Outside the boat, the metal door on the side of the sail repeatedly crashed against the frame of the superstructure. It sounded hauntingly as if Paul Mathews was out there pounding the Viperfish with a hammer and trying to get back inside.
"Do you see anything through the 'scopes?" the captain's voice called down to the control center.
"Nothing!" Ryack answered. "Goddamn it, nothing" His thumb remained poised on the TBT (target bearing transmitter) button at the base of the periscope handle, his eyes scanning back and forth.
"Bridge, this is the engine room!" Pintard called over the loud-speaker. "We are approaching the maximum bearing temperature limits for our backing turbines!"
"Keep your bell on!" Commander Young's sharp voice yelled down to the engine room.
"Where the hell is he?" Ryack said, moving the handles of his 'scope. "It's a goddamn hurricane out there-"
"I don't see anything, either," O'Dell said from behind his 'scope. "He's out there somewhere."
The speakers filled with another call from the engine room, Pintard's voice now more persistent. "We have exceeded our bearing and oil temperature limits for the backing turbines!"
"Keep your bell on!" Young's voice roared through our loud-speakers.
"Gotta get him on the leeward side," Ryack said.
O'Dell rotated his periscope again.
"Gotta see him, first," he said.
"Problem is, we may run over him before we spot him."
"Goddamnit…"
"How long have we been backing down?"
"Probably four or five minutes. It took us two minutes just to stop."
The speaker came to life again, the EOOW's voice urgent. "Bridge, engine room, the bearing temperatures are now-"
"Keep your bell on!" Young hollered again from the top of the sail. Although Young was standing the OOD watch, as the boat's engineer, he probably knew the limitations of his turbines better than any other man on board.
I mashed sponges into the water and wrung them into the buckets as we struggled to clear more water from the control center. We are going to do everything we can to save him, I though t- we are even going to burn out our propulsion turbine bearings.
Dipping the sponges into the water again, I cursed the persistent slamming sound of the unlatched sail door. The noise struck blow after blow on the minds of the men in the control center. We heard it as a repetitive call from our man, lost in the howling forces of hell that raged around us, pleading for the crew of the Viperfish to bring him back.
11. "You can't get to me"
While president Lyndon B. Johnson was denying plans to use nuclear weapons in Vietnam, the death toll of American servicemen reached the highest level ever in a single week (ending 28 January 1968) when 416 men were killed and 2,757 wounded in the battles at Khesanh and Langvei. This brought the U.S. casualty total in Vietnam to 17,296 killed and 108,428 wounded. Senator Edward Kennedy of Massachusetts, after returning from a trip to Vietnam as chairman of the Senate Judiciary Subcommittee on Refugees, charged that the Saigon government was infested with corruption and inefficiency. His brother, Senator Robert F. Kennedy of New York announced his candidacy for the Democratic presidential nomination; his platform included de-escalation of the Vietnam War and reversal of the "perilous course" of American policies.
A jury in Boston, Massachusetts, convicted Dr. Benjamin Spock and others of conspiracy to violate the Selective Service law. Another jury in Baltimore, Maryland, found the Reverend Philip F. Berrigan guilty of burning and pouring blood on draft records. Meanwhile, Selective Service Director Lewis B. Hershey suspended occupational and graduate student deferments and expanded the draft, as military spending on the war approached $100 billion.
Secretary of Defense Robert S. McNamara informed Congress that the Soviet Union had doubled its force of intercontinental ballistic missiles (ICBMs) during the previous year, but he added that the policy of mutually assured destruction (MAD) would allow for an effective and overwhelming retaliation after any initial Soviet nuclear strike. The Soviet Union news agency TASS reported eleven Cosmos satellite launchings in a time span of only eight weeks. The 65-degree inclination angle of these and other launches suggested the stationing of nuclear bombs in orbit as a part of a multiple orbital bombardment system (MOBS) that could destroy American targets at will.
A U.S. Navy court of inquiry into the explosion and loss of the USS Scorpion suggested that the vessel had been damaged by a Mk 37 torpedo accidentally set off by stray voltage in its tube. Analysis of SOSUS records, examination of photographs, and reconstruction analysis led to the conclusion that a single torpedo had exploded, probably after homing in on the Scorpion after her crew released the device. Sabotage and collision were considered but ruled out. The submarine had been in a tight turn at the time of the explosion, her sail had blown away, and the crew had tried to surface by blowing the ballast tanks and planing up. The compartments began to collapse, and flooding was widespread, except in the engine room, before the Scorpion reached her collapse depth. After careful consideration of all available evidence, the court of inquiry finally concluded that "the identifiable debris does not lead to a determination of the cause for the loss of the Scorpion."
The medical consequences of being lost at sea mark a relentless path from initial shock and terror to a final paralysis that destroys the victim's mind and body. The first few seconds, a time when there still might be hope for a rescue, bring a harsh reality — the frantic search into the howling night for the departing ship, the stinging of eyes from the blasting of the water and wind, and the fighting for breath as the foaming ocean tries to invade the lungs.
During this time, the light attached to the life jacket shines a weak beam into the night with an energy that determines nothing less than the fact of survival itself. For when the battery's energy becomes exhausted, the light will fail as the victim himself will fail. And, as more time passes, the victim accelerates his downward slide that weakens the muscles and begins to spread a deadly paralysis throughout his body. He finally moves into a deep and frozen coma as his hypothermie mind is mercifully shielded from being a witness to his own death.
When Chief Mathew's chain had pulled away from the rail and he slammed off the Viperfish's hull into the freezing ocean, his shouts for help were immediately extinguished by the roaring of the ocean and the howling of the wind. He checked his light-his only lifeline in the night-and his fists formed a death grip on his life jacket. Struggling to hold his head above the pounding ocean, he knew, as a matter of cold and practical reality, that the shouting of his voice and the waving of his arms could be heard and seen by nobody. He knew from the beginning that his chance of survival was nearly zero.
He massaged the light attached to his life jacket and thought about pulling it free so that he could hold it high, but he quickly abandoned the idea. What would he do if he accidentally dropped it into the sea? He looked down at the light frequently, taking some assurance that its white glow could possibly mean survival. Without the light, he would be a dark shape in a dark ocean, a figure that could not be seen and would not be saved from the cold waters. For he knew that when hypothermia develops — the dropping of temperature as the body cannot produce adequate heat-the mind slows, body movements weaken, and survival is no longer possible.
At the periscopes in the control center of the Viperfish, Chief O'Dell and Commander Ryack continued their intense search of the waters behind us as the boat shuddered from the waves pounding the hull. Every roll of the submarine generated another wave of seawater rolling across the deck of the control center and crashing against the electronic control panels that lined our bulkheads. Another call from the engine room about bearing temperatures was followed by orders to maintain the bell, continue backing, proceed with the search for Chief Mathews, and the temperatures be damned.