providing a psychological insurance against shoddy workmanship.
If a disaster occurred causing the loss of life, the civilians would be on the casualty list, as in April 1963 when the nuclear submarine USS Thresher sank during deep-sea trials in the North Atlantic. Seventeen civilians lost their lives along with all Naval personnel aboard, 16 officers and 96 enlisted men.
Preliminary tests for hull leaks and proper operation of retractable masts, antennae and periscopes on the USS Denver were conducted in shallow water. In the unlikely event of a major problem, personnel aboard had a better chance of being rescued. So far on this sea trial some minor problems had occurred, but none with the potential to extend Denver’s stay at Bremerton.
Aboard a submarine, the conning officer coordinates all trials from the submarine’s Attack Center. This assignment went to Lieutenant Brent Maddock because he had the longest tenure among Denver’s junior officers. He also got the job because he stood well above his peers in command presence. Navy lean, Brent had bright blue eyes, stood five-eleven with a medium build at one hundred seventy pounds.
At the termination of a shallow dive, Brent reported over the 21MC tactical intercom. “Wardroom, Conn. Pass to the captain, shallow dive completed, en route the deep dive area, ahead standard on course two-seven-five at two hundred feet.”
Captain Hal Bostwick answered, “Captain, aye, Conn. Everything go okay?”
“Perfect, Captain.”
“Very well, Brent, let me know when you have an ETA worked out,” said Captain Bostwick, referring to the estimated time of arrival.
“Aye, sir,” said Brent. Next, on the 21MC again, he called the engineering officer of the watch in control of the ship’s propulsion. “Maneuvering, Conn. All shallow depth tests completed satisfactorily. We’re moving out for the big one.”
“Maneuvering, aye,” the EOOW responded.
Brent ordered the helmsman, “Right full rudder. Come to new course two-seven-five, belay the headings.”
“Right full rudder to two-seven-five, belay the headings. Aye, Mr. Maddock.”
To the planesman, Brent announced, “Make your depth two-zero-zero feet, no more than five degrees down bubble.”
An oil filled clear circular tube with a bubble inside indicated the longitudinal angle of the submarine’s hull.
“Two-zero-zero, no more than five down. Aye, sir.”
“Ahead standard,” Brent ordered.
He enjoyed having 3,640 tons of the world’s most advanced undersea technology obey him. Denver ’s heading fell off to the right and she pitched downward in response to Brent’s directions. He barely heard the chum, chum, chum as the huge propeller bit into the seawater and increased Denver’s velocity through the ocean depths.
Denver quickly restored herself internally to cruise status. The odor of clean hydraulic oil now masked the stench of burned metal created by many arc-welding jobs completed during the overhaul on land. The rattle-bang of the yard left far behind, background sounds consisted only of muffled conversations among the crew and yard workers going about testing Denver’ s seaworthiness to the constant hum of rotating machinery.
Submariners survive through their knowledge of sounds made by their ship. Quick detection of any abnormalities, a flat bearing, lack of lubrication, or unexplained changes in a rotation rate often prevented extensive repairs and on occasion, disaster itself.
Quartermaster Second Class Jacques Henri, a handsome young black man, carefully wrote Brent’s flurry of instructions into the log, an official record of each event that took place aboard Denver . The log began at Denver’s commissioning ceremony and would continue
If a disaster occurred causing the loss of life, the civilians would be on the casualty list, as in April 1963 when the nuclear submarine USS Thresher sank during deep-sea trials in the North Atlantic. Seventeen civilians lost their lives along with all Naval personnel aboard, 16 officers and 96 enlisted men.
Preliminary tests for hull leaks and proper operation of retractable masts, antennae and periscopes on the USS Denver were conducted in shallow water. In the unlikely event of a major problem, personnel aboard had a better chance of being rescued. So far on this sea trial some minor problems had occurred, but none with the potential to extend Denver’s stay at Bremerton.
Aboard a submarine, the conning officer coordinates all trials from the submarine’s Attack Center. This assignment went to Lieutenant Brent Maddock because he had the longest tenure among Denver’s junior officers. He also got the job because he stood well above his peers in command presence. Navy lean, Brent had bright blue eyes, stood five-eleven with a medium build at one hundred seventy pounds.
At the termination of a shallow dive, Brent reported over the 21MC tactical intercom. “Wardroom, Conn. Pass to the captain, shallow dive completed, en route the deep dive area, ahead standard on course two-seven-five at two hundred feet.”
Captain Hal Bostwick answered, “Captain, aye, Conn. Everything go okay?”
“Perfect, Captain.”
“Very well, Brent, let me know when you have an ETA worked out,” said Captain Bostwick, referring to the estimated time of arrival.
“Aye, sir,” said Brent. Next, on the 21MC again, he called the engineering officer of the watch in control of the ship’s propulsion. “Maneuvering, Conn. All shallow depth tests completed satisfactorily. We’re moving out for the big one.”
“Maneuvering, aye,” the EOOW responded.
Brent ordered the helmsman, “Right full rudder. Come to new course two-seven-five, belay the headings.”
“Right full rudder to two-seven-five, belay the headings. Aye, Mr. Maddock.”
To the planesman, Brent announced, “Make your depth two-zero-zero feet, no more than five degrees down bubble.”
An oil filled clear circular tube with a bubble inside indicated the longitudinal angle of the submarine’s hull.
“Two-zero-zero, no more than five down. Aye, sir.”
“Ahead standard,” Brent ordered.
He enjoyed having 3,640 tons of the world’s most advanced undersea technology obey him. Denver ’s heading fell off to the right and she pitched downward in response to Brent’s directions. He barely heard the chum, chum, chum as the huge propeller bit into the seawater and increased Denver’s velocity through the ocean depths.
Denver quickly restored herself internally to cruise status. The odor of clean hydraulic oil now masked the stench of burned metal created by many arc-welding jobs completed during the overhaul on land. The rattle-bang of the yard left far behind, background sounds consisted only of muffled conversations among the crew and yard workers going about testing Denver’ s seaworthiness to the constant hum of rotating machinery.
Submariners survive through their knowledge of sounds made by their ship. Quick detection of any abnormalities, a flat bearing, lack of lubrication, or unexplained changes in a rotation rate often prevented extensive repairs and on occasion, disaster itself.
Quartermaster Second Class Jacques Henri, a handsome young black man, carefully wrote Brent’s flurry of instructions into the log, an official record of each event that took place aboard Denver . The log began at Denver’s commissioning ceremony and would continue
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