Note: I’m doing something a bit different here. I’m publishing it, but also sending to some old Navy friends to get their comments in writing if they choose to do so. I think it would be very interesting to hear about what happened here from different perspectives. Once that is done, I’ll announce it to everyone. But if you are reading this and there are no comments yet, come back. The comments are likely to be better than my story. They are a bunch of smart, and mostly funny guys. Except you Doug. You’re just smart. And you Todd-funny, but not very smart.
Here is the story:
I’ve been legitimately scared for my life 3 times. I mean scared for my life in the sense of “well, that was a pretty fun life, too bad its over” scared. Seriously thought I was about to die. I’ll likely get to all of them eventually as they are all pretty good stories now. Near death experiences usually are I find. Sorta focuses the mind. The first time was on a nuclear submarine in the Pacific Ocean. This is that story, with a bit on how I got there.
When I was 20 years old, I had absolutely no idea what to do with my life. I went to college because that’s what you are supposed to do after high school if you got good (at least pretty good) grades. But lets say I really didn’t excel in college. I was bad at going to class. I was also bad at drinking, gambling, and chasing girls-though I tried much harder at those three things than going to class. Very long story short (I’ll probably tell it one day) I ended up running nuclear power plants for the US Navy. My career in a nutshell went like this: Boot camp, 6 months of electronics school, 6 months of nuclear power training (another story in itself) 6 months of training at a prototype plant in the Idaho desert (fun fact, the first nuclear power plants in the world I think were built in the Idaho desert because, well, they weren’t 100% sure what would happen! So build in the middle of nowhere. Now, the Idaho National Engineering Laboratory is the size of Rhode Island) followed by 2 years as an instructor at the same plant.
Quick side story: The Navy’s nuclear training is by far the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Not because the curriculum is so hard (and it is pretty hard), but because how good the Navy was at getting the best out of you. Each class has around 500 people in it (from the time you are accepted into the program to the time you graduate the drop rate was over 60%) grouped in 13 classes, and I somehow got in the top class. For the first exam cycle (I think we were tested every couple of weeks) I really didn’t try very hard. Rankings came out and I was like 120 or something. My competitive juices kicked in and I tried for the next cycle. Rankings came out again and I had moved to like 22 if memory serves. Proving my point to myself, I coasted again next cycle and dropped back. Immediately after the tests were graded, I was called in and placed on “suggested” study hours. “Why?” I asked, “my grades are good,” at which point they explained to me pretty much exactly what I had done the previous tests. Not tried, tried, then not tried. Informed me that they had been doing this for a long time and knew from my entrance testing and second test cycle what I was capable of and “will keep you on hours until you show it.” So figured there was no reason to fight it and went to work. After prototype training I finished #1 in the class. Braggy, I know, but I’m still pretty proud of it. The competition was as good as it gets. Wish some of my old classmates were reading this so I could say “kicked your asses, bitches!”
So to continue, after two years teaching at the prototype plant (A1W which stands for Aircraft Carrier core 1, Westinghouse-the original USS Enterprise reactor and engine room-fully built in the Idaho desert to test before being built on the Enterprise itself, then turned into a training facility once testing was complete), I got sent to another 6 month advanced electronics school in San Diego (and if you ever get the chance to move to San Diego, take it!!). So at this point I have 5 years in the Navy, and have never been on a ship! So I ask for and get the SSN 695, USS Birmingham out of Pearl Harbor, Hawaii and spent the last 3 years of my enlistment there, 2 of those with my ship in overhaul, and I lived in a high rise in Waikiki.My career didn’t suck much!
So, in my 8 year military career, I only really spent one year doing what I was trained to do, which was operate a nuclear power plant on a warship. And I gotta say, getting to play with a 100 and some megawatt nuclear power plant is FUN! To say it appealed to my inner geek would be a massive understatement. Oh, the power! If you could have taken the military out of the equation, I’d have stayed forever. And that whole “go to sea for 6 months” thing. And submerging and never coming up thing. I’ll do a whole series later about life on a sub. I totally promise it will be entertaining. It has to be because several of my old shipmates (whom I still count among my best friends, though I’ll never see most of them again) will read it and edit me to death if I get it wrong.
The Navy is pretty anal about it’s Nuclear Power Plants. Like really anal. Take a bunch of anal retentive engineers (and it really helps if they are assholes), put them all together and you have the group who regulated the Navy’s power plants called “Naval Reactors”. The head of Naval Reactors was the father of naval nuclear power, Hyman Rickover (look him up, fascinating guy). He is like the end result of a genetic experiment to create the most anal retentive human ever, the fact he was a total jerk and the king of all assholes was an added bonus. He also happened to be a world class engineer and the guy you wanted in charge of designing the nuclear power plant in your sub. He knew that politically there could never be any reactor incidents in the Navy or they would be shut down, and demanded his his plants be designed with 0 defects as the goal.
Anyway, every couple of years a group from Naval Reactors came to your ship, watched how you operated, ran drills to see how you handled emergencies, and gave you written and oral tests. It was brutal for everyone, but BRUTAL for the Captain and lead engineer. If the boat did bad enough they “took away the keys” (actually, this is literal-there were locks on one of the main switches on the Reactor Plant Control Panel, RPCP, and the control rod breakers. The lead engineer had those keys, and if you failed they took the keys), made you tie up to the dock, study and train until you were ready and they did the whole thing again. It could well be career ending for the senior officers if the ship failed, so they took them pretty seriously. They were called ORSE Boards (Operational and Reactor Safety Exam). We dreaded them. Not just because the exam were the worst week of our lives, but because of the months of training and drills we did as workup.
Another fun fact: The control rod breakers were called SCRAM breakers. SCRAM stands for Safety Control Rod Ax Man. Seriously. In the first core, the control rods were connected to a rope and pulley system. The rods are made of neutron absorbing material so when they are installed the reactor cannot “start”. To start the chain reaction the rods back in the day were slowly pulled out BY FUCKING HAND using the rope. There was a guy, the Safety Control Rod Ax Man, who’s job was to cut the rope with an ax if the reaction got out of control, rapidly shutting down the reaction. I shit you not. Term was coined by Enrico Fermi, that madman. (Some jackhole at the NRC-The Nuclear Regulatory Commission- says this story is baloney, but the NRC is full of professional fun busters, so don’t believe them). Today, we have motors to slowly pull the rods and emergency fail safes to insert the rods rapidly to shut down the reactor when necessary (one of my jobs). Much safer, but way more boring.
So on to the actual story, the part where we all almost die and shit.
My job on the boat was not only to be one of the three ROs (Reactor Operators), but also be the one to take over the reactor in case of emergency. People who know me always find that funny. I’m a little too high strung sometimes to be considered the guy who takes over during an emergency. An officer once said about me, towards another officer who was complaining about how loud I was “don’t listen to what he says, but watch what he does.” I’ve had people say “you know something is wrong when Rick shuts up.” Anyway, during workup we are running drills all the time, so I am getting my off time and sleep interrupted with all the drills since I always have to take over the plant. So I’m starting to operate on not a whole lot of sleep.
My sleep gets interrupted again with me “standing in my rack” an accurate metaphor for the ship on a big up angle toward the surface, a klaxon blaring and the announcement “Steam line rupture”. I jump out of bed into my coveralls and dash aft (aft is the back of the ship). I know that the reactor was already shut down by SRCAMMING it. With a switch, not an ax. I hit the watertight door between the forward and aft compartment at which point I feel water raining down on me. Now, this isn’t normal in a submarine. Rain usually needs clouds, and there typically aren’t any in a submarine, so I was pretty certain that this was not great news. I hold my had out, taste the water, and its REALLY BAD NEWS. Saltwater is supposed to be on the outside of a submarine, not on the inside (the people tank). We really try hard to forbid it from coming in the people tank as drowning in a tube, or being crushed to death by the pressure, isn’t really all that high on anyone’s bucket list. In this case, the water didn’t listen and was invading the hell out of the people tank.
When people say their lives flash in front of their eyes, I would say that isn’t accurate. But you do think a bunch of stuff really quickly. Mostly what I thought, seriously, was how good a life I had up to that point and how much I would miss my family and friends. All the while I am 100% doing my job, which is shut the watertight door with the rain coming down on me and “Flooding” being blasted thru the loudspeakers. Once the door is shut (remember I was a bit tired) the awful realization hits me that I was on the wrong side of the effing door. Why are you on the flooding side, dumbass?!? At this point I realize that the water is coming from the ventilation system, and as I run forward I see it is coming from ALL the vents and I know exactly what is going on. When a submarine is on surface and the reactor is shut down we need to start the diesel generator for power. Now, a diesel requires a lot of air and the inside of a sub doesn’t have much. So to avoid drawing a vacuum on the ship and killing everyone, the sub has a snorkel mast with a big air line for the diesel and a valve that is supposed to shut when necessary to keep the water out. Once we hit periscope depth (see picture below) we open the valve, start the diesel, and also allow air to go to all the vents to ventilate the ship. (If you’ve ever been on a sub for a few days, you will understand the need to ventilate. Can get a bit stinky in there. Other parts of the Navy don’t call them pig boats for nothing). So the fact that water was coming out of the vents meant three things: 1. The flapper valve was stuck open and the boat must have submerged a bit and didn’t close like it was supposed to. 2. All we had to do was a quick blow and we would be right back on surface before much more water could get in, and 3. YAY, we are all going to live!! From the time I had water hit my head until I realized I wasn’t going to die was maybe 30 seconds.
The snorkel mast and the periscope are the things sticking up. When you are at “periscope depth” which was where we wanted to be, the sail is still fully submerged and the only things above the water line are the scope and snorkel if you are running the diesel. #1 rule of a submarine-never ever fully surface when on patrol. Oh, and being in the conning tower (where the guys are) is the best! We are very, very rarely on surface so getting to ride in the tower is a very rare thing. I was up there once watching dolphins jump across the bow while we surface transited between Oahu and Maui once.
Oh, and 4. We have a big freaking mess to clean up. Saltwater in the entire ventilation system (not good). Water in the insulation (not good). Water all over electronics, including the reactor control systems (really not good) and in the battery well (really really not good). If saltwater damages the battery, we are more than a little screwed. Batteries do not particularly care for salt water. It is a touch corrosive and reacts with the sulphuric acid and makes a deadly gas and everyone dies. In fact, one of my friends was the guy who disconnected the battery, likely saving all our lives. So the battery is out of service. The diesel is REALLY out of commission because remember that part about the air intake becoming a water intake? Well, try as they might the engineers could not make water into a compressible fluid. So when water gets into the cylinders, the pistons stop a little abruptly and turns piston shafts into spaghetti. Another friend in the diesel room told me “It just stopped. It was running and in the next instant it wasn’t. I thought ‘that’s weird’ and looked at the diesel and water is flying out of everything!” And it is a big engine in the bottom of a submarine and to repair it you have to take it out piece by piece. Fun stuff. Fortunately, the guys in the engine room were able to restart the reactor in record time and get us power before the batteries tripped off line. My friend Todd has more about that below. If I had been on the other side of the water tight door, it would have been me restarting the plant. That would have been horrifying, but honestly, I lived for that kind of shit. Glad whoever was on watch got the job done, just wish it would have been me!
Between the compromised reactor, no batteries, no diesel, and damaged crap everywhere we limp to Guam for repairs (we actually had to get permission to run the reactor with no backup sources of power). For like 2 months. On Guam. Not much to do on Guam folks. Scuba diving was good fortunately. But there were about three girls on the island that weren’t strippers (and they were popular), crappy military bars, no tourism, and more humidity that you can imagine. For a bunch of 18-30 year olds who have been on a ship for 4 months by then, it wasn’t exactly paradise. Especially since we were supposed to be going to a bunch of exotic SE Asia ports instead. The term for the patrol we were on was called a WestPac (Western Pacific Tour). We called this one WastePac. Good news was our ORSE Board was major delayed. Bad news was we had to fully clean the boat, repair a bunch of shit including a ton of the electronics I was responsible for, take apart and reassemble a diesel engine, and be on an island full of guys. “Where the Boys Are” isn’t all that fun for the boys when dey ain’t no girls. Free ones anyway. I think we were there for two glorious months.
Oh, and we had to do the stupid ORSE Board when we got back to Hawaii. Instead of you know, go to the beach and stuff.
So that’s pretty much that. I will do a quick shout out to my submariner friends, many of whom will read this (I hope). You were the best people I’ve ever had the pleasure of working with. I can’t imagine what being cooped up with a bunch of assholes would have been like. Fortunately, I was cooped up with the best people ever. Though as I said above, most of you I will never see again I know that if I needed help, any of you would drop what you were doing and come, as I would for all of you. Most people don’t know they have people they can count on (though many of them do). I know I have people I can count on. Not to be overly dramatic (ok, that’s funny, I’m almost always overly dramatic), but on a submarine you literally count on each and every crew member to do their job correctly and keep you alive, and they count on you to do the same. Makes for some pretty strong bonds. Thanks to all you guys!
Oh, and that picture is my old boat the USS Birmingham SSN 695 on sea trials doing an emergency blow. She is no more, being decommissioned and cut up before her time. She was one hell of a warship.
And to close my personal part of this loop: In the beginning I said how in my 20s I was a little lost. At the end of my navy career I went back to University. Did a little better that time, graduated with Honors with a degree in Electrical Engineering. I still sucked at gambling, except at blackjack where you just play the rules, count cards, and never have to bluff. I just play blackjack when I gamble now. I know my limits. I am very good at drinking now. I learned more about drinking in the Navy than anything else, except maybe swearing. When you go out 5 nights a week as we did in Hawaii, you get pretty good at it. I never got any good at the girl thing. In the end, I was just too geeky to be taken all that seriously. Not that I didn’t have some girlfriends, they were just pretty few and far between. However, I did meet this one girl in a bar in Waikiki on New Years 1987. Married her in May of 1988. For all the times I swung and missed, when I finally did connect I knocked it out of the park. Thanks Navy.
Addition 1, from my friend Todd. He may have more to say, but I wanted to include his song. It’s an old school blues song (in G, watch me for the changes, and try to keep up!), written while we were in Guam:
We were one week out of Hong Kong (du dunh du dunh dhunh)
Looking for some fun and thrills (du dunh du dunh dhunh)
Engineer said ORSE workup
Time to run a few drills
Ran a power to flow cut back
Ran a loss of TG
A Steam line leak put us uptop
Gaddamn that VH-3 (I knew it was wrong, but easier to rhyme)
I got them
Head Valve Blues mama
You know I got them Head Valve Blues
Ain’t no way to win or lose
When the diesel runs you get the head valve blues
Chief (censored to protect the guilty!) was was the DO
Boat took a little dive
Emergency blew at 150
Felt good to be alive
Captain walked into the fan room
Water up to his knee
He started to yellling and cussing and screaming
Gaddamn that VH-3
Another verse I don’t remember
22 thoughts on “Water in the People Tank!”
I’ll leave it for some of the “smart” people to comment in detail, but here are several thoughts:
1) While my song “Head Valve Blues” was good, it paled in comparison to my take on the Springsteen classic “Trapped”(On the Birmingham), about the RA-17 incident. Can’t remember if you were on board yet or not. Ask Amberson to comment on it.
2) My most vivid memory of the incident is this: The reactor was started VERY quckly and steam brought into the engine room. At the very instant I opened the valves to bring feedwater to the reactor plant, the decision was made to emergency blow. The gauges on the Steam Generators all pegged high due to the angle of the ship. I,however, was sure I had just caused a nuclear incident and killed us all. That 20 seconds to the surface really sucked.
3) You were correct about the crew on the Birmingham and stated it really well. Even the guys I didn’t like, I loved. Still some of the closest bonds formed in my life.
I can only imagine the guy on the reactor plant control panel during this, knowing that much of his electronics may have taken a saltwater bath. It would have been thrilling, except for the horrifying part. Probably true of most every watch in every part of the ship actually. Thanks Todd, it’s fun learning more about this.
I was on the RPCP for this little escapade. Mink was on throttles and Jaros was EO.
I didn’t remember that. I would have truly loved to have done the recovery. I didn’t get to do enough of those. They were fun. Though when they were for practice as opposed to that one which was truly for real.
Just some thoughts from my memory since I think I was there.
As written above;
on our way to a great liberty port and doing training drills to get ready for the beloved ORSE( I was later a senior member of the NPEBPAC) we were conducting a major drill and as things settled out and the immediate actions were complete the Ship had broached and the DOOW requested permission to bring in some weight to get down from the broach to avoid being too observable to the outside world. We had a sightglass watchstander at the sump due to our worries about the head valve ( there were issues before with us and other ships). I gave permission to bring in some water and get down to snorkle depth, but if we had any issues with depth control I directed the COW to immediately shut the head valve. Feeling ok about our situation I headed aft to watch the drill redovery. As I walked over the deck plates in the mess decks I heard that horrible large metallic clanking sound and in probably less that one revolution our beloved diesel crank shafts stopped rotating. I immediately headed to the control room. Obviously not my best day.
The sump watch had reported rising water level in the sump and the COW had “shut” the head valve immediately, but as we know the wonderful head valve stuck open. That, by itself, would not have been a diesel problem if it were not for a problem called “D-11”.
D-11, if I remember the name correctly, Is required to he locked shut to preclude water from getting into the diesel air intake if the head valve fails. Good design.
We were given permission to conduct our own investigation due to our good standing in the fleet and submarine force and our just completed “Mission of Great Importance”.
The investigation revealed that D-11, when locked shut, was actually partially open, it is a rectangular flapper valve about 6×18 inches with a thick rubber gasket seal. We believe that D-11 was built and installed improperly since there was no record of maintenance on D-11.
As we know water is somewhat less compressible than air – number 9 cylinder piston and connecting rod were pretty much toast.
We were in Guam for several weeks with every Diesel Expert in the pacific on board and everyone on 12 hour shifts. I was not happy that we were told we had to pull both upper and lower crank shafts for inspection so those who know how and what we accomplised was basically a miraculous effort. The main bearing saddle under 9 was out of round, but repairable.
We had performed correctly and propely and even anticipated the loss of depth control and the requirements for detectability so the endorsements on the investigation were positive thanks to the great team.
Below are by recollection of the events:
Although this incident occurred 30 years ago, it is one of the most vivid memories I have while serving 10 years in the Navy for obvious reasons. It’s not that often you feel like you are going to die aboard a submarine. Before I reflect on my memories of the incident and why I thought we were going to die, I need to start by describing our departure from Pearl Harbor at the start of the West Pac.
I had been aboard the Birmingham for two years and was aboard when we brought her around from Norfolk to Pearl for our home port change. I learned during that two years an indication that we were going to be at sea for a long time was the stores load and tdu (trash disposal unit) weight load. We would bring lot of food on board along with tdu weights. The tdu weights were placed at the bottom of trash cans that we would shoot out of the bottom of the boat that allowed the cans to drop to the bottom of the ocean. A submarine doesn’t need a bunch of trash floating up behind it as this sort of defeats the purpose of hiding underwater. Anyway, we loaded so many tdu weights that as we were pulling out of Pearl we were basically doing a wheelie under water. We could not maintain a level trim so the Commanding Officer decided to conduct a blow using the emergency blow valves, actually cycling the valves. This was unusual as the valves are only used during drills/training, quarterly testing or emergencies. After conducting the blow we leveled off and continued on our West Pac. I thought to myself, “I hope we won’t need to conduct an emergency blow while we were out or if we did the blow would work.” I was thinking of what happened to the USS Thresher. That boat tried an emergency blow and from what I understand, the piping froze and the boat didn’t make it to the surface. She sank and everyone on board died. The design of the USS Birmingham was far better so this should not happen to a more modern submarine but that thought was passing through my mind after the cycling of the emergency blow valves. Side note – Rick did provide some entertainment as we were pulling away from the pier. He nailed some poor guy on the pier with his heavie. Nailed him right in the head and knocked him out as I recall.
So back to the incident and my memory of what occurred. I was standing the Engine Room Upper Level watch and the red hats (drill monitor) show up. We were going to be having some fun spilling and drilling. This particular drill was a steam line rupture drill and I was told I was going to be the injured man. So the call goes out of the steam line rupture and everyone carries out their immediate actions which include shutting down the reactor and shutting MS-1 and MS-2. This keeps the steam in the steam generators inside the reactor compartment and out of the piping in the engine room. The boat then proceeded to periscope depth and begins snorkeling. The turbine generators in the engine room are off line along with the main engines as they need steam to operate. As the injured man, I am taken to the wardroom so the corpsman can treat my injuries. I am there in the wardroom and of course hear the diesel generator running as the Ward Room is near the diesel generator. This is what is providing the power to the boat. We are operating on the Emergency Propulsion Motor because the main engines are down. We all hear “Secure from the drill.” After this, I proceed back to the engine room to resume my engine room upper level watch. As I make my way back and while I am passing through the crews mess, I can hear the word from control “loss of depth control.” At that point I heard what sounded like sledge hammers hitting the diesel generator. Right away I could tell that bad boy just seized up. The Commanding Office goes flying past me and heads to the Control Room. I continue back to the engine room but as I am near the escape trunk, water is flooding in and not just a little. I continue back to the engine room and as I open the side passageway door and step into the tunnel, I look to the right and see the pressurizer control panel and what appears to smoke coming from the panel. I hear “Conducting an emergency blow.” That’s when I thought back to us cycling the EMBT blow valves and how the USS Thresher went down. I was praying at that time they would work because if they didn’t we were dead. I also hear on the 2 MC we were conducting an emergency reactor start up. The reactor operator was in the process of starting up the reactor but when we lost depth control and lost the diesel, we lost some vital electrical busses which caused the reactor to scram. By the time I got back to my watch station, steam was back and the turbine generators were up along with the main engines. Everyone did their job and we got the boat back under control. Teddy B. shut a VH valve that kept the battery from getting salt water in it which kept us from getting poison gas in the boat. Matt Goodrich was one of the monitors and he is telling me the condition of my watch station as I relieved him. Basically giving me a turn over so I could relieve him of the watch but what is amusing to me is that first, he was a drill monitor and second, he wasn’t qualified as an upper level watch. I took over the watch and the Captain came on the 1 MC and basically thanked us for handling multiple casualties. That was one hell of a drill. We lost depth control, lost vital electrical busses, flooding; the reactor scrammed, lost the diesel and various other casualties and to most of us thought we were going to die. I guess all that training we did pay off.
After it was over, I sat back near 10k making fresh water and counted my blessings. We were 3 days from Hong Kong but now we got to spend some extensive time in Guam. Great!
With regard to Todd’s comment, I believe it was RA-19 but may be wrong. Some guy wanted to get off the boat evidently and said he found RA-19 open during a check. This is bad because it would prevent the remote operation of the reactor coolant isolation valves. We think he just said he found it open but it wasn’t. He ended up going to Captain’s Mast and getting kicked off the boat. I don’t think he wanted to go on the West Pack.
I served with great guys and will have fond memories of my time aboard the USS Birmingham.
Thanks Amberson. Next time don’t make your story better than mine. And I don’t think I ever hit anybody with a heavie, though I do have fond memories of being topside pulling into and coming out of port.Being one of the first guys to smell actual air when coming into port was an honor. And seeing who had the fanciest windups for the throws was fun. It is certainly possible I hit someone because I was far more interested in form and distance than accuracy, but it seems like something I would remember! In all seriousness my time line in my head for this is wrong I think as I always thought I was heading back as soon as the drill was called, but after your and Todd’s story that couldn’t have been true because you went thru the door before I closed it. Doesn’t matter I guess, it is a 30 yr old memory. Nice to hear from you!
I could have sworn it was you that hit that guy on the pier. Maybe not but someone nailed a guy as we were leaving Pearl. Perhaps you are just deflecting because of the possible lawsuit. 30 years is a long time and as you noted the memory isn’t exact.
I could get extradited back to the States. First man ever incarcerated for a heavie incident. In prison I could tell everyone how I knocked a guy out using only a little piece of rope. No one would mess with me then I’ll tell you.
All sounds good except the emergency blow did not stop the sinking of the boat. It slowed it, but we kept going down. I took the main engines getting back on line to give us the power to drive ourselves to the surface. It was Mike Pokura who managed to get the reactor back online while bring steam back into the engine room. Ron Kilborne and I (Ray Palmer) each took one side of the engine room along with two machinists in engine room upper level to get the engines and turbine generators on line in record time. We went way deeper than any of us wanted. Without the reactor, main engines, and turbine generators we would not have survived. I was on watch as EWS (Engineering Watch Supervisor) and told Kilborne we might need to kiss our butts goodbye. His response was basically, “Not today, we will break every rule in the book if needed to get back to the surface.
I will agree I loved our Birmingham family and would have done anything thing for them.
Thanks for that Chief Palmer! I don’t remember it taking very long to surface, but time kinda does weird things when that much is happening.
Thanks Ray. That definitely sounds like something Kilborne would have said and done.
Great story, Rick. I was the diesel operator during the incident and called out the initial report of “flooding in the auxiliary machinery room” after engine stopped. Seeing lots of water flow out of the diesel was a significant emotional event in my life.
I was pretty sure of that!
To heck with the water, Jeff. The question I always had for you (the diesel operator) was: Did it seize up fast enough? Or did you have time to think- I’m about to get speared by a piston rod?
I think I was on watch in ERF during this casualty. I was on the phones listening to all this going on, I remember hearing the Captain giving the order for an Emergency Reator Startup. I also remember the Yarways on my panel going dark, I never say that before. They were DC powered and probably went dark when they had to open the battery breaker.
So there I was…………….
Dodging the drill in radio. I look up at the periscope monitor and see it underwater (not good) but the desiel is still running? WTF??? Then the explosion. Right underneath me. I dash out of the radio room and run into the sump watch trying to see into the sump, but the light was blown out from the blast of water coming in. I open the fan room door a run in and shut VH-16. Just like I had done a dozen times before during many previous drills. But this time I’m standing in a foot of water. Next valves to shut are all the way aft in the fan room. Got it, not a problem. VH-9 and VH-6, supply and return to the engine room. As I make my way to the valves I need to duck under lots of pipes and ventilation. VH-6 is a Large quarter turn valve that takes both hands to shut, just as I do I hear the emergency blow. NICE! We’re heading back up! As the ship takes a large up angle, the foot or so of water now becomes rather deep at my end of the fan room. Now up to my chest with the present ship’s angle I had to hold my breath to duck under the pipes blocking my exit. As I make my way out I hear the 26KW inverters crackling in their sea water marinade. As I dog down the fan room door the OOD throws open the door to Nav Center and tells me to shut VH 16. “Already done” I tell him. Those few moments changed my life. A lot of people did a lot of good things that day. I thank God and all my shipmates that did what we did to give us another day to remember how precious every day is.
Damn Theo. You win best story!!
Excellent post. I was about to relieve Mike Pokora as Reactor Technician when we lost the diesel and the entire ship shuddered and shook. Harry Maier was in Maneuvering Room at the Reactor Plant Control Panel. Mike and I very quickly divided and conquered the emergency actions outside of Maneuvering that were needed for Harry to start the Fast Recovery Startup procedure at the RPCP. I recall watching Harry at the controls while I stood outside the chain door entrance. He was a blur of action. Latching rods, switching pumps, resetting alarms so fast … I swear he turned an alarm switch off with his elbow while he was simultaneously switching Reactor Coolant Pumps with his hands. He pushed that Fast Recovery Startup to the maximum limits. Probably the fastest Fast Recovery Startup in the history of naval nuclear power. I recall that EOOW was about 3 seconds behind him, giving him orders that he had already just performed. Harry was great! There was nothing he could not do at the RPCP on a nuclear submarine …. just don’t let him drive your rental car during an in-port.
I loved my time onboard USS Birmingham SSN 695. Great crew!
I have been wanting to thank Ted Bologna for many years now. His quick actions saved the ship. Without closing those valves so quickly, the battery well would have been flooded with salt water and the entire crew would have been overcome with toxic gas within minutes. Much thanks Ted! Your actions saved the day and gave the rest of the crew the time they needed to get us back to the surface.
Thanks Eric,, So many did good things that day. Glad we lived to talk about it. Just lucky sometimes, right place at the right time.
Be glad you were not on the Stony J at 1800 feet with her payload and waves washing through middle level ops.
Same issue, stuck head valve. Where was the Aux of the Watch? On Scamp I always checked the mechanical indicator for the head valve.