Yuku free message boards

My first underway (as a Bubblehead)

March of 1968 Its Friday (all Navy schools end on Friday and Submarine School is no exception) I have orders to USS Tinosa (SSN 606) located at State Pier in New London, CT. Its just across the river from the base and about a mile downstream. Also having orders to the Tinosa was a classmate of mine who started school with me almost two years ago in Dam Neck, VA, got advanced at the same time I did and was equal in all respects including time in grade and seniority (remember that for later). Most importantly he had a car!! I bummed a ride to the ship figuring that I would check in and then go on to the railroad station and grab a train to New York the see my girlfriend (now and still wife). He said he would drop me off and go over to his (local) girlfriends house and check in on Monday.

Had a great weekend, actually was able to find my new ship in the dark on Sunday night and they didnt shoot me for trying to get aboard after midnight with no papers (they were all in the yeomans shack below decks). I later found out that it was generally felt that if you were dumb enough to want to be there you probably belonged there.

Monday morning my buddy checked in and we were both told that underway was on Wed. The Chief of the Boat (COB), a Senior Chief Torpedoman, made it very clear that as FTs we were both HIS weapons people. Later, a coin flip determined that my buddy was going to do underway maneuvering watch on the tracking gear in the control room and that I was going to be topside on the #1 line and capstan (whats that COB Im a computer tech not a deck ape Wrong answer!!)

Wednesday - Nice day stiff breeze sunny. The tugs move us out from the pier and I only get yelled at a few times for trying to kill myself (bight of the line) or others (check for hands before turning the capstan). The lines are stowed and the bullnose and cleats are all rotated flat (pivoted upside down to provide for a smooth deck surface to reduce cavitation) I drop down the midships hatch and look back up at the last 21 circle of sky that I will see for the next two weeks. The next thing I learn is never stand under an open hatch when all hands topside lay below is called out.

We are now out of the river and into Long Island Sound on our way to sea. There is an almost imperceptible movement to this huge and wonderful vessel as we cross the Sound and pass through the the slot between Block Island and Montauk Point and out into open water where the whole GD ship turns on its side! My coffee goes across the plot table and hits the bearing plate like surf breaking on the North Shore of Oahu. I almost get control of myself and this little paper mache cork of a row boat flips back the other way. My returning coffee cup now gets me square in the chest and what little is left in it creates a Rorschach pattern on the front of my shirt that would impress any shrink out there. It almost covers the footprints left by the descending topside crew just minutes earlier. I stagger over to look out the periscope at what must be full hurricane conditions and am amazed to see two local party fishing boats happily doing their thing with fun loving beer drinking fishermen on them bobbing along in 4 swells. It is explained to me that, unlike a small boat (or even a large one) that is designed to float on the surface with all its support under the water, the main stability of a submarine is located in the expanse of the conning tower and sail which, when they are submerged, provide all the support necessary. Unfortunately we are still on the surface where they have absolutely no effect!! A simple 4 swell is banging us around like a cork in blender. I am now considering the foolishness of the omelet that I had for breakfast. I can see a trash can across the control room and, as I wonder if I can get that far, the duty ET unclips it from its mount and holds it to his chest like a mother with a newborn child (I later was told to NEVER get between that ET and his can if we were on the surface). At this point I know that death is my only salvation (unless I can get rid of the omelet). Then, miracle of miracles, the most beautiful of all sounds rings throughout the ship two long blasts of the klaxon followed by Dive, Dive This great slobbering beast of a wallowing drunken whale slips below the waves, the sail planes slam on the surface as they bite into the waves and the ship stabilizes, the rolling stops, our eyes (and stomachs) come to rest and all is right with the world as we turn into a sleek hunter cruising like a shark in the ocean waiting for its prey.

Once we were down and running the COB came by, tapped my buddy on the shoulder and said that since I was the senior man by three days on board he was the one going mess cooking for the next 30 days. And all is REALLY right with the world.