nor the sound of artillery. Indeed, nothing to let you know that we were "at war." But make no bones about it; the vast ocean spaces of the Atlantic and Pacific were fertile breeding grounds for violence and a virtual state of war existed between us and our communist naval forces counterparts. Following an SSBN was an act of war. So every effort was made to make sure that it didn't happen. Silence was the name of the game. While planes jockeyed for position in mock dogfights and ships played chicken with each other, the submarine fleet, like the cavalry of wars past, remained in the background, waiting to come to the rescue, bugle's tooting and flags flying in the wind. The odds were stacked in the West's favor. SOSUS and other listening sensors littered the vital sea lanes through which Soviet submarines had to transit. Even NATO navies with few ships boasted impressive land based ASW assets. Everyone, save for a few, flew the Sea King helo with it's serious sub hunting capability. And then there was the fast boats. Over one hundred fifty of Ronald Reagan's "600 ship navy" were submarines. Help would never be far away should we need it. Our "little brothers" varied but almost always ended up to be USS Atlanta or USS Minneapolis-St. Paul; serious Los Angeles Class killer subs. USS Atlanta crept into port every now and then, but USS Minneapolis-St. Paul was a mystery. She buzzed us once at high speed like a high school kid screeching down main street in his Camaro. This was no Camaro. This was several thousand tons of armed to the teeth steel. After the humiliation of being "caught with our pants down" subsided, silent prayers were offered, thanking any creator who cared to listen that we were indeed grateful that she was on our side! Any joking subsided once the hatch closed. Our job was to silently live in a patrol area and make sure that if the poo-poo hit the fan, we were ready to plug the source with sixteen multiple warhead missiles.
The patrol was our reason for living. The patrol was the reason we commanded the resources we did. The food alone was unreal. The submarine cook spoiled his crew daily. Steak and lobster every other Sunday. Fresh baked breads and cakes. Custom, made to order omelettes. And all in a never ending supply! The normal sailor dreamed of such a feast. The submarine sailor took it in his stride. "Doesn't everyone have pizza baked to order every Friday night?" Once the hatch closed, any news we had seen or read prior to the hatch coming down was all we had. There was no CNN or Fox News being piped in twenty four seven. This made life very interesting. A surface sailor onboard a destroyer or cruiser would see a crisis develop slowly over several days. We, on the other hand, would get an order to launch missiles and then have to do it. Numerous drills and exercises would be run to ensure that we did what we were supposed to do. Indeed, it was not known whether the launch order was real or fake until a certain part of the missile launch process was reached. Several of these tests were run every patrol, so no, Denzel Washington's character in "Crimson Tide" would have been weeded out long before he got to be an executive officer. The entire time I was on the Pulaski we never had anyone that I recall, refuse to obey a launch order. The Weapon System Readiness Test - or WSRT - was practised until perfection was achieved. The Ship's Inertial Navigation System ("SINS") would update every so many periods and then the missiles would know where they were when launched and where they're headed.
Patrol started, technically, when the R & R period ended. Two months of intense training going over the newest Navy regulations and directives, reviewing lessons learned from our last patrol and those of other submarines. There were missile team trainers and diving trainers which taught new crew how to drive the submarine, service the weapons, etc. The Navy will argue with me, but this training period was for the sole purpose of preparing to go to sea. So technically, this is when patrol "started." The initial batch of Ohio Class submarines had a nice purpose built submarine base in Bangor, Washington. The next batch would go to the next purpose built base and the largest Western submarine base, King's Bay, Georgia. Unfortunately we were there as well, which meant that the third month of the cycle, refit, would take place away from home. So at the end of two months, we'd say goodbye to wives, girlfriends and family and load up on a bus and travel four hours to Georgia. Wives and girlfriends could visit and we'd either have them come down for the weekend or we'd pile into a car and head home for a long weekend. Refit started with the emotional "bus away" when we left Charleston, South Carolina. To make the whole situation even more unbearable, bus away was done in dress uniform. Here, ET3 Meyers, QM2 Rick Terrell and ET3 Frank Hellenberger wait on the pier prior to loading our sea bags onto the barracks barge.
If it looks like we're in the middle of nowhere, it's because WE ARE! King's Bay, Georgia at the time, was a pier and a submarine tender. The base was still growing. For the next three days there is a ritual called turnover where the Gold Crew comes back in to port and both crews unload the boat and go over what's broken, what went well, and what didn't. While the Goldie's are packing, we have to stay on a barrack's barge. The name is apt.
The atmosphere is tense. The off going crew wants to go home and we want them off "our boat." A brief change of command ceremony takes place on the pier with the tender and submarine as a backdrop. The "burden of command" is read and then each captain reads his orders. Following this exercise in tradition, the squadron priest prays that we'll come back with the sixteen missiles we're leaving with. "I had it, you got it. Have fun with it." It's then that refit proper takes place... CDR Plyler (outgoing Gold crew skipper) watches as Blue crew skipper CDR Frank Walker salutes CAPT Albert Konetzni (Commander, Submarine Squadron SIXTEEN). As a side, trivia note, CAPT Konetzni's father was one of Walt Disney's righthand men, designing many of the rides and attractions at Disneyland. As a further side note, Vice Admiral Albert Konetzni is now the commander of all submarines in the Pacific Fleet (COMSUBPAC) - and to think we knew him before he was famous!
Turnover's Exchange Of Command ceremony is also a good opportunity for awards presentation. Here, the Commodore, Captain Konetzni, presents Gold Dolphins to those Gold Crew officers that have successfully completed their qualifications in Submarines (photo courtesy of Scott Thon).
