Although I was a rookie, a green nonqualified enlisted man with nothing to contribute as I learned the ways of the Viperfish, I was never made to feel inconsequential. As an emerging nuclear reactor operator, I was acknowledged to be an essential part of the upcoming mission. Reactor operator Randy Nicholson would finish his six-year service in the Navy within a few months, and he seemed driven to show me everything he knew about the Viperfish's reactor system before he left. Like the other men of the crew, he repeatedly emphasized the importance of teamwork to the success of any mission that lay ahead. From the cook in the galley to the nuclear engineering officer in the engine room, from the scientist in the hangar compartment to the seaman blowing the head, every member of the team was essential to the mission, and Nicholson never let me forget it.
Occasionally, light moments broke the tension of drills and the grind of qualifications. About two-thirds of the way across the Pacific Ocean, for instance, we were deeply submerged and gliding nearly twenty thousand feet above the Pioneer Fracture Zone when the voice of Paul Mathews emerged from the loudspeakers. I had just climbed into my rack for a couple of hours' sleep when my eyes popped open at his announcement.
"Now, attention all hands!" he said authoritatively over the loudspeakers. "A full-grown sea bat has just been isolated from the number two torpedo tube. It is contained, and it is now on display in the hangar compartment."
Jerking the curtain away from the front of my rack, I looked down the dark passageway in the general direction of the hangar. I had heard of fish caught in different sections of our superstructure during previous runs, but a sea bat was something entirely new-and caught in the torpedo tube?
I tried to recall the structure of the Viperfish's torpedo tubes. The forward bulkheads at the front end of the hangar compartment contained a total of four torpedo tubes, each twenty-one inches in diameter. I thought it amazing that the bat-thing from the sea, whatever the creature might look like, had somehow become sucked into one of the tubes and even more amazing that the torpedomen were able to capture it. Almost everything I had seen on the Viperfish so far was relatively amazing, however, and this event didn't seem that much different. As such, I decided, it must be important enough to investigate.
As I hiked up to the hangar compartment, I wondered why the other men on the boat seemed to be showing remarkably little interest in this creature of the sea. I climbed through the watertight door into the hangar and passed the civilians and Lieutenant Dobkin, all apparently oblivious to the extraordinary event just a few feet away.
Near the forward segment of the Viperfish, where the torpedo tubes filled the bulkhead, Spike Norstrum, one of the larger torpedomen, stood next to a black plastic bucket. Water had splashed on the deck around the bucket. Norstrum closely watched the bucket; he was obviously guarding the creature in it.
"Hello, Spike," I said, trying not to divert his attention from his hostage. "I just heard the announcement from Chief Mathews. Is the thing still in the bucket?" I peered into the dark water.
Norstrum grimaced and said, "Can you believe it? I've been on boats for fifteen years, and I have never seen one until today.' He frowned and added, "The thing is still in there, but its kinda hard to see since the light is so dim up here. I'm just waiting for Mr. Vogel to tell us what to do with it." He was referring to Peter Vogel, our fire-control officer.
The surface of the water vibrated some, partly because the hull was shaking from the propulsion action of the screws and partly, I was sure, from the movements of the creature.
"Is it still alive?" I asked.
"I think so, although the water hasn't moved much lately." Norstrum narrowed his eyes and studied the bucket.
"Do you have a flashlight, Spike?" I asked, straining to see down into the bucket. I wondered whether the bat would jump out at me if I shined light into its new home. The forward end of the compartment near the torpedo tubes was nearly dark, the light blocked by the torpedoes stacked everywhere around us.
"Here's a light," Norstrum said, producing a tiny penlight with a dim yellow light. "It's not real bright, but it should give you a good feel for the thing." I thought I saw a trace of a smile flash across Spike's face.
I turned on the light and pointed the beam down into the bucket's dark interior. Most of the light reflected off the surface of the vibrating water; I stepped closer to the bucket and leaned over to gain a closer look. Down in the depths of the water, I thought I saw something dark at the bottom, something that was still alive. I leaned closer and strained to see if the dark shape was making any movement.
The plastic baseball bat bounced off my hind end with a loud whack at exactly the moment I realized the bucket contained only water. I emitted a surprised holler as the flashlight flew from my hand and crashed against one of the torpedo tubes. Six or seven men immediately emerged from dark hiding places around us, all of them laughing and joining with Spike Norstrum as they hollered together, "The sea bat gotcha, you non-qual puke!"
As I rubbed my hind end and acknowledged that I was now qualified in Sea Bats 101A, one of the civilians at the other end of the hangar hollered, "Here comes another one!" As the watertight door slammed shut, everybody in the compartment disappeared as quickly as they had appeared, leaving Spike Norstrum and me standing alone next to the bucket. The plastic bat disappeared behind one of the panels near Spike just before we heard the voice of the next victim.
"Where's this sea bat thing?" Richard Daniels's voice boomed across the compartment. "Is it still alive?"
I picked up the flashlight from the deck and headed aft.
"Helluva thing, Richard," I said, shaking my head and pointing my thumb back in the direction of the bucket. "I've never seen anything like it. Here, this flashlight will help give you a better look. It's amazing-"
"Thanks, Rog," he said with so much sincerity that I felt a brief flash of guilt. The last thing I heard before I quickly exited the compartment was Daniels asking Spike curious questions about the nature of this remarkable creature called a sea bat.
For the next several days, I studied the Viperfish torpedo tubes, the firing control system, and everything I could find about torpedoes. I read books on the subject, studied the fire-control panels, and listened to officers and enlisted men describe details of the complex system. I learned about inner doors and outer doors and the improbability of anything from the sea ever getting into the tubes. Finally, Norstrum quizzed me and signed my qualifications card, which indicated that I was now qualified on the Viperfish torpedo fire control system-including everything there was to know about sea bats.
At the end of our submerged cruise we broke through the surface of the frigid, glassy-smooth ocean off the forested coast of Washington and quietly glided up the Strait of Juan de Fuca toward the Navy port at Bremerton. Several of us scrambled up the ladder to take advantage of the view from the large flat deck. The morning air was crisp and cold; the skies were a clear blue. Even though we had been submerged for less than two weeks, the fresh air was invigorating and refreshing, in sharp contrast to the steamy, oil-laden atmosphere within the confines of our boat, especially in the engine room.