Larry Bond - Dangerous Ground

Completing his report, Jerry requested permission to get underway. Hardy took a quick look around, and once satisfied that his JOOD had made an accurate report, said, “Permission granted.”

Picking up the radio, Jerry called over to the tug, “Tug Paul, this is U.S. Navy submarine, stand by for tug orders.”

“Roger,” squawked the radio.

“On deck,” Jerry yelled through the bullhorn. “Take in all lines!” The line handlers below started pulling frantically on the mooring lines to get them all on board as quickly as possible. As the last line came over, Jerry pulled the lever for the ship’s horn and let loose a prolonged blast. This told everyone in the harbor that a boat was getting underway. At the same time, Stewart hoisted a large U.S. flag on a pole behind the flying bridge.

“Tug Paul, back one third,” Jerry commanded. As the diesel engines on the tug roared to life, Memphis began to slowly pull away from the pier. Jerry watched as the distance between them increased. Turing toward Millunzi, Jerry asked, “Enough?”

“Wait. Give it a few more seconds,” replied Millunzi. “Okay, now.”

“Tug Paul, all stop.” Picking up the mike, Jerry issued his first conning order. “Helm, bridge, back one third, left full rudder.”

“Bridge, helm, maneuvering answers back one third, my rudder is left full with no ordered course.”

“Very well, helm.”

Jerry immediately looked aft to make sure the rudder had been turned in the correct direction, but with so many people on the bridge he had a hard time seeing the rudder. When it took him a little too long to do this, Millunzi prompted him, “Don’t forget the tug, Jerry. You need her horsepower to get us out properly.”

Fumbling for the radio, Jerry ordered the tug ahead one third. As Memphis moved slowly into the Thames River, Millunzi leaned over and said, “Watch the stern and make sure it swings to port. A submarine with stern way on is very unpredictable. It’s easier with a tug, but you still need to keep a close eye on it. There! Do you see it? The stern is starting to swing.”

Jerry didn’t see it at first, but after a moment, he also spotted the slight swing to the left. Millunzi is very good at this, thought Jerry. As the sub continued its slow arc into the river, Jerry watched the compass repeater on the suitcase and digital map display. Once Memphis came within thirty degrees of the channel course, Millunzi whispered, “Let inertia work for you now.” Jerry ordered the rudder amidships and all stop. He then ordered Tug Paul to answer all stop, and then to take in all lines. Jerry politely thanked the tug master over the radio for his services.

Once the tug was clear, Memphis was free to begin moving downriver. Jerry felt the deck begin to vibrate as Memphis’ screw bit into the river. It felt a little like his fighter at full military power, but once the sub’s backward motion was countered, and she started moving forward, the vibrations subsided.

As they left the area of the sub base, Jerry Mitchell, an aviator by first choice, was now finally on his way to becoming a submariner. The sounds and smells of the river and especially the sights of the historic Thames filled his senses. The well-settled, cluttered shoreline testified to how long men and ships had been here. As they passed the Submarine Museum, Jerry saw the Nautilus moored to her quay. A little over fifty years ago, he thought, she would have taken this same route out to sea. Memphis passed under the 1-95 and railroad bridges within two minutes of the planned time. The initial part of Jerry’s underway had gone remarkably smoothly. The Navigator would be pleased.

As they came up on the Electric Boat construction yard, the boat for the pilot pulled alongside and he bid farewell to the Captain and expressed his best wishes for a successful sea trial.

But before he went below, the pilot slapped Jerry on the back and said, “That was a very reasonable underway, Lieutenant. You made a few minor mistakes here and there, of which I’m sure Mr. Millunzi here will tell you all about in fine detail. However, for a first time out you did well. Good luck on the rest of your qualifications.” A few minutes later, with the pilot gone, the topside rigged for dive, and the last man down, Jerry increased speed to eight knots.

After another fifteen minutes, Memphis passed New London Ledge Light, the square redbricked lighthouse that marked the mouth of the Thames River. As Jerry ordered the speed increased to ahead standard, about twelve knots, the commodore climbed down from the flying bridge. “Excuse me, gentlemen, but I’m going below.” Turning toward Jerry, Captain Young said, “Mr. Mitchell, my compliments on a fine first underway. Keep up the good work.”

“Thank you, sir,” replied Jerry.

The commodore then looked up at Hardy, “Captain, I suggest we meet in your stateroom to go over the drill schedule for the next two days. Say, in fifteen minutes?”

Hardy looked pained by the commodore’s “suggestion,” but acknowledged the order with a perfunctory “Aye, aye, sir.”

For the next ten minutes, all that could be heard on the bridge was the wind and waves flowing past the submarine’s hull. Visibly disgusted that he had to leave the bridge, Hardy climbed down into the cockpit and addressed Millunzi. “MPA, strike down and stow the flying bridge and then get us to the dive point as quickly as you can. If you need me, I’ll be in my stateroom.”

Millunzi acknowledged the Captain’s order and had Stewart relay the order to control for two sailors to come up and disassemble the flying bridge. As Hardy was about to go below, he turned toward Jerry and said, “Don’t let the commodore’s comment go to your head, Mitchell. By my standards, your performance was adequate. Nothing more.”

“Yes, sir,” replied Jerry, more surprised than hurt. As soon as Hardy had disappeared into the bridge access trunk, Millunzi shook his head and issued a short snicker.

“Away the morale suppression team,” cried Millunzi. “The floggings will continue until morale improves.”

Both Jerry and Stewart laughed softly at the MPA’s sarcastic comment, and a lot of the tension Jerry had felt seemed to wash away. He was also relieved that the senior officers had departed the bridge. Now he could freely ask Millunzi for an honest critique of his performance.

As if he were reading Jerry’s mind, Millunzi said, “We’ll go over the mistakes the pilot mentioned once we get out of the channel. Then we can open her up and have some real fun.”

“Sounds good to me, sir,” Jerry replied. “For the record, how many did I make?”

“Five minor ones, that’s all. And despite the Captain’s views, you done good for your first time out.”

Five! Thought Jerry. He was having a hard time thinking of more than three. Still, he was pleased with Millunzi’s compliment. The two sailors summoned to the bridge now arrived. They immediately began to take the flying bridge down, handing sections of piping that made up the frame to Stewart, who passed them below. Millunzi urged them to work quickly, but not to skip on safety.

“What’s the rush, sir?” asked Jerry.

Millunzi pointed to two buoy symbols on the map display and then to a pair of red and green flashing buoys a couple of miles in the distance. “Those are buoys two and three. They mark the mouth of the channel. Once we pass them, we can rev this puppy up to flank speed. Provided these turkeys get their act together and get the flying bridge taken apart.” Millunzi grinned while jerking his thumb in the general direction of the two sailors up on the sail.

“In the meantime, Jerry we need to crank up the RCPs soon.”