“My sense is to go for it. Keep as many topside as they can. Don’t let any of them have any hard information that SAN FRANCISCO is a US sub. Anything they can hand over to CNN.” General Schwartz concluded.
23 Jun 2000, 1710LT (0930Z)
“Come around to two-one-seven and go to Ahead Full. I want you to get over to the area where the frigate sank and start a box search for survivors,” Jon Hunter directed, his voice weak and scratchy.
He had returned to the conn and was slumped down in a fold-down jump seat behind the periscope stand. The flushed skin and sunken eyes spoke volumes.
“COB, make sure that there is nothing on the mess decks or anywhere near there that says “SAN FRANCISCO”. No ball caps or insignia on any uniforms. That includes dolphins. Station guards at the forward and aft end of the mess decks. I don’t want any of our guests wandering around.”
“Aye, sir. It’s a good thing the weather is reasonably calm. As long as we keep the speed down, a lot of them can stay topside,” the Chief of the Boat replied.
“That’s my intention,” Hunter said. “Until we fill the space topside, I only want the injured below decks.”
“Skipper, the EMT team will set up a triage in the mess decks, but I’ll still need to use the wardroom as an operating room and I will probably need to use the twelve-man berthing as a hospital ward for the seriously injured,” Doc Pugh stated. “The EMT team will have to handle the initial diagnosis and treatment. I still have LCDR Jones to worry about and I expect that there will be some seriously injured people in the water.”
“OK, set it up with the Chop and the COB. Keep guards on the spaces that you use,” Hunter replied. “And, COB, I want at least two armed men topside. I’ll have an additional one up on the sail. I want everyone searched and anything that could be a weapon seized. That includes any injured men. I don’t expect any trouble, but better safe than sorry.”
“Yes, sir,” the two chimed as they departed control to get ready for their guests.
23 Jun 2000, 1740LT (0940Z)
The black sub raced all out across the crystal blue sea, leaving a wide, frothy white wake behind it. The sooner they arrived there, the better for the survivors' chances.
Jonathan Hunter and Jeff Miller, both with 9 mm Berettas strapped to their hips, stood together on the bridge. Seaman Lipinski, carrying an M-16, joined them.
Overhead, a pair of S-3B Vikings from the NIMITZ made lazy circles in the cloudless pale blue sky. Higher still, a pair of F-14s orbited like sea eagles looking for prey.
Below decks, the sub was ready to receive their unexpected guests. The question still remained unanswered of what to do with them after they were plucked from the water.
"Captain, JA," the 7MC blared, disturbing the stillness on the bridge.
Hunter picked up the handset and said, "Captain."
"Captain, this is Durstin Turnstill. I know you don't think much of me, and with good reason. What you are doing for these people is great. I want to help. I speak Bahasa, the local dialect. Let me be your interpreter."
Hunter thought for a minute. The Australian cost them valuable time and had been of no use so far. Maybe he would be useful after all. But, could he be trusted?
Finally Hunter replied, "OK Mr. Turnstill. Tell the Chief of the Watch to get you a harness and deck traveler. Report to the COB topside. And thank you."
As they approached the site, the sub slowed. Miller ordered, "Lower the outboard." He would use it to maneuver in close to survivors and to protect them from being hit by the great bronze main screw.
The COB led the search and rescue party as they rushed topside. They hurried to lay out their equipment, ready for instant use.
The plaintive cries from men in the water slowly became audible above the slight wind as the first of the flotsam drifted past the boat.
As Miller carefully maneuvered the sub through the remains of the frigate, they came upon a group of ten survivors huddled together, floating in their life jackets. The shipwrecked sailors eagerly paddled toward the waiting submarine and attempted to pull themselves onboard with the lines thrown by the SAR party. Most were too weak from their harrowing experience to actually get aboard without help. Seaman Osterburg led the rescue swimmers into the water. Together with the SAR party topside, the SAR swimmers helped the bedraggled survivors aboard SAN FRANCISCO.
Turnstill shouted encouragement and instructions to the men in the water in both Bahasa and English.
As each new survivor was plucked from the water, they were given a cursory check for major injuries and a more careful search for weapons. The injured were then carefully lowered through the hatch to eager hands below waiting to aid them. The EMT team treated those with minor injuries and worked to stabilize those with more serious problems.
The submarine quickly became the center of a mass of survivors, all clamoring to be pulled aboard. The process worked reasonably smoothly. The severely injured, primarily burns, concussions, and broken bones from the explosion, were triaged topside and treated in the wardroom. Everyone else huddled just aft of the sail, topside.
The beds in the twelve man berthing area were soon full. Wardroom berthing, and then the chiefs’ quarters, were pressed into service as additional medical wards.
Every crewman with even the most rudimentary medical experience was busy. Seaman Martinez found himself in the Engineer's stateroom administering IVs to three badly burned survivors. Chief Jones and three of
