Sunday, January 31, 2016

The Hare Chapter 7

          “The Hare”     Chapter 7                        
The next tale is not as easy to tell. There are many twists and turns. I wasn't excited about this new boat at all. This new submarine was the first of her kind. Skipjack was built in 1955 and launched 1959. I was still the youngest on-board and that means starting all over again. The Cubera was my first diesel boat. I really knew my station and place on-board her. The  old crew would be missed. Ten whole months of my life on that old sub and then I'm transferred. I was almost finished qualifying and had found my niche. That meant getting my dolphins and the crew's respect, all out the window. This hit me hard,  "discouraged" was a good word. Back to ground zero, why? The Skipjack was the fastest nuclear submarine in the world. My new crew made me feel uneasy. The guys seemed much more formal and detached. Seaman Alley was changing directions again. Who out there was yanking my chain? I was mess cooking again, not knowing anyone. This unknown had me in a funk.
                                                                                                                                                                                                                       The Interior Communication Electricians gang was my new assignment, totally different for me. I had no idea what they even did. The new guy, was kind of depressed for sure.  The crew made up of real professional men, most we're college educated. The engineering group on-board alone had an extra two years of nuclear training. The school, they attended was ran by Admiral Rickover. He was dean and head master, made Hitler look like a choir boy. Rickover ran a tight ship. This sailor was intimidated by this new company of the navy's elite. I must be intellectually disabled,  Sailor Alley's on this fool's errand, be strong and confident was my new motto, “yeah, right.”  I'm the kid, who made coffee and peeled potatoes. I can think about it later, enough sniveling.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          The cook's name was Waldo, he liked his staff on time and efficient. The crew and officers numbered over a hundred men. I started work at five o'clock in the morning. We would work until the last plate was washed that night. There were three mess cooks. We kept the boat fed. That meant all three sit-down meals served family style. Then everyday ended with a soup down about eleven o'clock at night. Two months of this, you have met the entire crew. These guys were very somber at my arrival. This was misunderstood by yours truly. The truth came out later over coffee and cake. Some of the crew were starting to warm up to me. The problem was I had replaced a great guy. They all loved this man, he was a skilled electrician rated sub sailor. The last long run patrol, this electrician had accidentally been killed. Electrocuted behind the control room areas at the switch panels. The boat was underway in some emergency situation. The crew had to bag his remains and freeze him in the walk-in box. No wonder they weren't to friendly to the new guy. How do you fix that? Lots of time and healing. I wasn't the answer, they were looking for.  I  kept really busy mess cooking. I had no energy to feel sorry for myself or this crew.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            Fire drills, wearing gas masks, we had flooding drills. Radiation leak drills and emergency secure compartment drill, I knew that one. Everybody up and clean the boat days. Battle Stations and more safety drills, could keep a guy out of the rack (bed) a lot. Qualifying the boat had to happen, not on duty but off. My own time didn't exist, just having four or five hours of sleep maybe a day. That was broke up into catnaps. Our first patrol for me was two months. The submarine had lots of sea time. The old diesel boat stayed close to shore maybe a two week patrol. This boat could be anywhere and was. The Atlantic was a small place for us. Speedy and not having to come up for air or fuel. That meant the Skipjack was totally independent from the rest of the world. We were on a spaceship in this big blue ocean. Two hundred and fifty foot long fast boat, left the rest of the fleet way behind the curve. We could stay on a patrol as long as it took. Fast Attack Submarines meant hunter killer to enemy subs. This Nuclear Submarine set the standard at that time. A real deep and deadly weapon at sea. Our class of boats numbered six. The boat being the ultimate threat. The next two and a half years, I would sharpen my skills and be an asset to the boat and crew.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        First things first, I was to make coffee taste right. The time is 10:30 pm, I'm getting ready for a soup down and made coffee in the two big urns, forty cups per tank. That said, the control room is rigged for red and they wanted the hot brew. Mess cook Alley takes the orders, two blonde and sweet, 3 black and bitter, 2 blonde and bitter, Officer in the Conn' wants bitter and sweet. This operation center is dark as I take the tray up the ladder one floor. The boat is really vibrating through the seas, thirty two knots at six hundred feet. Headed east to England's coast in a few more days. We are steaming across the Atlantic. These guys would be relieved in an hour. That's a cold black ocean on the other side of the pressure hull with no wave action felt at this depth. My life was moving forward faster. The engineering team sends a guy up forward for their coffee. They are back behind the reactor compartment in the maneuvering control room. The sub is running on maybe eighteen percent power. These numbers are vague of course. The soup down is in the crews dining area. This always involved barking and snarling aimed at the cook. Waldo was a little touchy about the crews complaints. He was known to over-react. That said, he told me once he wanted to poison some of his biggest critics. Waldo continued, I'd have to poison everybody to get away with it. Crazy was alive and well, he was my boss.  Soup down was the only time the crew could talk about him and get away with it. Waldo slept at this meal. Crewman Alley never ate the soup, just saying.
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       My old stories of the diesel boat got some smiles and my lost love at Bells Bar got a laugh or two, thanks to Snorkel Patty. The rabbit was moving on, my adventures would get better promise. The crew was liking the new kid, nicknamed rabbit.

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