Only those officers actually on watch were excused from the nightly training. Jeff Miller was on duty in the control room as the OOD and Rich Baker was standing watch in the engine-room as the EOOW. Together they supervised the complex operation of the boat as she steamed through the lonely depths of this forgotten part of the Pacific.
As the Navigator began his opening remarks, the deck suddenly pitched upward.Coffee cups tumbled down the wardroom table, slamming into the buffet behind Hunter. One managed to roll directly into his lap, thoroughly drenching him with hot liquid. His eyes shot toward the depth gauge on the wardroom bulkhead. It counting toward the surface at blinding speed.
Hunter leaped from his seat and rushed out of the wardroom, bounding up the ladder to control, with Fagan hot on his heels. The up angle increased to an alarming level, better than forty up. The two crawled, hand over hand, gripping whatever piping they could, to reach the control room.
“Weps, what’s the problem?” Hunter shouted as he burst through the control room door.
People were clinging to any available support to keep from falling out the back door of control. The depth gauge was roaring through 150 feet, moving so fast that it was nearly unreadable. The engine order telegraph was answering Ahead Full, confirmed by the twenty-five knot speed shown on the pit-log.
“N…n…n…nothing Skipper,” stammered the ruffled young lieutenant.
The sub jumped through the surface and, with a stomach-churning lurch, splashed back down. Hunter machine-gunned orders, “All Stop! Diving Officer, full rise on the stern planes, full rise on the fairwater planes! Fishtail the rudder! Report when ship’s speed is less than fifteen knots!”
Chief Tyler, the diving officer reported, “Dive, Aye. Answering All Stop, full rise on all planes, speed two-zero knots and falling. Depth three-nine feet and steady.”
Hunter turned to Bill Fagan and barked, “XO, see what damage we have.”
Chief Tyler said, “Speed one-five knots and falling.”
Hunter immediately ordered, “Answer Ahead One-Third. Rudder amid ships. Raising number two scope.”
Hunter needed to get the scope up to see any immediate danger. Fifteen knots was the maximum speed to raise a periscope without bending it over if they slipped back beneath the waves.
There were almost instant and simultaneous replies from the helmsman, “Answers Ahead One Third, my rudder is amid ships,” and from Chief Gonzales, the Chief of the Watch, “Number two scope indicates up.”
The tenor of their voices and the crispness of their replies told the story. They knew that they had been parties to a significant mistake and they would soon hear about it.
After a rapid 360 degree sweeping look around, Hunter reported, “No close contacts,” and followed this with a thorough visual and electronic search. “No contacts." Hunter snapped the scope handles up and swung the control ring to the lower position. He then stepped away from the scope and looked around the control room. No one on the team would meet his gaze.
He inquired sarcastically, "Weps, do you think that you and this motley bunch can get us back down to one-five-zero feet without incident?”
Miller sheepishly nodded his head and meekly said, "Yes, sir." He had slipped to the port side of control and was standing behind Chief Gonzales.
He gave every appearance of trying to hide behind the bulk of the portly chief. He ordered, "Dive, make your depth one-five-zero feet," but did not move from his supposed haven.
After they had settled out at 150 feet and the XO had reported that the only damage was the loss of the wardroom espresso cups, Hunter began the discussion sarcastically, “Alright Weps, a new world's record. Broaching from eight hundred feet. Could you tell me precisely what you and your watch section were doing?”
“Skipper, we were supposed to come from our transit depth of eight hundred feet up to one-five-zero feet in order to clear baffles for the twenty-two-thirty comms downlink. This was in the night orders," Jeff Miller began to explain.
“Chief Tyler and I discussed it and we wanted to practice some high-speed ship handling. We've never had a chance to do it. We decided to come up shallow at a full bell. We just didn’t know how quickly she would respond at that speed. I’m sorry.”
Hunter replied, “Well, Weps, you hadn't had a chance yet, because this watch-section isn't ready yet. And now you know why I’m always in control when we do this. That up-angle could have seriously hurt people. You could have caused a collision if any body had been up there when you broached. And if you hadn’t hit someone and they were up there counting whales, you would have certainly caused us to be detected. As it was, you were just plain lucky.”
Turning to Chief Tyler and the Chief Gonzales, he continued, “And I depend on you two, as the most experienced submariners on watch, to advise the OOD to steer him clear of this type of foolishness, not to talk him into it. You’re supposed to operate as a team out here and I’m supposed to be comfortable sleeping while you are on watch. Do we understand each other?”
“Yes sir.”
30 May 2000, 1630LT (31 May, 0430Z)
The young petty officer stood at rigid attention in the stateroom doorway. “Captain, Quartermaster of the Watch, The Officer of the Deck sends his respects and reports crossing
