haha unless you're in midair, you're the same as the rest of us!!
And if you're not on a sub, you're a Waste of Oxygen.
Seriously. Oxygen's kinda a big deal on a sub.
-
Be sure to read this post! Beware of scammers. https://www.indianagunowners.com/threads/classifieds-new-online-payment-guidelines-rules-paypal-venmo-zelle-etc.511734/
Military BS Stories or the last liar wins.
- Thread starter 2A_Tom
- Start date
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And if you're not on a sub, you're a Waste of Oxygen.
Seriously. Oxygen's kinda a big deal on a sub.
Last edited:
Best chow hall story (not about the food, but took place at a chow hall.)
March 2005: MSgt KellyinAvon and boss were at Balad Air Base, Iraq. We were up there from CENTAF (CENTCOM Air Forces) Forward at Al Udeid Qatar since they had all kinds of stuff going on at Balad and all of it needed our attention. The hospital went from Army to USAF, they were completing a huge expansion of the ramp (more aircraft = more deployed folks), there was a crazy aircraft that didn't officially exist that was looking for IEDs and needed a lot of help, trying to set up an Intel cell so information could move faster on mortar attacks (no ****, I had a Colonel tell me that he was told a mortar attack was known about three days prior, but the classification was too high to tell anyone. He was a very serious man, I believed him.)
So about Noon we go to lunch with our counterparts (a Captain and a MSgt) from Balad. While were still in the parking lot at the chow hall a bus pulls up with contractors (not in DCUs, must be contractors.) I say to the MSgt from Balad, "See the guy behind the driver?" Him: "Which one?" Me: "Big guy, no neck." Him: "Yeah." Me: "That's (name here), we went to high school together."
The MSgt from Balad looks at me like, "ain't no way in hell you know anybody on that bus..." He still had the same look after I handed him my camera and said, "take our picture".
There were 77 in my high school class (single A school, cornfields on three sides.) Of all places to run into one, a chow hall in Iraq.
March 2005: MSgt KellyinAvon and boss were at Balad Air Base, Iraq. We were up there from CENTAF (CENTCOM Air Forces) Forward at Al Udeid Qatar since they had all kinds of stuff going on at Balad and all of it needed our attention. The hospital went from Army to USAF, they were completing a huge expansion of the ramp (more aircraft = more deployed folks), there was a crazy aircraft that didn't officially exist that was looking for IEDs and needed a lot of help, trying to set up an Intel cell so information could move faster on mortar attacks (no ****, I had a Colonel tell me that he was told a mortar attack was known about three days prior, but the classification was too high to tell anyone. He was a very serious man, I believed him.)
So about Noon we go to lunch with our counterparts (a Captain and a MSgt) from Balad. While were still in the parking lot at the chow hall a bus pulls up with contractors (not in DCUs, must be contractors.) I say to the MSgt from Balad, "See the guy behind the driver?" Him: "Which one?" Me: "Big guy, no neck." Him: "Yeah." Me: "That's (name here), we went to high school together."
The MSgt from Balad looks at me like, "ain't no way in hell you know anybody on that bus..." He still had the same look after I handed him my camera and said, "take our picture".
There were 77 in my high school class (single A school, cornfields on three sides.) Of all places to run into one, a chow hall in Iraq.
We found a ground on one of the electrical busses. So we started narrowing it down. Vital or non-Vital bus. Port or Starboard.
Now that it was narrowed down to which bus, we had to start narrowing down to the major distrib panel.
Then to the minor distrib panel.
So we narrow it down to the Radio Room.
Knock on their door. a Hobbit sticks out his head out, and we explain something in the room is shorting out.
We explain the problem.
He kills the equipment one by one, till we find the short. (We weren't allowed in).
Once we find it, we ask the name, so we can log it down.
He looks at the Comm Officer and goes back into his hobbit hole. The officer explains that the equipment is classified.
I tell him we don't need to know how it works or what it does, we just need the name.
Comm: "It's CLASSIFIED".
act: "The name is classified?"
Comm: "Yes. The name is classified. Just log it to the Radio Room".
act: "Holy ****. It's so classified the name is classified. WTF?"
So, we log the short as narrowed down to equipment in the Radio Room.
Now that it was narrowed down to which bus, we had to start narrowing down to the major distrib panel.
Then to the minor distrib panel.
So we narrow it down to the Radio Room.
Knock on their door. a Hobbit sticks out his head out, and we explain something in the room is shorting out.
We explain the problem.
He kills the equipment one by one, till we find the short. (We weren't allowed in).
Once we find it, we ask the name, so we can log it down.
He looks at the Comm Officer and goes back into his hobbit hole. The officer explains that the equipment is classified.
I tell him we don't need to know how it works or what it does, we just need the name.
Comm: "It's CLASSIFIED".
act: "The name is classified?"
Comm: "Yes. The name is classified. Just log it to the Radio Room".
act: "Holy ****. It's so classified the name is classified. WTF?"
So, we log the short as narrowed down to equipment in the Radio Room.
Chapter Two: ROTC BASIC, Ft Lewis WA, Summer 1985. Barracks & Lockers Inspection. SFC Featherstone was conducting our inspection. Across the aisle from me was Cadet Smith. 10 min before the SFC got there, this Cadet realized he had lost his 6" black comb - no one had a spare. He found in his personal stuff, the standard (for the day) comb -picture the "HIP" comb, with the handle, that stuck out of you Lee's, and picture it in tye dyed colors. The SFC almost walked passed. The cadet was a good dude and squared away ALMOST all the time. When the SGT saw the comb be pivoted, grabbed it, held it in the (6' 2") Cadet's face. This 5' 6" (at the most), SFC was just about to unload on the Cadet when the absurdity of the tye dyed, 12" comb for the BALD cadet hit him all at once. The cadet had just got his head cut to a buzz w/ no guard. He screamed out the Cadets name, told him to STAND FAST. Then as fast as he could, SFC stepped INTO the nearest locker, laughed his ass off so much the locker was rocking side to side. When he finally regained his composure, the doors opened, he walked out, Told the cadet he had Fire watch 1st and last duty for that night and finished the inspection like a pro. We all had tears streaming down our faces.
Methane Herder
Sharpshooter
Relayed to me by someone who was there:
Local N.G. unit armorer writes off T.O.& E. M60 MMG. Orders replacement. Replacement arrives late Friday afternoon Parcel Post. Armory is closed at that time. Box left leaned up against main entrance wall. Saturday the armory gym is rented for a wedding reception. Saturday many people file back and forth past said box. Staff Sgt. arrives Monday a.m. - brings box in and opens it, then attempts to not have a stroke.
Local N.G. unit armorer writes off T.O.& E. M60 MMG. Orders replacement. Replacement arrives late Friday afternoon Parcel Post. Armory is closed at that time. Box left leaned up against main entrance wall. Saturday the armory gym is rented for a wedding reception. Saturday many people file back and forth past said box. Staff Sgt. arrives Monday a.m. - brings box in and opens it, then attempts to not have a stroke.
MH
On the carrier CV 67, VACAPES operating area in the summer, had a Blue Suit inspection. Blue Suits were professionals in a field, electronics, mechanical ships systems, etc. They could be military or civilians and wore blue jumpsuits. I was assigned to an Air Force major who specialized in the hard wired security systems. Had duty all day with him, checked out a hard case from a secure area that was handcuffed to my wrist, not unlocked until end of duty, armed with a radio and 45. During part of his inspection we went to the bridge-only time I was up there while the ship was underway.
The Captain was in his chair with binoculars looking to Port, everyone else was straining their necks looking out the Starboard side. There was a 15' Hammerhead shark swimming alongside the ship in the crystal clear water.
During this inspection I met a cool older retired Sailor. He was a very young merchant seaman on supply ships in WW2 that ran to Murmansk. These were usually under heavy bombardment from the Germans. Told about being bombed by Stukas. Said you could tell the bomb was heading straight at you because it looked like it just hung in the air.
Don
The Captain was in his chair with binoculars looking to Port, everyone else was straining their necks looking out the Starboard side. There was a 15' Hammerhead shark swimming alongside the ship in the crystal clear water.
During this inspection I met a cool older retired Sailor. He was a very young merchant seaman on supply ships in WW2 that ran to Murmansk. These were usually under heavy bombardment from the Germans. Told about being bombed by Stukas. Said you could tell the bomb was heading straight at you because it looked like it just hung in the air.
Don
What's really scary? As much as this sounds like BS I have no doubt in my (retired) military mind this actually happened. Often? Absolutely not. On rare occasions? Oh yes. From my days in Equipment Management (1994-1996, McConnell AFB, Kansas) I can think of three. Only (only??!!) one involved weapons, one was cryptographic equipment, one was classified equipment. Classified is the best story so here goes.
Our Receiving supervisor (NCOIC in mil-speak) was an old MSgt real close to retirement (at 24 years, the high-year of tenure for MSgts at that time.) His troops were processing a large shipment that had arrived when he noticed a large box with no paperwork sitting on a pallet.
He looks around, everybody was busy. This isn't unusual, process the stuff you can and deal with the problems next is pretty standard. So the old MSgt grabs a box cutter and opens the box. Everything in it has CLASSIFIED markings. I mean every piece of paper for every piece of equipment plus the serviceability tags. He about has a heart attack, then proceeds to call EVERYONE, starting with OSI (USAF NCIS). By the time they got me OSI was already there.
I looked up the info on the stock number (several of the same item, all the same stock number). I think my exact words were, "This ain't classified." The guy from Transportation guy comes in with his paperwork and says the same thing. About that time the Intel troop (equipment custodian for the unit receiving the equipment) comes in and says, "No, that is classified equipment."
So you've got me and the Trans dude pointing to what we'd printed out saying, "See this code? It means unclassified." Then the Intel troop tells us the equipment isn't classified, but unless it's new it's treated as classified because you can't clear the stored information.
At this point the OSI Agent asks if anything is missing. Upon hearing a negative he puts his trench coat back on (all those guys wear trench coats) and leaves. Not sure how it got worked out, glad all I did was pick up the equipment on the account.
Stole this from another thread to use for a hook:
When I was with NATO AWACS one of my buddies there was just finishing up his tour. His last big hurrah was that he and his wife flew Space A Around the Mediterranean for a vacation. They flew to Italy, Greece, Turkey, maybe someplace else and ended up in Spain just before they were due to be back at Geilenkirchen in Germany. They checked into the transient quarters and were scheduled to get on a C141 to RheinMain the next day.
That turned out to be The same day that Saddam rolled in to Kuwait. All American airlifters were immediately tasked to support reinforcements going to Saudi Arabia so their all Space A travel was cancelled. And because quarters were needed to house the airlift crews that would be coming through they were kicked out of transient quarters. My buddy called me To ask me To let his boss know he might be delayed returning.
They ended up sleeping on the living room floor of the base chaplain (who was already housing other people in his spare bedroom) For a couple or three days until they could book a 17 hour train ride back to Germany.
We had a near miss then. I was an AFROTC cadet from 1978 to 1982 At IU Bloomington. We were on the third floor of Rawles Hall, Army ROTC was on the second floor of Rawles. As far as I know it remained in Rawles for at least a few more years, I would come by to visit the Detachment whenever I was home on leave. Me and the other AFROTC cadets who wanted to go to airborne school trained PT with the army cadets to prepare. Once we all got back from airborne school we hung out with the army airborne cadets a lot drinking and trading stories.
The only thing I remember about the food is I ate as fast as possible and got out of line of sight of black hats as soon as possible.
When dining were instructed to “take one glass and one coffee cup ONLY!” to drink from. We could put anything we wanted in them but only one glass and one cup, not two glasses or two cups.
The glasses and cups were in this narrow alcove just wide enough for one person to walk through carrying a tray. You snagged your cup and glass, filled them with whatever and hustled to a table. The Black Hats ate at a table just on other side of wall of the alcove.
One lunch early on there was some soldier who had sinned by either taking two glasses or two cups, and sinned worse by getting caught. He was on the floor of the alcove doing 10 push-ups, stopping in the leaning rest, and shouting “TAKE ONE GLASS AND ONE COFFEE CUP ONLY”. On the other side of the wall one of the Black Hats would shout back “I can’t hear you, do it again!” We had to step over and around him to get our drinks. This went on the whole time Lunch period.
I only flew Space A once. We called it Military Hop in the Army.
We were on Green Ramp (the sand and gravel staging area next to the apron at Pope AFB). We had our full equipment, chutes and weapons in containers. We were in flight rigging so we were not chuted up. It was 0 Dark Thirty, 100 degrees, and 30 C141's with their engines running, blowing heat and fumes on us. There was a weather delay and they told us to take our weapons to the nearby Advanced Airborne School and catch a few Z's. We stayed in squads so we would not be left behind.
I fell asleep and had a nightmare. I dreamed that I woke up, stood up and all of the planes were gone. This shocked me awake. I stood up and looked toward the apron and all of the planes were gone. OH!
!
I freaked out and started trying to find a way to catch my unit. I ran to the riggers shed, but they had no idea. I finally found the AALCO (Army Air Force Liaison Coordination Officer or something like that) and he got me on a Hop to Ft. Bliss, TX. I was in fatigues, with a weapons container and no cover.
We were jumping into Orogrande, New Mexico. I landed at Ft. Bliss and started asking around how to get to Orogrande range. I eventually found a convoy going out that night. I had to ride in the back of a 5 Ton full of stainless steel kitchen equipment, 25 mimes, through the desert at night (freezing) with nothing but shirt, trousers and no cover.
I get there and tell the CQ what unit I am with and he directs me to the barracks my platoon is assigned to.
When guys come in they start telling me how much trouble I am in. My squad leader, plt. Sgt and LT come in and I tell them my story. The LT is wanting to court martial me.
The go to the CO and he sends me his compliments on my initiative. He said most men would have hitched a ride back to the barracks.
Next installments: Why this happened. The desert turns to quick sand.
We were on Green Ramp (the sand and gravel staging area next to the apron at Pope AFB). We had our full equipment, chutes and weapons in containers. We were in flight rigging so we were not chuted up. It was 0 Dark Thirty, 100 degrees, and 30 C141's with their engines running, blowing heat and fumes on us. There was a weather delay and they told us to take our weapons to the nearby Advanced Airborne School and catch a few Z's. We stayed in squads so we would not be left behind.
I fell asleep and had a nightmare. I dreamed that I woke up, stood up and all of the planes were gone. This shocked me awake. I stood up and looked toward the apron and all of the planes were gone. OH!
!I freaked out and started trying to find a way to catch my unit. I ran to the riggers shed, but they had no idea. I finally found the AALCO (Army Air Force Liaison Coordination Officer or something like that) and he got me on a Hop to Ft. Bliss, TX. I was in fatigues, with a weapons container and no cover.
We were jumping into Orogrande, New Mexico. I landed at Ft. Bliss and started asking around how to get to Orogrande range. I eventually found a convoy going out that night. I had to ride in the back of a 5 Ton full of stainless steel kitchen equipment, 25 mimes, through the desert at night (freezing) with nothing but shirt, trousers and no cover.
I get there and tell the CQ what unit I am with and he directs me to the barracks my platoon is assigned to.
When guys come in they start telling me how much trouble I am in. My squad leader, plt. Sgt and LT come in and I tell them my story. The LT is wanting to court martial me.
The go to the CO and he sends me his compliments on my initiative. He said most men would have hitched a ride back to the barracks.
Next installments: Why this happened. The desert turns to quick sand.
I only flew Space A once. We called it Military Hop in the Army.
We were on Green Ramp (the sand and gravel staging area next to the apron at Pope AFB). We had our full equipment, chutes and weapons in containers. We were in flight rigging so we were not chuted up. It was 0 Dark Thirty, 100 degrees, and 30 C141's with their engines running, blowing heat and fumes on us. There was a weather delay and they told us to take our weapons to the nearby Advanced Airborne School and catch a few Z's. We stayed in squads so we would not be left behind.
I fell asleep and had a nightmare. I dreamed that I woke up, stood up and all of the planes were gone. This shocked me awake. I stood up and looked toward the apron and all of the planes were gone. OH!
I freaked out and started trying to find a way to catch my unit. I ran to the riggers shed, but they had no idea. I finally found the AALCO (Army Air Force Liaison Coordination Officer or something like that) and he got me on a Hop to Ft. Bliss, TX. I was in fatigues, with a weapons container and no cover.
We were jumping into Orogrande, New Mexico. I landed at Ft. Bliss and started asking around how to get to Orogrande range. I eventually found a convoy going out that night. I had to ride in the back of a 5 Ton full of stainless steel kitchen equipment, 25 mimes, through the desert at night (freezing) with nothing but shirt, trousers and no cover.
I get there and tell the CQ what unit I am with and he directs me to the barracks my platoon is assigned to.
When guys come in they start telling me how much trouble I am in. My squad leader, plt. Sgt and LT come in and I tell them my story. The LT is wanting to court martial me.
The go to the CO and he sends me his compliments on my initiative. He said most men would have hitched a ride back to the barracks.
Next installments: Why this happened. The desert turns to quick sand.
Not to mention, if he court martials you, what about the guys and the leader that didn't do a head count.
I was on the C130 to Qatar. Loud, not much going on. We arrive, apparently later than expected. Pilot comes out, "who was flown in a C130?" we of course all raise our hands. Who has flown in a C130 with 3 engines? Most the hands go down. Who was ever flown in a C130 with only 2 engines? Like one or two hands still up. Pilot goes, well, you can all raise your hands now because two engines stopped working over Iraq. Gotta love those planes. We didn't even notice. So, now I can say that I have flown in a C130 with only 2 engines working.
Here Is the why.
My squad leader, Sgt. Mike Butry, a LLRP Ranger with two tours in Vietnam needed a bravo team leader. PFC Paul Evans is the ranking man in the squad, but when he is offered the team he refuses. PFC Barry Yahola is next in line and also refused. PFC me is next in line and when the squad leader offers me the job, I tell him "I will do whatever you want me to. I just hope I can do a good job for you."
This is just before we went to Desert Training. It got around that I had been made team leader when Evans and Yahola outranked me. The word was that I had gotten it by brown nosing and had messed over the other two.
On the night I was left behind, I was right with my squad but the squad leader was somewhere else. They sent the guys to "look" for me, but they said I was no where to be found.
My squad leader, Sgt. Mike Butry, a LLRP Ranger with two tours in Vietnam needed a bravo team leader. PFC Paul Evans is the ranking man in the squad, but when he is offered the team he refuses. PFC Barry Yahola is next in line and also refused. PFC me is next in line and when the squad leader offers me the job, I tell him "I will do whatever you want me to. I just hope I can do a good job for you."
This is just before we went to Desert Training. It got around that I had been made team leader when Evans and Yahola outranked me. The word was that I had gotten it by brown nosing and had messed over the other two.
On the night I was left behind, I was right with my squad but the squad leader was somewhere else. They sent the guys to "look" for me, but they said I was no where to be found.
Loss of depth control (1 of 2 instances I was a part of)
Running a fire in a port electrical vital bus drill.
Reactor plant shifted to compensate for an electric plant shift.
Electric plant shifted to isolate and de-energize the port vital bus.
The drill is doing great. Like a ballet.
Well, that is, till the "Big John" decided to run it's own drill.
It was a long held belief, that the John Marshall (SSN-611) was getting on in age, and punished us for running drills, but initiating some of it's own... unexpectedly.
The sub is coming up in a gradual 10 or 20 degree rise, in preparation for us to reach periscope depth where we can pop the snorkel up and ventilate the "smoke" from the boat.
All of a sudden, the deck pitches into a dive. Nothing gradual. We went from pointing up, to pointing down FAST.
10 degrees down
20 degrees down
Things get a bit scary.
"JAM DIVE! SECURE FROM FIRE DRILL" comes over the 1MC (general ship's announcing PA).
This means the Dive Planes on the submarine are jammed in the "down" direction, and not responding.
Men begin to move, to attempt "Immediate Actions". Immediate Actions are emergency actions that occur from memory. No books opened. No drawings followed. No orders given from Maneuvering. Speed is of the essence. After the actions are complete, then books, drawings are broken out and verified. Submariners are not big on things done from memory. Memory is fallible. And Davey Jones is an unforgiving task master.
30 degrees down
(this is all happening, one after another. Mere moments from one to another.
The depth gauge is spooling down. Not like you see on airplane movies. But nonetheless spooling down from "we're safe" to "there be danger down here".
The throttleman is slamming shut the "ahead" throttles, and opening up the "astern" throttles. The objective is to try to use the propeller to stop our momentum, and "pull" us back up. But that's like stopping your car on an icy hill, if your car weighed 9,000 tons.
"ENERGIZE PORT VITAL BUS AND RETURN TO A FULL POWER LINE UP! RIG FOR COLLISION/FLOODING! RIG FOR DEEP SUBMERGENCE".
The electric plant operator (EO) is trying to shift the bus, manipulating switches to throw man sized distribution breakers.
The reactor plant operator is making sure the EO doesn't dump the busses, and lose the running pumps. While keeping an eye on his own panel, flow, temperature, pressure, reactor power.
The machinist run down shaft alley, to try to isolate the dive planes from the main hydraulic system, and run small emergency pumps to try to recover the planes.
Meanwhile, the propeller keeps driving us down, a hell ride to the bottom of the ocean. The bottom of the ride ends in a visit to Davey Jones.
Men are not just dealing with operating complex machinery, with stress, and a definite time limit, but trying to race on a deck that his increasingly becoming a wall.
It almost takes a Hercules to open or shut a hatch. A hatch that is balanced when level, but weighs hundreds of pounds when at an angle.
Hull popping and groaning. The hull is actually compressing, becoming smaller. As it does this, it groans and pops like an alive animal in pain.
The lucky are too busy to stare at the hull and pray. They have a job to do, maybe their last.
40 degrees. You are stuck in your compartment. No one from the casualty assistance team can transfer through the boat anymore. Hatches are sealed with half their weight, which is too much to move.
The main engines are answering back full. Throttleman and RO are waiting on the EO to finish the electric plant shift, to go to full power.
45 degrees down.
Electric plant is finally in a Full Power Line up.
Reactor Plant is shifted.
Throttle opened to Back Emergency.
After 45 degrees, I lost track of the angle.
Machinists finish lining up the Planes to emergency.
Movement is impossible from compartment to compartment. Even within a compartment, you have to "climb". "Deck" and "Bulkhead" have lost their meaning. Merely operating a valve, requires one hand to hold you in place. Planesmen, RO, EO, and throttlemen are pinned into their seats.
Finally, the angle starts to decrease. The depth gauge slows.
45
40
30
20
Engines are shifted to forward
10
Level.
Slowly we come back up. Care must still be exercised. As we come up, and the hull expands, our buoyancy changes. There is the danger of "broaching".
Fun when your doing it in an empty place in the ocean, and it's planned. Not so fun if a ship is above us. Or in the vicinity of a warship. Warships have a tendency of viewing broaching submarines the way a sentry would view someone popping up in the middle of a high security area. SHOOT FIRST.
Everyone can restart their hearts.
Things are returned to normal.
Investigation is performed.
The cause of the problem... human error.
Main Hydraulic pumps are run in pairs. One powered from each side of the electric plant. In case of emergency, and one side of the plant get's dumped, you still have one pump.
At the beginning of the Fire Drill, the Chief of the Watch had BOTH pumps running off the Port side. When the Port vital bus was dumped, BOTH PUMPS were dumped.
Hydraulic Accumulators maintained pressure, but as they maintained pressure, they were being bled off.
When the last accumulator drained, main hydraulic pressure went to ZERO.
The Dive Planes weigh tons. With no hydraulics, their weight forces them in the "down" position.
And the propeller the drives us towards doom.
Needless to say, the man that was standing watch at the time, was not very high on my list of "people to be nice to".
Not only did he initiate the casualty, but during the entire time, he failed to diagnose that he was the cause and take corrective actions.
Submarines are rated for "Test Depth" and "Crush Depth".
Test Depth is where you are rated to operate. At this depth, you "should" be able to recover from "most" emergencies "at speed" before reaching crush depth.
I don't think I need to describe Crush Depth.
We were closer to one limit, than the other.
You can figure out which it was.
Running a fire in a port electrical vital bus drill.
Reactor plant shifted to compensate for an electric plant shift.
Electric plant shifted to isolate and de-energize the port vital bus.
The drill is doing great. Like a ballet.
Well, that is, till the "Big John" decided to run it's own drill.
It was a long held belief, that the John Marshall (SSN-611) was getting on in age, and punished us for running drills, but initiating some of it's own... unexpectedly.
The sub is coming up in a gradual 10 or 20 degree rise, in preparation for us to reach periscope depth where we can pop the snorkel up and ventilate the "smoke" from the boat.
All of a sudden, the deck pitches into a dive. Nothing gradual. We went from pointing up, to pointing down FAST.
10 degrees down
20 degrees down
Things get a bit scary.
"JAM DIVE! SECURE FROM FIRE DRILL" comes over the 1MC (general ship's announcing PA).
This means the Dive Planes on the submarine are jammed in the "down" direction, and not responding.
Men begin to move, to attempt "Immediate Actions". Immediate Actions are emergency actions that occur from memory. No books opened. No drawings followed. No orders given from Maneuvering. Speed is of the essence. After the actions are complete, then books, drawings are broken out and verified. Submariners are not big on things done from memory. Memory is fallible. And Davey Jones is an unforgiving task master.
30 degrees down
(this is all happening, one after another. Mere moments from one to another.
The depth gauge is spooling down. Not like you see on airplane movies. But nonetheless spooling down from "we're safe" to "there be danger down here".
The throttleman is slamming shut the "ahead" throttles, and opening up the "astern" throttles. The objective is to try to use the propeller to stop our momentum, and "pull" us back up. But that's like stopping your car on an icy hill, if your car weighed 9,000 tons.
"ENERGIZE PORT VITAL BUS AND RETURN TO A FULL POWER LINE UP! RIG FOR COLLISION/FLOODING! RIG FOR DEEP SUBMERGENCE".
The electric plant operator (EO) is trying to shift the bus, manipulating switches to throw man sized distribution breakers.
The reactor plant operator is making sure the EO doesn't dump the busses, and lose the running pumps. While keeping an eye on his own panel, flow, temperature, pressure, reactor power.
The machinist run down shaft alley, to try to isolate the dive planes from the main hydraulic system, and run small emergency pumps to try to recover the planes.
Meanwhile, the propeller keeps driving us down, a hell ride to the bottom of the ocean. The bottom of the ride ends in a visit to Davey Jones.
Men are not just dealing with operating complex machinery, with stress, and a definite time limit, but trying to race on a deck that his increasingly becoming a wall.
It almost takes a Hercules to open or shut a hatch. A hatch that is balanced when level, but weighs hundreds of pounds when at an angle.
Hull popping and groaning. The hull is actually compressing, becoming smaller. As it does this, it groans and pops like an alive animal in pain.
The lucky are too busy to stare at the hull and pray. They have a job to do, maybe their last.
40 degrees. You are stuck in your compartment. No one from the casualty assistance team can transfer through the boat anymore. Hatches are sealed with half their weight, which is too much to move.
The main engines are answering back full. Throttleman and RO are waiting on the EO to finish the electric plant shift, to go to full power.
45 degrees down.
Electric plant is finally in a Full Power Line up.
Reactor Plant is shifted.
Throttle opened to Back Emergency.
After 45 degrees, I lost track of the angle.
Machinists finish lining up the Planes to emergency.
Movement is impossible from compartment to compartment. Even within a compartment, you have to "climb". "Deck" and "Bulkhead" have lost their meaning. Merely operating a valve, requires one hand to hold you in place. Planesmen, RO, EO, and throttlemen are pinned into their seats.
Finally, the angle starts to decrease. The depth gauge slows.
45
40
30
20
Engines are shifted to forward
10
Level.
Slowly we come back up. Care must still be exercised. As we come up, and the hull expands, our buoyancy changes. There is the danger of "broaching".
Fun when your doing it in an empty place in the ocean, and it's planned. Not so fun if a ship is above us. Or in the vicinity of a warship. Warships have a tendency of viewing broaching submarines the way a sentry would view someone popping up in the middle of a high security area. SHOOT FIRST.
Everyone can restart their hearts.
Things are returned to normal.
Investigation is performed.
The cause of the problem... human error.
Main Hydraulic pumps are run in pairs. One powered from each side of the electric plant. In case of emergency, and one side of the plant get's dumped, you still have one pump.
At the beginning of the Fire Drill, the Chief of the Watch had BOTH pumps running off the Port side. When the Port vital bus was dumped, BOTH PUMPS were dumped.
Hydraulic Accumulators maintained pressure, but as they maintained pressure, they were being bled off.
When the last accumulator drained, main hydraulic pressure went to ZERO.
The Dive Planes weigh tons. With no hydraulics, their weight forces them in the "down" position.
And the propeller the drives us towards doom.
Needless to say, the man that was standing watch at the time, was not very high on my list of "people to be nice to".
Not only did he initiate the casualty, but during the entire time, he failed to diagnose that he was the cause and take corrective actions.
Submarines are rated for "Test Depth" and "Crush Depth".
Test Depth is where you are rated to operate. At this depth, you "should" be able to recover from "most" emergencies "at speed" before reaching crush depth.
I don't think I need to describe Crush Depth.
We were closer to one limit, than the other.
You can figure out which it was.
So you got "Blue Falcon'd" by a rumor.
