7
26 May 2000, 0630LT (1630Z)
Sam Stuart closed the lower bridge hatch above him and spun the hand-wheel. Then he turned to LCDR Warran Jacobs, who had relieved him as OOD, and shouted, “Last man down, hatch secured.”
SAN FRANCISCO was ready to return to the deep. The Chief of the Watch glanced at his panels to confirm that all hull openings indicated shut before shouting “Straight board,” verifying the Engineer’s report.
Hunter turned to the Navigator and ordered, “Officer of the Deck, submerge the ship.”
The scripted and well-practiced choreography of diving the submarine was played out. There were no superfluous reports or actions. Every operation was carried out precisely and methodically. Every report was made exactly as it was expected, both in timing and wording. Over a century of submarining taught, sometimes with very bitter lessons, this careful, practiced approach was required to operate safely in this hostile environment.
The Chief of the Watch grabbed the green handle of the diving klaxon and pulled it. The loud “Aoooogha, Aoooogha,” blasted through the boat. He yelled, "Dive, dive!" into the 1MC microphone. He then reached up, lifted the protective guards and flipped the switches, opening the main ballast tank vents.
Great geysers of mist and spray shot up from each of the vents as the trapped air that had been holding SAN FRANCISCO on the surface escaped. If anyone had been outside the sub, they would have heard the blast of twelve huge air horns of escaping air. SAN FRANCISCO slowly settled lower in the water. Water lapped over the main deck as it dropped below the surface. Then the rudder disappeared. The great ship slipped beneath the waves. All that was left on the surface was a frothing wake ending abruptly where she had submerged. Soon, even that was gone.
The diving officer spent a few minutes pumping and flooding water to and from various internal trim tanks to balance the boat for submerged running. SAN FRANCISCO was ready to proceed on her mission.
Satisfied with the ship's trim, Hunter ordered, “Nav, steer course one-eight zero true. Ahead Full. Deploy the thin-line towed array. Keep your eyes open for any contacts, particularly submerged ones. CHICAGO will try to sneak up on us sometime in the next twenty-four hours. I expect you to find him before he finds us."
The thin-line towed array was a line of sonar hydrophones that trailed for better than a mile behind the sub. When not in use, it was stowed on a large reel in the after ballast tanks. It allowed the sensitive signal processors of the sonar system to listen over vast distances of the ocean to detect the miniscule noises that differentiated a submarine from the many other noises in the ocean.
Hunter continued, "I'll be in my stateroom. Call me if you detect anything." He turned and stepped out of control.
Hunter and Fagan sat across from each other at the small table in Hunter's stateroom. It was time to review the night's activities. Hunter said, “If the Nav thinks that CHICAGO is out here to play games with us, he will make damn sure that we scour the ocean to find every submerged contact inside a thousand miles. That'll make me feel better than any delousing CHICAGO might do.”
Hunter put his coffee cup down firmly and, with heat in his voice, said, "What the hell are we going to do with the Weps? Another screw-up topside. He expects me to recommend him for promotion and selection for XO. Right now, I can't."
"Skipper, he's young," Fagan answered, trying to mollify the agitated Commander. "He's got a lot to learn. Give him a chance, lieutenant fitness reports aren't due until we get back."
With an aggravated grunt, Hunter answered, "Alright, XO. We'll give him a chance. You're the training officer. Take him under your wing and train him. I'll decide on the recommendations when we get back."
“I think I’ll check out in control one more time before I turn in,” Hunter said as he stood and then immediately sat back down, hard.
“What’s the matter, Skipper? Are you OK?” The XO asked, his eyebrows knitted.
“Nothing, just a little dizzy when I stood up. Must be more tired than I thought."
Fagan snorted.
Hunter quickly added, "Now, don’t you go running to the Doc with this and getting him all in a lather. He can be worse than my wife with this kind of stuff.”
“OK, OK. Why don’t you just turn in and get some rest? I’ll check in control and then I think I’ll turn in, too,” the XO replied.
“Thanks, Bill. We are both going to need to stay well-rested from here on out," Hunter said as Fagan disappeared through the curtain.
Damn, now Fagan had seen it. Hunter had been hiding these spells for over a month now. The first one really scared him. Enough that he had gone to a civilian doctor at the Kaiser Permanente Medical Center in Pearl City. The tests were finished last week, but in the rush of preparations for the mission, he had not seen the results.
There had been more spells since the run up on Tanatulus. Just last Saturday, he had returned to the house from a long run out to Ewa Beach and back. He blacked out and only came to moments before Peg returned from shopping. There were more since, but none quite so serious.
The test results would be academic anyway. Hunter
