Larry Bond - Dangerous Ground

As Jerry pulled the cabling into the trunk, Boyd and Greer lifted the drogue and pushed it up into the trunk for the two men to grab. As they lifted the drogue, Jerry noticed that it weighed almost as much as the power supply. There were two metal gas bottles taped to it, too, one on each side. “What the hell are these for?” he asked, pointing to one of the cylinders.

“It was Dr. Davis’ idea, sir. They’re empty. She said their buoyancy should make the drogue easier to handle once you’re out in the water.”

“Would you please thank her for us, TM2? And we’ll see you when we get back.”

Once everyone was clear, Reynolds shut and dogged the lower escape trunk. With the hatch closed, Jerry repositioned the drogue and the cabling so that he and the COB had at least a little room to don the rest of their gear. “It’s a bit tight in here, isn’t it?” remarked Jerry tensely. As Jerry started to put on his fins and gloves, Reynolds saw that he was agitated, uneasy. As the COB put on his fins, he glanced over at Jerry and asked, “Nervous?”

Jerry let out a brief sigh and then admitted, “No COB, I think a better word is ‘scared.’ I’ve never left a submerged submarine before, and I’ve never made a dive hundreds of miles from the nearest shore.”

“That’s okay, Mr. Mitchell. It’s all right to be a little scared. I actually prefer it that way because I know you’ll be more careful. Now, once we get out there, we stay in each other’s sight at all times. There is no reason for us to be apart, understood?”

Even though Jerry was an officer and Reynolds a senior enlisted man, Jerry knew that the COB had the authority of experience, and in this situation, he gave the orders. “Understood, COB.”

“Okay, then,” said Reynolds as he opened the valve. “Let’s get wet!”

Below the grate, Jerry heard the rush of seawater as it quickly began to fill the escape trunk. He could feel the temperature inside dropping sharply on his face as the water rose up over his feet. Reynolds reached down and scooped up some seawater and swished it around in his full face mask. As he put it on, he leaned over to Jerry and shouted, “If you think the dousing I gave during the Bluenose ceremony was bad, you ain’t seen nothing yet!”

Jerry did the same, but waited until the last minute before pulling the mask down over his face. As he adjusted the straps, the frigid arctic water rose over his head. Suddenly, a sharp chill clawed its way down Jerry’s back, as a few drops of seawater slipped between the facemask and his dry suit. The unexpected cold caused Jerry to inhale sharply. Reynolds shook his head, a broad smile on his face. Moments later, the trunk was filled with water and Reynolds opened the upper hatch. A small amount of air bubbled its way to the surface.

Reynolds exited first and then reached down for the drogue. Jerry handed it to the COB, and after making sure that the umbilical cable wouldn’t get caught on anything, pulled himself out onto Memphis’ hull. The sea that greeted Jerry was grayish-green in color and the visibility wasn’t too bad. The sail of the submarine was clearly discernable, but the rudder was harder to make out. Looking up, he could see the ocean surface. The sun was bright and rippled by the low waves. Jerry heard a long, low moaning sound in the distance: whale song.

Jerry’s heart rate increased significantly, as did his breathing. He had to force himself to breathe more slowly, and he tried to think about things that would soothe him. He had to calm down or he would expend his air too quickly. Reynolds motioned with his light for Jerry to follow and they swam past the sail, looming darkly to one side. When they reached the weapons shipping hatch, a dull glow could be seen over the starboard side. It was the light on the retrieval arm.

Jerry tapped the COB on the shoulder and motioned for him to give Jerry the drogue. Reynolds passed it to him, and with the drogue firmly under his arm, Jerry swam about twenty feet away from Memphis. He then pointed it down and pushed the button. He had no way of knowing if the homing signal was being transmitted or not. The frequency of the pulses was about twenty times higher than the human ear could possibly hear. All he could do was keep his position in the water and press the button.

After about five minutes, Jerry’s eyes made out a very dim, ghostly cloud that seemed to be coming toward him. He pointed his flashlight at Reynolds and then swept it down in the direction of the faint glow. Reynolds looked downward for a few seconds, and then he suddenly looked back up at Jerry and gave him the “okay” sign.

As Duey came up, Jerry could see that it was still too far away from the sub, so he kept on transmitting the homing signal. He hoped that as Duey got closer it would adjust its speed as it tried to find the docking signal. True to its programming, the ROV did indeed slow as it got closer and closer to the drogue. This gave Jerry an idea.

Signaling for Reynolds to follow, Jerry started swimming down toward the starboard tube nest. Holding the drogue about two feet from Memphis’ hull, Jerry and Reynolds watched as Duey obediently followed the homing signal. When it was about ten feet away, the bright lights on the ROV turned themselves off. The light and the camera assembly then retracted itself back into the ROVs body and Duey seemed to coast the remaining few feet. Reynolds then reached out and wrapped his huge arms around the ROV’s midbody. Jerry released the drogue, which bounced harmlessly against the acoustic tiling on the submarine’s hull, and he too grappled with Emily’s lost “baby.”

For the next fifteen minutes, the two of them wrestled with the ROV as they tried to get it into the reach of the mechanical arm. After a lot of tugging, pushing, and shoving, they finally managed to coax the vehicle toward the open torpedo tubes. All of a sudden, they felt a jolt and heard a sharp metallic noise as the retrieval arm finally captured the ROV. Both men quickly moved away from the vehicle and watched as Duey was gently guided back into torpedo tube number three. Just to be sure, they stayed until both shutter doors were closed. Then they retrieved the drogue and made their way back to the forward escape trunk.

Once they were safely inside, Reynolds shut and dogged the outer hatch. As he opened the drain valve, Jerry finally felt himself relax. He also realized that he was shaking. The cold had set in faster than he had originally thought, particularly around his hands, feet, and face. On top of that, his body ached from the exertion of playing tug-of-war with a recalcitrant ROV. When the air bubble in the escape trunk was large enough, Reynolds spit out his mouthpiece, and with shivering blue lips said, “Not too shabby for your first dive, sir.”

“Thank you, COB. It was an honor,” replied a very tired Jerry.

Seven minutes later, Reynolds opened the lower hatch and the two of them wearily lowered their gear — and themselves — onto the deck. With a little help, the two slowly walked to the crew’s mess. Jerry and Reynolds had just plopped down onto a couple of chairs when Bair showed up.

“Well done, you two! I guess I don’t have to tell you that Doctors Patterson and Davis are ecstatic over your successful recovery of the ROV.”

Jerry could only nod in response to the XO’s compliments. He was pleased they had succeeded, particularly for Emily’s sake, but he really needed to warm up before he could celebrate.

“For your outstanding efforts, I’m awarding you both a fifteen-minute hot shower. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be able to thaw you guys out until tomorrow morning.” Jerry appreciated the XO’s humor almost as much as the idea of a long hot shower. As the two divers started to remove their gear, Bair slipped over to Jerry and whispered, “The Captain wants to see you in his stateroom in forty-five minutes. Don’t take too long, okay?”