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Authors: Rick Campbell
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their battle lanterns cutting through the thick black smoke. Two hose teams would attack the fire from Engine Room Lower Level, one from the port side and the other from starboard, while the other two hose teams did the same in Engine Room Middle Level, hoping to contain the fire before it spread into Engine Room Upper Level.
Their approach would be slow, hampered by low visibility from the dense smoke. It would be especially treacherous in middle and upper level if the fire spread, as the men advanced along narrow walkways suspended in the air between the hull and the Engine Room machinery. Their advance would be further complicated by the bulky air cylinders on their backs and the stiff, heavy hoses they dragged slowly aft as they negotiated the myriad turns and changes in elevation.
“Heavy black smoke in the Engine Room. Visibility limited to five feet.”
If the crew failed to contain the fire and it spread out of control, the temperature in the Engine Room would reach 1,000 degrees, four times what it took to melt a person’s skin. They would be forced to abandon the compartment, letting the fire ravage the Engine Room until it consumed the oxygen it needed to survive, eventually extinguishing itself. The evacuation would be frantic, the crew desperately attempting to account for the original personnel on watch and every man who entered the compartment to combat the fire. The Engine Room’s watertight door would glow red-hot as the fire destroyed the submarine’s essential equipment—the main engines, electrical generators, and water desalinizers. The Kentucky would be forced to blow to the surface, the once powerful warship a drifting hulk, waiting to be towed back to port, its missiles offloaded, and the submarine most likely scrapped.
“The fire has spread to Engine Room Middle Level.”
Scanning the sonar display on the Conn, Tom noted two traces on the monitor, then called out, “Sonar, Conn. Report all contacts.”
“Conn, Sonar. Hold two sonar contacts: Sierra four-one, bearing one-one-zero, classified merchant, and Sierra four-two, bearing two-five-zero, also classified merchant. Both contacts are classified as far range contacts.”
Tom acknowledged Sonar’s report, then reached up and twisted the port periscope locking ring clockwise, waiting while the scope slid silently up through the ship’s sail, folding the periscope handles down as the scope emerged from its well.
“Hose Three has ruptured. Securing Hose Three.”
“Helm, ahead one-third. Dive, make your depth eight-zero feet. All stations, Conn. Proceeding to periscope depth.”
Silence descended on Control as the deck tilted upward. The submarine was vulnerable during its slow ascent to periscope depth, unable to rapidly move out of the way if a surface ship was nearby on a collision course. There would be no conversation in Control, except for the occasional depth report, from the time the Officer of the Deck ordered the submarine’s ascent to periscope depth until, peering through the scope as it broke the surface of the water, he announced there were no close contacts. Even though Sonar had reported no close contacts, the algorithms were sometimes wrong and the submarine’s sonar was not foolproof; occasionally very quiet targets, particularly warships, went undetected.
“The fire has spread to Engine Room Upper Level. Opening the Engine Room watertight door. Sending in Missile Compartment Hose teams Five and Six.”
Years ago, Tom would have rotated on the periscope during the ascent. But protocols had changed. Peering into the eyepiece, Tom looked straight ahead, adjusting the scope optics to maximum elevation. He looked up into the dark water, scanning for evidence of ships as the Kentucky rose toward the surface.
“Smoke has spread to Missile Compartment. All personnel in Missile Compartment don emergency air breathing protection.”
“Passing one-five-zero feet,” the Diving Officer announced.
A small disk of
Their approach would be slow, hampered by low visibility from the dense smoke. It would be especially treacherous in middle and upper level if the fire spread, as the men advanced along narrow walkways suspended in the air between the hull and the Engine Room machinery. Their advance would be further complicated by the bulky air cylinders on their backs and the stiff, heavy hoses they dragged slowly aft as they negotiated the myriad turns and changes in elevation.
“Heavy black smoke in the Engine Room. Visibility limited to five feet.”
If the crew failed to contain the fire and it spread out of control, the temperature in the Engine Room would reach 1,000 degrees, four times what it took to melt a person’s skin. They would be forced to abandon the compartment, letting the fire ravage the Engine Room until it consumed the oxygen it needed to survive, eventually extinguishing itself. The evacuation would be frantic, the crew desperately attempting to account for the original personnel on watch and every man who entered the compartment to combat the fire. The Engine Room’s watertight door would glow red-hot as the fire destroyed the submarine’s essential equipment—the main engines, electrical generators, and water desalinizers. The Kentucky would be forced to blow to the surface, the once powerful warship a drifting hulk, waiting to be towed back to port, its missiles offloaded, and the submarine most likely scrapped.
“The fire has spread to Engine Room Middle Level.”
Scanning the sonar display on the Conn, Tom noted two traces on the monitor, then called out, “Sonar, Conn. Report all contacts.”
“Conn, Sonar. Hold two sonar contacts: Sierra four-one, bearing one-one-zero, classified merchant, and Sierra four-two, bearing two-five-zero, also classified merchant. Both contacts are classified as far range contacts.”
Tom acknowledged Sonar’s report, then reached up and twisted the port periscope locking ring clockwise, waiting while the scope slid silently up through the ship’s sail, folding the periscope handles down as the scope emerged from its well.
“Hose Three has ruptured. Securing Hose Three.”
“Helm, ahead one-third. Dive, make your depth eight-zero feet. All stations, Conn. Proceeding to periscope depth.”
Silence descended on Control as the deck tilted upward. The submarine was vulnerable during its slow ascent to periscope depth, unable to rapidly move out of the way if a surface ship was nearby on a collision course. There would be no conversation in Control, except for the occasional depth report, from the time the Officer of the Deck ordered the submarine’s ascent to periscope depth until, peering through the scope as it broke the surface of the water, he announced there were no close contacts. Even though Sonar had reported no close contacts, the algorithms were sometimes wrong and the submarine’s sonar was not foolproof; occasionally very quiet targets, particularly warships, went undetected.
“The fire has spread to Engine Room Upper Level. Opening the Engine Room watertight door. Sending in Missile Compartment Hose teams Five and Six.”
Years ago, Tom would have rotated on the periscope during the ascent. But protocols had changed. Peering into the eyepiece, Tom looked straight ahead, adjusting the scope optics to maximum elevation. He looked up into the dark water, scanning for evidence of ships as the Kentucky rose toward the surface.
“Smoke has spread to Missile Compartment. All personnel in Missile Compartment don emergency air breathing protection.”
“Passing one-five-zero feet,” the Diving Officer announced.
A small disk of
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