Around the World Submerged

by Edward L. Beach

  There was a moment of concern early in the game when I realized that Lawrence W. Beckhaus might equate Triton’s Buck column with a similar one in Salamonie’s Bunker Gazette, but a sharp sally from Buck, in which Larry was admonished to keep his mouth shut, had, I supposed, the desired result.

  Had one never experienced it before, the large share of our daily lives occupied by this little two-page newspaper might have appeared surprising. To me it was not, for I had seen the same thing before on long, uninterrupted cruises. The moment the ship gets to port, however, there is no further interest, and the ship’s newspaper may as well cease publication until you are once again at sea.

  The highest point of the Triton Eagle’s journalistic achievement was probably reached during our traverse of the Indian Ocean, when it published daily reports on an extended controversy involving a mythical “two-gauge goose gun.” Tom Thamm and Chief Petty Officers Loveland and Blair were arraigned on opposite sides of the argument, which ran for several issues, and everyone had a lot of fun with it.

  From the Log:

  Friday, 15 April 1960 0000 Out goes the smoking lamp, eliciting many unfavorable comments from the smokers, a great air of superiority from the nonsmokers.

  All hands have been carefully briefed for some time as to the purpose of the test and how it is supposed to be run, but we have avoided giving any indication as to the intended length, stating only that the operation order prescribes it shall not exceed 10 days. Ben Weybrew tells me privately that it will not have to be nearly that long, but that he wishes to avoid any complications from anticipation of an early “relight.” In preparation for it LCDR Bob Fisher (SC) USN, [the only supply corps officer attached to and serving on board a submarine] has laid in a stock of candy and chewing gum. It is shortly discovered that some of the men had apparently also brought along a supply of chewing tobacco, which introduces an unforeseen variable into the experiment. Some of the volunteer subjects had neglected to mention their intention to chew tobacco in place of smoking during this period. It was noted, too, that cigars are at a premium since they can be cut into short lengths and chewed also.

  Saturday, 16 April 1960 The smoking lamp is still out and the psychological reaction building up is surprising. Although I had not felt repressed by the atmosphere in any way previously, there is to me an indefinable but definite improvement to it. It feels cleaner, somehow better, and so do I. Will Adams agrees, being also a nonsmoker, but nobody else does. Tom Thamm announces that the limits of human endurance had been reached in the first 3 hours, so far as the smokers of the ship were concerned, and the remaining time of the test is purely a sadistic torture invented by Weybrew, Stark and myself.

  Thamm is a tall very blond type whose meticulous and precise approach to everything conceals a highly developed artistic nature. He is Auxiliary Division Officer and, as such, works for Don Fears, our Engineer. Tom is in charge of most of the auxiliary systems and appliances throughout the ship, such as hydraulics, air conditioning, carbon-dioxide removal equipment, auxiliary diesel engine, main vent mechanisms and the like.

  We have nearly crossed the Indian Ocean. Tomorrow, we expect to arrive at the Cape of Good Hope. It has been a pleasant trip, unmarred by submerged peaks or other alarms. The water is as uniformly deep as anywhere we have seen, not too cold, but cool and beautiful through the periscope. It is one of the least known oceans, bounded on the north by the subcontinent of India, on the west by Africa and on the east by the Malay Archipelago and Australia. Its southern boundary is Antarctica. One of its noticeable characteristics, at least so far as we have observed, is a consistently heavy sea condition, and in this it resembles the Atlantic. Every time we are at periscope depth for observations, it appears that a state 3 to 4 sea is running [corresponding to wave heights from 5 to 10 feet], enough to make surface ships uncomfortable.

  A matter of note: LCDR Adams, now relieved from navigational chores, is concentrating full time on administrative matters, with intent of having desk cleared for the avalanche of paper work we expect upon arrival in the United States. There has been a steady flow coming out of his desk anyway, but since Lombok Strait it has tripled. And all of us dread the blizzard of paper awaiting us in New London.

  So far as the no-smoking test is concerned, Weybrew and Stark contend that they have enough now to fulfill the requirement laid upon them by Medical Research Laboratory. It is also apparent, according to them, and I must confess having noticed something of the same myself, that the test has gone on just about long enough. Overt feelings of hostility are coming to the fore, expressed in a number of small ways, and there have been instances of increasing irritability. Deprived of a normal intake of mild stimulant, there obviously have been mild withdrawal symptoms among the heavier smokers in the crew.

  The same is evident in the officers. Most noticeable, to me, are signs of forced gaiety, frequently with a sharp edge to it. Jim Stark, himself a heavy smoker, enjoys egging his wardroom buddies on—and this, in my opinion, is his compensation.

  One night during this period, I recall asking the cause of a large red welt across the top of Jim’s baldish head. The explanation, given with suppressed mirth by his wardroom mates, was that an hour before he had been demonstrating his complete freedom from any reaction to the enforced abstinence from smoking by showing that his physical co-ordination had been unimpaired. The test he chose, hopping on one leg, might have been a good one had he taken the trouble to check his surroundings first. Without thinking, he hopped through the wardroom doorway and attempted to ram his head through the heavy aluminum beam which forms the top of the door frame.

  From the Log:

  These were expected manifestations of adjustment and are cause for no particular notice, but there are also one or two cases where evidence of heightened nervous reaction is accompanied by relatively poor adjustment. In a ship’s company of 183 people, something of this sort is bound to turn up. But answering my question as to what the ultimate results might be in the most severe cases, if the smoking lamp could not be relighted, the savants spread their hands expressively, “Who knows?” they say. “Most likely, if the man recognizes that it is impossible to smoke, he will psychologically adjust to it with relative ease. Symptoms will disappear or maladjustments will work themselves out.”

  The point is that here in Triton the only reason for prohibiting smoking is for a test. Everyone knows it requires but one word, and the smoking lamp will be lighted. Were we in a dangerous situation where safety of the ship or life of personnel were involved, as for example in an explosive atmosphere, the entire situation would be different.

  Easter Sunday, 17 April 1960 We are approaching the Cape of Good Hope. Many people will be surprised to learn that the Cape of Good Hope is not actually at the southernmost tip of Africa at all. This honor is reserved for Agulhas Point, a little more to the south. Agulhas is not, however, a prominent landmark like the Cape of Good Hope. The story goes that when a storm blew Bartholomew Diaz around the southern end of Africa, he saw nothing and actually went quite some distance northward on the east side of that continent. On his return voyage, he bestowed the name “Stormy Cape” on the most distinctive point of land in the area; it was King John of Portugal who thought of “Cape of Good Hope.”

  Between Cape of Good Hope and the southern tip of Africa is a bay called “False Bay,” possibly so-named for some early maritime mishap, and a few miles to the east and south is Agulhas Point. The chart also indicates another reason why no ship is anxious to make landfall on Agulhas Point. Agulhas Bank, immediately to the south, is shallow and extends a good many miles to sea. There is also a strong prevailing current setting the sailor in toward land. In the old days, anyone sighting Agulhas Point was already in trouble, much as in the case of Cape Horn.

  0600 Periscope depth to fix position with regard to Cape of Good Hope. The sky is overcast and weather not too favorable for the photo reconnaissance which we had planned. Went deep and continued running.

  1
136 At periscope depth with contact on Hangklip Point, South Africa. Resumed base course and speed heading for Cape of Good Hope. As we enter the Atlantic Ocean again, we observe a noticeable drop in the water temperature. At the same time, we are most anxious to notice whether there is any definable current. Charts and Sailing Directions indicate that this is the case, probably setting us to the northeast. Without a fathometer, we are staying well clear of possible shoal water in anticipation of this effect.

  1330 Held Easter Sunday services. Pat McDonald brings new life to the Easter Story. The little mess-hall chapel is nearly full.

  1400 At periscope depth. Cape of Good Hope is in sight through the periscope, bearing 348° true about 10½ miles. It was named thus to be a good omen for men, and we take it as such.

  1408 Sighted a ship bearing 308° true about 8 miles away. Stationed the tracking party. The ship is a 6,000 to 8,000 ton tanker with a nice clipper bow, but her counter stern, tall stack and large rabbit-ear ventilators belong to a vessel of older vintage. She may pass close enough for us to obtain periscope photographs, provided she remains on her present track. Joe Roberts is standing by, itching to get a picture, and I am beginning to worry over the fact that the ship, evidently making for the Indian Ocean, may change course toward us in rounding the Cape. We will embarrass him if he sees our periscope near his intended track. In such a case, it is quite possible he might precipitantly turn in such a way as to endanger himself or us. We must remain doubly alert where probability of a course change exists, to detect the change and go deep in good time.

  I always worry through all these difficult possibilities almost by reflex; and in the meantime, as the ship passes safely by, Joe Roberts has an ideal opportunity to get a picture. The ship has a black hull, clipper bow, counter stern, a white stripe below the gunwale. [The third ship we have sighted this voyage with this distinctive feature.] Her superstructure and upper works are white with black and red trim. Her foremast is painted all white and her mainmast is white for the lower one-third and black above, where her stack smoke would blacken it anyway. Both masts are stick masts. We are almost, but not quite, able to read the name on the stern.

  She has no colors visible and therefore we have no knowledge as to her nationality, but she is obviously not an American, for American ships rarely present this good an appearance.

  1540 Weather conditions near the Cape are going to prevent our photo reconnaissance from being as successful as we would like, but we shall close in a bit and get what we can. Mt. Vasco de Gama on the Cape of Good Hope reminds me of Diamond Head, having somewhat the same shape and dimensions, though not quite the same rugged characteristics. Possibly Good Hope is a considerably older formation. Little foliage or natural growth is visible, something of a surprise for this temperate latitude [33°S].

  1618 Periscope depth once more for photographic reconnaissance. There seems to be a haze in the distance and we are unable to focus clearly upon the Cape of Good Hope. After a careful sweep panorama, we call it a day.

  1721 With Cape of Good Hope bearing 117° true, distance 8 miles, took departure for St. Peter and St. Paul’s Rocks in the mid-Atlantic. We will arrive there on the 25th of April.

  Monday, 18 April 1960 0000 Smoking lamp is relighted. Maybe I am a bit sadistic: no one was expecting it; so instead of directing that the word be passed to relight the smoking lamp, I strolled about the ship smoking a cigar, blowing smoke in the faces of various people and inquiring in a pleasant conversational tone, “Don’t you wish you could do this?” It took some 37 seconds for the word to get around.

  As in any group, there were probably a few of our people who secretly welcomed the no-smoking edict as a crutch to help them make the break from the habit. By far the majority had no intention of stopping; and it is noticeable that few, if any, have continued their abstinence after the smoking lamp was once lighted. An exception is Tom Thamm, who had entered into a no-swearing pact with his two friends, Chiefs Loveland and Blair. Terms were that the first man to breach the rules would continue to abstain for another day after the smoking lamp was relighted. There may have been some collusion in this case, for, shortly after the terms had been agreed upon, Jim Stark appeared on the scene and yanked a yellow hair out of the middle of the Thamm chest while the others distracted his attention.

  Thamm’s yelping malediction toward the good Doctor was witnessed with glee by all three plotters; and now Thamm sits grimly in the wardroom inhaling second-hand smoke, mumbling at the faithlessness of all shipmates, vowing that he will carry out his part of the wager, come what may, and swearing by the few remaining hairs on his chest that Messrs. Stark, Blair and Loveland will regret the episode.

  1105 We are passing near a charted seamount and sure enough, the echo-ranging sonar detects it. We are becoming expert at this operation and it is a reassuring one.

  Wednesday, 20 April 1960 0100 Crossed from east to west longitude.

  Today is my birthday and also Lt. Sawyer’s. After dinner I repaired to my cabin to work on this report.

  1900 Chief of the Ship Fitzjarrald came knocking on my door saying, “Something is wrong down in the mess hall, Captain; we need you down there right away.” This is a strange message for the skipper of a ship to receive.

  “What’s the matter, is there a fight?” I asked, starting up from my desk. It was only a jump down the ladder to the lower deck and forward one compartment into the crew’s mess hall, where I was greeted by popping flash bulbs, a raucous rendition of “Happy Birthday to You” and a tremendous birthday cake. The cake, prepared by Ramon D. Baney, CS2(SS), was about 2 feet square and 2 inches thick, with great extravagant gobs of frosting all over it. Ray Meadows, Joe Roberts and William R. Hadley were there too, of course, with cameras en echelon.

  Earlier that afternoon there had been a cake and coffee ceremony for George Sawyer in the wardroom; I was, quite candidly, looking forward to another cake at dinner, and was caught completely by surprise. It has been a very pleasant day with much good cake eaten by all.

  A third birthday for which April 20th used to be remembered in certain quarters went unnoticed: one Adolf Hitler, now deceased.

  Friday, 22 April 1960 Our 8th babygram arrived today for Gerald W. Gallagher, IC1(SS), who has an 8 1b. boy born on the 20th. Gallagher, all smiles, informs me delightedly that the child, if a boy, was to have been named Timothy Edward. With Edward in his name and April 20th for his birth certificate, this lad will go far, and in testimony thereof, this calls for a cigar in reverse. Timothy Edward Gallagher’s Old Man gets the cigar.

  Saturday, 23 April 1960 Tonight we are advised by a message that twenty-five more of our ship’s company have successfully passed the examinations for advancement in rate and are soon to be promoted. The news causes excited congratulations throughout the ship. Our statisticians are immediately busy and come up with the following rather remarkable set of figures: excluding the 5 Chief Petty Officers who are designated for commissioned rank, but including the First Class promoted to Chief Petty Officer and the 25 just named, a total of 60% of our men who took the exam have made the next higher rate. Counting only those listed in tonight’s dispatch, the percentage is 69%; and if one adds in the 5 new Ensigns, a total of 40 men, or 25% of the crew of 159, are to be promoted. Few ships in the US Navy will equal this performance.

  Sunday, 24 April 1960 0436 Completed sealed-ship test, having run sealed for exactly two weeks. Remaining sealed is considerably less strenuous than ventilating once a day, and we are sorry to go back to the earlier routine. When you ventilate, you are attempting to conserve oxygen and at the same time trying to minimize time at periscope depth. It naturally develops that just before you ventilate the ship, her internal atmosphere is at its lowest in oxygen, its highest in carbon monoxide and carbon dioxide. At this time cigarettes are difficult to light, a little exertion sets one to panting, and generally one does not feel in the best of form. On the other hand, with the ship sealed, you maintain a steady atmosphere and set your equip
ment to keep it that way.

  During the sealed-ship test we had replenished our oxygen in two ways. First, there were the oxygen banks—great steel cylinders in which pure oxygen was stored under high pressure. Located external to Triton’s pressure hull, in the ballast tanks, they were piped to manifolds forward and aft where we could automatically control the rate of revitalization as the pressure in the banks dwindled.

  Our second revitalization system made use of a device borrowed from miners, who had for years employed “oxygen candles” as an emergency oxygen source. Our “candles” were much larger than the miners’, but they were made of the same materials and were handled in a very similar manner. Under average conditions, we burned them in a specially designed oxygen furnace at the rate of two per hour, though as previously mentioned, this rate had to be increased on Fridays. Each “candle,” when exhausted, produced a large, heavy iron klinker, which in due course found its way to the garbage ejector.

  The greatest problem in sealed operations, however, did not lie in maintaining the requisite oxygen content in our ship’s internal atmosphere. It was a matter of retaining the atmosphere itself, and this was a problem that remained with us the whole cruise.