Around the World Submerged: The Voyage of the Triton

Pat pointed with his slide rule to one of the hundred or so “read-out” indicator dials which lined both sides of “Idiot’s Alley.” I looked. The Power Output dial was approaching the edge of the full power mark.

“We crept up on it slowly,” said Pat, “but we’ve been running just below full power now for the past hour and a half. The Admiral sure believes in working out the machinery!”

“You can say that again,” I told him. “When the Nautilus prototype out in Idaho was first fired up, he made them take it on a simulated voyage at full power all the way to Europe. Regular watches, course charted, daily positions, and all that. There weren’t many who said it wouldn’t work after that.”

“Where does the standard Navy four-hour full-power trial come into this picture?” Pat asked.

“Sometime when we’ve got nothing else to do we’ll run one off just to get it on the record,” I said. “You don’t suppose Admiral Rickover will let Les cut this initial run short of full power, do you—or that four measly hours will satisfy him? Any more than it would satisfy you, if you had to be on board this ship in combat?”

Pat grinned. Then, as we watched the Power Output dial, the needle slowly climbed until it was exactly centered on the full power mark.

“There’s part of the answer, Pat,” I said. “Excuse me, but this I want to see,” and I started aft through the watertight door into the engine room, leaving a Reactor Control Officer staring with delight at the evidence his monitoring instruments were presenting.

In number one engine room, George Troffer had the EOOW watch. Les Kelly was standing right behind him, and Admiral Rickover was seated on a tool chest a few feet away, absorbed in a red-covered book which I took to be a power plant testing manual of some sort. With a side glance at the Admiral, who showed no sign that he had noticed my appearance, I addressed myself to Kelly. “Les, how much power are you indicating back here?” I asked. I had to shout to be heard above the powerful roar of the engine.

Kelly put his mouth to my ear and shouted back, “We’ve just gone to a hundred percent power! She’s running like a million bucks! No trouble at all!”

I decided against asking why I had not been consulted before the speed change was made. No doubt a messenger was off looking for me at that very minute. This was Vice-Admiral Rickover’s plant and his test. My duties, clearly stated for these first trials, were to operate the ship in accordance with his directives. Besides, I, too, wanted to find out what were the actual limitations of our engines.

Les had something more to say, which he did with a broad smile. “One more thing. That’s no power plant manual the Old Man’s got his nose into. Take a good look at the name on the cover, if you get a chance.”

Casting a quick glance at Rickover, who appeared still engrossed in the book with the red cover, I decided to get a better look at it soon, nodded my thanks to Kelly, and began a tour of the remaining engineering spaces.

In number two plant, all was serene. The port engine and reduction gears were spinning away with the greatest aplomb, and every bearing was cool, every critical point reading well within the specified limits.

Lieutenant Curtis Shellman, Machinery Division Officer and presently in charge of the port engine-room watch, must have been born with the sallow complexion and dark circles under his eyes which made his normal everyday appearance that of a man under severe strain; recently he had had every right to look this way, for the main brunt of getting Triton’s engines ready for her first engineering trials had fallen upon him. Practically all of the operating machinery of the ship was under his surveillance, and the toll of many sleepless hours showed in the veritable death’s head smile he gave me by way of salutation. But there was nothing beaten down or tired about the pure and happy sense of accomplishment which showed there too, as he called my attention to the pounds of steam flow per hour, the throttle setting, the steam pressure, and the effortless RPM of the port main shaft.

Not ordinarily given to use of the superlative, Curt essayed one this time. “She’s just wonderful, Captain!” he yelled. “I’ve never seen an engine run as smoothly as this one. Why, we could take her anywhere, anytime!” His enthusiasm was contagious, and there were corroborating nods from Chief Electrician’s Mates “L” “E” Poe (another old shipmate) and Walter O’Dell, members of the watch section.

It was not hard to believe. What was difficult to appreciate was that Triton at this moment was driving through the water at a speed which no member of her crew had ever experienced, which we would have dismissed as insane had anyone suggested it but a few years ago, which, had this ship but come a few years sooner, might have won the war in the Pacific for us in a matter of months, instead of the years it took.