Around the World Submerged: The Voyage of the Triton

The Triton Eagle has formally ceased publication, though we shall probably put out one more issue prior to arrival in the United States. The reason is that mail from home will now fill the void the paper has been filling these several months. The entire staff deserve much credit for daily extra duty faithfully performed for the benefit of their shipmates.

Monday, 2 May 1960 0117 Sonar contact identified as USS John W. Weeks (DD-701).

0243 Periscope depth. Weeks in sight bearing 035.5° true.

A blown tube in sonar equipment prevents communication with the destroyer. Most annoying to have it take place at precisely this moment. We are however prepared against this eventuality with our homemade method of signaling by light through the periscope. As with the Macon, we have to use two periscopes and three quartermasters, but the thing works as well as before. We shall design a more refined apparatus for use at future times.

0302 There are lights of entirely too many ships around our present position. Signal from the Weeks: “Follow me.” We head out to sea in the direction we’d most like to head, toward the USA.

0554 The Weeks is to deliver a SubLant Medical Officer to us for transportation back to the United States and take Commander Roberts with his exposed film to Rota for further transfer by air back to the US. She also carries instructions for us regarding the end-of-cruise rendezvous near the United States.

I remember thinking, at the time, what a good idea this was. All of us were famished for news of New London, not just for personal family news, though that of course figured prominently too, but for general information as well. Occasional news messages had indeed been received, but what I, for one, wanted to know was how Poole had fared, had any of our hydrographic bottle papers been picked up, had there been any repercussions as a result of our encounter with the young man in the dugout canoe in Magellan Bay? Also, I wanted to know which ships were in port and which at sea, what new ships had been launched, which ones completed and commissioned, who had relieved whom in command of what—and a rather considerable list of strictly parochial submariner to submariner professional queries.

A Medical Officer would not be expected to know the answers to all these questions, but if he were anything like Jim Stark, who always tried to keep up with everything going on around him, it was a safe bet he could make a pretty good stab at many of them.

Sparing an officer from SubLant’s small staff for a purpose of this nature would be a problem; no doubt the Medical Officer was a compromise, probably sent for the added purpose of giving us all some sort of physical examination as part of the information needed for the cruise evaluation report. There would be many pleasant hours spent in pumping him for information during the Atlantic crossing, I thought, and I felt like thanking the man who had thought of this kindness.

From the Log:

In broaching we have taken care that the same technique as was used to disembark Chief Radarman Poole two months ago is employed again. That is, the ship as a whole will remain submerged; only a few necessary people will come topside to handle the transfer. We shall use the conning tower as an air lock as before.

0554 With air in safety tank and bow buoyancy, broached ship to 38 feet. I went to the bridge and, after seeing that conditions were suitable, directed that Lt. Sawyer come topside with the boat-handling detail.

0617 Weeks had already put her boat in the water and it was alongside almost immediately. As at Montevideo, Triton lay dead in the water, rolling gently with her stern submerged. In both cases a slight swell was running. Off Montevideo, it was in the dead of night with a slight rain and relatively little visibility. Here, it was early morning, broad daylight and no rain. Still, this transfer proved more difficult than the previous one.

The boat approached slowly and very cautiously, but clumsily. Alternately, the coxswain gunned his engine too fast, came ahead too fast, then, uneasy, threw it into reverse and backed away too fast. For a period of several minutes, during which he jockeyed alongside, he never approached our sides close enough for our deck hands to reach his bow painter when it was flung over. Finally, acceding to our shouted encouragement, he swept up abreast our bow a foot or so away, rose on a fairly large swell above our main deck—and forgot to cut his engine, with the result that he swept on by, completely missed his landing, and had to circle around for another try.

From the Log:

The first pass failed. The second try was a little better, though the boat came alongside at the wrong time so far as the action of the sea was concerned and rode high up on our side.