“Reactor Scram, rig ship for reduced electrical. Fire in engine-room upper level forward, rig ship for fire! Don EABs in the engine-room!” Warren Jacobs, the OOD, yelled into the 1MC General Announcing System microphone.
Seaman Martinez heard the announcement while he was scrubbing pots in the galley. He looked up, wondering if he had heard the 1MC right. The loud "Bong-Bong-Bong" of the general alarm died out. Martinez heard the words on the 1MC repeated.
All around him, the experienced crewmen were leaping into action. He had never seen them move so fast.
One pair rushed to shut off all unnecessary electrical equipment to save every watt of the precious remaining reactor heat. Another group struggled to rig fire-fighting equipment so that the fire teams could combat the blaze. A third group, led by Chief Richey, donned fire protection clothing and emergency oxygen breathing apparatus (OBAs), a self-contained supply of breathable oxygen that was good for about thirty minutes. They would be charging in to the engine-room to fight the fire.
Hatches slammed shut, ventilation dampers swung closed, emergency lights flicked on while non-vital equipment was turned off. The operations were carried out so quickly and smoothly it was like watching a professional dance team in motion. Every action was carried out with the idea of quickly putting out the fire and restoring the ship to normal operation.
Seaman Martinez watched in wide-eyed, scared amazement as he stepped out of the galley, dishrag in hand. He had only been onboard a couple of months and had never seen a fire before. The teachers at sub school beat into his head that fires were bad, but nothing prepared him for this. He could smell the FEAR as the men rushed to do their jobs. The fast pace of the action was just short of pandemonium. He watched helplessly, not knowing what to do, but knowing that he should do something.
Petty Officer Swain grabbed him roughly by the shoulder, shoved an EAB into his hand and pushed Martinez onto a seat. He yelled through his own EAB, "Sit here! Watch and learn something, non-qual!"
Chief Richey yelled out, his voice muffled by the OBA, “Everybody ready?”
Five sailors grabbed the pressurized snake of a fire-hose, while Richey led the way, looking at the screen on a portable thermal imager to see through heavy smoke.
The fire-fighting teams ran into the engine-room from the operations compartment with pressurized fire hoses at the ready. Smoke poured into the mess decks through the open hatch. The smoke curtain draped down over the hatch was only partially successful in stopping it.
Martinez watched as the air slowly filled with a wispy gray haze; building to a dark, impenetrable cloud. He sucked gratefully on the clean, fresh air of his EAB. Fear churned in his stomach as he sat riveted to the bench. Was he going to make it through this? Would his crewmates put the fire out in time? How could they do their jobs if they were as scared as he was? He was slowly beginning to realize why the qualified crewmen were so proud of their silver dolphins.
The engine-room watch-standers rushed to carry out their emergency casualty procedures. Several hurried around the engine-room securing unnecessary equipment to save reactor heat, others completed a checklist that ensured that the reactor was safely shut down, while still others fought the fire. It was a well practiced choreography, carried out in a dark gray cloud.
With their EABs, the watch standers had air to breathe but were limited by the length of their trailing air hoses. EABs received their air supply from special red painted manifolds located around the ship. With visibility reduced to zero, the crew depended on memory and training to find the manifolds with life giving air. It was a careful dance from manifold to manifold; suck in a deep lungful of good air, unplug the hose and scurry a few feet, then feel around for the next manifold and plug in the hose. A few deep gasps and then repeat the procedure.
The reactor technician ran across the engine-room and opened the breaker that powered the reactor control panels.
Chief Turston was the first person to make it to the burning panel. Smoke poured out of it as he unscrewed the red-hot cover screws with his bare hands. He screamed in pain as he threw the panel to the deck and emptied a fire extinguisher into the burning circuitry.
Turston collapsed against the railing, holding his charred hands and moaning as tears rolled down his face. He had to be evacuated forward for the Corpsman to treat.
The fire in the reactor control panels was out, but the heat and flames had jumped across the narrow passageway and caused the hull insulation to ignite. Flames licking the thick polyurethane insulation engulfed engine-room upper level and spread to engine-room middle level.
Thick black, toxic smoke filled the compartment just as the hose teams from forward arrived with their fire hoses. The firefighters were blind. They couldn't see their hands, let alone find a fire. Chief Richey used the hand-held thermal imager to search out the blaze.
The heat was searing. A man could only last for maybe ten minutes before he had to be relieved and sent forward to recover.
Three fire hoses and hose teams converged to put out the building inferno. They worked together to beat back the fire with powerful jets of high-pressure water and then to tear the thick hull insulation away with long handled rakes. The insulation was then soaked
