Jon looked to Magne.
“Then let’s do it, Chief. We’re going to need an assortment of tools to pry open those hatches, and some of those new mercury vapor torches to light our way once we get inside.”
Magne explained just what equipment had already been reserved for them as he led the team of divers below deck. Taking up the rear of this group, David Lawton anxiously awaited his first bell dive in the North Sea. His host had previously briefed him on his diving companions’ backgrounds. As an outsider, David was anticipating some resistance, and true to form, the red-headed photographer expressed it. Yet this was a natural reaction. NUEX had been together as a team for over five years now, and it would have been totally out of character for them to welcome a stranger into their ranks with open arms.
Formed originally as a social club, the Norwegian Underwater Explorers grew from a bunch of teenagers with a shared love of diving, to a moneymaking organization with a long list of projects to choose from. Magne had explained how the missing member of the group, Knut Haugen, had inherited his father’s dive shop in Oslo. His friend from the Telemark region, Arne Lundstrom, was called in to give him a hand running the business. Their future teammates, Jon Huslid and Jakob Helgesen, were customers, and it was in this way that they met and planned their first dives together.
Jon’s love of photography inspired Knut to design several watertight housings for his camera equipment.
The first underwater photos he took were just for fun, but all this changed when a picture he snapped of a sunken German fighter plane won first place in a nationwide photo competition. Fiber optics and ROV’s were not yet readily available in those days, and Jon was asked to initiate a photographic inspection of a newly installed North Sea oil platform. He brought along his teammates for help, and together they successfully completed their first professional dive job.
The Norwegian oil-service business was a tight-knit group, and when it was learned that NUEX provided excellent, dependable work for a reasonable cost, other jobs followed. Many of these assignments took them to a depth of three hundred meters, the maximum their current technology safely allowed. They accepted these jobs without hesitation, and were not afraid to go through the long hours of decompression that such depths necessitated.
Magne hired them to do a hull inspection of one of Noroil’s many diving ships. He was satisfied with their work, saw their potential, and offered them a full-time job. They only agreed to sign on when they were told that their first assignment would be to document in pictures the wreck of the German heavy cruiser Bleche, that sunk in Oslo fjord in the opening days of World War II. The Bleche still held the corpses of over fifteen hundred men, and its rusted fuel tanks were beginning to leak oil into the pristine waters of the fjord. Noroil was called in to see what could be done about stopping this flow of pollutants.
The resulting dive made international headlines.
The pictures were excellent and made many a front page newspaper and magazine cover worldwide. Because of this notoriety, and the excellent publicity it generated for Noroil, it was agreed that NUEX would be called in whenever a difficult salvage job presented itself.
Magne had also explained to David the nature of NUEX’s current project in Lake Tinnsjo. The exploration of the Hydro sounded like an exciting adventure that took on additional dimensions when the heavy water was taken into consideration.
Though Magne hated to call them away from this historic task, he had no choice in the matter. Hopefully, after a quick inspection of the submarine, the route could be cleared and the pipeline survey continued.
Then NUEX would have plenty of time to return to Lake Tinnsjo and complete their work there.
Curious himself as to the condition of the ferry’s special cargo after all these years, Lawton followed the team into that portion of the Falcon where the diving bells were stored. There were few words spoken as several attendants helped them into their heavy, black latex diving suits. Because these suits would not keep them absolutely dry, and since the water temperature at 283 meters was near freezing, hot water would be pumped into a network of tubes that lined the suit’s interior, conveyed by a rubber hose that made up part of their individual umbilicals.
Also included in this lifeline to the ship above was the tube that carried their breathing gases, and that which allowed their communication topside.
The diving bell that would convey them to the seafloor was an oblong, cylindrically shaped object that was painted bright yellow. It had an assortment of ballast tanks and air capsules welded onto its outside skin. And as Lawton was soon to learn, it was just spacious enough inside to allow the four of them room to stand upright, shoulder to shoulder.
“You’ll be breathing a 96 % helium to 4 % oxygen mixture,” instructed Magne.
“Of course, as during any bounce dive, the bell will be lowered and only then pressurized to your working depth. Once the lower hatch falls open signalling that the proper pressure has been attained, you’ll have sixty minutes to get into that submarine and see what it’s carrying.
I suggest heading right for the sub’s forward torpedo room to determine its weapon’s load.”
“What about its aft tubes?” quizzed Jakob.
“It doesn’t have any,” answered Lawton.
“The Type XXI is equipped with six bow tubes only.
Thus all of its ordinance, whether it be torpedoes or mines, should be found in the forward portion of the boat.”
Satisfied that their suits were properly fitted, Magne pointed toward the awaiting bell.
“I’ll be in constant contact with you at the diving console. At all times keep me updated on your positions, and don’t take any unnecessary chances. If the vessel doesn’t look right to you, get the hell back up here and we’ll figure out another way to attack the problem.”
As the members of NUEX solemly climbed into the bell, Magne took his special guest aside.
“And that warning goes especially to you, David. I want you around so that I can collect on that chili recipe and Stetson that you’re going to owe me after this dive.”
“Don’t worry, partner. As long as the gear holds up, it should be a piece of cake.”
“Be gentle with my boys,” added the veteran diver as he guided the Texan into the bell.
Lawton squeezed himself inside and listened as the hatch was tightly sealed behind him. He was able to lean back on a narrow ledge, and listened as the winch mechanism activated. The bell was then swung over the open moon pool and unceremoniously dumped into the gray waters below.
As they initiated their descent, Jakob Helgesen pulled out a Sorry Walkman cassette player. The Lapp then clipped on a set of headphones, adjusted the Walkman’s volume control, punched its “on” button, and proceeded to close his eyes.
“Odds are that Jakob’s listening to Pink Floyd’s, A Momentary Lapse of Reason,” offered Jon.
“Lately, he never goes to depth without it.”
“When I’m in the chamber, I like plenty of old-fashioned jazz,” revealed Lawton.
“Have any of you ever heard Aker Bilk blow the licorice stick?”
Neither Jon nor Arne had any idea what the Texan was talking about, and shook their heads to express this fact. David Lawton smiled.
“Too bad. Old Aker and his Strangers on the Shore has gotten me through many a nasty decompression.
And there’s the Professor of Brass himself, Dizzy Gillespie. That man can hit notes that even the angels in heaven can’t reach.”
A bit doubtful as to the sanity of this lanky American, both Norwegians seemed relieved when Magne’s steady voice broke from the bell’s p. a. speakers.