Larry Bond - Dangerous Ground

The rescue team did stop, and some of the men started to remove their bags, but Hardy yelled, “No! Belay my last! Leave the bags on and keep going. You obviously need the practice. Next time you might not have ten minutes.”

The crew had now been subjected to over fifteen hours of intense drilling, and both Bair and Master Chief Reynolds argued strongly for a break to let the crew catch its breath and have a meal in peace. Hardy deferred to the petitions of the XO and COB and allowed the crew to eat dinner without any interruptions, in stark contrast to both breakfast and lunch, and everyone welcomed the three-hour respite.

The meal, however, was not according to the menu that was listed in the plan of the day. Washburn apologized profusely to both the wardroom and the crew’s mess for having to serve sliders and fries, instead of the much-anticipated surf ‘n’ turf. His mess cooks just didn’t have enough time to prepare the steaks and lobsters with all the drill activity. Although there was a little grumbling, no one blamed the supply officer. Most of the crew was just grateful to have a quiet hot meal.

Half an hour after dinner, though, the drills returned with a vengeance. “FIRE IN THE TORPEDO ROOM! ALL HANDS DON EABS! CASUALTY ASSISTANCE TEAM LAY TO THE TORPEDO ROOM,” blared the IMC. Followed immediately by the BONG, BONG, BONG of the general alarm. Jerry grabbed the EAB mask on his bunk and started to walk quickly to his spaces. He had taken only a few steps, when he nearly collided with Emily Davis, who was exiting the wardroom. “Stay here!” Jerry yelled as he literally pushed her back into the wardroom. Confused by Jerry’s actions, Emily watched as he turned the corner on his way to the torpedo room. The other junior officers scampered by, going as fast as they could to their damage control stations. Not knowing what to do, Emily shut the wardroom door and sat down on the couch.

Jerry reached the crew accommodations just aft of the torpedo room and found a number of TMs and FTs in fire-fighting gear rigging a fire hose. He slipped on a Nomex flame-retardant jumpsuit and the protective headgear and gloves as quickly as the very cramped quarters would allow. Once finished, he moved up to the man with the sound-powered phones to report to control that he was in charge at the scene. But as Jerry got closer, he was surprised to see that it was FT1 Bearden manning the phones. Looking around, he saw no sign of Senior Chief Foster.

“Petty Officer Bearden, where is the Senior Chief?”

“I don’t know, sir. He should have been here by now.” Bearden’s response did not encourage Jerry at all. “I’m on line with control. Do you want me to report that you are in charge at the scene?”

“Yes, please.” As Bearden made the report, Jerry looked around the area and saw that the team was just about ready to make its entry into the torpedo room. He then noticed that the red ball cap that Bair was wearing, the “badge” of a drill monitor, had a Fokker triplane embroidered on the front. The XO also had a grin on his face that would do justice to the Cheshire cat. Jerry poked Bearden on the shoulder and asked, “What’s with the XO?”

Bearden turned, looked, and then Jerry saw his shoulders sag. Facing his division officer, Bearden said dejectedly, “Ahh shit, sir. We’re screwed.”

“What’s wrong?”

“The XO is wearing his Red Baron hat. It’s his way of telling us that this drill is going to be a ball buster. Every time he’s worn that hat, the drill has always been complex and hard. Very hard.”

“Wonderful,” replied Jerry sarcastically.

An unidentifiable rating then handed Jerry a training NIFTI. Actually, it was just a small coffee can with both of the ends removed and painted white, but it was good enough to keep one of the XO’s stupid green garbage bags off his head.

Positioning the hose team, jerry turned to have Bearden report that they were making their entry. Only, he wasn’t there. Looking frantically for his phone talker, Jerry spotted Bearden and Foster at the end of the line, apparently arguing about something, given Foster’s animated hand motions. Angrily, Bearden took off the sound-powered phones and handed them to the Senior Chief. It seemed to take Foster a very long time to get the phones on, adjusted, and checked back into control. Jerry figured that that little stunt had cost them almost a minute. The XO certainly didn’t look happy.

Once Foster finally reached Jerry, he ordered the senior chief to report to control that the team was entering the torpedo room. As Jerry opened the door, all the lights went out in the compartment and everyone, save Jerry, had a bag put over their head. Holding his coffee can up to his face, Jerry was allowed to see a flickering reddish light from the aft port side of the room. Great, thought Jerry, the fire is over by the warshot Mk 48s. I bet we only have a limited amount of time before the XO has one of the weapons cooks off. Bearden was right. This will be a ball buster.

Advancing slowly, crouched down and waddling, Jerry led his team up and around the center torpedo storage rack. As they came up to the weapons launching console, Jerry saw TM3 Lee lying on the deck. Jerry directed the last two members of the team to remove Lee from the torpedo room as quickly as they could. Foster grabbed another sound-powered phone set from its storage box and tried to find the jack; the first set he had been wearing wasn’t long enough to reach the fire’s location. Jerry reached over, took the connector, and plugged it in for him. The senior chief seemed to double-check the connection, but Jerry wasn’t about to be blindsided again and he rechecked the connection himself. It was secure.

Continuing on around the center stow, the team came across a red strobe light that marked the location of the fire. The only thing back in that corner was one of the AC power distribution panels. Turning to Foster, Jerry yelled, “To control, the fire is near panel P-4. Recommend electrically isolating the panel.” Foster repeated the report precisely and forwarded it to control. Jerry waited about fifteen seconds and then directed the hose team to shift to high-velocity fog and start fighting the fire. He waited the extra time to allow control to pass the word to isolate the electrical panel before he started spraying it with lots of seawater.

Bair walked over to the strobe light, increased the frequency of the flashes, and moved it closer to Jerry’s team. “The fire is getting worse and it’s starting to get really hot in here,” he said loudly. Immediately, Jerry yelled to Foster, “To control, the fire is getting worse. We need a second hose team.” Preoccupied with fighting the simulated fire, Jerry didn’t hear Foster’s repeat back. After about thirty seconds, Jerry became concerned that he hadn’t heard anything from control about sending in a second team. He was about to ask Foster if control had responded when the IMC roared to life, it was the Captain’s voice and he sounded agitated: “TEAM LEADER, CHECK YOUR SOUND-POWERED PHONE CONNECTION!”

Jerry spun around and looked over at the sound-powered phone jack. The plug was halfway out of the socket. Reaching over, he angrily screwed the plug back in. “Senior Chief, verify that you are back online with control and then pass on the word that we need a second hose team down here.”

“Yes sir,” replied Foster smugly.

No sooner had Jerry turned his attention back to the fire than the XO turned on a white strobe light and pointed it at the team. “It’s extremely hot in here. You can’t stand the heat any longer,” shouted Bair as he pushed Jerry’s team back from the strobe lights.

Jerry felt frustrated, as there was little he could do without the second hose team. The XO wasn’t cutting them any slack either, and unless Jerry took measures to protect his team from the heat, the XO would start having them pass out on him. With a hard sigh, Jerry ordered the nozzle man to select low-velocity fog. He then ordered the team to start backing away from the advancing fire. Moments later, the IMC announced, “SECURE FROM DRILL. ALL HANDS REMOVE EABS.”