Kranz in Houston and Lovell in space were both able to draw the best out of their crews, working collaboratively and leveraging all their long hours in training to will a miracle. Mattingly (who remained measles-free) was even pressed back into service, returning to the mock-up modules in Houston to test work-arounds for the power problem. And the EECOM’s embarrassing failure during simulation turned out to have been a blessing. It had forced everyone to practice the obscure lifeboat maneuver that the trio of astronauts would ultimately use to save their lives.
In addition to being serious about diving and partying, DJ Gillis was a history buff and adventure nut who loved watching the History Channel and the Discovery Channel. When Tap called him in the spring of 1999 to offer him a slot on what some people were starting to call a moonwalk under the sea, DJ was intrigued.
Tap explained that the plug-pulling mission in the tunnel was expected to take a couple of weeks. But because of its unusual nature, the job would be preceded by several weeks of preparation, all to be hosted at Black Dog’s place in New Hampshire. It would be their version of NASA training.
At the time, DJ was working as a pile driver on a Big Dig-related project111, building soldier pile retaining walls. He was enjoying steady work at good pay. But as pile drivers often joked, divers were so addicted to the thrill of being in the water that they’d give up a lucrative yearlong pile job on land for the chance to dive in a puddle for a couple of weeks. Of course, Tap wasn’t calling DJ to offer him traditional dive work. The details were even more enticing. He’d be going down a 420-foot shaft. Traveling in souped-up Humvees to the end of a dark tunnel running for miles under the ocean. Relying on a cutting-edge mixed-gas breathing system. “Tap, this sounds real cool,” DJ said.
Tap told him it was a complicated job, the likes of which had never been done before, so they would have the opportunity to make history in their field. It would involve working with a crew from the West Coast. Tap said he’d feel more comfortable knowing that a talented diver like DJ, with Gulf experience, was there representing Black Dog. It didn’t take DJ long to give notice at his pile driver job and sign on to Deer Island.
Tap told DJ that a representative from the Drager equipment company would be coming to New Hampshire to train the divers on how to use the specialized breathing gear. A trainer from a mine rescue company would also be there to conduct sessions on working in confined spaces. For DJ, the fact that a company that trained coal miners would be instructing them was as good an indication as any of just how different this job would be. That training would be essential because the Boston Fire Department had already made it clear that if the dive team ran into trouble miles into an unventilated tunnel, firefighter crews would not be going in to save them. If the dive crews wanted the security of knowing a rescue crew was available, they’d have to form one themselves.
Tap explained to DJ that he wouldn’t be in charge of this job. He’d be answering to a Canadian engineer named Harald Grob who worked for a company called Norwesco out of Washington. Tap leveled with DJ that he didn’t much care for Harald. But he said the guy seemed to be razor sharp and had a ton of high-level experience, so at least he knew what he was doing.
On May 13, 1999, Harald phoned Kiewit executive Tom Corry112 to report some good news: the first two customized Humvees would be leaving Norwesco’s Spokane office in a week, loaded, along with other equipment, onto a tractor-trailer bound for New England. In addition, Harald had lined up safety specialists to conduct separate training sessions for the Norwesco and Black Dog dive crews. Now that the sandhogs had removed the last of the tunnel’s utilities, Harald seemed to be putting the final touches on his plug-removal plan. He informed Corry that the crews would be assembling in Tap’s backyard in a month and would then begin their convoy to Deer Island. Nine months after the fact-finding mission, one year after the arranged-marriage meeting in Omaha, and nine years after Kiewit had won the big contract, the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel finally appeared to be flickering into view.
But if Harald was truly putting the final touches on his plan for the T-minus-one-month mission, his actions behind the scenes suggested something completely different. Four days after Harald’s upbeat phone call to Corry, Harald’s primary equipment supplier113 in Spokane sent a fax indicating how very fluid the plan still was. With the mission’s start date looming, the key component of Harald’s plan, the cutting-edge system he envisioned for supplying the divers with enough portable breathing air, was still something of a back-of-a-napkin wish.
Jerry Anderskow, Harald’s contact at supplier A-L Compressed Gases, Inc., faxed his inquiry letter to the customer service department of a Minnesota company called MVE. He needed a company specializing in cryogenics because converting cold liquid gas into a gaseous state would be the crux of Harald’s innovative breathing system. “Dear Sir,” the May 17 letter to MVE began, “I need your help on a very important application.... Our customer has a project on the East Coast and needs all the appropriate equipment in place ASAP. The specifications are open for engineering and recommendation.” After describing the circumstances of the Deer Island job, and Harald’s desire for a system that would vaporize liquid oxygen, Anderskow’s fax concluded, “Please quote me a turn-key system for new equipment. Any recommendation on how systems should be set-up would be appreciated. Time & Delivery is critical.”
It wasn’t clear what Harald had been doing for the nine months since the fact-finding mission and the finalization of Norwesco’s contract with Kiewit. That he and his primary supplier were still desperately searching for a “turn-key” system just a month before the mission’s scheduled start date painted a vastly different picture from the rosy one he had presented to Kiewit.
Two weeks later Anderskow faxed Harald an update. After consulting with MVE, the nation’s largest manufacturer of cryogenic storage systems, he recommended a setup consisting of one liquid oxygen cylinder and either one or two liquid nitrogen cylinders, for a price tag of just under $5,000 per setup114. But Anderskow included this word of caution. “Problem: We cannot find a breathing air approved mixer/blender,” he wrote. “Do you have access to this equipment?” The mixer was essential since it would be responsible for blending the vapors from the liquid oxygen and liquid nitrogen to provide the divers with their primary source of breathing air. Without the mixer, the system would not only fail to be “turn-key.” It would fail to work.
In early June, DJ climbed the stairs of an office building in Portsmouth, New Hampshire, to attend the East Coast sessions of the mine rescue training. Harald had arranged for the Norwesco divers to undergo the same kind of training at Lake Mead, Nevada, where they were finishing up work on that Kiewit job. Black Dog had two offices in southern New Hampshire. The A-frame garage in Tap’s backyard in Greenland served as the company’s storage shop, while a small office a few miles away in downtown Portsmouth was the place where Tap bid on jobs and met with clients. That office, in a tired building with creaky wooden floors and drop ceiling tiles, was too tiny to accommodate the training sessions, so he reserved a conference room a few doors away.
The first day’s session focused on the Drager equipment, which included the handheld analyzers that the divers would use to measure gas levels in the tunnel, the firefighter-type masks they would wear, and the rebreathers they would use as a backup air supply. From the fact-finding mission, Tap and Billy had already gained some experience with those rebreathers, the roller-suitcase-type backpacks that scrubbed and recirculated breathing air. But the Drager trainer explained that for the actual plug-pulling mission, the divers would be required to be clean-shaven, because beards and sideburns could interfere with the seal on the facemasks and cause leaks. DJ let out a laugh. He knew Billy would comply by making sure there was no stubble on his beard, but there was absolutely no way his friend was going to part with that mustache.
111 (Chapter 5, note 11)
a pile driver on a Big Dig-related project: DJ’s union employment records.
112 (Chapter 5, note 12)
Harald phoned Kiewit executive Tom Corry: Tom Corry, notations in his day planner, May 13, 1999, produced as part of discovery in the subsequent court proceedings.
113 (Chapter 5, note 13)
Harald’s primary equipment supplier: Jerry Anderskow (of A-L Compressed Gases) to Customer Service, MVE Cryogenics, May 17, 1999.
114 (Chapter 5, note 14)
just under $5,000 per setup: Jerry Anderskow to Harald Grob, May 26, 1999.