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Family Weekly
JANUARY 4. 19S
COME ABOARD THE U.S.S.
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by James
LJouns after sunlicht washed the atomic sub
" marine U.S.S. Seawolf for the first time in 60
days, I had lunch aboard with her crew. Maybe
they weren't as tanned and ruddy as, say, farmers.
But even under the shielded fluorescent lighting of
their mess, they didn't look "bleached" by their
record-breaking undersea run. Jumpy? Exhaust
ed? Quite the reverse!
They weren't fat, either, but they were well
padded; and I found out why. That 60-day period
was supposed to be an endurance test of the men,
the vessel, and its many scientific components. But
judging by the infinitely varied, appetite-tempting
meals served, it must also have been a gourmet test
Our lunch, for example, was typical: mountains
of whipped potatoes, huge bowls of buttered string
beans, big platters of fresh roasted pork and baked
Virginia ham, the most unforgettable "red-eye"
ham gravy I have ever savored, bread by the stack,
and blocks of butter. Dessert was apple pie with a
lump of ice cream as big as a lumberjack's fist My
14-year-old son said several other vegetables were
offered, but I shut my eyes and passed them up.
There was coffee, of course there's no time
aboard a Navy vessel when there isn't And at this
lunch on the A-sub Seawolf, there was some mild
C. G. Conniff
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grousing about the cook's failure to serve milk the
first time he could get it fresh in two months. But
this visitor washed down his meal with sea water.
That's right: sea water. They distill it from right
outside the hull, at any depth. Taste salty? Not a
bit. Tastes sweet, in fact, though it's said to be a
little flat at first for the landlubber because it's
thoroughly distilled. With ice cubes clattering
pleasantly in the frosty-cold pitcher, I frankly
didn't notice. Those ice cubes, too, were frozen
(distilled) sea water.
In our underwater fleet, I learned, officers and
men are on the young side. In the nuclear boats
they are, on the average, a little older: between
25 and 30. It takes longer to qualify for A-sub duty
as much as 18 months in the nuclear-engineering
department and previous experience in conven
tional submarines helps. But these "older" atomic
crews are still young enough to enjoy those little
niceties which make the good life.
Because food and youth go together, one of the
most welcome gifts taken aboard the Seawolf the
evening she surfaced was a brimming crate of
fresh fruit, the first her crew had seen in two
months. It was gone in hours. Unasked, the donor
submarine tender U.S.S. Fulton sent another
bulging crateful. By the following lunchtime I
could almost see the bottom of a third crate.
S3 ELM
. Unlike other Navy vessels, atomic subs not
only serve their officers and men three whopping
good meals a day but also permit crew members to
eat anything they want, any time of day or night.
You can come off watch at 4 a.m. with a yen for a
sirloin steak and, if you cook it yourself and clean
up afterward, feel free to enjoy it.
What if a hungry loner like that doesn't clean
up? Usually such a man is new to submarine life,
so he will be spoken to by older hands. If he of
fends several times and talking does no good, he
gets some rugged extra duty as a warning.
Cooks and bakers aboard an A-sub are always
busy because watches are four hours on and eight
hours off, around the clock. Most baking bread
(white, rye, whole wheat, cinnamon) and cakes,
pies, rolls, fancy pastries, and cookies is done at
"night," as determined, when submerged, by the
sub's chronometer. One of the homiest touches
about this practice is that a man coming off watch
at 4 a.m. can load up on oven-hot rolls and bring
them to his quarters to share with others. Or he
can distribute them to shipmates standing the new
watch. It helps make A-sub life close-knit.
KIuclear submarines are the first submersibles
'with true upper and lower decks. Directly be
low the officer's wardroom is the crew's mess a
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spacious, well-lighted dining room finished in
cream with pastel pink and green panels. Formica
top tables seat eight to ten men each on pull-out
metal benches with foam-rubber, leather-covered
seats. Tables and benches are on tracks which per
mit conversion of the mess hall into a theater
where the latest movies normally one for each
day of a voyage are shown twice daily to accom
modate all watches. Battle lamps that go on auto
matically if there's a sudden power loss festoon
the messroom's ceiling. Four such lamps focus
around a large canvas-shrouded lamp for emer
gency surgery on the table beneath. If power loss
occurs during surgery, on go the battle lamps.
Other comforts of the crew's mess include a juke
box (free) with new recordings, a hi-fi set, radio
receivers for use when surfaced (signals don't
come through submerged), and a 21-inch TV set
Can they get television shows on an A-sub at sea?
No, it's used for closed-circuit programming, but
the Seawolf s crew is hoping to take taped TV
shows a-voyaging and move another step closer
to normal living.
One non-normal note about the Seawolf's mess
is a complete lack of cooking odors even at meal
time. Electrostatic precipitators completely filter
galley air of smoke, grease, and odors. Stainless
metal equipment throughout including electric
food mixers, ice-cream machines, and capacious
450-volt AC ranges combines with ceramic-tile
floors to make a scrubdown of the galley easy.
Via dumbwaiter from galley to wardroom, an
A-sub's officers eat exactly the same food as the
crew. This makes for a greater feeling of unity
aboard. And as more than one nuclear submariner
(pronounced sub-MA-riner, not sub-ma-REEN-er)
has observed, "It also helps guarantee we'll
have good cooks."
One of the most challenging tasks aboard a nu
clear submarine is how to make pleasant or pro
ductive use of so much leisure. This job falls upon
an extremely important person known as Chief of
the Boat. On the Seawolf he is a strapping, crew
cropped redhead with cheerful mien named Lloyd
allan Berkey.
Like any Chief of the Boat and the Seawolf's
hundred-odd officers and men consider theirs the
best in the fleet Chief Berkey is father confessor
to anyone with troubles, intermediary between two
men who've squabbled ("usually the best of
friends, who flare up briefly because they are so
close"), and go-between from officers to enlisted
men and vice versa.
In addition, it's up to him to provide new di
versions every trip. How did he prepare for the
record 60-day submersion? For one thing, he in-
A noted science writer takes you
on a tour of the atomic submarine
that made history with a
60-day underwater voyage.
traduced oil-painting sets, which went over big.
Leathercraft kits for ladies' purses, identifies- lTN'"'
tion cases, wallets, and key cases also got a big j
play, and will repeat. While Chief Berkey learned
the hard way about the popularity of leatherwork
and oil painting, he points out, "Next trip maybe
nobody will touch either. It's a chance you take."
A high-interest cribbage tournament and bingo
are further aids in the anti-boredom campaign.
Here, as in popular card games like gin rummy
and Navy pinochle (two decks, nines missing),
money is seldom involved.
Probably the most valuable card in Chief Berk
ey's own hand is the rule that a man serve nine
months (it used to be six) on nuclear sub duty
before being considered "permanent" This means
constant study to know everything about the ves
sel and meet rigid qualification standards. Because
the very existence of the A-sub and its crew de
pends on each individual's competence, this study
program is known simply as "life insurance." No
body jokes about the idea, for it is putting into
practice a favorite saying in this branch of service:
"We have room for everything but a mistake."
LJow much room, for practical living (and stay
1 'ing alive), does the crew have? You'd be sur
prised. Seawolf, our second nuclear submarine, is
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