As happens on occasion a good sized typhoon had taken an unexpected direction change and we got caught up in it. Large seas and strong winds make a very tiring situation out of shipboard live. Sea sickness is not as big a problem as just being worn out trying to keep your footing, trying to stay in your bunk, and trying to eat. Food is probably the second biggest problem, the cooks really can not prepare much when the ship is rolling up to 40 degrees from side to side. Dishes won’t stay put, and even when we use a grid on the table to hold the plates, the food doesn’t stay on them. Essentially you are reduced to eating sandwiches and drinking coffee. Those who tend towards a little queasiness generally stick to saltines.

Walking down a passageway (a hallway) is a matter of one foot on the wall, then on the floor then the other foot on the other wall. Carrying something past open doorways can be quite interesting. Everything is in the timing. When you are in your bunk there are straps that you can use to hold you in place, but most people prefer to just brace themselves against the sides and grab whatever sleep they can. Since little is done under conditions like this other than watch standing, you get a lot of time to practice your preferred methods.

About twenty-four hours into the storm I was asleep when the General Quarters alarm sounded. One thing you learn early in your shipboard life is that you always have your next day’s uniform ready when you go to bed. In this type of weather you also have your lifejacket at the ready. I was ready to dash to my GQ station in seconds.

My GQ station was on the bridge of the ship as Officer of the Deck. I had to dash up three decks and forward about 100 feet. Normally this is not a big challenge, but with the ship rolling radically and the entire crew trying to get to their assigned station using only the interior passageways it was a bit of a challenge. The fact that we were all had big Kapok lifejackets only added to the difficulty.

When I arrived on the bridge it was clear why General quarters had been called. We had lost control of the rudder with waves breaking over the bow of the ship and winds gusting to over 100 miles per hour. Fortunately, we were not in company with other surface ships and the submarine was able to go deep and avoid most of the problems we were facing.

Normally it is best to head into big seas (waves) like this. Luckily, the rudder is only 3 degrees left so we should be able to control the ship successfully with the engines. As I take over the Deck things are a bit tense and I decide to take the Con (Control or the movement of the ship) as well. That way I will be giving the orders to the engines more directly.

The Captain has arrived on the bridge and takes his position in the Captains’ chair. He is giving no indication of being overly upset although we both know the ship is in serious peril. If we should get parallel to the seas and take a hit by one of these huge waves it could be very very bad.

The ship is now at General Quarters and we have the best people in the best place they can be in the ship to handle all emergencies. The report we have received from the steering gear room is that they have a fire and the steering engines are not working.

I am one of the fortunate few who can feel the subtle movement of the ship even before the indicators show what is happening. I have also been a ship’s engineer so I understand the mechanical operation of the steering engines as well as the steam turbines and the damage control system. I’m probably the best equipped for the job I face as anyone could be.

There is a delay between when I give an engine order and when it takes effect. When I give an order such as port engine ahead 234-RPM starboard engine ahead 217 RPM it is heard by the Lea Helmsman. The Lea Helmsman normally operates the engine order telegraph. That is a machine that mechanically sends signals to the engine rooms. It has levers that tell each engine in general terms how fast and in which direction to go. It, however, is limited in only giving one RPM command at a time.

At a time like this we are depending on him giving verbal instructions to each of the engine rooms. He also is wearing sound powered phones, which go directly to each engine room. Sound powered phones are very much like what Bell originally created. The vibration of the person talking creates an electric signal which is sent to the earphones of someone on the other end. No external electricity is required.

In each engine room a talker is listening to the Lea Helmsman. The Engine room talker relays the order to a throttleman who turns a steam valvethat changes the amount of steam going into a large turbine. The throttleman has a direct read out of how many RPM his propeller shaft is turning. When he achieves the correct RPM he shouts the number back to his talker, who relays it to the Lea Helm, who subsequently reports the engine and the RPM to the Officer who has the Con.

This may sound like a complicated and slow way to do things, but remember we are at GQ and the best people from the whole crew are in place to do the job correctly and rapidly.

My only problem is to get the bow of the ship headed back into the waves and figure out what combinations of engine RPMs will keep me headed in the right direction climbing the wave, crashing through the crest, and descending the other side.

Finally we get the report that there is no fire in the steering gear room. The hatch from the main deck had sprung in the storm and water had run on to the operating steering motor. The water had shorted the electric motor that drives the hydraulic pump that moves the rudderpost. The man who was on watch saw the sparking and arcing and made the fire report.

I no sooner get a feel for the combinations that will work well than we hear a man overboard-portside report.

Now the Captain is on his feet, but he still hasn’t said anything, so I haven’t screwed up so far.

Normally the immediate reaction is to throw the rudder over to insure that the man isn’t caught in the propeller wash. This, of course, is not possible at this time and by the time the propeller could be stopped the man would be past the danger point. Additionally a rapid change in direction at this point could endanger the entire ship.

Immediately, a life-ring is thrown overboard with lights attached to it. CIC (the Combat Information Center) starts a maneuvering table plot of where the man entered the water and the ship’s movement relative to that position. The men on the Signal Bridge fire up power full signal lamps trying to spot the man. The lookouts move to the bridge wings. The bridge wings are portions of the bridge which are outside the watertight doors and allow someone to see both forward and backward along the side of the ship. In this weather this is a rather dangerous position, but the risk must be taken when we have a man in the water.

As soon as the bow breaks through the next wave crest I order the port engine back full and starboard ahead full. Hoping that we will get the ship around far enough to be safe before the next wave crest. We succeed and I bring both engines to ahead one-third until I can get the feel for the movement of the ship and the direction we need to go to get to where the man should be.

Now we are a 400-foot long surfboard. As I feel the stern of the ship sliding as it is pushed up by the next wave. I have to adjust the engines by RPM again to keep us going in the correct general direction. Following instructions from CIC I do my best to get as close as possible to the position where they estimate the man to be. We pass within 100 feet of the position without seeing either the life-ring or the man.

We finally get good news from the engineers. They have managed to get a backup system working for rudder control. Now we have a bit better control over the ship’s movement. Still limited by the weather but certainly better than just using the engines.

Now CIC has set up a search pattern based upon the likely movement of the man in the water that takes into account as many of the factors as possible. After we have steering restored and have made a few more passes at the predicted location of the man in the water we stand down from GQ and restore the standard watch rotation.

We are unable to follow the search pattern strictly but continue through the night. As the storm moves on and daylight returns the search turns more and more routine. Unfortunately, the longer the man has been in the water the less likely we are to come across him.

After I am relieved of my duties on the bridge I am hit with more bad news. The sailor who went overboard was from my department. It was his first cruise and I had met him only briefly as he checked in. His General Quarters station was in the helicopter hanger. He managed to get to the hanger safely which was no easy feat in itself. Unfortunately, they were unable to get the door completely down and when we took a heavy roll he lost his footing and rolled out under the door before anyone could grab him.

We searched as long as reasonable and never spotted any sign of the man nor even the life-ring. Neither of which is surprising considering the conditions of wind and seas at the time he went overboard.

Needless to say, I didn’t get back to bed for a long time and had quite a chat with the captain. I also had a talk with the men in his division who had been in the hanger with him at the time. That was a rough time that ranged from counseling sailors with guilt feelings to investigating the circumstances surrounding the incident. I then sat down to write one of those dreadful letters that must be written to the parents. The Captain, of course, wrote his own letter to them, but I felt it was important that I write one also.

That was not the end of it either. The parents wrote to their congressman, as they should have. He started an investigation that involved investigations by the Naval Investigative Service (NIS) and the Judge Advocate General (JAG). Thank fully, they all found that our treatment of the entire situation was proper from the familiarization that each new man went through to the search procedures we used. It turned out that the failure of the door to close was due to a mechanical failure that was not likely to have been foreseen.