Submarines

I recently read a story about the submarine USS Jimmy Carter (SSN 23) returning to its home port in Bremerton, Washington flying the Jolly Roger. Being a former submarine sailor, I took a measure of pride in seeing the picture, and it made me wonder about a couple of things. First, what did the boat do to fly that flag, and, secondly, what happened to its clandestine predecessor USS Parche (SSN 683). Before I go into that, here’s the picture of the Jimmy Carter flying the flag (courtesy of Lt. Cmdr. Michael Smith via DVIDS):

USS Jimmy Carter:

What did USS Jimmy Carter do to fly the pirate flag? We probably won’t know for years (if ever). We can speculate based on some of the submarine capabilities. For instance, we know the Seawolf class submarine is incredibly quiet (by some estimates 70 times quieter than the Los Angeles class). We know it has an extra hundred foot section in the hull (called the Multi Mission Platform) and can dive deeper than the Los Angeles or Sturgeon class boats. It can allegedly transport Seal teams and their equipment, tap into underwater communication cables, and much more – none of which can be confirmed.

How does that help us guess at the boat’s mission. Given that the Jimmy Carter is a West Coast submarine, we can speculate that its successful mission involved North Korea.What exactly, we will likely never know as it will be shrouded in secrecy for decades to come. They could have landed SEAL teams for intelligence gathering, retrieved missile fragments from North Korea’s recent launches, or any number of other operations. Whatever they did, in keeping with the submarine force’s legendary silence, we won’t know.

Why the Jolly Roger, though? The practice of flying the pirate flag is a navy tradition signifying a successful mission. According to the Washington Post, the practice began in WWII with the Royal Navy. The article tells us symbols often adorn the flags to reflect what the mission accomplished. Jimmy Carter‘s flag had one or possibly two unidentified symbols on it, which only adds to the mystery. Whatever the mission, Bravo Zulu to the crew for a job well done!

USS Parche:

Now for USS Parche (SSN 683), the super secret Sturgeon class submarine whose mantle USS Jimmy Carter inherited. According to Wikipedia, the Parche is, as of 2007, the most decorated ship in the history of the US Navy. Recipient of 9 Presidential Unit Citations (PUC), 10 Navy Unit Commendations (NUC), and 13 Navy Expeditionary Medals, Parche remains a mystery. Decommissioned in 2004, her sail resides in Bremerton Washington. Note the interesting hull appendage. I wonder what purpose it served…

The Parche‘s preserved sail in Bremerton:

Again, according to Wikipedia, Parche recovered Soviet missile fragments and was thought of as a key component of the National Underwater Reconnaissance Office. The book Blind Man’s Bluff claims the submarine tapped into Soviet communications cables during Operation Ivy Bells. Because most of USS Parche‘s missions remain highly classified, these claims remain unsubstantiated. One of my instructors at prototype in Idaho Falls, Idaho, served on Parche. He wore a few of the PUCs and NUCs, but claimed he didn’t know why the boat received the awards.

Based on her decorations alone, Parche deserved to fly the pirate flag, although I don’t know if she did. Regardless, I think it’s only fitting to give USS Parche (SSN 683) a Bravo Zulu as well!

Connect with me:

What do you think earned USS Jimmy Carter (SSN 23) the right to fly the Jolly Roger? Leave me a comment and let me know your thoughts. If you’d rather, drop me an email at bill@williamlstuart.com. Connect with me on social media, too! I’m on Twitter, Facebook, Goodreads, and Pinterest. Say hi and let’s talk submarines (or books, nuclear power, writing, etc.)! I always enjoy meeting new friends!

Idaho:

When you think of Idaho, what is your first impression? For me, prototype training in Idaho Falls as a US Navy Nuclear Reactor operator is first thought. For others, skiing, hiking, and amazing vistas come to mind. Still others think of potatoes. Many conspiracy theorists believe the US moon landing was actually filmed at Craters of the Moon National Park and we never set foot on the moon. All those things make Idaho uniquely Idaho. Today I want to tell you about a  Navy facility in the Idaho wilderness. At the facility, engineers experiment with the latest in submarine hull design! Yep, submarines in Idaho!

Submarines in Idaho?

What? Submarines in Idaho? Hey, we once trained to run submarine nuclear power plants in Idaho, so why not? And, it makes sense when you think about the facility. Called the Acoustic Research Detachment (ARD) in Bayview, Idaho, the site, located on the southern end of Lake Pend Orielle, performs research, development, test and evaluation of submarine acoustic stealth technology. Cool, you might say, but why Idaho?

According to Wikipedia, the lake, located in the Northern Idaho Panhandle, and fed by the Clark Fork and Pack Rivers is 43 miles long and 1150 feet deep in places (like near the test facility). At depths below 100 feet, the water is a constant 39F. The lake has a flat muddy bottom, and coupled with little boat traffic at night, makes it a perfect acoustic test location.

Why is this important? Well, as a former submarine sailor, I appreciate the need for silence on boats (yes, submarines are boats and surface ships are ships). While surface ships can operate quietly, stealth is especially crucial for submarines. The ARD helps in the mission.

ARD has its own fleet of submarines. An article by the LA Times says the subs are up to 88 feet long (roughly 1/4 size of a real submarine). The latest model, LSV-2 (large scale vehicle), is about 120 feet.  Cutthroat (LSV-2 modeled on the Virginia class), and Kokanee  (LSV-1 modeled on the Seawolf class) comprise part of the fleet. Rumors say at least 5 others call the site home. I read another article that named the boats. In addition to the boats listed above, the Dolly Varden, Pike, Whitefish, and Steelhead round out the fleet.

ARD:

Officially, and according to the Naval Sea Systems Command website, the purpose of ARD is as follows.

These state-of-the-art facilities support a wide variety of research and technology development programs ranging from submarine propulsor development to the calibration of full-scale acoustic transducers. Detachment personnel supporting the experiments form a highly capable and versatile workforce providing ARD customers a timely and quality outcome. They work closely with project scientists, engineers and technicians throughout the Carderock Division and other Navy and private organizations, to plan and conduct operations and experiments on the lake.

The results obtained during past experiments have been extremely valuable to the Navy, especially in the area of submarine propulsor design, sonar dome development, submarine construction cost avoidance, and the development of several critical submarine design features. Future plans include critical support of current and future Navy submarine design in the area of structural acoustics, hydroacoustics, propulsor development, target strength reduction, and related experiments using the unique capabilities of the ARD.  The Large Scale Vehicle-2 (LSV-2), a large model of the VIRGINIA Class submarine, is being used extensively in the area of propulsor research. Large scale buoyant submarine models support testing in the area of submarine structural acoustic and hydroacoustic technology.  Target strength testing is conducted using the Intermediate Scale Measurement System (ISMS), which provides a unique acoustic test capability unsurpassed by any other available facility.

Surface Ships:

The ARD also houses a model of the Zumwalt class of destroyers. Officially the Advanced Electric Ship Demonstrator (AESD), they call the ship Sea Jet. As I mentioned before, surface ships like to be quiet, too, and this facility helps make that a reality.  As every submariner knows, there are only 2 types of ships – submarines and targets. If you are a target rider, quiet can help you, too!

Idaho and submarines seems an odd combination, until you look at why they exist. Then it makes perfect sense. Although almost 400 miles from the ocean, ARD makes great contributions to the submarine community. The improvements enhance the safety and effectiveness of US Navy boats. For that, and on behalf of submarine sailors former, current and future, thanks ARD!!

Have you been to Idaho? Maybe visited ARD or Lake Pend Orielle? Maybe prototype like me?  Are you a former submarine sailor? Despite the brutal winters, did you enjoy Idaho? Leave me a comment and let me know!

Connect with me:

Want to connect on social media? Please feel free to contact me on Twitter, Facebook, and Goodreads or just email me at bill@williamlstuart.com!

USS Thresher (SSN593):

On April 10, 1963 USS Thresher (SSN593) was conducting sea trials after overhaul in Portsmouth, NH. Due to a series of unfortunate events, all hands were lost when the submarine sank. 129 sailors and shipyard personnel lost their lives that day. The incident led to a new emphasis on submarine safety. In this post, I want to pay tribute to the boat and crew, and the highlight the changes the tragedy brought to the submarine force.

According to the National Geographic, Thresher was at or near test depth when the reactor shut down. Without the power of the reactor to provide propulsion, the boat sank below its crush depth. According to reports from the USS Skylark, a submarine rescue ship accompanying Thresher, sonar operators heard a sound like air rushing into an air tank. Thresher was no more.

What happened?

The cause of the reactor shutdown has not been determined. The most prevalent theory is that a seawater piping joint in the engine room failed. The water from the failed joint sprayed the electronics and forced the automatic reactor shutdown (reactor scram). According to Wikipedia, the reactor plant operating procedures at the time precluded doing fast recovery startups of the reactor plant after a scram. We practiced that evolution many times during my years aboard USS Sandlance (SSN660). Procedures also did not allow pulling steam from the plant while shutdown to drive the boat to the surface.

Additionally, the other emergency system failure was that of blowing the ballast tanks to cause the boat to surface. Anyone who watched the movie Hunt for Red October will recall the scene where USS Dallas comes flying out of the water after blowing the ballast tanks. Thresher tried to do that, too, but the design of the system failed. Instead of pumping air into the ballast tanks and blowing the water out to provide the necessary buoyancy, the condensation in the blow lines froze and stopped the flow of air. Since the boat had no power and couldn’t blow the water out of the ballast tanks, Thresher was doomed. All US submarines now have measures to prevent condensation and subsequent freezing of the blow lines.

Subsafe:

The tragedy, one of two for the US Navy’s nuclear submarine force (the other being USS Scorpion in 1968), led to the SUBSAFE program. Wikipedia tells us that SUBSAFE is the Navy’s quality assurance program designed to maintain the safety of the nuclear submarine fleet. It provides maximum reasonable assurance that the subs hulls remain watertight and can recover from unanticipated flooding. SUBSAFE only refers to the systems exposed to sea pressure or that are critical to flooding recovery. Tight controls manage the systems. SUBSAFE materials are subject to traceability of the source material back to the lots from the mine, the smelting and hardening processes, etc. The traceability ends at the installation in a SUBSAFE system.

Admiral Rickover also changed the reactor plant operating procedures to include a Fast Recovery Startup. This allows immediate restart of the reactor plant (as noted in my comment above). Boats can also withdraw steam to get the ship to the surface in the event of emergency.

The 129 sailors and shipyard personnel who perished live on in the memories of every US Navy submarine sailor. We were and are a better, safer service for their sacrifice and we honor them on this day. RIP USS Thresher. Shipmates, rest your oars. We have the watch.

Connect with me:

Want to know more about submarines or The Gemstone Chronicles? Connect with me on social media! I’m on Twitter, Facebook, Goodreads, and Pinterest! Stop by and say hi! Let’s start a conversation.

Reactor Critical!

In a previous post, I talked about the path I took at the beginning of my Navy career to get to and through Naval Nuclear Power School. I called it Reactor Startup. Now, I want to talk about the next phase of my career – my time aboard USS Sandlance (SSN660). I call this part Reactor Critical! A critical reactor, despite the somewhat negative connotation of the term, simply means the reactor is self-sustaining. I thought it was an appropriate analogy.

USS Sandlance (SSN 660):

I reported aboard Sandlance in October 1985. The first time I walked down Pier Mike in Charleston, SC, I had no idea what to expect. Yes, I had graduated from Nuke School and prototype, but now I was headed to a submarine and the real Navy world. No longer a student, but a fleet sailor.

I reported aboard as a nub (non-useful body), non-qual (unqualified person), dinq (OK, technically I wasn’t delinquent in qualification – yet), flob (free-loading oxygen breather). Translated, it meant I was pretty useless and everyone made me painfully aware of the fact. There was a ton of pressure to qualify as quickly as possible! In a way, it was a lot like being a student again…

My first underway was an experience I will never completely forget. I don’t remember where we were going, but I remember standing watch – probably fire watch since I wasn’t good for much else, seasick as a dog. Once we secured the maneuvering watch and dove, I was allowed to hit the rack – in the torpedo room. Yep, my first rack on the boat was right next to a MK-48 torpedo. So, seasick and miserable, I crawled into the rack and went to sleep – only to be rudely awakened by the stern light pole falling from its bracket in the overhead of the torpedo room and landing on me. My submarine career was off to a rousing start…

Critical Qualifications:

Things got better, and qualifications commenced. I was lucky, too, since I didn’t have to mess crank! For my nuke quals, it meant learning everything from the reactor tunnel aft. For submarine quals, sonar, torpedoes, the diesel generator, diving the boat, the oxygen generator, and many other systems had to be learned. Reactor operators (ROs) quals included AMR2UL, electrical operator, throttleman, RO, and SRO. And yes, I even got to make the reactor critical! Then, if you chose to, it was Engineering Watch Supervisor (EWS), and later Engineering Officer of the Watch (EOOW). When I was aboard Sandlance, EWS was as far as the enlisted could qualify.

I don’t recall how long it took to qualify all of those watches, but I do know that I qualified submarines in December 1986 while I was on the Med Run. Here is my Submarine Qualification Certificate.

Fun times:

We did get to see and do some interesting things on the Med Run. We spent a fair amount of time in La Maddalena, Italy (a little island off the tip of Sardinia), where we participated in the Submarine Gladiator games. Despite its age and condition, I still have my t-shirt from those games!

Luckily, I got a chance to visit Rome, Italy. I visited the Vatican, the Pantheon, Circus Maximus, the Coliseum, and many other amazing sites. We pulled into Toulon, France, where I got to play Shore Patrol for a night. I was paired with a sailor from the USS Savannah (AOR-4) and the things we saw and the people we had to escort back to the ships… let’s just say it was an interesting night! Those stories, though, are for another time! After my night of shore patrol, I hopped a train to Monaco and spent the weekend in Monte Carlo. Monte Carlo is an amazing place. The first picture is the harbor and the second is the palace where Prince Rainier and Princess Grace lived. Bear in mind that the pictures were taken in 1986, so things may have changed! We gambled at the Loews Casino and had a ball!

Submarine life:

Of course, submarine life isn’t all just fun and games and visiting interesting ports. There is the day-to-day operational stuff, both at sea and in port, maintenance, training, and the stress of knowing that the hungry sea was lurking just outside the hull ready to crumple the boat like a beer can. In my 3 and a half years on Sandlance, I only recall one actual fight, so it’s a testament to the mindset of the submariners that they can handle the stress without cracking.

Many people ask me what the sleeping arrangements were like. Well, to say they were cramped would be an understatement. More like sleeping in stacked coffins than anything else. And what about food? When I tell people that we had to load food for months, that we stacked cans on the deck to the level of the first rack, and that we had a cook that tried to make pancakes from mayonnaise (because we had run out of fresh eggs), they just shake their heads in disbelief. And, when you mention the Sony Betamax entertainment system, most have no idea what I am even talking about!

One of the coolest (both literally and figuratively) places Sandlance went was under the Arctic ice cap. While we didn’t get to break through the ice and surface, I still got my Bluenose. We also visited the US Virgin Islands, the Bahamas, Puerto Rico (I missed that cruise), and Halifax, Nova Scotia.

Finally, though, Sandlance was due to head to overhaul in Portsmouth, NH. We left the warm climate of Charleston, SC and arrived at Portsmouth Naval Shipyard in Kittery, Maine in mid-1988. Interestingly, USS Sandlance was launched at Portsmouth in 1969.

Leaving Sandlance:

For me, this was the beginning of the end of my time on the boat. A short year and a couple of months later, I left the only submarine I ever served on and went to recruiting duty in Americus, GA. A future post about my time as a recruiter will be the last post of this series as I wrap up my Navy career.

I could spend much more time telling you about submarines and some of the things that happened underway. Many of them are funny, some are tense, and others show the perils of submarine duty. I will say that to this day, I miss the people, but don’t miss the boat so much! However, the experiences I had, and the people I met, helped me in my post-Navy career in ways I cannot even begin to explain. One of the characters in my books, The Gemstone Chronicles, uses knowledge gained from his days in the Navy to help out with the quest to find the stolen gemstones. That character was loosely based on me!

Are you a former Sandlance crew member, or a former or current submarine sailor, leave me a comment and tell me some of your experiences. As always, shares and feedback and greatly appreciated!

Connect with me:

Connect with me on social media on Twitter, Facebook, and Goodreads, or email me at bill@williamlstuart.com. To make sure you don’t miss a post, subscribe to the blog!

Commence reactor start up! The statement itself conjures up many memories for me, and can be a metaphor for the start of my Navy career. As a refresher (for those who don’t know), I spent ten years in the Navy as an electronics technician, nuclear trained reactor operator, and finally, a recruiter. In the Navy, there are three different enlisted nuclear rates – Machinist Mate (MM) that includes the Engineering Laboratory Technician (ELT), Electrician Mate (EM), and Electronics Technician (ET) home of the Reactor Operators. Now, I have to admit that whoever decided to make me an ET knew that my mechanical skills were…um…less than optimal for the other rates.

My career started in Great Lakes, Illinois at Recruit Training Command (boot camp). After boot camp in Great Mistakes er..Lakes, I headed off to Electronics Technician “A” School (during which I spent a grueling winter on the shores of Lake Michigan). After graduating, it was off to Orlando for Nuclear Power School (aka Uncle Hyman’s School for Misguided Children – nicknamed for the father of Naval Nuclear Power, Admiral Hyman Rickover). After warm sunny Orlando, it was off to Idaho (yes, a Navy school in Idaho) for prototype training, where I actually ran an operating nuclear power plant.

This is me with my Recruit Training Command Company. We were the Color Company of our graduating class (I’m in the lower right hand corner of the picture).

One very cool thing about graduation was the keynote speaker. Admiral Grace Hopper – one of the pioneers of modern computers – was our graduation dignitary! The lovely and adorable Lana often uses this quote attributed to Admiral Hopper: “A ship in port is safe, but that’s not ships are built for.” Powerful words from an amazing woman!

As I mentioned earlier, I was lucky enough to spend a winter in Great Lakes attending ET “A” School. We learned to troubleshoot electronics gear and managed to survive the snow and ice of a northern Illinois winter. For someone who had lived in South Georgia for a long time, it was cold and miserable!! Below is my ET “A” school graduating class.

Sunny Orlando was the next stop on my Navy journey. Before Nuke School started, I was a Master At Arms at the Transient Personnel Detachment. What does all that mean? We were the shore patrol for the barracks for the Nuke School drops that were headed for the fleet, or, depending on the reason for the drop, perhaps out of the Navy. Too many stories to tell about that temporary duty station, but it was certainly an eye-opening experience! The fun had to come to an end, though, and it was off to Nuclear Power School.

Nuclear Power School Orlando, FL:

How can one describe Nuclear Power School? To say it was difficult would be a massive understatement. Basically, you crammed mathematics, nuclear physics, electrical power and generating equipment, nuclear reactor technology, thermodynamics, chemistry, materials science, metallurgy, health physics, reactor principles, and reactor ethics into 6 months. Taught at the college level, our classes ran from 8:00 – 4:30 pm, and students still had to stand watches. Oh, and you had to do homework at school since the training materials were classified and couldn’t leave the building.

Grades and studying:

That was 40 classroom hours per week. I was on suggested 20 study hours while I was in Orlando, so I had at least 60 hours per week in the classroom. Others had mandatory study of 40 hours, so 80 hours per week in the classroom. Add to that the pressure to excel or even to keep up, and it’s understandable why the attrition rate was and still is, by some accounts, > 70%! We had to maintain at least a 2.5 GPA on a 4.0 scale, and the popular view was 2.8 and skate! Somehow, I made it through with a decent GPA and it was off to Idaho! Here is the 8407 Class picture. Interestingly enough, my future Executive Officer (XO) on the Sandlance is in this picture.

Prototype in Idaho Falls:

I arrived in Idaho Falls, Idaho on February 14, 1985 to three feet of snow. After Great Lakes, though, I was ready for the snow. What I wasn’t ready for was prototype. Yes, we still had a lot of theory to learn, but now we were actually running a nuclear reactor.

We worked 12 hours days on a rotating shift, rode a bus for an hour in each direction (which turned our 12 hour days into 14 hour days), and generally lived at the site. Prototype training lasted 6 months, just like Nuclear Power School, and was just as intense – though in a different way. A lot of students who did well in the theoretical world of Nuke school struggled putting theory into practice.

Again, with a lot of help from my sea dad, my advisers, and my classmates, I made it through  prototype. I actually performed a reactor start up for the first time at prototype. Idaho Falls was its own adventure, but that is a story for another time! I was the second person in my class to qualify Reactor Operator. My orders sent me to the USS Sandlance (SSN660) home ported in Charleston, SC.

There you have an outline of the beginning of my time in the US Navy. In a future post, I will talk about my time aboard USS Sandlance (SSN660) a Sturgeon Class fast attack submarine. If I hadn’t had these experiences, I couldn’t have used them in my fantasy adventure series The Gemstone Chronicles!

I love to connect with other submariners and current and former Navy nukes. If you are one, or know one, please leave me a comment and let me know about your experiences. As always, shares and feedback are always welcome!

Connect with me:

You can also connect with me on social media. Find me on Twitter, Facebook, and Goodreads,, or send me an email at bill@williamlstuart.com. And, so you don’t miss a post, subscribe to the blog!

One of the main characters in The Gemstone Chronicles is Beebop, grandfather of Aidan and Maggie and husband to Nana. In the books, Beebop is a US Navy submarine veteran. News flash! So am I!!

Okay, I admit it. I borrowed some of my own experiences as a nuclear trained electronics technician for Beebop’s character. In a tribute to him and to submarine sailors everywhere, I thought I would do a post about the US Navy’s submarine force and my old boat, a Sturgeon Class fast attack, the USS Sandlance (SSN660)!

We used to wear ball caps like this instead of the “dixie cups” that people often associate with sailors. Ball caps were much more comfortable!! Note the silver dolphins for the enlisted sailors. Officers wore similar ball caps, but their dolphins were gold.

My lovely and adorable bride (who was the inspiration for Nana in the books) gave me this drawing of my old boat as a present. Hand drawn by the artist, I got the first of 100 originals! Please forgive the quality of the photos.

For those who don’t know about Naval traditions, there are a number of places where sailors become members of somewhat exclusive clubs. For instance, when you cross the Equator for the first time, you transition from a Pollywog to a Shellback. When you cross the International Date Line, you become a member of the Realm of The Golden Dragon. I never got to experience either of those while on the boat (although I have crossed both on airplanes), but I did get to something that is a bit more rare. The USS Sandlance did under ice operations and we crossed the Arctic Circle. That makes me a Blue Nose!! Below is my official Blue Nose Certificate.

Submarine sailors are a different breed. They have to be able to handle being underwater for extended periods of time, with little to no communication with the outside world. They exist in a hostile environment where the hungry sea wants to crush the boat, where sonar (an inexact science) is the eyes and ears of the submarine, and nuclear energy provides the power and the ability to remain submerged. Sub sailors make their own water, oxygen, and, as long as there is food, can simply stay at sea. The friendships made on the boat can last a lifetime – even if separated by years and distance.

I spent 3 and a half years aboard USS Sandlance before departing for recruiting duty. I earned my Dolphins (Submarine Qualification Pin), got my Blue Nose Certificate, and learned that when the lights go out underway, it becomes so dark that it is disorienting. While I can’t say that I miss the boat (and that unique boat smell that can only be gotten rid of by using Gain detergent) , I do miss the people!

This last picture is me in 1989 when I reported to Naval Recruiting District Atlanta for recruiting duty. Note that I am wearing my Dolphins and my “rookie cookie” recruiting badge.

So, there you have a quick tour of my time – and the fictitious Beebop’s – time in the Navy. I didn’t dwell on the time I spent going to electronics school or Nuclear Power School in Orlando and Idaho, mostly because it was academic and boring.

Are you a sub veteran or know someone who is? If so, leave me a comment about your time on your boat. I would love to hear about your experiences!!