a single diesel engine. This was a locomotive engine, a big motor with 16 cylinders. The crew was maybe six or eight guys and and duty officer. They simulated charging batteries underway while submerged. The control room cycled the head valve on the snorkel mast. A sub at sea, the waves would regularly cover the snorkel. The air suction to the engine had to be protected.  The head valve sensor would shut the airway until the wave had passed over. Then open again allowing air into the engine. The normal sequence was the engine would draw air from outside or inside the boat when the valve was shut. This would caused a vacuum in the boat.  The engine had an emergency shut down if the vacuum got to high. The magic number was like six inches.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       The old pig boat's engine didn't shut down when the head valve failed to open and that was not good. The engine drew almost a perfect, twenty nine inch vacuum. Like going to twenty nine thousand feet in a matter of seconds. The engine throttle man passed out over the throttle, shutting this large engine down. The crews ear drums were bleeding now, some passed out finally the crew recovers. They manage to pump air into the boat with the high pressure air tanks. It took hours to get out of that sub. The boat was sealed like a glass jar. The air inside had to match outside pressure to open the hatches. “Welcome aboard new guy” that was my first day.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   Just saying, none of this crew had ever been to sea on this diesel submarine. The Cuberra was in the shipyard for over two and a half years. None of the original crew was still on-board. Everything was torn out and put back together. The captain didn't seem to be bothered by this. This seaman was real concerned, after a few weeks  were ready for sea trials. The good news. my old friend, Richard who had graduated sub school was here. We were now shipmates on-board the same sub. He being my main positive influence on that train ride. This first class cook became my sea dad and mentor. The bad thing was neither of us knew squat about this old boat. The captain however  was smart and took a few “yard birds” with us out to sea since they verified we were ready.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   The submarine left port, the engines smoking black exhaust, that's good right?  Took awhile to get out to the Atlantic Ocean. It seems not all the engines were ready for the trip. I was happy, my job was making coffee and peeling potatoes, “No Problem.”  It was time to dive this smelly old sewer pipe. The soft patch had changed our test depth to three hundred feet or less. I hoped the bubble gum had sealed all the holes.
                                                                                                                                                                      The captain put the crew on alert, everyone was to go to battle stations. Battle station ? hey the coffee was ready to be served “sir,” not really.  I had to leave the galley and report to the forward torpedo room, the damage control party. There was me and this other guy standing ready in this weapons station. The sub starting it way down, a few sailors were running around. How do you spell, woga, woga dive! dive!  My team was suppose to look for problems in this room full of torpedoes. "Hello", what's not a problem, the room is full of torpedoes. Then I see a real issue, I being this steely eyed  sub sailor, spotted a leak in the ceiling. Just above the beds that hung twelve foot off the deck. I said, chief there a leak from that upper hatch. The two torpedo men wink at each other.  The chief say, well sailor you need to monitor that leak.  Take a paper cup and count the drips per second and report. I was on it, feeling important now. I climb into the bunk and started counting drips. The submarine groaned as we continued our decent. The old boat was at one hundred feet now the leak was less. I was still monitoring. The down angle of this submarine meant that we were still diving. Things got real quiet as we passed two hundred feet. The groaning and creaking was still with us. The captain leveled the submarine at three hundred feet. Test depth achieved, ahh..shit was my report but not out loud. The half full cup was finished, no leaks to report, chief. Little did I know all the hatches in the boat were leaking like that, normal stuff. This crush depth pressure sealed them all. Great.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             The captain, called on all the boats compartments to report, things were good. We were operating on batteries now silent and smooth down deep. The boat groans had stopped. This sailor starts to relax a little. After all, I was in a bunk. They called this space, the hanging gardens. Two bunks side to side under the torpedo room weapons loading hatch. Thirty minutes goes by slowly. The captain says over the intercom, forward torpedo room. Fire an air slug....torpedo tube number one. We're still at test depth, “hello!” the soft patch was still holding. Hello, why not shake this thing up a little. That's exactly what happened. The chief barks; open the outer door on tube number one. Then the torpedo man shoots this air slug out the damn thing. The whole boat shakes like there's been an earthquake, “OMG,” guess what ? five more tubes to go, my inside voice... calm be calm. I think it was tube number three, when it happened.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               Captain says, fire air slug, tube number three. the chief says, “aye aye sir” opening outer door.. firing air slug.... tube number 3.  Cold rushing water blowing everybody on the deck below me down like bowling pins. The whole front of the torpedo room had white seawater coming in hissing and screaming loudly. Yard birds were running out of the compartment.  They shut the interior watertight door and dog it down. Wow! we're trapped in here, now that's real nice.. The chief screams flooding in the forward torpedo room into the headset, he's wearing. The boat goes to emergency blow. The sub is trying to get to the surface. The torpedo man fights his way forward through the cold waist deep seawater and closes the outer tube door.  The seawater stops rushing in.. that's good right? We still are very heavy and the boat starts to shudder. Full speed ahead as the three thousand pounds of air is blowing the outside ballast tanks dry.  We slowly start back up to the surface.  The seamen in the control room are driving, the bow and stern planesmen steering us upward. Somebody turns the air valve on over the compartment door that's dogged shut. The internal salvage air sending one hundred twenty-five pounds of air blowing up my pant leg in the overhead bunk. That's it, I come flying out of that rack and hit the deck 10 foot below. The two foot of water on the floor cushioning the fall. Wet but not hurt, I'm laughing out loud. Luckily the pee in my pants is hidden by the saltwater bath.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        My adventure over? Not hardly. The boat breaks the surface on a dead run, reminds me of clearing the water in a "victory at sea" episode or the escape training tank. Then the submarine starts slipping back.  The boat is sliding backwards on the way back down. We got no more air to blow. We slip passed three hundred feet. The props are full speed spinning with no effect. A prayer seems in order. We kept sliding back, stern first passed six hundred feet now. The creaking and groaning of the boat is back also. Finally Cubera starts to slow and finally stops the descent. Even more slowly, we power are way back to the surface. The boat start snorkeling and running the engines. The boat has got to charge everything back up. At least the snorkel head valve was working fine. We can't surface yet, till the compressors charged the air banks back up.. The pumps had ran the bilges dry. Well, its back to Norfolk . This sub sailor was surely "initiated" from that point on nothing much seems to bother me.   A small pirate's laugh, the "Sea trials" were over. This sailor's blood pressure returns to normal almost.                                      
                                                                                                                                                                               The interior door gasket blew out under the sea's pressure on tube number three. One guy got hurt but not to bad. We fixed a few other things and were back in the fleet.  These sub guys had nerves of steel and being crazy helps too.                                                                              

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