quote:

A little known incident.

http://www.navsource.org/archives/08/0860402.jpg
http://navsource.org/archives/08/pdf/0859348.pdf


I was on the passive stack holding a dozen close contacts ranging from trawlers to cruisers when Senior Chief Shankland leaned over close to my headset and said, "Stay on the submarine." I said, a bit louder, "Stay on the submarine, aye." and swung around to pick him up. The Chief turned on the papertrace signal analyzer and 1" tape recorder. We already had the guys class, now we were going to read his hull number and survey his machinery for Nastypac.


A few minutes of quiet study later I picked up a transient. "Rackety-rackety-rackety-bam". This is what we in the sonar shack call 'important information'. It is fortunate to be looking at a fellow who does this. I sang out, "We have a torpedo tube door!" intending everyone in the shack heard me, headsets or no. There next came the sound of a ten ton toilet. I sang out "We have a water slug!". As I finished speaking came a sound similar to, "Bwwawaaarrinnngggggg!" I sang out, Loud this time, "HIGH SPEED SCREWS!! Torpedo in the water bearing 286!" Chief Shankland took a moment to give the Conn what everyone in Ops had just heard, then leaned over and said, "Give me continuous reports." I answered up, without shouting, and began to sing a salty old song as Battle Stations ran through the boat.


"Bearing... mark! 286!" I swung a few degrees left, then past the weapon, counting one torpedo, then left again to center up. "Bearing,,, mark! 286!" I swung left, right, left. "Bearing... mark! 286!" Left, right, left. "Bearing... mark! 286!" Left, right, left. "Bearing... mark! 286!" Left, right, left. "Bearing... mark! 286!" Left, right, left. "Bearing... mark! 286!" Left, right, left. "Bearing... mark! 286!" Left, right, left. "Bearing... mark! 286!" Left, right, left. "Bearing... mark! 286!"


At this point I began to become concerned. Seafarers are a superstitious lot and submariners are seafarers, just a bit lower than most. It is thought bad luck to repeatedly call the same bearing on an incoming weapon. If anything bad happened, I was pretty sure I was going to hear about it. I wasn't looking forward to it. So I was motivated, and pleased to be able to report anything else. "Bearing...mark! 286 a half! My next report was 287. So I did call a half bearing. The Fire Control boys took it and ran, and as I was reporting 288, they were reporting our life expectancy.


Of course, that isn't all that was up. The Conn Officer ordered, "Left standard rudder, ahead flank, watch your bubble, Sound Battle Stations." The Sternplanesman repeated his order to put the rudder over while the Sailplanesman interrupted, then rang a Flank Bell and reported, "Engine room answers Ahead Flank, Sir." In the engine room the watch spun everything to the stops. This dropped the pressure in the secondary loop. That kicked the circulation pumps into high. The Reactor Control Operator pulled the rods all the way out. The temperature in the Primary Loop jumped, despite the high volume of coolant. The secondary loop climbed back up to 600 pounds, even though it was dumping through an open pipe. Steam blessed the Main Turbines. The Turbines changed force into force and gave it to the Reduction Gears. The Reduction Gears traded RPMs for Torque and blessed the Shaft. The Shaft carried 15,000 horsepower outside and passed it to the Screw. The Screw did not apply all of that power to the water. I was in the best position to hear all that extra power. It was in my way.


USS Haddo weighed 4,300 tons at neutral buoyancy. Applying maximum power at minimum speed has the same effect as on any other powerfull vehicle. Slippage. On a sports car, the wheels spin. It is similar but different aboard ship. And different again aboard a sub, not so much physically as practically. The flukes of a screw resemble an airplane wing and work the same way. Moving through a fluid medium each creates a differential of pressure. An airplane wing creates a low pressure zone on top, lifting the aircraft. A screw creates a low pressure zone in front, pulling the boat. When the pressure in front is reduced below the vapor pressure of the water, bubbles form. This is cavitation. All of the power the screw is not able to put into the water as thrust is absorbed making air. So, the more power, the more bubbles. The more bubbles, the more noise. This was the point behind ringing a Flank Bell.


I heard the rush of steam hitting the Turbines. I heard the Gears winding up. Most of all I heard the screw react to sudden power. Sailors often imagine their ship has something within resembling life and personality. It is occasions as this that drive such legend. I heard Haddo suddenly draw sharp breath across edged teeth. I heard start a muttering rumble from deep in her guts. I heard it steadily rise in gathering animal fury. I heard the water about the screw being torn to shreds in a simultaneous howl and shriek. It seemed to me Haddo was a little ticked off to see some dumb bastard sic a torpedo on her. I am sure the guys on the stack of that Soviet Nuke were able to hear it, though their torpedo was right in the way. I doubt many of the Soviet ships topside missed that part of the show. There was nothing subtle about it.


As Haddo swung round in a low speed high power turn, she laid a solid wall of bubbles between her and that weapon, 200 feet down. Twenty pounds of alka-seltzer was thrown into the middle of it. This made an excellent active and passive sonar target. I followed the weapon around behind us, through the baffles and out the other side, calling a fresh bearing every two seconds. Haddo centered her rudder and began to pick up speed, clawing for sea room and life. As we passed about twenty knots, flow noise covered everything in white sound and I had to report loss of contact. It was break time. When Haddo began her characteristic 28 knot gallop, the Fire Control team began a count down from thirty. as they passed ten, Captain Rouse got on the 1MC and sang another classic submarine hymn, "Rig for angles and dangles, rig for deep submergence, rig for silent running." With that, he put the nose down twenty degrees and ordered left standard rudder. Haddo dove through the layer and through the looking glass. For all intents, she simply vanished.


Suddenly there was a terrible crash. Startled, that I wasn't dead, I looked to my right seat man, T.N.T. "Terrifying crash, but no ear shattering kaboom! Where's the ear shattering kaboom!?" Tom smiled and said, "Wait for it", one finger extended. The door opened. Shut. Schue was on the case. With everything under control, I pulled out a smoke and Chief Shankland lit it. I gather I did ok. I thanked him, and relaxed. Y'know. In the middle of battle. Above maximum speed. Pointed down. (With a brand new stern planes ram) A moment later Haddo flattened out at 1200 feet at some incredible speed headed back the way she had come ---> straight toward that weapon... and it's owner ...save for water over the hull, as quiet as a black cat that isn't in a dark coal cellar. In another moment Schue was back with coffee all around and news. Good and bad. We voted bad news first and learned half the dishes were in pieces on the galley deck. Battle damage. There was more bad news; E-4 and below would be emptying the pantry later to get at the replacements. That meant me. I knew there would be risk. But it always comes as a shock. The good news turned out to be that Wild Worm had escaped the soup, which tried to jump him when his back was turned. We agreed the good news out weighed the bad while passing under a torpedo rabidly attacking bubbles 1000 feet above. Such are the rigors of battle aboard a Nuke.


About the time we were crushing our cigarettes, Captian Rouse pulled the reins, bringing us to 800 feet and slowing to about 15 knots. So I could hear again. Yeah. The Captain does stuff like this for me, all the time. (author buffs his nails, examines them, hides them behind his back) I looked down a bearing Fire Control provided, and there was Ivan. Six seconds later I reported his turn count. Ivan was at three knots. He had not changed course or speed. That is pretty amateurish. Our Fire Control Solution was still good. We could have launched on him right then and there. Four times. But we were not amateurs. We were American Sailors under fire in peacetime in the middle of a Soviet Task Force conducting a missile exercise we were there to see. If we had fired on Ivan, we would not complete our mission. On top of that, we would probably start a shooting match that might go nuclear and would be difficult to imagine turning out well for Haddo, even on a scale of minutes. Not wanting to kill everyone on Earth and wanting to complete the mission and get home alive sort of narrows down ones options. As little love shared between myself and The Captain, I do have to admit he knows how to drive. With out changing course Haddo passed 250 yards astern of Ivan 200 yards below. At 800 feet we could use full power on the sonar and on order, Thomas N.Trask smacked Ivan with 200,000 watts for just over a second.


This is the submarine equivalent of putting the rambunctious soup pot over Porky Pigs' head and whacking it with the spoon. Whoever was on Ivans' stacks were deaf, perhaps forever. Ivans' fuses were blown, if not his resistors. Ivan was blind. Would be for several long minutes. Ivan knew we were at arms length, too close to even shoot, and that it was not accidental. Torpedo arming distance is 600 yards. So even if they did launch and even if that weapon did hit us, which would be just fantastic luck, it would not explode. And Ivan knew that we had just come from WAAAAAYYYYY over there, so we had speed. Ivan was out of options and totally dependent on mercy. The only way to get it was tip his hat. Flank Out. The alternative was get rammed. The first twenty-five feet of USS Haddo was a steel dome and a spherical sonar array. Tough. Expendable. Then comes a bulkhead that can stand a theoretical 1950 feet of sea pressure, over 850 pounds per square inch. The sail is completely expendable and will knife through Ivans' pressure hull. But we only needed to knock his screw off to make him surface if he can. In his best move of the day, Ivan tipped his hat. I tracked him all the way back to Vladivostok, two hours and sixty miles away. Later that day Haddo watched the fancy new Soviet anti-ship missile miss a stationary barge mounted with radar reflectors. Haddo promptly reported same. Mission accomplished.

Ivan had lost the battle of firepower. Lost the battle of maneuver. Lost the battle of inertia. Lost the battle of technology. And then lost a state secret. To a naval tactic that reached it's apogee before a million eyes at Salamis, under Thucydides, 480 years before the one we call, ...one. Considering the number and types of Soviet vessels present, it seems to me, and I did have as good a view as any of the few so blessed, it could and perhaps should be said that Captain Rouse took on The Soviet Far East Squadron knowing he couldn't shoot and that they already had. Armed with no more than his experience and a nuclear powered club, he beat them up. And then he took their stuff. Considering that thirty years have passed it may even pass muster with the Navy to mention it.

You might look into that.
Kurtis Engle