Twenty Minute Wars: CBG Seven
by Michael G. Crawford
"Yes Sir, at your convenience."
The Captain of the Phillidelphia shivered a little despite his warm coat, the chill of the early morning winter air piercing the soft leather as if it were a Rayon wind breaker. He loved the first day out. Maybe he was old-fashioned but he enjoyed riding on the surface as they had done in World War II. It gave him a better sense of being at sea. And because he was old fashioned, he also loved to drill a crash dive into his men. Since the advent of the nuclear boats, submarine crews rarely got practice at diving fast from the surface. But the excitement of the maneuver was a necessity, at least in Ray's mind.
His experiences under the ice of the poles had taught him that you could not afford to waste a second when crash diving. In as much as the Navy could quickly send the Phillidelphia anywhere in world, he always kept his boat ready for an ice mission. And an ice mission invariably meant a crash dive when the overcast began to break and satellites could see again, or when a Soviet recon unit was spotted on radar.
"Attention below the decks, air in the Boat. Clear the deck. Prepare to dive. Hit it Junior."
The klaxon hooted its warning, and the crew above decks slid down the two open holes in the Los Angeles class submarine's deck.
"Clear the sail, Dive Dive Dive" yelled the Executive Officer, Junior May. Then as he confirmed he was the last one on deck, he followed his Captain down the ladder and leaned against the hatch lever.
"Pressure confirmed. Green light, Sir."
"Aye Mr. May. Take her down, Dive Officer. Angles on the bow."
"Aye Sir. Attention all hands, prepare for angles. Go 1000 Mr. Davis" said Lt. Charlie Stornden, the Dive Officer.
"Dive 1000, Aye Sir."
"Seal the boat" ordered Ray.
"Aye, Seal the boat". The order could be heard being relayed several times in the command center and Ray knew that someone in each section of the boat was closing the watertight doors to the next section.
"All ahead full" he ordered.
"Aye Sir, all ahead full" repeated Junior May and then the Dive Officer could be heard repeating the command, probably triggering the intercom to the engine room on the last three words.
In actuality, the Philadelphia required only three people to pilot her, and it could be done, for the most part, right from this room. Everything was at the hands of the two planesmen, and the Dive Officer.
"Read depth."
"Aye Sir. 300 ft."
"Mr. Davis, status of the boat."
"We have full power available, Sir. Turbines at full thrust, speed 38 knots, delta plus. Depth 350 ft., 20 degree down bubble, crew at GQ and angles stations."
"Very good, Mr. Davis. Boat is secure, Captain."
"Depth 500, Sir" said the Dive Officer as he continued to read out the depth milestones.
"Very good, Commander" said Ray to his Exec. "Secure from angles, level out at 1000 feet."
"Aye, Sir. Hard stop at 1000 ft. Mr. Davis."
"Aye, Sir hard stop at 1000" replied the Dive Officer then "Depth 600, Sir."
Leaning close to the Exec, Ray whispered,
"Let em relax for two then hit the horn, and take her down to 1400, max peacetime descent rate."
"Aye Sir" replied Junior with a grin.
"Depth 700, Sir."
"You have the CONN, Commander May. I'll be in quarters." Ray slowly strolled by the control center watch taking in any soft spots in his crew. As he saw something he raised his right hand from his side to the center of his back and then back down.
"Depth 800, Sir."
The watch officer, CPO Bertie O'hare and the Exec both took the signal and between the two of them, someone would be watching that station during the next phase of the drill.
"Depth 900, Sir."
"Roger Mr. Davis, belay the depth readout."
"Aye, Sir. Leveling for hard stop Sir."
"A-firm."
In the depths of the same sub, a short and wiry man of about fourty years of age was glaring at a group of younger men, all who were braced as if they were recruits at a boot camp.
"Stand at ease!" commanded Chief Bekins, staring hard at his men who were standing, braced at attention, in the forward torpedo room.
"I have news for you slugs. That was pretty miserable. If the Captain had been timing us on that last bit, we'd be running extra watches up here. As it is, we busted the boats worst record by 3 seconds. Next drill you flunk, I'm gonna' ask the Captain down here to check you out personally. If he spots the problem, you'd better hope it ain't you. Stay loose now. I have one of those feelings. Keep your hand on the rail for the next twenty minutes. That's all."
He turned away from the ratings, and let a small grin pop on his face so that Petty Officer Drake could see it. The other man didn't allow his face to break, since the men could still see it, but Gene saw the glitter in his eyes. They both knew what was coming.
Two minutes later, the inter-ship speaker blared.
"General Quarters, General Quarters. Captain to Command Center. Angles on the deck. Crash Dive. Load tubes one through four."
"Jump you fuckers" screamed P.O. Drake. "This is it! Get your butts in gear. Murphy, your in the wrong place. Quick now, before the chief gets here. Start the cycle Bennie. Don't wait for me. You guys are the team. You know how to do it. Move now. That's it. Watch the deck angle, let gravity do the work for you."
In the control center the pace was perhaps less physical, but no less brutal. Here Davis was screaming,
"Watch your bow angle! 20 degrees max. We don't pass that unless I have my hand on your shoulder and force you to do it. GOT THAT?"
"Aye Sir!"
"Good. Keep it that way."
A few yards away, the Watch Officer, a florid Chief Petty Officer, was staring the Sonar man right in the eye, his face inches away from the other. This was one of the stations pointed out by the Captain.
"When I ask for a bearing, I don't wanna' hear crap like 'what bearing sir'. The reply is 'Sonar has no contacts, SIR!' Got that Carston?"
"AYE SIR!"
"Carry on."
And at the weapons status station, Lt. White was the recipient of a similar tongue lashing by the Exec. Only this lecture was in a subdued, almost quiet voice, keeping the discipline between the two officers.
"I am waiting, Mr. White."
"I screwed up, Sir."
"Explain it to me."
"Sir! I didn't ask the torpedo room for confirmation of the tubes being loaded, Sir! Therefore they were not inclined to confirm my...your order, Sir!"
"Correct evaluation. What is the ultimate cost of this error, Mr. White?"
"Well, Sir" the young man relaxing as he thought for a moment. "Because they didn't confirm the order, I really wouldn't know if they were inclined to carry it out, Sir."
"And..."
"Well, when I didn't get the green lights on the board, I would have to call them back and see what was holding them up, Sir!"
"Close enough..." he replied as he turned to walk away. "...I would probably be dancing around sayin' where's those damn torps'."
"I can't imagine you dancing around, Sir" said the Lt. recklessly in a barely audible voice.
Junior spun back around, shoving his face closer than before, now mimicking the CPO's distance. In a quiet whisper only the two of them could hear, he said,
"Don't get cute, Levi. You're under discipline, and your men are watching you. Next time, I'll relieve you, do I make myself clear?"
"Yes Sir" replied the young officer, blanching at the unexpected response.
"And Levi..."
"Sir?"
"If you see me dance, you'd better kiss your ass goodbye" finished the Exec taking some of the sting out of the discipline.
"Aye Sir" exhaled the young officer with a short lived grin.
"Captain's on the bridge!" exclaimed the voice of Mr. Davis behind them.
"Status of the boat Mr. Davis" queried the Captain.
"Dive is leveling at 1400 ft, Sir. We are at max speed, max revolutions, 80 percent max hull pressure. Tubes one through four are loaded, holes are closed, uhh sorry, guess that's obvious at this depth. No sonar or hydrophone contact, the Exec has the CONN."
"Nice report, Mr. Davis, except I will need the course and the actual speed."
"Aye, Sir. Speed is 39.5 knots, course 220, Sir!"
"Very good. Commander May. Let's have the section reports."
"Right Sir. Bridge crew is sharp sir, 3.3 seconds response time, minor screwups only, no one out of line. CPO Bekins reports fine job in the forward torpedo room, all other sections are within range, Sir."
"Very good. Reduce speed to ahead two-thirds, secure from GQ, take the boat up 100 feet per minute and level at periscope depth."
"Aye Sir. Up plane, uhh, 2 degrees, level out at 60. Reduce to two-thirds, secure from General Quarters."
"All hands secure from General Quarters" said the Boson into the intership microphone.
"Staff in the wardroom, please. Mr. Davis you have the CONN" said Ray, as he continued through the Control Center and on through the bulkhead to the wardroom.
Sitting at his table, he kicked off his shoes and leaned his head back. Then when his officers were all seated, he said "Okay, all the compliments aside, who screwed up."
"White bobbled the reporting on the torp load, but it really wasn't that serious, he just forgot to ask for confirmation. A case of jitters, he'll shape up quickly."
Chief Bekins knocked on the door frame as he made to enter.
"Come on in, Chief. Commander May was just telling me that White muffed the torp load. How did you read it?"
"He's right, Sir. Commander May must have been standing right next to him, Sir. I watched PO Drake take the order, and he confirmed both by voice and telegraph as is his habit..."
"He is a good one" confirmed CPO O'Hare.
"Okay, great. How were your men Gene?" he said addressing O'Hare, the vertical launch room super chief.
"Still a bit jittery, Sir. You know, they aren't functioning as a machine quite yet...but they're improving quickly. I'd say two more days."
"Okay, fine. Let's put the vets back on line. These youngsters make me nervous. Change the watch at 0600 Chief."
"Aye, Sir, back to standard watch at 0600 hrs."
All but Junior May began to leave the ward room. When they were alone, Ray said, "Not bad for the younger men, Junior. I love having the extra men, two full crews is great. Hard to imagine the old days in the Sturgeons, isn't it?"
"God, yes. As I see it, we're bigger, faster, yet quieter. It's like a dream."
"Right. Outta' here, Junior. Tell Lt. White to come see me, and I'll give him the glowing cherry speech. Set him up for me, will ya?"
"Yes, Sir, Captain Sir, right away, Captain Sir" grinned the Exec as he left.
"Kyle! Get me some coffee."
"Aye Sir" shouted the Captain's yeoman from the Captain's little office across the companionway.
Just as the coffee arrived, Lt. White knocked on the door.
"Enter!"
"You sent for me, Sir?"
"Yep, have a seat...coffee?"
"Yes, thank you, Sir...Kyle". The yeoman smiled his appreciation for being included in the thank you and quietly disappeared. After a few sips in quiet, Ray began,
"Well Levi, Commander May tells me you are starting to get the hang of the board."
"Well, almost, Sir. I still forget things now and then."
"Yes, well, Commander May said you were coming right along, in fact he says you have great promise. I wanted to let you know that if Commander May is a little rough on you, please feel free to come to me and ask questions. As you know he is responsible for your training and as such discipline may require him to lean on you. And if he does lean on you, I want to make sure you understand its because he's expressed an interest in your career. I'd almost think he's becoming one of your supporters."
"Uh, well I'm flattered, Sir. I didn't realize...Did he say as much sir, or are you just interpreting?"
"That's pretty perceptive, Levi. No, he didn't come right out and say it, but I think if I had been quick enough to ask him, he would have had a positive reaction. I know my Senior officers pretty well. Junior can be tough, but he supports his men to the hilt. He's promoted several men off his boats in the past. In fact, he's the one that recommended Lt. Commander McKean as our number two. I took his recommendation without question. Incidentally I am extremely pleased with his choice for weapons officer. It was his recommendation that put you in that position, Lt."
He sipped his coffee to let the thought sink in and then continued, "Let me give you a hint, Levi. I have watched several people advance quickly under Junior. All people are different in many ways, but there is one thing in common to the 'fast movers'. They spend a few hours a week on the senior man's shift, watching how the vets go about the sub business, and lend a hand when needed. It's kind of an apprenticeship. After awhile, the senior man may even start doling out little jobs. Pretty soon, the Exec gets a request for you on the senior man's shift."
"You wind up learning several stations rather quickly, and it puts you just a wee bit ahead of the other junior officers. Don't go kissin' ass, just be there as one of the guys. You, know, kind of handy like."
"Thank you, Sir. That sounds like a great idea. Uhh..."
"Go ahead..."
"If I could bring my sketch pad up to center, I am kind of an artist...and well..."
"You figure that's a great cover for hanging around center while you're off shift?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Sounds fine to me. Give you a hint, though. You might start by sketching one or two of the ratings first. That way someone won't decide you're playing up to the staff. Nobody likes a brown-nose."
"Okay Sir! Thanks!"
"Part of the job, Lt. And I'll help a little by mentioning to the shift leaders that you have my permission to sketch in the command center. Oh, yeah, guess you might be interested, we are going back to standard shifts at 0600, so you can get some good rest before starting in on all this."
"Thanks again, Sir" and the Lt. saluted before leaving.
Ray smiled to himself, as he saw the magic work again. Give a man a sincere compliment on what he is doing right, and all the severe discipline in the world will not phase him one bit. He keeps trotting back for more sunshine. Especially in a sub.
Pushing the private intercom, he said,
"Ask Mr. Davis to step in, Kyle".
"Aye Sir".
In a few minutes the young Dive Officer got a similar treatment, also leaving with a wide grin on his face.