“As you were,” Hunter said quietly, making his way to the chair at the head of the table, traditionally reserved for the ship’s Captain. The seat to his right was the XO’s. A steaming mug of strong, black Navy coffee sat on the table in front of the CO’s seat, placed there by the cook.
The wardroom was a study of efficient utilization of a limited space. The large table took up most of the floor space. The inboard bulkhead was composed of storage cabinets with a long counter between the upper and lower cabinets. At the aft end of the counter stood a large coffee machine.
The forward bulkhead contained an upholstered bench where the supply officer sat during meals. Navy tradition held that the supply officer was to be available as the target of verbal criticism by the captain if the meal was not up to his liking. There were numerous sea stories of submarine captains who felt that verbal abuse was not adequate and had found this arrangement of seating convenient for throwing the offending food item at the responsible supply officer. There was a gouge in the Formica above the bench that legend held was the result of a rather heavy gravy boat being heaved by one of the Commander’s dissatisfied predecessors.
Above the bench sat a small locker containing operating manuals, a tiny TV, and a VCR.
The outboard bulkhead was made up of a short built-in Naugahyde couch, more lockers, and a collection of small indications and communications (IC) panels similar to the ones in Hunter's stateroom. Even the wardroom chairs were utilized for storage. Under each seat was a heavy metal locker containing an emergency breathing apparatus for use in the case of fire or other toxic contamination of the sub’s atmosphere.
Crowded in the small space were the players who would guide the ship safely out of the harbor. The navigation team, led by the Navigator, LCDR Warran Jacobs, and the leading quartermaster, QM1(SS) Buell, would be taking visual fixes through one of the periscopes and backing that up with electronic fixes from the GPS. The sonar team, led by Master Chief Holmstad, would listen for any underwater indications that could help the OOD. The ship’s control party would carry out the OOD’s orders to steer SAN FRANCISCO safely out of Pearl Harbor. Even the line-handler supervisors were present. It was important that they all performed as a closely coordinated, well-rehearsed team and that they all knew Hunter’s plan for the operation.
Sitting down, Hunter looked around the room, casting a critical eye on each person. He then said, “Gentlemen, we are going to brief the underway. The XO and the Nav will cover the details, but first, I want to say a few words. Right off the bat, let me emphasize the security procedures that we will be following. The idea is to sneak out of here without anybody being the wiser. The Commodore wants to see if it’s possible to get to sea without it showing up in tomorrow’s Honolulu Advertiser."
Hunter looked down the table at Chief Tyler, the leading radioman. "That means no use of the bridge-to-bridge radios on the bridge and no talking on the harbor common frequencies. If Harbor Control challenges us, we will ignore them. I don’t expect this to happen, but it may."
The portly Chief busily scribbled a few notes on his pad, not questioning the unusual procedures.
Hunter continued, this time directing his gaze over at QM1 Buell, "The radars will be off and housed. We will be operating without running lights or the sub ID light. Remember, the goal is to leave Pearl without any fanfare.”
Buell nodded.
“The second point I want to make is, although this underway is a little different, by and large, it is similar to night underways we've done before. Pay attention to the XO and Nav, and remember what you've learned.”
The assembled group fidgeted restlessly as the Nav stood to speak. They had a thousand questions.
25 May 2000, 2315LT (26 May, 1015Z)
The warm Hawaiian night greeted Hunter as he climbed up to the bridge cockpit. High cumulous clouds scurried across the sky, playing hide and seek with the stars. A quarter moon momentarily peeked out of the clouds to the West, out beyond Barbers Point. It would soon drop below the horizon. No one was visible around the waterfront, except three SEALs over on pier Sierra-Nine and three more here on pier Sierra-Five. Even the normally noisy submarine repair facility across Magazine Loch at Kauhua Point was quiet.
Standing in the narrow bridge cockpit, Hunter and Lieutenant Commander Sam Stuart, officer of the deck, started the long process of getting the large ship underway. SAN FRANCISCO was as graceful as a ballerina in her element, submerged out in the open ocean. Alongside the pier her single screw and rudder, together with her long cylindrical shape, made her very ungainly. Any mishap in inching her seven thousand ton bulk carefully out into the channel’s relatively open water could cancel the mission before it even started. It was a real test of their combined ship handling skills.
SAN FRANCISCO was ready to get underway. A two-inch Kevlar and Dacron mooring line was passed from a bollard on the neighboring pier to port, over the rounded bow of the sub, and aft to the capstan positioned above the engine-room. Line-handlers stood at each of the four retractable cleats along the ship's starboard side. The reactor was supplying all the ship’s power needs, so the large heavy shore power cables were laboriously manhandled off the ship and the brows removed. The last umbilicals to the shore were severed. She was ready to return to her
