The noise was deafening. The rush of water under pressure into the steel confines of the trunk drowned out all possibility of communicating. The swirling water rose to the swimmers’ knees, then their waists, until finally three of them were completely under water. Only Boats had his head above water. A small steel skirt, attached to the underside of the upper hatch combing, provided a tiny air pocket for him to use while operating the trunk controls.
As the water rushed in, Chief Jones pumped water from the Auxiliary Tank located in the submarine’s bilge almost directly below the escape trunk. Experimentation and careful practice had taught him how to precisely pump water from the sub at the same rate that it was being flooded into the trunk. Pumping too fast would result in the sub bobbing quickly to the surface and embolising the SEALs, while pumping too slow would result in the sub descending and exposing the SEALs to unendurable pressures. Chief Jones performed his balancing act carefully and precisely. The great ship barely quivered as the trunk flooded. The SEALs did not notice any changes in pressure.
Just as quickly as it began, the rush of water ceased. In the almost unnatural quiet, Boats reported, "Flooding was completed. Equalizing with sea pressure."
The squeal of pressurized air destroyed the stillness. The tiny air pocket quickly came up to a pressure equal to the outside sea pressure. The SEALs popped the upper hatch open and swam free of the submarine.
The SEALs left the dark confines of the escape trunk and emerged into the blue of the open ocean. Below them the blue darkened into blackness; above it was an iridescent turquoise. In this blue, their only touch with reality was the hard black shape of the sub.
As soon as the last swimmer exited the forward trunk, the crew pumped the upper hatch closed and started the procedure to drain the trunk for the next set of swimmers. Within minutes the next four SEALs entered the trunk and the difficult, tedious procedure was repeated.
The four swimmers sprang to their well-rehearsed tasks. Boats tied a line to the sub and inflated the attached buoy with a small CO2 canister. He freed the buoy to float to the surface.
The second swimmer, EN2 Stuart, tied another line to the sub and swam to the after escape trunk. There he tied the other end, forming a guide rope for his teammates to follow.
The third swimmer, HT1 Jankowski, began opening the after escape trunk upper hatch so that they could retrieve their equipment. As his three teammates joined him, he started to lift out the first ungainly bag and allowed it to drift to the surface while holding on to the guide rope. As the bag broke the surface, it automatically inflated into a small six-man raft.
“Control, maneuvering. We hear activity in the after escape trunk. Sounds like the SEALs are unloading it.”
“Maneuvering, control Aye.”
Up rose the second bag to become a second raft. The rafts were tied to the floating buoy to keep them from drifting away. The four swimmers began the laborious task of transferring the rest of the equipment from the after trunk to the waiting rafts on the surface.
After four hours, Chief Jones and his team sat in pools of sweat, reduced to exhaustion by the constant unbearable tension.
Ten SEALs were seated in the CRRCs. As the cool night air wafted around them and the gentle swell of the sea rocked them, the SEALs rigged a line between the two small boats and paddled a few feet apart, leaving the line to float on the surface.
19
20 Jun 2000, 2230LT (1530Z)
The top of the mountainous island was just visible as a darker blotch on an already darkening sky. Black cumulous clouds blotted out the brilliant stars, leaving that whole quadrant a study of deep grays and blacks. A tropical shower deluged the land.
Overhead and to the West, the night sky was filled with stars. The Southern Cross just peeked over the horizon to the Southwest. The setting moon outlined a river of silver off to the Northwest. Waves gently lapped against the side of the boats. Warm tropical winds carried earthy scents of jungle out to the SEALs.
The ten SEALs were alone in the glory of the tropical night. A shape suddenly appeared, blacker than the night, moving silently toward them. An arrow of phosphorescence trailed behind as it glided through the water, closing the distance to the SEALs’ tiny rubber boats. The men paddled to move their boats perceptibly further apart to increase the separation. The shape seemed to aim for the space between them, as if undecided as to which boat to encounter.
As it approached closer, the shape could be seen to be two small vertical tubes moving side-by-side, about a meter apart. Although small on the surface, like an iceberg, the shapes had the unmistakable aura of an ominous power just below the surface. Silently the tubes moved forward until they snagged the line connecting the two small boats. The boats swung around and met in a towing position behind the shapes.
Thirty-four feet below the surface, Hunter grinned, “Split the middle. Snag completed. Commencing to tow the SEALs to the beach. Nice driving everyone.” Hunter eased back from the number two periscope and rubbed his eyes. “Nav, how far to the drop off point?”
“Captain, twenty-two miles to the twenty fathom curve. At five knots, we will be at the drop off point at zero-four thirty. That leaves the SEALs an hour to paddle the last thousand yards before first light at zero-five-thirty-two,” LCDR Jacobs reported.
“Captain, flashing infra-red light from the SEAL squad leader,” Petty Officer Buell said. He was watching
