Months later as spring and winter battled back and forth for control over the Pacific Northwest, the nuclear submarine USS Denver plowed westward through huge swells from the north Pacific while in the Strait of Juan de Fuca approach to Puget Sound. Reaching the ocean, the crew began conducting sea trials to validate the work performed during her overhaul at Bremerton. As usual, far too many tests were jammed into an overly ambitious work schedule, leaving no slack time to correct inevitable problems.
Success-oriented people, despite their repeated experience to the contrary, scheduled no time for emergencies or other inherent problems while conducting a sea trial. Time needed to deal with emergencies or to correct other problems came at the expense of off duty time for both the crew and the civilian yard workers embarked for the trials. The yard workers rode in submarines during trial cruises to assist with repairs as needed, thus providing a psychological insurance against shoddy workmanship.
If a disaster occurred causing the loss of life, the civilians would be on the casualty list, as in April 1963 when the nuclear submarine USS Thresher sank during deep-sea trials in the North Atlantic. Seventeen civilians lost their lives along with all Naval personnel aboard, 16 officers and 96 enlisted men.
Preliminary tests for hull leaks and proper operation of retractable masts, antennae and periscopes on the USS Denver were conducted in shallow water. In the unlikely event of a major problem, personnel aboard had a better chance of being rescued. So far on this sea trial some minor problems had occurred, but none with the potential to extend Denver’s stay at Bremerton.
Aboard a submarine, the conning officer coordinates all trials from the submarine’s Attack Center. This assignment went to Lieutenant Brent Maddock because he had the longest tenure among Denver’s junior officers. He also got the job because he stood well above his peers in command presence. Navy lean, Brent had bright blue eyes, stood five-eleven with a medium build at one hundred seventy pounds.
At the termination of a shallow dive, Brent reported over the 21MC tactical intercom. “Wardroom, Conn. Pass to the captain, shallow dive completed, en route the deep dive area, ahead standard on course two-seven-five at two hundred feet.”
Captain Hal Bostwick answered, “Captain, aye, Conn. Everything go okay?”
“Perfect, Captain.”
“Very well, Brent, let me know when you have an ETA worked out,” said Captain Bostwick, referring to the estimated time of arrival.
“Aye, sir,” said Brent. Next, on the 21MC again, he called the engineering officer of the watch in control of the ship’s propulsion. “Maneuvering, Conn. All shallow depth tests completed satisfactorily. We’re moving out for the big one.”
“Maneuvering, aye,” the EOOW responded.
Brent ordered the helmsman, “Right full rudder. Come to new course two-seven-five, belay the headings.”
“Right full rudder to two-seven-five, belay the headings. Aye, Mr. Maddock.”
To the planesman, Brent announced, “Make your depth two-zero-zero feet, no more than five degrees down bubble.”
An oil filled clear circular tube with a bubble inside indicated the longitudinal angle of the submarine’s hull.
“Two-zero-zero, no more than five down. Aye, sir.”
“Ahead standard,” Brent ordered.
He enjoyed having 3,640 tons of the world’s most advanced undersea technology obey him. Denver’s heading fell off to the right and she pitched downward in response to Brent’s directions. He barely heard the chum, chum, chum as the huge propeller bit into the seawater and increased Denver’s velocity through the ocean depths.
Denver quickly restored herself internally to cruise status. The odor of clean hydraulic oil now masked the stench of burned metal created by many arc-welding jobs completed during the overhaul on land. The rattle-bang of the yard left far behind, background sounds consisted only of muffled conversations among the crew and yard workers going about testing Denver’s seaworthiness to the constant hum of rotating machinery.
Submariners survive through their knowledge of sounds made by their ship. Quick detection of any abnormalities, a flat bearing, lack of lubrication, or unexplained changes in a rotation rate often prevented extensive repairs and on occasion, disaster itself.
Quartermaster Second Class Jacques Henri, a handsome young black man, carefully wrote Brent’s flurry of instructions into the log, an official record of each event that took place aboard Denver. The log began at Denver’s commissioning ceremony and would continue until her retirement, scheduled some twenty-five years in the future.
Henri believed the sole difference between him and the officers he served was three hundred years of injustice inflicted by whites that mistakenly considered themselves superior. Henri made this point through excellent performance and spurned what he considered liberal bleeding heart programs to correct past indiscretions.
His uniforms always appeared impeccable and while the others capitalized on the informality of sea trials and dressed for comfort, Jacques maintained his dungarees in accordance with regulations and fresh from the laundry. Well-shined shoes rounded out his meticulous appearance.
Henri made it his business to know the details of the Attack Center watch better than any of the ship’s officers. He felt it beneath his dignity to do just better than an average officer; he had to excel. As the quartermaster gang’s leading petty officer, he made the Attack Center quartermaster-of-the-watch assignments. By his own choice, he put himself on watch with Lieutenant Maddock, who he regarded to be the sharpest officer on board and a worthy challenge.
With a deep basso tone Henri announced, “Personnel not on watch in the Attack Center clear the area,” a presumptuous order for him to initiate because the prerogative of command belonged to the conning officer.
Brent took it in stride and let it slip, perhaps because of the relaxed atmosphere aboard during sea trials. Brent, unlike the other conning officers, admired Henri. The others resented being upstaged by the young outspoken enlisted man, especially in the presence of Captain Bostwick, however, Brent’s self-confidence permitted him to see the value of being backed up by a competent subordinate.
The helmsman reported, “Steady, two-seven-five.”
Denver headed for the next sea trial in the best possible hands.
Until now, deep dive results exceeded all that could be hoped for and a rigorous test program maintained its schedule. The few minor discrepancies encountered would not delay the final departure from the yard and there would be ample time for farewell visits to Helmsman’s Tavern prior to leaving for San Diego.
The crew felt exhausted when Denver prepared for her final deep dive event, firing seawater slugs at maximum depth to test the torpedo tubes with full launch pressure. Captain Bostwick anticipated a routine test and left Lieutenant Daniel Patrick in charge.
Denver proceeded to maximum depth, maintaining coolant pumps in slow for greater reliability and lower noise levels. For precise depth control, Patrick ordered speed above eight knots then ordered watch standers stationed at hydraulic controls for major hull openings to cope with possible flooding casualties.
Lessons learned from the loss of Thresher remained fresh.
Initiating the torpedo tube test firings at maximum depth, Brent ordered, “Starboard bank first, Dan.”