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Qualifying by Dick Phillips
What submarine sailor could ever forget the pride with which he put his dolphins up for the first time? He might forget the details of his first encounter with sex, but he'll never forget the thrill of qualifying! I note the modern navy seems to be making a lot more of this red letter day than they used to. As I recall, I was just told I had passed my qualification and that I could now wear the dolphins. (Which I had been carrying around in a ditty bag since coming aboard in anticipation of earning them!) Nowadays, they're apparently formally presented at a muster on deck... and that's as it should be. In the "old days" (and how we used to hate guys who used that particular phrase) we had to qualify in diesel boats within nine months of reporting aboard but could not qualify within the first three months. There was one nice thing about it, in those days almost all boats were very nearly identical and qualification in one was qualification in all. I don't imagine that is the case today with so many different types and classes of boat. On reporting aboard his first boat, the vict... uh.... candidate... would be presented with a sheaf of drawings by either the COB or his chief if he had one, along with instructions as to what had to be done with them in the coming months. This in addition to regular duties, whatever they might be. There was a benefit to be an "odd ball" rate such as Yeoman or Fire Controlman for example. Generally there was only one such rate to a boat, and nobody knew a lot about what he was supposed to be doing. (Sometimes he wasn't too sure of it himself!) Yeomen didn't stand watches on any of the boats I was in but fire controlmen did and it meant sometimes standing topside watches and sometimes below decks and even occasionally being forgotten about entirely and standing no regular watches at all... but this was rare and didn't often last very long. There was always some dickhead who had to ask, "What about so-and-so? He's not on the watch list at all!" The worst was standing watch with the electrical gang and "hopping the peg" in the battery compartment while charging batteries which was the fate of the junior ranks. You could count on ruining at least one set of dungarees for every charge you monitored that way, and the junior man on the watch was always the guy down the hole! But back to the subject. Once armed with blank drawings of the outboard hull, it was the supplicant's task to draw in a sketch of every system aboard. It didn't have to be dead accurate to scale or anything like that but you'd better make sure you had the valves, tanks, manifolds, connections and so on in the right places. In addition, you'd better be prepared to explain the need, value and function of everything that was in your sketch. There used to be a popular submarine urban legend that you could take on fuel oil through the whistle and many the hour has been spent trying to figure out how that was done! While preparing these drawings which would eventually have to be turned in, you also made it a practice to learn everything you could about everything aboard the boat. Spare time, what little there was of it, was spent picking the brains of the appropriate "authorities" aboard to learn all you could about the boat and its systems. Not surprisingly, qualified crew members were generous with their time and effort in helping the unqualified. All had been through that particular mill themselves and appreciated the value to the boat and to all hands of a properly trained and qualified crew member. When the candidate's drawings were complete, they were turned over to the COB who farmed them out, mainly to other chiefs, for perusal and evaluation. Woe betide the man who turned in drawings less complete than the level judged adequate by this jury of the well qualified! Generally, the work had been done properly and I don't recall anyone not having their drawings accepted. Good thing too, as the result of non qualification was (shudder) transfer back to surface craft! Once the candidate felt confidant of his knowledge, he'd take his qual card to the petty officer in charge of each compartment and the PO would check him out in that compartment, assuring the candidate was properly up to snuff on all equipment, drills and equipment in that compartment. For example, among other things, in the forward room, he'd have to demonstrate that he knew how to prepare a tube to fire, how to rig the escape trunk for escape, how to operate the head and how to react to a collision alarm or any other emergency. Once satisfied, the PO would sign off for his compartment and the candidate would then proceed to the next. With ten locations to complete, no wonder it took nine months to qualify! Compartment by compartment, the candidate made his way through the boat collecting the signatures of those concerned. Once he had them all there were still a few hurdles to surmount. He had to convince the Chief of the Boat (who sat at God's right hand!) that he was properly learned in all things submarine-like. Then the same routine with his head of department, be it the Gunnery Officer, the Engineering Officer or whoever. And once that was done and signed off, one more ordeal and he would be finished. He had to go through the entire boat with the Executive Officer and convince that authority that he was properly able to do the job of everyone aboard as well as the holder of the job himself! (Well..... almost !) By the time all that activity had been completed, there wasn't a lot about Fleet Submarines you didn't know. I'm sure there isn't one among us who proudly wore the dolphins who can't recall a few sweaty moments during his period of qualification. I know I had mine but I can recall, even today, almost sixty years on, the pride which accompanied the day I was privileged to add "SS" after my rate and sew those dolphins onto my jumper.
Dick Phillips dick_phillips@telus.net
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