OK, now for the really important question. Do you say “sub-MARE-in-er” or “sub-mar-EEN-er”? My dictionary lists both, although in the opposite order that I have them here. But, I think “sub-MARE-in-er” sounds so much better.
Can you answer the earlier question about sub books? Are there any that stand out as especially accurate or total bullshit?
I agree that the former (“sub-MARE-in-er”) sounds better, but I once heard an Admiral in the sub force make the impassioned point that the latter (“sub-mar-EEN-er”) was correct. As he put it, we are not "sub [inferior]-mariners, we are SUBMARINERS!
I mentioned this in another recent thread, but the Complete Idiot’s Guide to Submarines is probably the best guide to modern nuclear submarines that I have ever seen. Based on the title, I certainly wasn’t expecting much when I came across the book in a book store a couple of years back, but my jaw dropped when I saw the info in it.
Another good book is Rig Ship for Ultra Quiet.
Both books were written by former submariners.
Finally, Blind Man’s Bluff is worth reading, but I’m not vouching for anything in the book. I will note that, in the appendix of the book, San Juan is noted as receiving a Navy Unit Commendation (NUC) in 1994 for operations in the North Atlantic, when I was onboard.
What 1010011010 said. I got distracted when posting my previous comment, and didn’t finish it.
On my boat, in the control room, day or night, we were usually are rigged for white (i.e. normal white fluorescent lights).
If we were planning to go to periscope depth (PD) at night we rigged for red about 30 minutes prior to help the OOD’s eyes adjust for night vision. Alternatively, the OOD could wear red wrap-around glasses that made him look like a real dork. When proceeding to PD, we rigged for black (i.e. all lights out except those visible from gauges). Some boats also used curtains around the scopes, either in addition to or instead of rigging for black.
When going to PD during the day, no special precautions were needed for lighting in control.
Why was an 18 hour “day” chosen while underway? Obviously, you’re not tied to 24 hours, but I’m curious as to why 18 hours was found to be superior. Am I correct in thinking that 24-hour days with three 4-hour (4 on, 8 off) watch cycles was the norm in the I’m-not-sure-how-recent past? How is it commonly done on modern surface ships?
I’ve read a number of sources commenting that the 18-hour day really messes with one’s sleep cycle; one would think there must be some advantage, or else it would not be retained…
First of all, note that the actual day by the clock is 24 hours, just like anywhere else. There are four meals a day, breakfast (0600), lunch (1200), dinner (1800), and midrats (midnight). You can eat at any meal you want, as much as you want. (If you eat four meals a day, you will gain weight, though.)
An 18-hour watch cycle is the result of the typical three section watch rotation with 6-hour watches.
Some lucky watch standers have enough qualified people that they stand a four section watch rotation (6 on, 18 off). Very nice. You stand the same watch every day at the same time.
Some unlucky watch standers might only have two qualified people who can stand a given watch. We had a couple of reactor operators (nicknamed Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-Dum) who were way over body fat, and finally got kicked out of the Navy. This left one qualified reactor operator (RO). We quickly got another guy qualified, but still went to sea with only two ROs. These guys stood a two section watch rotation (6 on, 6 off) for months. This is referred to as standing watch “port and starboard.”
During particularly manpower-intensive events, it can get even worse than this, however. I stood watch as EOOW (Engineering Officer of the Watch) for one deployment in which it was decided that the off-going EOOW (from the previous watch) was assigned to the section tracking party up forward. We were doing section tracking party continuously, so I was standing watch 12 hours on, 6 off. Then, we had to reconstruct the track of the target we were tracking after that watch. This took a couple of hours, so I was doing 14-15 hours on, 3-4 hours off. During my 3-4 hours off, I had to sleep, eat, and shower, in that order.
This needless grinding people into the ground did not do a whole lot for morale. But I’m not bitter…
I’m not exactly sure what surface ships do, but I believe they do some sort of 4-hour rotation. I have no idea how subs ended up with 6-hour watches.
Thanks for the replies.
I suspect the boats you serve on are much larger in size (and headroom) than the WWII subs,so my question about submariner’s stature might have provoked a “huh?”
New questions.
Did any sort of “romance” or curiousity about subs have to do with your naval career choice,or is it strictly,they pointed,you went.
I remember the trauma when the Thresher went down,and to this date haven't heard a definitive cause-lots of rumours,some from ex-Navy,some media.Is there an official version of the tragedy,and are you aware of any changes or impact on current procedures that you must follow?I’ve wondered about that. Back in my day sub-MARE- iner was the common pronunciation. Not that I had much contact w/ bubbleheads, being a Seabee, but in the past couple of decades I’ve heard people pronouncing it sub-MARINE-ers and thought they were wannabes, until I found out the preferred pronunciation had changed in the military community. Do you know what brought this about and/or when it happened?
In high school, I wanted to fly jets (Top Gun had just came out). I therefore applied for Air Force ROTC and Navy ROTC, (and both academies). During my entrance physical, I found out I needed glasses. No laser eye correction then, so good-bye aviation for me.
Around the same time, the book The Hunt for Red October came out. Fine, I said, I’ll go Navy ROTC. If my eyes magically improve, I’ll try for jets. If not, I’ll try for subs.
We have a pretty good idea of why the Thresher sank. It came down to design flaws, and procedural flaws.
Start here:
The whole submarine shipbuilding program was overhauled following the loss of Thresher, including the SUBSAFE program. Prior to Thresher, subs were built much like the WWII boats, with hundreds of hull penetrations. Following Thresher, hull penetrations were dramatically reduced, and design and procedural changes were made that were more suited to modern nuclear submarines.
Robby,your story reminded me of my Dad,who signed up right after Pearl Harbor,and wanted to pilot but was shot down for vision.
So,he wanted to sub.He was 6’4".See prior post.
Finally became an AMM 1st Class.
He installed (or oversaw the installation of) some of the motors on Thresher.
this is pretty common apparently --the Navy is getting fewer recruits for submarine duty, because more people are accepted for pilot training, due to Lasik surgery
What about maximum depth, is it still classified? All the Navy says is over 400 feet, but I have seen references from 1000 to 2500 feet. The DSRV can reach 5000 feet, that is pretty deep to rescue a stranded sub that supposedly can’t reach anywhere that far.
Yes.
Actually, the Navy’s official line today is that “U.S. Navy submarines can submerge deeper than 800 feet.”
Here’s an official FAQ from the Chief of Naval Operations, Submarine Warfare Division.
I find this handy because it gives the unclassified answers for a number of common questions submariners (and former submariners) often get.
What the devil does the crew actually do? If they’re on “watch”, what is there to watch for? It isn’t like you’re going to encounter enemies on board. I imagine it takes some crew to mind the reactor, some more to mind the mechanical/electrical stuff, some more to navigate, some to cook, and some more to be ready to fire torpedoes and missiles. Does everyone just take turns waiting for an order to spring into action?
With regard to books about submarines, are there any books held in particular derision?
If I didn’t answer your question, it’s probably because I’d just be repeating robby.
I prefer /sub-MARE-in-er/ but the PR pronunciation seems to be /sub-mar-EEN-er/.
robby mentioned the Complete Idiot’s Guide to Submarines and I’m also amazed at some of the information in there. Most of the non-fiction I’ve read has been about WW2 diesel boats, presumably accurate, but I can’t really comment… not very much like modern submarines. I have no particular interest in submarine fiction… but eventually it ends up being the only thing left in the ship’s library. All have lapsed into the realm of utter ridiculousness at some point.
It’s a product of 3-section rotation with 6-hour watches. The ship’s schedule (and the people who write the ship’s schedule) stay on 24-hour days. See robby’s comments about the great joy the 18/24 conflict brings to the crew.
It’s the hard upper limit to the length of “normal” watches as set by the organizational manuals.
I enlisted intent on being a nuke (and I R!), which limited me to either being on a CVN, SS(BN/GN), or SSN. I did SubVol back in bootcamp. By the time I was a little older and wiser an they had us fill out a “dream sheet” of where we’d like to be assigned, I would have preferred surface, then missile sub, then fast attack. They pointed, I went to a fast attack. Given the attrition rate in my particular job, it wouldn’t have mattered if I was a SubVol or not.
Wikipedia’s version sounds more or less correct. The Complete Idiot’s Guide, mentioned above, goes into some detail about the changes that occurred in ship’s design (able to make a controlled accent when deballasted), quality control of non-nuclear systems (SUBSAFE program), and operating procedures (use of main engines for emergency propulsion to the surface) following the Thresher.
There’s periodic maintenance that has to be done on a variety of systems. Make water, purify oil, compress air, shift pumps, move water, blow tanks, pump bilges, atmospheric monitoring and control, take logs on almost everything to spot problems before something breaks beyond our ability to fix it.
Sonar, radio, navigation, and fire control all work together to keep track of where we are, where we’re going, and where we’re supposed to be (and anything and everything they can detect around us) while underway.
Cleaning on watch, drills, after-watch clean-up, training, field day (several hours of cleaning), more drills. On a long enough underway everything settles into a routine after a while until something interesting happens in the real world.
“Watch” does not mean guard duty. It means you are assigned to a watch station, such as manning the control planes and helm. Using this as an example, there is a sailor in the helmsman’s seat with his hands on the rudder control (helm) from the instant a boat leaves the pier to the instant when the boat ties up again weeks or months later. When a sailor gets relieved, one sailor slides into the seat as the previous sailor vacates the seat.
Except for cooking, all of the above are watch stations.
To expand on 1010011010’s answer, approximately one-third of the crew is on watch at any given time. The number of people on board, and the number of watch stations dictates the usual three-section watch rotation.
In the control room, you’ve got a sailor on the helm/bow planes control, a sailor on the stern planes, the Chief of the Watch (COW) moving water around in the ballast tanks, the Diving Officer of the Watch (DOOW) supervising those guys, the Officer of the Deck (OOD) running the whole watch section for the entire ship, a Quartermaster of the Watch (QMOW) navigating, four guys in sonar manning different displays, a sonar supervisor, a Fire Controlman of the Watch (FCOW) responsible for coming up with target solutions based on the sonar data, etc.
Everyone always has a job to do. Sometimes things get quiet, sometimes things happen very rapidly. Someone has to many the Ship Control Panel at all times. Sonar is always tracking contacts. Fire Control is always developing solutions for contacts. The QMOW is always navigating.
Back aft, in Maneuvering, you’ve got the Reactor Operator, Electrical Operator, and Throttleman supervised by the Engineering Officer of the Watch (EOOW). The Engineroom Supervisor (ERS) also reports to the EOOW (who reports to the OOD). The ERS supervises the 4-5 sailors at different watch stations throughout the engineroom. The whole engineering team on watch keeps busy with maintenance, logs, and drills.
Spaces that don’t have a sailor on watch in them continuously are inspected hourly by sailors on roving watches.
These are just a few of the watch stations. Running a submarine is very manpower-intensive. Few of the procedures are automated. One reason the Navy likes it that way is that when the shit hits the fan, the sailors are already in place to do damage control. Another reason is that sailors can detect little problems before they become big problems.
A few people on board don’t stand watch, including the commanding officer (CO). He is responsible for the ship as a whole 24/7, and therefore is not tied up with a watch station.
Galley Watch Captain? Night Baker? Jack of the Dust? Wardroom Attendant? The cooks have their watch stations, too.
Everyone and everything has a place to be, ideally. Otherwise you’re just taking up space that could be put to better use.
Did you ever go on any trim parties.
Declan