BULLETIN 35
OCTOBER, 2004
TALES FROM SARATOGA SPRINGS
The National Submarine Veterans Convention in September of 2004 brought many humorous tales to the SRC table. Some were more hair-raising than funny and most all represented first-disclosure. Here are a few of the best:
Rod Nielsen was just a kid working toward qualification on the Sea Fox (SS-402) in the 1950s. He was a seaman, but had always liked cooking and so the chief of the boat, Rod Nuttleman considered him a striker and he stood watches with the petty officer cooks. All went well with Seaman Nielsen and he had a quiet disdain for the other seamen who stood lookout, planes and helm watches.
Not being qualified he didn't know much about charging batteries and he certainly didn't know that what went on in the maneuvering room had an effect on his duties in the galley. For example he didn't know that when the charge reached the finishing rate the current to his oven increased - not a lot, but enough to throw his timing for roast chicken off. The chicken was hopelessly burned and there was no time for a replacement meal. He tasted one and convinced himself that the burnt flesh was hardly noticeable. Nielsen was on his own and he decided to serve the birds as they were.
Chief Nuttleman spit his first taste out and promptly relieved Nielsen of his striker status. The young submariner resigned himself to becoming one of the seamen standing lookout, planes and helm watches.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
K-boats were small and unusual. There was little room for anything and since the mission of the K-boats was sonar picket duty they stayed out longer than their size would comfortably accommodate. The coffee urn was between the galley and crew's mess, but the slot built for it barely allowed room for its top cover to be lifted. This situation was aggravated by the chief cook's storage of cigarette cartons in what little space was above the urn. Lee Rogers reported that in 1954 after a month at sea the coffee took on a bitter taste that prompted the wrath of the crew. The men groused about the cook's lousy coffee for two weeks until he finally decided to clean the urn. He found a sodden carton of cigarettes in the urn wedged under the filter. The discovery was most helpful in getting at the cause of the men's jittery nerves. The combination of caffeine and nicotine wasn't good, but after the urn-cleaning everything got back to normal.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Fred Pietrowski was on Angler (SS-240) during the 1950s when operating in the Mediterranean. One day they were off Malta after having made an approach and shot a torpedo at a target. The boat surfaced and commenced retrieving its MK 14 exercise shot. As is often required one or two torpedomen would have to jump in the water and assist the sling over the nose of the torpedo. As luck would have it Angler was in the midst of a shark breeding ground.
The sharks were not very hospitable and soon fins were seen circling the bobbing torpedo head and swimmers. A shout was given from the bridge and a couple of swimmers got quickly to the superstructure hand-holds near the bridge. The bow planes were lowered and another swimmer jumped onto the plane. Fred had shinnied up the torpedo body and frantically waved for the deck crew to hoist the torpedo out of the water. The men quickly obeyed but the torpedo was ill-balanced with Fred on one end. It tilted and he slid back into the water. As he swam to the bow plane the interested sharks closed in. He hoisted himself onto the plane as a shark swept by him. He and his friend stood frozen with water up to their ankles as the biggest of the monsters approached. The shark rolled, exposed his teeth and bit into the plane. As he slid past crew members grabbed the swimmers' hands and got them aboard.
Later, Fred saw the movie, "Jaws" and he didn't enjoy it one bit.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
SRC researched on the internet and library the following Angler tale as told by Fred Pietowski. It could not find any reference to this story and Fred requests that we forward to him any additional information that may be forthcoming from submarine veterans.
In 1961 Angler was ported in New London. It was providing ASW services in Long Island Sound in water from 300 to 400 feet in depth. A destroyer was working its sonar detection gear and Angler was at about 100 feet. The destroyer broke off and Angler came to periscope depth while preparing to surface. It was a wispy day and when the skipper took a sweep around on the scope he saw the destroyer disappear into a fog bank. The sun momentarilly blotted out a super tanker riding in ballast close aboard with a zero angle on the bow.
He quickly rang the collision alarm and gave the order for a flank bell, but it was too late. The tanker hit the submerged boat just aft of the sail. Riding in ballast, the tanker pushed on over the top of Angler rolling the boat nearly over and carrying away the entire superstructure and most of the ballast tanks on one side. Water poured into the pressure hull via all the ruptured ducting aft of the after battery. The damage was so instant and severe that Angler settled to the bottom without a huge angle. Valves were shut and the men aft of control were able to stem the flooding.
The order was given to blow the forward group, but the boat was so far down (about 150 below test depth) that the ballast tanks remained flooded. The diving officer then switched the trim and drain pump to series and commenced pumping all bilges and every tank that could be pumped. After over twelve hours of pumping the boat lifted off the bottom and began a slow ascent. It surfaced and the forward group were put onto the ten pound blow. With bent screw and sagging stern Angler made her way toward port. She was met by a barge and the submarine was secured to it. It spent many months in port being repaired.
After surviving several war patrols during World War Two this was the most serious event the boat's life.