Tiffany breathed deeply, trying to calm the anxiety that had been building all morning during the classroom portion of the training where the damage control equipment and practices were taught. Now it was all hands-on. She glanced at the cameras in the upper corners that fed to a control room. The Captain is going to be out there, watching, she thought. Her heart began pounding as she heard the huge pumps start up outside the room. Lieutenant Kent looked at her and nodded his head. She turned to her crew. “This is it, gentlemen. Prioritize. Big leaks first, small leaks last.”
The collision alarm sounded, piercing the small room with an intensity she hadn’t expected. A loud bang and a strong jolt from the wall opposite the door startled everyone as cold sea water started spraying from a split tube in the overhead. The split tube was too high to reach from the deck.
“Tube clamp!” Tiffany shouted over the sound of the alarm. “Patrick, you’re smaller. Get the clamp. You, and you, lift him up so he can reach the split.” Damn, she cursed to herself, why can’t I remember all of their names? They’re new to the boat and I just met them this morning, but they’re my crew. I need to know them better than this.
A second loud noise accompanied by another sideward jolt and a powerful spray emanated from a large pipe on the bulkhead. The force of the sea water coming from the side knocked the three men down before the clamp could be secured.
“Johnson, pipe clamp!” she shouted as she pointed to the leak.
A popping sound at the end of the room drew her attention as a metal fitting flew across the room. Water streamed violently from a now open pipe. The lights began flickering, plunging the room into a series of flashes and partial darkness.
“Guzman, medium round pipe plug!” she shouted, pointing to the end of the room. Water was now over their ankles and rising fast. A split in the steel bulkhead began sending more water cascading into the room. “You, wood wedges, now!” she shouted as she grabbed a pack of wedges and headed toward the wall. The room listed to the side as more water poured in.
“Lieutenant Grimes,” Lieutenant Kent yelled over the increasing din. “You are the eyes and ears of the team. Look around you!”
Tiffany quickly scanned the room. Water gushed in around the water tight door. “Lector, extendable pole! Wedge the door closed from here!” She pointed to a pipe bracket welded to the bulkhead. “Another pole, here!” she shouted. The water was now over her knees. Two more pipes initiated their contribution to the flooding compartment with more noise and shaking of the room, and then another crack in the bulkhead spewed forth even more cold sea water. There’re more leaks than I have people, she realized as the water rose over her waist.
A loud ringing bell sounded as the powerful pumps fell silent; the inundation of the sea water ceased and drains opened in the deck. She looked down at the receding water level. My first test as a commanding officer, and I failed. In front of Captain Jacobs and my crew, I failed.
A Petty Officer Third Class on her crew approached her. “Ma’am? It’s Hector, not Lector.”
“What?”
“My name, ma’am. It’s Hector, not Lector.”
Her brain was spinning and her face flushed. “I’m so sorry, Hector, I…”
“It’s okay, ma’am. Just thought you should know.”
I should know, she thought as she watched him walk out of the room. I should know them all. Guilt flooded her crying heart. She mustered all of her strength to keep from crying out loud. As the last of the water swirled down the drain she stepped out of the room and joined her soaking wet crew gathered around Lieutenant Kent.
“The purpose of the room is to prepare you for a real emergency. Today was the easiest challenge you will face during your training in the room this week. As you all now realize, speed and efficiency are the keys to surviving a real emergency. You will spend the rest of the day at the eight stations around the practice area over here. Five teams of two, we will trade partners every thirty minutes. Go for speed, efficiency and teamwork.”
Tiffany stood with her head hanging low, wracked with guilt and shame. If this is what being in command is like, I can’t do it. I can’t.
“Head up, Lieutenant,” Kent said firmly. “Your crew knows you feel bad. They do, too. That’s not the point.”
“Then what is the point?” she asked, doing her best to hold back the tears.
“Two points, actually,” he replied more gently. “First, you make the rounds with your crew as they practice. As long as one of them is here, so are you. Get to know them, encourage them, and help them learn the skills they need to do their job with excellence and proficiency. Second, let that strong sense of courage you have within you show through — not flashy, not showy — just the calm, firm courage I know is in there. If you don’t waver, they won’t. When you stand firm, they will, too.”
“But my failure today…”
“Is a starting point, not a destination,” he said. “You’re in that room to put into practice all of the leadership skills you learned at Annapolis. You’re there to bond with your crew, and to allow them to bond with you. By the end of this week, they will be your crew, and you will be their officer. Trust me. Now go be with your crew.”
She walked slowly over to the first practice station, still badly shaken by her experience in the room. Petty Officer First Class Caleb Johnson was there working with one of the seamen.
“Hey, Lieutenant,” he said. “You did alright in there today.”
“No, I didn’t,” she replied, the feeling of shame rising within her.
Johnson chuckled. “No, really, you did. This is my second time through the room. The first time, the Lieutenant we had, he literally crapped in his pants.”
“No,” she said incredulously.
“Yes,” he replied. “True story.”
“So what happened to him after that?”
“He recovered. Last I heard he was the executive officer on a Los Angeles Class sub out of Charleston, South Carolina.”
“Really?” she asked.
“Yeah, really,” he said with his eyebrows raised and a slight nod of his head. “You did alright. They set the room up to create a visceral fear response. If someone is going to freeze in an emergency, they want to know now, instead of waiting until there’s a real emergency out at sea.”
“Thank you,” she said as she moved to the next practice station. “Petty officer Hector,” she said, as she smiled at him.
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, mild embarrassment showing on his face. “I’m Oscar Ramirez Hector. Think Hannibal Lector, the cannibal — his H comes on the first name, not the last. Mine comes on the last name.” He smiled. “Just to help you remember.”
Tiffany managed a small chuckle. “I’ll remember. How could I forget now? Where are you from?”
“Austin, Texas, ma’am, Longhorns fan.”
“You picked a good team, Hector.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She continued around the practice area talking with her crew. They aren’t ashamed of me. They’re good people, just like back home. Maybe I can do this after all.
Tiffany settled in at a table in the Officers’ Club for dinner, ordered, and waited for her food to arrive. Lieutenant Kent approached.
“May I?” he asked as he nodded toward the chair opposite her.
She waved her hand toward the chair without saying anything.
“You order?” he asked.
She simply nodded, trying to hide her embarrassment from earlier in the day.