SSN 680 Sea Stories
- A. C. (Dean) Macris
- Sea Stories - SSN 680
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These photos were taken by the Newport News Shipyard photography group on April 11, 1974 as we were about to finish up our PSA.
As you all know, hull numbers were not in vogue in those days, but we wanted a publicity piece.
So we made large cardboard numbers, and double sticky taped them to the sail for the photos.
Following the photo shoot, we did some operational tests, one being a dive to test depth. We were sure the cardboard numbers would be gone when we surfaced.
To our amazement they were still stuck to the sail!
No comments- Mike Reedy
- Sea Stories - SSN 680
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This is a no s___ter (Navy speak for this really happened) and as I remember it.
I was the off-going TMOW (Torpedoman of the Watch). It was deep in the middle of the night after mid-rats was cleaned up and the movie probably didn’t interest me at the time.
Being qualified in pretty much everything it was easy to get bored underway. I would usually find myself hanging out in control with the QMOW (Quartermaster of the Watch), often Tom ‘Spot’ Johnson, or in the Equipment Space aft of Radio conversing with the RMOW (Radioman of the Watch), usually David ‘Harry’ Harrison. These two gents were also my roommates in the barracks when in port in San Diego.
Tonight found me hanging in Control and so I had to be either visiting ‘Spot’ or studying to qualify as COW (Chief of the Watch).
- George M. Sands
- Sea Stories - SSN 680
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My first boat was the USS WILLIAM H. BATES (SSN 680) back in the seventies.
We spent so much time going north and south we began to think our home port was at sea.
We were getting underway for a four-month northern run out of Groton. We set the maneuvering watch, and as normal, the Diesel Operator assumed his responsibilities. Then he went to all A-gang spaces to make the last trash run, gathering the garbage and hauling it to the pier. He never came back.
Apparently, his wife had called him just before they set the maneuvering watch and said, "If you do not come home now, she and the family wouldn't be there." He had to make a choice between being a submariner or being married and the father to their three children.
- Joe Smith
- Sea Stories - SSN 680
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There were only a few books that I can think of that were permitted in Maneuvering. The RPMs (Reactor Plant Manuals), of course. Websters Collegiate Dictionary, so that our logs wouldn't contain spelling errors, was officially sanctioned. I think. It was kept in an aluminum can about 2 feet tall and 2 feet diameter that sat on the deck and usually resided near the sound powered phone mounted on the control panels. Just to the right of the RO.
I have a little niggling doubt about the dictionary because it was the final arbiter for the forbidden games of "Hangman" we would play while on watch. I mean, picture it: Doing ahead 1/3 for days, the reactor is at equilibrium xenon and there are 6 hrs to be used up. We're gonna play hangman. It was not without challenge.
- Brad Williamson
- Sea Stories - SSN 680
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Editing photos for “Up Scope!” the other day, I was working my way through “The Seventies” post-processing and writing captions for twenty-or-so galleries of images submitted by Neal Degner for the years 1974-1977. I stumbled across a photo of an unusual ship, a haze gray catamaran with the Military Sealift Command (MSC) stripes on her stacks. Curious, I decided a little research was in order, partly because those twin-hulled catamarans were as rare as the Pegusus class hydrofoils during the 70’s and 80’s.
Thank you internet. A few clicks later, and the ship was identified as the USNS Hayes (T-AGOR-16). Named after Dr. Harvey C. Hayes, a pioneer in underwater acoustics and the former head of the U.S. Navy Sound Division of the Naval Research Laboratory, the “Hayes” class oceanographic research vessel was re-purposed in the mid-80’s as an acoustic research ship...
- Brad Williamson
- Sea Stories - SSN 680
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Remember showers on the boat? As much as I loved my daily ephemeral oblutions, snagging a shower before watch was a major evolution.
First, slide out of my rack on the port side of the eighteen-man bunkroom. Stand on that ice-cold floor, doubly so in north Pacific or the 'Sea of None of Your Business'. Pull my damp shower shoes out of the shoe locker, grab my shower gear, don't forget the towel, shuffle over to the ladder, slowly pull my way up to Bow Compartment Upper Level by the door to the 'Goat Locker', clamber sleepily through the hatch into Ops Middle Level, hoping I didn't drag any bare skin across cold hullmetal, turn starboard into the shower room, and hope there was an empty shower stall. All that just to get there.
Hang my towel and skivvies, open the door, and climb into one of two stainless steel iceboxes. If you were lucky, someone just left having warmed up the stall, otherwise hope you didn't bump the bare steel wall with any body part you didn't want to get frozen off. Readjust the shower head so you didn't get blasted with icy cold or searing hot water until you got temperature adjusted, turn on the hot and cold, quickly adjust the temperature, readjust the shower head, get my hair and skin wet, savor that feeling for about 15 secs, and then shut off the water.
