After what seemed an eternity, a westerly wind came up that restored everything to normal. We changed course to the southwest and closed the Norwegian coast sufficiently to sight the North Cape and more accurately fix our position.
The transit across the North Atlantic was mercifully swift and uneventful. Once we returned safely home to our normal berth alongside the submarine tender USS Fulton at State Pier, New London, we had about a month’s stand-down in order to accomplish some much-needed repairs and upkeep. Top on the priority list was to give everybody a few days’ leave. During that time we would pull and replace number two periscope, which had caused us no end of annoyance and frustration the entire trip.
My wife Mary used to say that whenever my leave began, hers ended, and vice versa. That was true in spades during this particular homecoming, because she did not get a good night’s sleep during the entire time we were in port. I was so used to waking up suddenly every hour and a half to fix Skipjack’s navigational position that every night for weeks I would suddenly wake up and jump out of bed, making a lot of commotion.
CHAPTER 17
Evaluation of the Nuclear Attack Submarine
The remainder of 1963 was filled with ASW free play operations, with ASW surface units of the Second Fleet, submarine-versus-submarine ASW exercises, and an exercise that involved making simulated attacks on a heavily escorted group of amphibious vessels. The latter were filled with U.S. Marines who would be making landings near Little Creek, Virginia. The primary objective was again to prove the capabilities of the nuclear-powered attack submarine. Skipjack could not be touched unless severe exercise restrictions were imposed on her. It was common knowledge that our sister nuclear attack submarines, Scorpion, Shark, and Snook in the Atlantic and Scamp and Sculpin in the Pacific, were enjoying similar success against surface and air ASW forces.
We did not have the same success against our own diesel submarines during the first, and follow-on, submarine-versus-submarine ASW exercises. It was generally a draw, if anything. Skipjack had the speed and maneuverability that enabled her to outrun any electrically propelled ASW torpedo of that day, no matter who launched it, but she did not have the ability to passively detect submerged diesel submarines operating quietly on the battery until they were inside of two thousand yards. Detecting them at longer ranges while they were on the surface, or snorkeling, to recharge their batteries was no problem. On the other hand, we were rarely able to close sufficiently to simulate killing them with a spread of torpedoes, particularly if they were following what was called a combat charging routine—that is, snorkeling for half an hour at a time, suddenly shutting down, and then clearing baffles to determine if anyone was trying to creep up and attack them.
Those in the nuclear attack boats soon realized that the submarine force had to develop and refine a snapshot tactic for close encounters. Such a tactic called for our boat to operate with a fully flooded and ready torpedo tube containing a quiet, electrically propelled acoustic warshot that could be launched against an immediate threat. In those days the Mark-37 acoustic-homing torpedo was the only one available that met this criterion. When launched in the direction of the target it would swim out of the tube within thirty seconds.
The most probable threat scenario envisioned was one in which the nuclear attack submarine had just slowed, either while deep or en route to shallower depth, and had begun to clear and passively examine its baffles acoustically for any threat contacts. The Cold War rules of engagement at the time called for launching a torpedo at an adversary upon detecting the acoustic transient noises associated with a torpedo tube being flooded and/or the opening of the tube’s outer door. Once we had launched the snapshot, the next move depended on the estimated range to the adversary. We could slow, maintain minimum aspect to prevent detection, and prepare additional warshot-loaded torpedo tubes for launch as necessary. Depending on the target and its capabilities, we might also find it necessary to use maximum speed, maneuverability, and depth to clear the area sufficiently to avoid a counterattack torpedo.
Submarine Development Group Two
A major problem that came to the fore during these exercises was radiated noise that Skipjack emitted no matter what her speed. The noise originated, in large part, from the cavitation generated by her five-bladed propeller, and by rudder and diving plane surfaces, and increased when she used her speed and maneuverability to the fullest extent possible. It meant that a potential adversary, whether diesel or nuclear, had the advantage if patrolling in a silent-running or quiet mode of operation. Hence, if Skipjack were to survive and be successful when deployed against enemy forces in a forward area, off enemy ports, and along probable transit routes, she had to operate more quietly than her potential adversaries.
The challenge that presented itself to the submarine force, as well as to the U.S. Navy’s Material Command, was how to achieve the degree of sound quieting necessary for all U.S. nuclear submarines, both physically and operationally, without negating the myriad other advantages already gained over potential enemy surface ships or submarines, such as speed, maneuverability, and the ability to remain fully submerged indefinitely. Further required was the ability to avoid or defeat detection by enemy ASW aircraft, or by the sonobuoys they drop, and helicopters with passive and active acoustic-dipping sonar. Such an ability would be essential if frontline nuclear attack submarines like Skipjack were to continue to be used on high-priority and sensitive reconnaissance and intelligence-gathering Cold War missions.
In late January 1949 the U.S. Navy and the submarine force had begun to take steps to accomplish the foregoing when the Chief of Naval Operations directed that “Fleet Commanders assign one division in each fleet the sole task of solving the problem of using submarines to detect and destroy enemy submarines. All other operations of any nature, even type training, ASW services, or fleet tactics, shall be subordinated to this mission.”1 This directive led to the establishment of Submarine Development Group Two under the command of Capt. Roy S. Benson (later rear admiral), based at the submarine base in Groton.2 To assist this newly established command in solving the basic problem assigned, the Chief of Naval Operations subsequently provided a suggested procedure that encompassed the following phases:
•Learn to operate sonar at maximum efficiency, reduce submarine self-noise, develop methods for best maintaining of depth and position, and develop submerged communications and recognition procedures.
•Determine capabilities of installed sonar equipments and best operating depths for various bathythermograph conditions.
•Solve the sonar fire control problem using both passive and active ranging techniques.
•Develop doctrine and tactics for detecting and attacking submerged submarines.
•Develop group doctrine and tactics and evaluate capabilities of submarines versus submarines in all possible tactic situations.
•Determine operational requirements for new and improved equipment to adequately perform the submarine versus submarine mission.3
Submarine Development Group Two achieved much on all the foregoing tasks during the 1950s, using the newly constructed diesel submarine, K-1, which was later named USS Barracuda (SSK1). It was equipped with the first operational large passive sonar array, called the AN/BQR-4, in exercises involving both regular fleet submarines and those that had been modified under the GUPPY program.4 At the same time, significant ASW-sponsored research began in U.S. universities, government laboratories, industry, the U.S. Office of Naval Research, a committee on Undersea Warfare of the National Academy of Sciences, and the U.S. Navy’s Bureau of Ships. They all worked to determine and then design all that was necessary to cope with the threat posed by a rapidly increasing Soviet submarine force.
The Office of Naval Research itself began extensive work on submarine noise-reduction studies. Civilian scientists such as the physicist Marvin Lasky at the David Taylor Model Basin in Bethesda, Maryland, examined the submarine-quieting possibilities that might be gained
from use of a single screw or propeller on the undersea test submarine USS Albacore. Lasky was later to be a major player in the Office of Naval Research’s successful role in supporting underwater sound-propagation and noise-reduction studies, and introducing the towed acoustic array into both the submarine force and the surface fleet.5
From 1962 to 1964 when I was serving on board Skipjack, Submarine Development Group Two was under the command of the brilliant, imaginative, innovative, and energetic Capt. Frank A. Andrews. One of his first initiatives was to create the Tactical Analysis Group with a primary task of developing tactics for the submarine weapon systems of the new, follow-on to Skipjack, Thresher- (later Permit)-class submarine. Its first leader was former All-American U.S. Naval Academy football player and colorful submarine commander, Cdr. Donald B. Whitmire. Thus began the appropriately named Big Daddy submarine-versus-submarine tactical exercises that Skipjack became involved in during much of my time on board.
The Big Daddy exercise program, working with Skipjack and other nuclear and diesel attack submarines of Submarine Squadron Ten, established a series of rigorous at-sea exercises to closely examine the results of (1) submarines (in a barrier) versus transiting submarines, (2) submarines versus intruders, (3) use of nuclear attack submarines as trailers of other submarines, and (4) use of the nuclear attack submarines as carrier task force escorts. This program was subsequently to provide the necessary data for the SSN 594–class ASW performance assessment, which was used in turn to make up the report necessary for selling the need at the very highest levels at the U.S. Department of Defense for a new Sturgeon (SSN 637) class of nuclear attack submarine.6
I well remember the many hours that Skipjack spent playing the transiting submarine against both diesel boats and the new, very quiet USS Tullibee (SSN 597). The latter was built to serve as a hunter-killer submarine whose primary mission was to detect, engage, and destroy enemy submarines in her path. She was a test platform for a much quieter nuclear propulsion plan and the first to be equipped with the bow-mounted spherical sonar arrays, the AN/BQQ-2 long-ranging sonar system.7
Most of Skipjack’s transiting submarine exercise runs were made at high speed, using a zigzag plan of our own design. As I recall, both Tullibee and various diesel boats had enjoyed considerable success in detecting us due to our still-high radiated noise, but they were not successful in closing and attacking us. These exercises revealed that the attack submarine’s primary weapon, the Mk-37 electric acoustic torpedo, was almost totally ineffective against high-speed targets. This finding was to lead to the accelerated development of the new, and infinitely more capable, Mk-48 torpedo program.8
I remember, too, our frustration when Skipjack played the intruder, trailer, or carrier task group escort and we were unable to detect either a diesel submarine or another nuclear attack submarine such as Tullibee or Skate until it was close aboard and well after it had detected us. The limitation further underscored the need for a long-range sonar system like the AN/BQQ to be installed in all nuclear attack submarines. Indeed, the exercises made clear the urgent need to devote the entire bow of future nuclear attack submarines to their sonar systems. The torpedo tubes were moved to an angled, amidships position along the port and starboard sides of the hull, preventing the noise of readying and launching torpedoes from interfering with the sonar detection and tracking of potential adversaries.9
The Seabee Challenge
Following formal written and oral examinations by Admiral Rickover’s staff at his Naval Reactors headquarters in Washington, DC, in early fall of 1963, I fully qualified for engineer of nuclear submarines and relieved Lt. Cdr. Bud Kauderer of the position. Relieving me as navigator and operations officer, in turn, was the very capable Lt. Ron Eytchison. The job of engineer officer of the lead submarine of a relatively new class of high-performance nuclear attack subs presented unique challenges. One thing that concerned me when I first reported on board in 1962 was the number of sil-brazed joints that Skipjack had throughout her seawater piping. We were almost certain among ourselves that Thresher had been lost as a result of a major seawater leak that could not be stopped in one of its sil-brazed joints. All on board Skipjack therefore reacted with alacrity to any and all leaks and felt strongly that sil-brazed joints needed to be replaced with welded joints as soon as possible.
Another major concern was that our main propulsion turbines had begun to throw blades. This was due in all probability to metal fatigue as a result of Skipjack’s high operational pace, with much of it being at top speed. Each casualty of this sort required time-consuming major repairs involving replacement of the blades and turbine-rebalancing efforts in port at the submarine base in Groton.
Several of the many ASW exercises we engaged in that year took us geographically close enough to enjoy a few days of liberty in Bermuda. Skipjack’s exec, Bob Chewning, and I went ashore as often as possible, with our favorite haunt being the bar of the Elbow Beach Hotel. Our purpose was always, of course, to do all we could to further international relations. The only frustration was the lack of taxicabs.
While in Bermuda, a few of the younger members of our crew learned to their grief something that was well known among their World War II and Korean War predecessors: “Don’t mess with Seabees”—personnel of the U.S. Navy’s construction battalions. They were generally older and tougher than the average sailor or Marine, many having come out of the steel worker and construction trades. On this visit, one of our younger petty officers challenged three Seabees at a local pub. Two fellow crewmembers who were having a good time had no idea what their pal was up to. The Seabees accepted the challenge and moved in on our three guys. The first petty officer broke and ran back to the boat, leaving his unsuspecting two shipmates to take on the Seabees. The outcome was predictable and short: both men returned to Skipjack with black eyes, split lips, and a cracked rib or two. The sailor who ran away acquired the name of Speedy Gonzalez from his shipmates, who debated whether he was the smartest or the dumbest of the three.
The Infamous United Way Drive
We arrived in port at New London a week before the Thanksgiving holiday after a major exercise the previous week. We had been away from home port for most of the past year, and we all needed a rest and time with our families. However, a yearly event in the month that preceded the holiday season was the United Way Drive. The submarine squadron commanders, and deputy ComSubLant above them at that time, placed tremendous pressure on every crewmember of New London–based submarines to contribute to the United Way Fund or suffer the consequences.
Skipjack had avoided any repercussions for having fallen short of the goal in late 1962 because our skipper, Commander Kelly, covered those not contributing the required amount out of his own pocket. Such was not the case this year, however. Because Skipjack’s officers and men had once more not achieved the required 100 percent participation, we soon learned that instead of having Thanksgiving at home, we would be getting under way early in the Thanksgiving week to proceed over 1,500 nautical miles to Flemish Cap, to the east of Newfoundland. Once there, we would render target services to ASW aircraft based out of Argentia, Newfoundland, which would practice detecting and tracking us over the holiday.
This news was not well received on Skipjack, much less by our families, who were devastated. But orders were orders, and with a cheery “Aye, aye,” off we went at top speed. We reached the assigned exercise area early morning on Thanksgiving, only to discover there would be no aircraft that day. We learned further that the local area commander had canceled the entire exercise and that we were released to return home. To the credit of the captain and our cooks, Skipjack threw a superb Thanksgiving dinner at sea, but we would have much preferred to enjoy it with our families and friends at home. General morale remained good in spite of the grousing about this bit of petty, time-wasting, and unnecessary family-separation idiocy. There was no fondness in our hearts for the United Way Drive or the strong-arm methods used by our seniors to raise money for this pa
rticular charity. We headed home at top speed and three days later were moored once again at State Pier, New London. We remained in port this time for a lengthy upkeep and a leave period that to our delight extended through the Christmas period and well into the new year.
CHAPTER 18
A Year to Remember
Skipjack began 1964 by taking part in a submarine ASW exercise, which added to the Submarine Development Group Two’s much-needed barrier exercise data. This exercise involved submarines patrolling a stationary or fixed barrier against aggressor submarines attempting to transit or penetrate the barrier without being detected and attacked. As a transiting submarine, we demonstrated once again our capabilities as a high-speed, extremely maneuverable attack boat. It was during this time that Capt. Michael U. Moore relieved Capt. Frank A. Andrews as commander of Submarine Development Group Two, and the Big Daddy series of submarine-versus-submarine exercises intensified. We spent most of February and March at sea, simulating wartime transiting and patrol conditions, broken only by a pleasurable visit to San Juan, Puerto Rico, and several brief pit stops at our home port.
Taking Their Picture
Our skipper, Shep Jenks, was promoted to full commander on 1 April 1964. Skipjack’s wardroom did a fine job of “wetting down”—pouring Scotch over the skipper’s new full gold stripe at the officers club the following Saturday evening. As it happened, in the main dining room the Blue Crew wardroom of one of the New London–based fleet ballistic missile submarines (FBM) was celebrating, too. Possibly it was the anniversary of their launching or commissioning. The officers were in full dress, giving long serious speeches, all very formal and dull. Behind their table a blown-up photograph of their beloved FBM was mounted on the wall. The event was a fine candidate for a disruption of some sort, courtesy of our raucous gang.
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