Read Online A Full Life: Reflections at Ninety by Jimmy Carter - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jimmy Carter
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surface. Our friends entertained us until dawn, utilizing their freedom to serve alcoholic drinks on their ships, and we accepted their hospitality with enthusiasm. None of us ever reached the shore.
The next morning we headed west toward Hawaii, and on the first dive one of our more senior officers, who had been drinking all night, made a terrible mistake in preparation. His job was to be sure that all the main valves were rigged to open at the same time, but he checked only those on the starboard side and was then distracted. When the captain gave the order and electrical signals were sent to the valves, the starboardones opened and water poured into those tanks, while those on the port side remained shut. The ship began to roll over to the right as it was driven downward by our planes at the bow and stern, and we approached the point of capsizing. Only the furious blowing of high-pressure air into the tanks prevented the loss of the Pomfret and its crew. This was the closest our ship ever came to a total disaster. I realized how fragile was my existence, and how fallible were even the most dedicated and experienced seamen.
Afterward, our return to Hawaii was relatively uneventful, and I spent almost every moment on duty learning as much as possible about my own ship and the submarine force. All my capabilities and energy were focused on this desire to excel in my assignment. I was not motivated by any element of competition, because I was the only officer of my seniority on the ship, but I guess subliminally I realized that I would always be compared with other submariners in my Naval Academy class.
My ship was moved from Hawaii to San Diego when the Korean War began, in June 1950, and we operated along the California coast, expecting to be deployed to the war zone to conduct surveillance along the coast of Korea or to rescue downed aviators. This was a few months after our second son, James Earl Carter III, was born. He was named after me but branded by navy nurses at Tripler General Hospital in Hawaii on his wristband as Chip, a name we have used ever since. This duty in San Diego was to be our most unpleasant assignment. The navy base was overcrowded, and the only housing we could find was in a decrepit and crime-ridden area of the city. All submarines were prohibited from using the scarce docking spaces along the shore and required to tie up alongside large ships called “submarine tenders” that were anchored in the bay. We had the same delays and uncertainty with small boat travel as in Norfolk, and my time with Rosalynn and our boys was restricted. We lived in something like a garage apartment, and the landlady was intrusive and overbearing. She had a key to our quarters and would enter to go through our belongings when we were away. She criticized Rosalynn’s housekeeping habits, and even expressed her displeasure about what she found discarded in our garbage. We did enjoy going to the superb San Diego Zoo, and also making some infrequent trips to nearby Tijuana, Mexico.
Lillian Carter and Earl Carter, 1950, San Diego, California.
All members of the submarine force were informed that the navy was building its first ship of any kind since the end of the Second World War. It would be a new type of submersible, with snorkel air intake and designed to operate with extreme quiet so that it could remain undetected and attack enemy (Soviet) submarines while submerged. One officer would be assigned to Electric Boat Company (later General Dynamics Corporation) in New London to represent the government during the final months of construction. The sub would be called “Killer 1,” or more properly USS K-1 .
I submitted my application for this coveted assignment, and later that year, while my parents were visiting us in San Diego, I received orders to report to New London. I was the only officer on the detail and spent the next few months with two major tasks: helping to monitor the final building and testing of the
The next morning we headed west toward Hawaii, and on the first dive one of our more senior officers, who had been drinking all night, made a terrible mistake in preparation. His job was to be sure that all the main valves were rigged to open at the same time, but he checked only those on the starboard side and was then distracted. When the captain gave the order and electrical signals were sent to the valves, the starboardones opened and water poured into those tanks, while those on the port side remained shut. The ship began to roll over to the right as it was driven downward by our planes at the bow and stern, and we approached the point of capsizing. Only the furious blowing of high-pressure air into the tanks prevented the loss of the Pomfret and its crew. This was the closest our ship ever came to a total disaster. I realized how fragile was my existence, and how fallible were even the most dedicated and experienced seamen.
Afterward, our return to Hawaii was relatively uneventful, and I spent almost every moment on duty learning as much as possible about my own ship and the submarine force. All my capabilities and energy were focused on this desire to excel in my assignment. I was not motivated by any element of competition, because I was the only officer of my seniority on the ship, but I guess subliminally I realized that I would always be compared with other submariners in my Naval Academy class.
My ship was moved from Hawaii to San Diego when the Korean War began, in June 1950, and we operated along the California coast, expecting to be deployed to the war zone to conduct surveillance along the coast of Korea or to rescue downed aviators. This was a few months after our second son, James Earl Carter III, was born. He was named after me but branded by navy nurses at Tripler General Hospital in Hawaii on his wristband as Chip, a name we have used ever since. This duty in San Diego was to be our most unpleasant assignment. The navy base was overcrowded, and the only housing we could find was in a decrepit and crime-ridden area of the city. All submarines were prohibited from using the scarce docking spaces along the shore and required to tie up alongside large ships called “submarine tenders” that were anchored in the bay. We had the same delays and uncertainty with small boat travel as in Norfolk, and my time with Rosalynn and our boys was restricted. We lived in something like a garage apartment, and the landlady was intrusive and overbearing. She had a key to our quarters and would enter to go through our belongings when we were away. She criticized Rosalynn’s housekeeping habits, and even expressed her displeasure about what she found discarded in our garbage. We did enjoy going to the superb San Diego Zoo, and also making some infrequent trips to nearby Tijuana, Mexico.
Lillian Carter and Earl Carter, 1950, San Diego, California.
All members of the submarine force were informed that the navy was building its first ship of any kind since the end of the Second World War. It would be a new type of submersible, with snorkel air intake and designed to operate with extreme quiet so that it could remain undetected and attack enemy (Soviet) submarines while submerged. One officer would be assigned to Electric Boat Company (later General Dynamics Corporation) in New London to represent the government during the final months of construction. The sub would be called “Killer 1,” or more properly USS K-1 .
I submitted my application for this coveted assignment, and later that year, while my parents were visiting us in San Diego, I received orders to report to New London. I was the only officer on the detail and spent the next few months with two major tasks: helping to monitor the final building and testing of the
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