The truck on the right was receiving the Hazardous Biological Materials boxes from the ship by way of conveyor from the lower deck. Persons manning this unloading were all in white Hazmat gear. As ambulances filled with ill patients left the pier, their vacant spaces were filled by other waiting ambulances.
The refrigerated truck on the left, closest to the crew bus, was unloading strange boxes presumably to be loaded on board the submarine. These boxes were covered in plain plastic and marked only by a number.
At the very end of the lower pier stood the backlit outline of a black submarine surrounded by small patches of fog. There were no bright lights illuminating the submarine. In addition to moonlight behind the submarine, there were two beams of light coming from open hatches on the sub’s deck and two small lights on the gang plank leading from the pier to the sub.
One crew member in the bus raised the question in everyone’s mind. “What the hell is going on here?”
Another said, “I don’t believe what I’m seeing. It looks like a zombie movie. Something very bad has happened here. What are we getting ourselves into?”
Another asked, “Can you make out the boxes on the left?”
A member replied, “I don’t think they’re munitions. They might be food or some kind of supply that needs refrigeration.”
Whatever pleasant thoughts the crew may have had about this being a Caribbean cruise were quickly dispelled by the scene before them. Little did Wade Hanna realize this tour of duty could be the last voyage of his young life. He could not have expected that he might be exposed to some deadly biological disease onboard his own boat. He did not know he would soon be facing a very dangerous deployment of a Navy SEAL Team a few hundred yards off a hostile Cuban shore. There was no way he could have known that he would soon come face to face with a hostile Russian submarine. He also could not have known that his earlier decision to sign up for Navy reserve would eventually put him in a mutually dangerous standoff with that Russian submarine — ninety meters below the Gulf, while two heads of state on shore would come within minutes of starting a nuclear war.
As Wade Hanna approached the boarding ramp, he tried to imagine the scene filled with people going on a Caribbean cruise. But there was no greeting party, bands, or confetti on this night. Instead, Wade saw the surreal image of ambulances filled with dying men, and strange boxes marked with bright orange Hazardous Biological Stickers. Instead of party hosts, he saw the men dressed in white biological Hazmat suits streaming out of the belly of a black sea creature — one he was about to enter, called SS-438, the Prowfish
No one was around saying “Welcome to the Prowfish.” This was definitely no boarding party for a Caribbean cruise. This scene had “death” written all over it.
As imaginations among the crew drifted as they waited, the bus driver returned and said, “Get your gear. The Chief wants you down on the lower level on the left side with your gear, in that open area.” He pointed to a faded painted square on the lower deck. He added, “Wait there and the Chief will come over as soon as he can.”
As the crew descended the stairs with their gear, a couple of the men looked back to see their bus driving away.
One of them commented, “There goes our ride.”
22
The Army has their Master Sergeants and the Navy has their Chief Petty Officers. The commonly held understanding that these individuals practically “run” their respective branches of service is not unfounded. Chief Petty Officer, Harold Wilks, ran his boat, no question about it. Captains and executive officers frequently relied heavily on these non-commissioned officers to keep a boat running efficiently. A petty officer kept the boat and men in shape, making sure sailors and all mechanical elements functioned smoothly. Most chief petty officers knew the workings of virtually all of the systems on the ship and, more importantly, they knew the Navy.
It was not uncommon for captains and executive officers to consult their chiefs before issuing an important order or taking a position in cases involving personnel problems. Most chiefs in the Navy are lifers who have come up through the ranks.
Wilks had spent 23 years in the Navy, mostly on board submarines. He saw action during the Korean War, and he was on patrol in sensitive mine infested waters before the Vietnam War. Many chiefs can be distant and demanding. Wilks, on the other hand, had a friendlier, outgoing personality than most. Still, men always felt with Wilks that they never wanted to cross him or make him look bad in front of the boat’s commanding officers. A chief also has the power to make the life of a sailor miserable.
The New Orleans crew brought their gear from the bus down the pier stairs to the designated area in lower deck and waited for the chief as instructed.
Within half an hour, the Chief arrived with a clip board in one hand. He looked hurried and said, “Are you the crew from New Orleans?”
The six New Orleans crewmen all said, “Yes, sir!”
The Chief instructed, “Leave your gear here. You three men lend a hand with this unloading.” The Chief pointed to the men and the refrigerated truck on the upper level. The Chief then ordered, “You other three come with me.”
Wade was in the first group and proceeded to get in line with other submarine crew members unloading boxes and carrying them from the end of the conveyor to the staging areas. The unmarked boxes were wrapped with plastic and sealed with tape. There was a small sticker on them with a code number. Initially Wade was quiet, not saying much to the crew members he didn’t know. An older crew member who stood in line one ahead of him said, as he went to pick up a box, “This one is heavy.”
Wade immediately stepped in and took the box. The older crew member said, “Thanks.” The small gesture extended by Wade seemed to break the ice. When the older crew member returned to the line, he turned to Wade and asked, “Are you the crew from New Orleans?”
Wade replied, “Yes.”
The older man said, “That’s a real party town. Don’t you guys party a lot?”
“Not as much as people think.”
By this time, a few other crew members on the box line seemed to be warming up a little, and they started to make a few comments as they worked.
Boxes were being individually carried from the conveyor to where they were stacked midway between the end of the conveyor and the submarine. There was another crew taking individual boxes from the stack to the sub. Wade noticed this was the way the line on the other side of the pier was also operating, only in reverse. That line was taking boxes coming off the boat and loading them on the conveyor. After an hour or so, the remaining old crew and the New Orleans crew had warmed up to each other, and regular conversation was taking place between them as they worked.
Wade was carefully listening to the talk and hoping the permanent crew would mention something about their mission. Not a word about it was uttered.
After another 20 boxes, and looking at the truck still only half unloaded, Wade said, “It’s none of my business, but wouldn’t it be better if we set up a chain gang line, water bucket style and move these boxes all the way to the boat?”
One of the older crew members said, “Yeah that might work better.”
Wade asked, “Do you think Chief would mind? Should we get his permission?”
The older crew member answered, “No, Wilks is easy, let’s just do it.”