Deep Water Lunch

Come with me while I take you out for lunch on a submarine under the waters of Long Island Sound.

I might never have had the opportunity to take you on this trip if my daughter had not married a navy man. Joel was not only a navy man, but a graduate of Annapolis, and the captain of a submarine, the U.S.S. Hartford. This boat (a sub is always called a “boat”, never a “ship”) was the latest in a long line of “Hartfords”, the very first one having been a sailing ship captained by Admiral Farragut of Civil War fame. It was on the bridge of this “Hartford”, back in the nineteenth century where the admiral uttered his famous words, “Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead.” The biography of this intrepid mariner was on the reading list of every subsequent captain of a “Hartford”.

As Captain, Joel was allowed to take family members and prominent people on a V.I.P. cruise. He invited his wife, my son and me. This was a trip I was not going to miss. We drove first to Groton, Connecticut, and found our way past much security to the sub base there. My daughter was driving her husband’s car which had all sorts of military insignia on it, prompting the Marines on guard to give us very smart salutes.

Pants and low shoes were the required dress code for women visitors. Climbing down the hatch in a skirt with an eagle-eyed sailor waiting at the bottom of the ladder might not have been the best idea. To reach the submarine we had to walk out on a pier, and take a left turn over a short gangway to the submarine’s open hatch. I felt as if I were walking on the back of a huge black whale. I gingerly started my climb down a straight metal ladder into the boat and got out of the way quickly for the next person who was coming down right behind me.

Everything was metal down below and all painted navy gray. Joel was there to tell us we were in the control room. He pointed out two young men sitting at a console. One was the helmsman, and the other the planesman. They controlled the boat the way a pilot controls an aircraft, with rudder and diving planes. They keep the boat on an even keel. Sailors wearing ear phones were in the radio room. Borrowing the earphones, we listened to what sounded like bacon frying only to find out it was a recording of the sound of a school of feeding shrimp.

If you are claustrophobic, don’t go into a submarine. There is no room anywhere and there are no windows. You know you are surrounded by metal and you can’t get out once the hatch has closed. The alleyways are narrow. Two people cannot walk abreast. If someone wants to pass you, you have to turn sideways to give them the room they need. But I, personally, was too excited to feel claustrophobic.

Joel ushered us into his cabin, small and very neat. The desk he was working on would be turned up against the wall at night and his bunk would drop down. Among the many phones on his desk was one bright red one – would this be the one a President would ring if there were a national emergency? Joel wouldn’t say.

The “Hartford” was a Los Angeles Class, fast attack, nuclear submarine, and carried 100 officers and men. The only place we were not allowed to visit on the boat was the nuclear engine room. I asked Joel how long the sub could stay under water at one time. He answered that it all depended on how much food they could pack away. Most tours were for three months, but he knew of tours that had lasted six months. The cooks were left at the end of a tour that long with only boxes of spaghetti from all the stores that had been laid on at the beginning of the tour. The morale of the crew is also a factor on how long a sub might stay submerged. As far as fuel is concerned, the boat can stay down for years.

Only men who have undergone many physical and psychiatric tests are allowed to sail as submariners.

The boat got ready to sail to our destination, a part of Long Island Sound deep enough for the sub to submerge. Once under water, we would go to the Officers’ Mess and have our lunch.

The lines holding the boat to the dock were dropped off, the nuclear engines came to life, the anchors were raised and we set off on our way. We sailed on the surface of the Thames River and under a few bridges. My son, Leslie, was harnessed and fastened to a rail as he was given the privilege of standing on the Bridge with Joel. The Bridge is a narrow small area situated on the top of the sub. Leslie thought to himself as he was harnessed in, “I can’t believe I am standing on the Bridge of a One Billion Dollar nuclear attack submarine”. He remembers waving to the men on the fishing boats and pleasure boats that we passed on our way to Long Island Sound.

Once we sailed to an area deep enough for the sub to descend, the order was given to submerge. I listened carefully as Joel issued orders. To my surprise the captain does say “Dive, Dive, Dive” three times. I thought they only said that in the movies.

My daughter and I went to Joel’s cabin where we could watch the process via closed circuit T.V. The camera focused on the periscope and as we slowly descended into the water, we could watch the periscope go down and down until it disappeared and we knew we were completely submerged. There is very little motion in a sub once it is under water. It’s a different story if the sub is on the surface and the water is rough. The men get seasick very quickly as a sub can roll in the waves.

We were free then to roam the sub, and we did. We saw where the men ate; we visited the small galley and marveled that so many meals could be produced from this one small area. We said Hello to sailors sitting in a lounge. I noticed there was a VCR and stacks of videos that were available to the men to watch in their spare time.

We saw where the men slept, rows and rows of bunks on top of one another. There is very little privacy on board. We saw where the torpedoes were stored. If there was any extra space between the torpedoes, some sailor would have made a sleeping place for himself.

Time for lunch and Joel directed us to the Officers’ Mess, quite an elegant room with wood paneling, framed prints of sailing ships on the walls, a highly polished dining room table, and comfortable chairs. Joel pointed out where he sat, at the head of the table. Even if an Admiral were on the boat, Joel would always sit at the head of the table, as he had the responsibility for the boat and he took precedence over everyone.

Lunch was simple, hot dogs and beans, a salad and ice cream for dessert. The boat barely moved while we ate, but the noise of the nuclear engine did drift in. Hard to believe we were sitting together, eating, and yet were well beneath the surface of the ocean. Although our lunch that day was rather mundane, rumor has it that the best food in the navy is on the submarines. Serving the men good food is one thing the Navy can do to keep the submariners happy, closeted as they are for so many weeks under water.

So far, there are no women sailing as submariners. The time may come when the Navy will allow both sexes to serve, but not right now.

After lunch we were told we were going to surface. We gathered in the control room, held on to metal poles that extended from floor to ceiling, and were warned we must be very quiet. Orders were given, received and acknowledged. I was holding my breath, afraid to utter a sound. All of a sudden, there was a loud whooshing sound as if we were going up a very fast elevator and suddenly we were told we were on the surface. “Wow! That was great!” I remember saying. “How often do you surface like this?” I asked the executive officer who was standing beside me. His laconic reply was “Oh, as many times as we submerge, Ma’am”.

We sailed back to the sub base in Groton and tied up at the pier. Now came the difficult task of getting out of the sub. Again, I had to climb that darn ladder that went straight up. There is never anyone at the top to help you out, you just have to keep on going and pull yourself out. The ladder actually seemed to lean back, as if you were climbing up the side of a ship. However, one final effort and I was out of the hatch and standing on the sub and looking for the gangplank to dry land.

It had been an exciting adventure and I have always felt grateful that I was given the opportunity to experience a few hours, and a lunch, in a sub under the waters of Long Island Sound. For a little while I was part of an elite company of sailors who serve our country under the sea.