and assumed the duties as the Torpedo Division Officer, he became responsible for whatever happened in this room.
“I’m waiting, mister!” snarled Hardy.
“Yes, sir,” replied Jerry, stalling as he built up his courage. “Based on my knowledge of the events that led up to the casualty, sir, I really can’t give you the name of a particular individual at this time.”
“That is totally unacceptable, Lieutenant!” screamed Hardy, his face and neck bulging with anger.
“I’m sorry, Captain, but there is no way I can name an individual with any degree of confidence,” replied Jerry firmly, but with respect. “We had a fitting, not installed by the ship’s crew, fail at two hundred feet when it is rated for considerably deeper depths. We had a control console that is supposed to be splash-proof, short out and burst into flames. Without investigating how and why these incidents occurred, I can’t tell you if one of my men is responsible or if the fault lies with SUBASE personnel or even Draper Labs.”
Hardy, completely unconvinced by Jerry’s argument, seethed and through clenched teeth said, “One last time, Lieutenant Mitchell, I’m ordering you to tell me who is responsible for this disaster!”
“Very well, Captain. If you want a name, then use mine. Because I’m responsible for what goes on in my torpedo room.”
An eerie silence descended on the group as all of them were surprised by Jerry’s forceful response to Hardy’s demand.
“Umm, Captain,” interrupted Patterson. “While this incident is of some importance
Jerry recognized the snide “mission commander” tone in Patterson’s voice and knew that Hardy was in a poor position to negotiate since she had kept her questions strictly within the boundaries he had set for her. Recognizing the right answer when told, Hardy motioned for Jerry to address her questions.
“In regard to your first question, ma’am. Yes, I believe we can recover the ROV. As to the second, again, I don’t know. If we can’t determine the cause of the failure, then we can’t safely use the tube to support ROV ops. Since no other tube is configured to deploy the ROVs, that would constitute a mission-critical failure.” Jerry intentionally used Patterson’s own words from that morning’s briefing to drive his point home.
“I see. And if you can determine the cause of the failure?”
“If we can isolate the root cause — and if we can correct it — we should be able to support ROV deployments, barring any complications from the fire. As to whether or not we continue the mission, that is a decision that you and the Captain need to make.”
“Fair enough, Mr. Mitchell. Now, how do you propose we recover the ROV?”
Jerry turned toward Emily and asked, “Emily, did you keep the emergency retrieval hardware and software of the NMRS in your ROVs?”
“Certainly. Once the ROV detects a loss of signal continuity with the control console, it assumes that the fiber-optic cable has been severed and returns to the launch point. Once there, it emits a series of
“Then, I guess someone will have to go outside and manhandle Duey into position.”
“Wait a minute,” Hardy protested. “I will not authorize a dive that requires decompression. And at two hundred feet your bottom time is only a few minutes before decompression is necessary.”
“Actually, Captain, it’s five minutes,” boomed Reynolds as he came down the starboard aisle between the storage racks. “And I agree with you, sir, a decompression dive is risky business even with seasoned divers. With inexperienced divers, it would be unacceptably risky. But somehow I don’t think Mr. Mitchell had a deep dive in mind, did you, sir?”
“No, COB, I didn’t,” smiled Jerry.
“Very well, then. What is your plan?” Hardy was now as curious as the others about what Jerry had in mind.
“We’ll position
“But Jerry, how will you call Duey?” asked Emily. “None of your hull arrays can transmit at a frequency that Duey’s sonar can pick up.”
“True enough. So we rig a portable power supply to one of the spare drogues and the divers lift it over the side and point it down toward Duey. If we do this right, the ROV will be less than three hundred yards away and its sonar should be able to detect the homing beacon.”
As she listened to Jerry’s scheme, Emily’s face became bright with hope. “Yes, Yes! That should work. Oh Jerry, you’re brilliant!”
Jerry was uncomfortable with her enthusiasm. “Let’s hold off on the ‘brilliant’ stuff until after we get Duey back, shall we?”
Hardy was silent as he considered Jerry’s idea. His wrinkled brow and clenched jaw showed his reservations, his uncertainty that the risk was justifiable. Finally he approached Reynolds and asked, “COB, what would your bottom time be for a dive of seventy feet?”
“Let’s see, seventy feet with no decompression would give us about fifty minutes, sir. That should be more than adequate for the job.”
Hardy started pacing as he continued to mull over Jerry’s proposal. As he walked, Reynolds kept feeding him more information. “We have the proper dive gear, and there is very little current to speak of. We have plenty of daylight left, so visibility shouldn’t be a problem. The only way we could reduce the risk further would be to go diving in a swimming pool.”
“Very well, COB. I’ll authorize the dive,” conceded Hardy with a sigh. “I trust you’ll be the lead diver, but who will be your partner on this dive?”
“Mr. Mitchell, sir.”
“Mitchell?” Hardy sounded incredulous.
“Yes, sir,” Reynolds answered politely “He’s a certified Navy diver, he possesses the best knowledge on the ROVs of any diver onboard, and I believe he has some ice diving experience. I’d say that makes him perfect for the job.”
Patterson, Hardy, and Emily all looked at Jerry as if he was some sort of circus freak. All that undesired attention made him feel a little uncomfortable, so he tried to explain. “I did some ice diving in Wisconsin and Minnesota as a kid. It’s really quite a unique experience diving under an ice canopy…and…ahh, just forget it.”
Patterson and Emily both laughed, while Hardy slowly shook his head. “All right COB, I’ll get
“Aye, aye, sir,” responded Jerry and Reynolds in unison.
“I’ll break out the gear, Mr. Mitchell, while you finish giving your people their instructions,” said Reynolds.
“Okay, COB, I’ll be with you in a moment,” Jerry replied. Turning to Foster and Emily, he briefly discussed with them what they had to do to support the dive. Foster reassured him that tube three would be ready to receive the ROV, and Emily said it would take her twenty minutes to put together a portable power supply and connect it to one of the spare drogues.
Jerry found the COB at the far forward end of the torpedo room, removing the diving gear from their storage lockers. The paint on the lockers had been fried, but the lockers themselves were in good condition, as were their contents. Jerry was relieved to see that they had good crushed neoprene dry-suits to wear, but they didn’t have any insulated undergarments. This meant that he and the COB would get cold during this dive. It might take thirty minutes or so before they started to really feel it, but they’d still need a hot shower afterward.
After breaking out the gear from the lockers, it had to be moved to the crew’s mess, where they would suit up. Reynolds had several sailors lug the equipment up while he and Jerry went to their staterooms to change. Digging around in his locker, Jerry found the cotton sweatshirt and pants he’d brought and put them on, along with two pairs of socks. Back in the crew’s mess, Jerry found Reynolds already slipping into his drysuit. He tossed Jerry a container of talcum powder, which he applied liberally to the legs and arms of his suit before putting it on. After
