keep the heat down. Jerry crawled up to Bair’s side and plugged himself into his EAB fitting. Carefully and deliberately, Jerry reported his observations and corrective actions to his superior. The XO listened, and after Jerry had finished, gave him the thumbs-up sign. Bair then raised the NIFTI back up to his faceplate and motioned for the fire-fighting team to resume their advance and began spraying the burning console with high-velocity fog. Jerry detached himself and backed off. He would only be in the way now. With the power supply to the weapons launching console isolated, the fire was quickly extinguished.
The uncontrolled leak that caused the fire had also died down. Once the muzzle door had been shut, the torpedo tube depressurized rapidly and the dangerous pressure-driven spray quickly diminished to an inoffensive trickle. The danger to the boat was over.
13. Recovery
Jerry removed his mask and was immediately greeted by the stench of burnt electrical insulation. The smell was so pungent that he briefly considered putting his mask back on. Throwing his EAB onto the centerline storage rack, he walked over to the starboard tube nest. Boyd and Greer had finished draining tube three, and were examining the inside of the breech door as Jerry approached.
“Any ideas as to what happened?” he asked.
“Not a clue, sir,” answered Boyd frankly. “Oh, it’s obvious that the gasket failed catastrophically, but I can’t tell you how or why.”
“Can we still use the tube?”
“Sure. We can screw in the metal plug and seal the penetration, but we won’t be able to support ROV ops.”
“I see,” Jerry said. It was not going to be a pleasant experience when he’d have to tell Patterson that the tube might no longer be capable of supporting the mission. She might blow a gasket herself. “Well, go ahead and put in the plug. I want this door watertight. And find me some of that gasket, we need to figure out what happened.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” replied Boyd.
Jerry surveyed his damaged room. In the poor light, he couldn’t tell if what he saw was burned equipment and structure or if it was just soot from the fire. Turning his flashlight to the weapons launching console, he was surprised to see that it was largely intact. He half-expected it to be a charred ruin. Jerry had just started walking over to make a closer inspection when the lights came back on. Over at the power distribution panel, he saw Foster and FT3 Larsen, the latter on the sound-powered phones. He was probably talking to maneuvering, Jerry thought, making sure that it was safe to close the breaker for the lighting circuit. With better illumination, the real state of the torpedo room became readily apparent.
The forward part of the room was pretty bad off. The damage to the launching console was worse than he had first thought, and the area between the tubes was badly burnt as well. The rest of the room, however, just looked dirty from all the smoke. Foster left the P-panel and marched down to the console, his feet sloshing in half an inch of cold seawater still on the deck. Jerry watched as the senior chief wiped off part of the control section and surveyed the damage. He looked tired and dismayed.
Slowly, Jerry walked up behind Foster and asked, “How bad?”
“Real bad,” replied Foster as he shook his head ruefully.
“Can it be repaired at sea?”
“Uhh, I don’t know… sir.” Foster closed an access panel and then turned to face Jerry. “And I won’t know for sure until we have stripped this console to parade rest. But I can say this much: I wouldn’t hold out much hope.”
Jerry nodded his acknowledgment and the two of them just stood there, an awkward silence between them. It was a little too much for Jerry.
“How’s Moran?”
“He was badly bruised when he got slammed into the tubes by that jet of water, but Doc says he’ll live,” said Foster wearily.
“You did well getting him out as fast as you did, Senior. Thank you.”
Foster was startled by the sincerity of Jerry’s compliment. And for the second time that day, he was at a loss for words.
Jerry was about to suggest that Foster go and get some dry clothes on, when Emily walked into the torpedo room. He was glad to see that she had not been hurt. He regretted being so rough on her during the fire, but he had to do it. He had to get her to safety. As Emily got closer, he could tell that she was awestruck by all the damage. But what Jerry initially took as an aftereffect of shock turned out instead to be unbridled rage.
“What did you idiots do?” demanded Emily. Her whole body shook as she spoke.
Completely taken aback by her accusation and vehemence, Jerry was barely able to muster a weak, “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. Mitchell! Why did those stupid Neanderthals of yours play around with the cable fitting! If they had just left things alone, this wouldn’t have happened and my baby wouldn’t be stranded out in the middle of the Norwegian Sea!”
Both Foster and Jerry were utterly amazed that the ranting woman in front of them was the mousy, quiet Dr. Davis. In different circumstances, the extremes of Emily’s behavior would have been humorous. But right now, any sign of joviality would be ill advised. With one of her precious ROVs stuck outside, she had the temperament of a mother grizzly bear whose cub was threatened.
“Emily, I can assure you that my guys did not cause this casualty. ”
“Don’t give me that patronizing bullshit, you son of a bitch! Your men cut him loose!”
Jerry felt his jaw tighten and he found himself becoming angry as well. He was cold, wet, and coming down from an adrenaline high. He really wasn’t in the mood to deal with someone who couldn’t separate the cause of the accident from proper corrective actions. And while Jerry liked Emily Davis a lot, he wasn’t about to put up with her irrational tirade.
“Now, wait one damn minute, Dr. Davis! My men did not cause that fitting to fail. They responded properly to the casualty that followed. And I stand one hundred percent behind their actions, even though it meant cutting the drogue umbilical cable and stranding the ROV. In the grand scheme of things, Doctor, the lives of my men are considerably more important than your vehicle!”
It was Emily’s turn to be surprised. She simply stood there, her mouth hanging open, as Jerry’s stern message sunk in. Slowly, she nodded her head, the anger on her face replaced by anguish. “But what about Duey?”
Before Jerry could answer, another angry voice repeated the question. “Yes, Lieutenant, what about the ROV? Can it be recovered?”
Jerry looked up and saw Patterson and Hardy approaching them. Inwardly he groaned. It would be nearly impossible now to keep the situation under control with the two hottest heads on the boat joining the discussion. Jerry knew that they would both be upset, but for vastly different reasons. Hardy didn’t disappoint him as he butted in. “The question of the ROV’s recovery will have to wait, Dr. Patterson. What I need to know, Mr. Mitchell, is the name of the individual who is responsible for this debacle — and nearly cost me my boat!”
Jerry heard Foster swallow hard behind him. Jerry knew it would be so easy to blame him for this whole incident. According to Greer and the others, Foster was the senior member present when the casualty occurred. And Davis would almost certainly back his claim. It was the
