The last time I was at sea was on a fishing boat when a teen, and I dicovered what feeding the fish meant. I reported to the USS Cubera (named for a fish) in Charleson shipyard, and it was time to return to Norfolk, our home port, but around the infamous Cape Hatteras, the grave yard of ships. My first duty station was at the helm, which in the surfaced sub is right below the conning tower hatch. I asked the helmsman what the coffee can was for hanging around his neck. His smile said you will find out.
Riding a submarine in rough seas is better than an amusement park ride. The sub will do everything it can to make you throw up. Even experienced sailors will lose their sea legs and cookies when after a stay on shore, they are submitted to the pitch and roll of the submarine.
I don’t know about nuclear subs, but in the old diesel boats, if you were in really rough seas, it was not wise to dive because when you are half surface and half underseas craft, your ballast tanks half empty and half full, a big wave can tip you over. Surfacing or diving in extremely rough seas is risky. You just have to ride it out.
With the helm just below the conning tower hatch, cold sea water pours through the hatch to keep you alert. When it gets too rough, the hatch is closed, and the officer on the bridge and the two lookoouts on either side are strapped in so they won’t get washed over. I’m reminded of the Nantucket Sleigh Ride described in Moby Dick when the whale boat is hooked to a wild whale. When the ride gets exciting, the Cubera actually dives into the oncoming waves so green water flows over the bridge, which on the old boats is much closer to the surface. You would hold you nose and duck into the incoming wave. Again, trust was everything. You trusted that your safety belt would hold.
Submarines, unlike suface ships that travel in a fleet, are always alone in the vast ocean. From hoizon to horizon, you are the center of a round ocean plate with ripples in it. At night, the vast sea and sky is dark, and ominous. But inside the sub, it’s a self-contained vessel where the coffee pot and your bunk stabalize the pitching and rolling world. It is only when you go to the bridge at night for some fresh air, does it hit you like a hammer just how alone you are.
I survide my maiden voyoage on the Cubera around Cape Hatteras. The helmsman let me use his coffee can.