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Was It Good For You Too? by Dick Phillips 1944 is a long time ago now, but I still recall how I got into submarines. A group of surface fire control school students were sitting around a barracks in San Diego having a BS session. We'd been at sea for a couple of days of firing practice aboard an Anti- Aircraft cruiser and on returning to port had passed a submarine on her way out into the vast Pacific. She was freshly painted and looked great... and her crew were topside in dungarees, not whites as was the case on all weather decks aboard the cruiser. The BS session contained one who thought volunteering for submarines was the only way to go to war. He was so persuasive that he talked the entire class of 10 students into volunteering with him. I don't recall how many of us actually ended up aboard the boats, but certainly more than half. It was a long haul from San Diego to New London and it was the wrong direction for a group who wanted to get into the war before it ended but New London was where they sent us and that's where we ended up. We arrived at New London in March and were treated to the tail end of a New England winter in sharp contrast to what we'd been exposed to in San Diego! However, it was a busy time and we soon settled into the routine. You may recall that there was a lot of testing being done to determine if the volunteers were suitable or not. Testing of physical abilities and psychological tendencies were in full swing and we were all exposed to numerous tests of a seemingly infinite variety. I recall one in particular, ostensibly an eyesight test where a large number of us were sealed into a totally darkened room where we sat for what seemed a very long time. This was announced as allowing our eyes to become accustomed to the total lack of light and we were then sat in a special seat and a large, dimly fluorescent letter "T" was rotated in front of us and we had to identify its orientation. Personally, I suspected the test was more designed to eliminate the claustrophobic, but nothing came of that in the group I was with. Classes continued and we learned a lot about submarines. In addition to a good deal of book larnin' and operating rather unsophisticated simulators, we made some trips into the various shops around the base. Plenty of chances to see submarines and even to go aboard, but not to sea. We sometimes despaired that we'd ever sail. Then there was the escape tower, one of the last of our tasks before graduation to sea duty. At that time, an escape with a Momsen lung from 12 feet, from 25 feet and from 50 feet was mandatory. All with dire warnings of the terrible things that would happen to you if you held your breath on the way up! In truth, they were interesting and even fun... the water was tolerably warm and the tower was brilliantly lighted inside and there were numerous experienced personnel about to save you if you screwed up. Then, the piece de resistance was offered, the opportunity to do a free escape from the bottom of the tank at 100 feet. Strictly volunteer, mind you, nobody was required to do it. Naturally there was (as there always is) one dickhead who had to volunteer. And just as naturally, the rest of the ten man class felt obligated to volunteer too. That's how we all got to do a free ascent from the bottom of the tank, naked as jaybirds. I still recall it as quite an experience, especially having to breath out forcefully all the way up as the pressure came off one's lungs and then bouncing out of the water almost to one's knees on arrival at the surface. I don't really recall, but I think the rest of us killed the dickhead! Finally the great day arrived and we were going to sea in one of the school squadron boats. (Can't recall whether the school boats were Squadron 2 or Squadron 8 but both were based there at the time.) It was with some feelings of trepidation we went aboard our assigned boat early and were sent to various locations and told what we'd be doing for the day. Also vividly warned that, as students, we were pretty small potatoes and that we had better stay out of the way, keep our eyes open and our mouths shut if we knew what was good for us. (That was the way of it in the "old Navy.") After clearing the finger piers at the sub base, the boat headed down river through the open railroad bridge and out into Long Island Sound. (Nobody who operated there could ever forget the Block Island Light.) If I live to be a hundred (and I'm now well on the way) I'll never forget that very first dive. I had been assigned to the forward engine room and the racket there made conversation impossible. It was the first time I'd stood between two of those big Fairbanks Morse diesels with them running and the din was formidable. Not enough to drown out the sound of the diving alarm when it sounded which then set off a round of activity as the enginemen on duty shut down the engines, tripped the overhead induction valve which slammed shut thunderously right over my head and secured the engines. (No snorkels in those days!) The boats head dropped away and the only sound audible was the sound of sea water rushing over the hull. I don't know about any of the rest of you, but the thought that went through my mind at the time was, "What the hell am I doing here?" However, the day ended after a number of dives and some considerable exposure to life and times inside a submarine. Lunch was reassuring as it was well prepared and provided a great meal. With the ability to draw stores daily if needed, the school boats fed pretty well. Once back on the dock, the greenhorns exchanged notes and eagerly awaited their next "sea duty." At that time (and presumably ever since) the Navy encouraged the idea that the submarine force consisted of the "cream of the crop" selected for their outstanding abilities and skills, and so on and on. Now, I know that when someone in authority steps up to the podium and tells me that I'm part of a very elite and outstanding group of people, I'm a lot more likely to agree with that conclusion than I am to pick holes in it! Nor do I ever recall meeting another submariner who didn't think he was also pretty hot stuff! Eventually, we were all assigned permanent status aboard various boats and went on to complete our tours in submarines, rarely to meet again. But few of us ever forget that first dive......
Dick Phillips dick_phillips@telus.net
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