What kind of guy volunteers for service in such a ship?  Probably the same kind of guy who'd agree with jumping out of a perfectly good airplaine (paratrooper).  The Casimir Pulaski was divided into two crews; a Blue and a Gold crew each with their own commanding officer, executive officer, engineer, navigator, etc.  The crew was a cross section of Navy occupations with a good chunk of the Navy's trades being represented.  Unlike the surface and aviation communities of the US Navy, the submarine force was strictly volunteer.  No one was here that did not want to be here.  This produced an espirit de corps lacking in a lot of units.  And if you needed some spring in your step while working on your prideful swagger, it didn't do any harm to know that your vessel was the most powerful weapon ever built by man.  Each Trident I C4 missile carried multiple warheads capable of reducing a target to fine ash in next to no time.  And there was capacity to carry sixteen of them.  Contrary to popular myth, the doors and hatches were quite generous and it was possible for overly tall or large men to serve onboard boats.  Standards were relaxed.  Anyone who wanted one, could have a moustache as long as it remained within Naval regulations.  This was unlike the surface Navy and it's authoritarianism.  Officers were different.  We addressed them as "Mister" and there was mutual respect.  You'd lay your life down for any of the officers and vice versa.  The captain was one of the most powerful men in the world when he put that key around his neck.  He had an open door policy and was the epitome of fairness, yet still in control.  The benefits of submarine service were equally lucrative.  Unlike sailors in the rest of the Navy, who received Sea Pay ONLY when they were physically at sea, submariners received Sea Pay all year round.  And then on top of that, there was the Family Separation Allowance and Submarine Pay.  This equalled several hundred extra dollars per month, which, in 1980's dollars, were a boon. 

Then there was the infamous "FBM Deduction" on your income tax form.  One more way the grateful nation paid you back for keeping them safe at night.  Yessiree...we were part of the nation's defense.  Not just some shmoe military grunts.  Local merchants extended free memberships to buying clubs.  Disney tickets?  Just ask.  We didn't drive the local economy; we WERE the local economy.  We all lived in the same apartment complexes and after returning from sea, there would usually be a new complex sprouting up nearby.  All competed viciously for our dollars.  There were clubs and bars all geared towards keeping us happy.  From Rivers Avenue to Goose Creek, there was Navy as far as the eye could see.  St. Mary's was soon referred to as "King's Bay," even though King's Bay was the base name.  Rules were bent regularly.  Only submarine wives and children received free dental care.  The rest of the Navy was on their own when it came to their families.  "If we can squeeze you in" was the motto.  Not so for the sub sailors.  Our wives commanded the same respect.  With their bumper stickers proclaiming "sub sailors do it deeper" and "my man takes the subway to work," they had the hardest job: not knowing.  Even today with sailors having email and pay phones onboard ship, the submarine sailor is still separated from all communication with his family.  The sole purpose of the boat's radio gear is to receive either an "all clear" message or a message saying "it's time to launch."  So the submarine wife/girlfriend does not hear from her man until he returns.  Submarine wife is the toughest job in the Navy.

The various ratings present onboard USS Casimir Pulaski were as follows (note that some of these jobs are no longer present in the US Navy):

Electrician's Mate - EM.  Responsible for the maintenance of the nuclear reactors and other power sources.

Electronics Technician (Navigation) - NAVET.  Responsible for various navigational systems.

Electronics Technician (Nuclear) - ET.  Responsible for nuclear reactor systems.

Fire Control Technician (Ballistic) - FTB.  Responsible for SLBM fire control and maintenance.

Fire Control Technician (Guns) - FTG.  Responsible for torpedo fire control and maintenance.

Hospital Corpsman - HM.  The "doc." 

Interior Communications Technician - IC.  Responsible for the phones and other comms.

Machinist's Mate - MM.  The mechanics.

Machinist's Mate (Nuclear) - MM.  The nuclear mechanics.

Mess Specialist - MS.  The cooks.

Missile Technician - MT.  Responsible for maintenance of the SLBM's.

Quartermaster - QM.  Tell us where we're going.

Radioman - RM.  Communications and most importantly, receiving Family Grams.

Sonar Technician (Submarines) - STS.  Responsible for all sonar equipment.

Storekeeper - SK.  Spare parts and ordering more spare parts.

Torpedoman - TM.  Responsible for the defense of the boat.

Yeoman - YN.  Responsible for virtually everything!  :-0

People always ask me, "knowing what you do about the effects of nuclear weapons, how could you consciously carry out an order to launch them or allow someone else to do it?"  Well, the answer is easy.  Firstly, the US Navy's ballistic missile submarines are a defensive weapon.  So if the order did come to "fire," then I figure it means that the USA or one of it's allies/friends, has already been fired upon.  So in other words, it's payback time.  Bravado plays a part in the molding and shaping of any military man/woman and the submarine force was no exception.  There were t-shirts with mushroom clouds on them, post cards, etc.  All glorifying nuclear destruction.  It was indeed no laughing matter.  Petty Officer Jesse Ortiz, my grandmother's brother, pulled into Hiroshima and took a photo or two of the devastation.  The ground was still hot and the smell of death was there like a low lying fog. 

Whether or not Japan deserved the bombing or not, is neither here nor there.  The point is that there are no winners in nuclear warfare.  So when the message to shoot comes in, you must assume that your loved ones and your base are already dead.  If that wasn't enough, sound travels underwater.  Fast.  So there were "estimates" of how many missiles a boomer could fire before being detected and hunted.  And to push the point even further still, escape from a sunken submarine is, for the most part, fantasy.  So it's no wonder that the Pulaski's crew partied like there was no tomorrow when party time came.  The drinks were colder, the food was tastier, etc.  Why?  Because there was a good chance that you'd never see it again.  On a day unlike any other Navy day, the USS Bonefish caught fire and within seconds, three shipmates lost their lives.  We earned our pay every day.  There was a good reason why people said "man you're crazy to be on a sub."  And there was equally good reason why we said "you're crazy not to be..."  It took a special breed of man to work in such confined quarters without cracking.  There would be occasional temper flare ups, but all in all, there were jobs to do (plenty of them!) and you knew which ones were your responsibility.  And then there was qualifications.  Unlike the surface or air communities, submarine qualification was mandatory for service onboard a submarine.  You had one year with which to earn it or get thrown out of the submarine force.  Radiomen tended to be the most knowledgeable crewmen and as such, they made the best teachers.  This is how I met RM2 Pat King and his boss, RMC Belcher (photo courtesy Pat King).

Once you were qualified, you were accepted into the brotherhood of the deep.  Then it was time to relax.  No more pressure and now people were free to make friends with you as they knew you'd be staying around a while and not get thrown off the boat.  Here RM2 King and my last roommate, STS3 Steve Davis find something amusing in the control room (photo courtesy of Pat King).

At times the atmosphere onboard the boat resembled that of an exclusive men's club with fine cigars, relaxed conversation and all at a nice comfortable temperature due to the nuclear powered air conditioning.  This photo was typical of the atmosphere I'm talking about.  Here, ET2 Meyers, ET1 Pete Benevega, ET2 Hellenberger and RM2 King congregate in the Nav Center (photo courtesy of Pat King). 

Judging from the beards and long hair, this photo probably came from halfway night or close to it.  Of course, cigar smoking wasn't relegated to just the ET's...here, TM2 Kenny Boyd enjoys one of Havana's finest while on watch in the torpedo room.

And since it's bad manners to smoke alone...

Everyone will be pleased to know that my cigar smoking days ended prematurely.

Male bonding takes many forms.  Sports, hobbies, drinking...the usual.  Patrol was kind of like forced friendship.  There was no racism onboard a submarine.  There were 150 of you and you had all been separated at birth.  You'd lay your life down for your shipmate and he for you.  Watch standing gets pretty lonely and soon, you're telling your deepest darkest secrets to the guy next to you.  Once back from patrol, you'll more than likely find yourself partying with that same guy.  Off-crew was the day you got off the boat and headed home.  But first, the change of command ceremony and time for the Captain to stand on "his" boat and give out some awards.

The change of command ceremony took forever.  Always.  Either the priest was late or the squadron photographer forgot to put film in the camera or the flag was the wrong size...  Whatever.  Eventually, the two skippers will salute each other and then we head back to civilization.  If you were single, you were heading back to the barracks.  Once there, you maybe had a new room-mate or you maybe had the same ones from last off-crew period.  Either way, it didn't take long for the party atmosphere to start up.  Here, ET3 Haley, ET3 Meyers, ET3 Frank Hellenberger and myself relax in a bar following a change of command ceremony.  On this day, we said hello to CDR Frank Walker and goodbye to CDR William Schmidt.

The atmosphere usually spilled back to the dorm rooms themselves.  Unlike some branches of the military, the Navy allows drinking in it's barrack's rooms (at least they did when I was in!) so once the bars closed, the partying could continue unabated.  And sometimes it did...

The first thirty days of off-crew were known as "R&R" or rest and recreation.  This was one of the key benefits of submarine life: 30 days of leave off the record books.  So basically, this 30 days was in addition to the 30 days a year that the military issued you.  I tended to spend my 30 days either with my girlfriend in England...

...or with my family.  One time, I combined both by flying my girlfriend out to mom and dad's place in California.  But most of the time, I settled for a trip to England to visit.  I preferred the colder weather after the sweltering heat of the Southern USA.

Off-crew was also time for awards ceremonies, reenlistments and other special occasions.  Here I am receiving a letter of commendation from our Executive Officer (the "XO"), LCDR Richard Relue.  I do not have any photos of the previous Executive Officer, CDR Peter Selde or the subsequent XO, LCDR Thomas Honeycutt.  We are in the Charleston, SC off-crew office.

The off crew office is home to a lot of things.  Nestled inside the Submarine Group SIX building in the middle of the Charleston Naval Base, are offices for each of the SSBN's assigned to Submarine Squadron SIXTEEN.  The offices are the size of a small convenience store and are further compartmented to provide office space for each department.  At the rear was the ship's office, Captain's office and XO's office.  It was here that X division, the Yeomen, updated regulations, retired/reenlisted sailors, transferred sailors and basically performed all the functions that lack of mail prevented onboard the boat.  I arrived onboard the Casimir Pulaski during off crew.

Another Poloroid...  The main piece of admin equipment, the IBM Selectric III typewriter was a familiar site to me having just finished typing class at YN "A" school.  The off crew days were short; usually 7:00 or 8:00am until around 2:00pm.  After that, there was a fight through the base traffic which was notoriously slow.  Naval Base Charleston was home to a major hospital command, a shipyard and several destroyer/cruiser squadrons.  Once home, it was time to call up shipmates and party.  Crew and their wives would usually congregate at the Airport Theatre on the corner of Rivers and Airport Avenue or mini-golf across the street from Ryans.  Po' Folks restraunt had just opened along with a new store called "Sam's Club."  Most of the time though, we all congregated at one of the many night clubs that catered to submarine sailors.

Those who had duty stood watch one day out of three.  Not bad.  That left the rest of the time for all kinds of fun and mayhem both with and without shipmates.  Card games, parties, you name it.  Here QM2 Harper and TM3 Longan discuss our next big party.

Mainly though, off-crew was a time to spend with wife, girlfriend, family and friends.  Off-crew is probably a lot different now.  After all, the 1980's were a different time.  Boy were they different!  I mean, how did we survive without cell phones and email?  Or the internet?  Or twenty four hour news?  Not that anything has changed much, news program wise.  And how did we function without reality television?  And how on earth did girls without body piercings and tatoos get dates?  And to top it all off, Michael Jackson was actually a black boy back then!  There was no "don't ask, don't tell" back then; and no political correctness.  This is heady stuff.  Not idle ramblings.  Well, okay, maybe just a little ramble...