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Life Aboard a Diesel Electric Submarine — Part 2
By Joe Cadrain, Winsted
What was life aboard a submarine like? It was exciting! It was interesting! It was great being with a family of brothers! Yes, we lived in cramped quarters under physical and psychological stress, yet the bond between us gave comfort to our total beings. We were survivors because we had the skills, emotional stability, pride and determination to do what had to be done in order for the ship to survive. I am not boasting, I'm just saying it as it was.
Upon being assigned to the Clamagore, the first thing on my mind was to know who had authority over me and to find out what my duties and responsibilities were. It was easy to get around because there was only one passageway and one way to move: you were going either forward toward the bow or aft toward the stern.
Once on board many regulations were relaxed, with officers and crew working toward a common goal. Officers were not saluted, but that did not mean they were not respected. They ate in the ward room, while we ate in the galley; they had their space and we had ours; they had their responsibilities and we had ours. How well we worked together defined how good a ship we served on. The Clamagore was special because it had a mixture of men from around the nation with various beliefs and cultures, who became bound together by an invisible cord of respect, understanding, unity and love that remains to this day. We accepted the fact that we were different and respected those who had more talent than ourselves, while understanding we needed everyone's talent in order to remain committed to a unity of purpose.
When in port, the day started with everyone being on board at a predetermined time in order to prepare to get underway at a specific time. The show began with an announcement over the PA system: "Now hear this! Set the maneuvering watch and prepare to get underway on two main engines." Everyone had a duty station assignment, and in a matter of minutes all assignments were filled. Engines were started, and when ready the maneuvering room reported to the captain via telephone that it was ready to answer bells on two main engines. The gangway was removed, lines were taken in, and we left the dock and moved out to sea.
When going to sea for extended periods of time the ship was loaded with all necessary items, including fuel oil and such, plus all the canned food that you could carry, which was placed in various compartments on the boat. When the food arrived all hands were there to load the food on the boat. Each group—torpedomen, enginemen, electricians, quartermasters, cooks, yeoman, radiomen, sonarmen and others—concocted various plans to have cartons of good bartering items end up in their compartments. While at sea, tasty treats were available because we had access to what was stored in our compartment. Before long, the bartering began with: "Hey! We have a case of shrimp, what are you willing to give for it?" Fresh foods did not last very long because refrigerator space was limited.
When the captain was safely beyond the harbor the maneuvering watch was secured and the regular watch was set. Normally each man was assigned to one of the three main watches, with the 12-4, 4-8 and 8-12 watches covering the 24 hours in the day. This meant you were on watch eight hours a day. Between watches you had duty assignments, learning experiences, recreation and sleep time. When time permitted, various games were played in the crew's mess—acey-deucey (a form of backgammon) as well as set back, cribbage, hearts, pinochle and other card games helped pass the time.
Most were eager to learn the various systems on the boat and the basics of all duty stations to prepare for a test that qualified you to wear the insignia called Dolphins. (The symbol is a submarine with dolphins at each end of the ship.) Being able to wear the Dolphins indicated that you belonged to a very special club of others who had passed the test before you. You were required to make drawings of all the various systems on the boat, plus demonstrate your ability to load and fire torpedoes, operate an air manifold, and stand watches on the helm, bow and stern planes. You also had to be able to operate a water manifold to move water in either direction between the sea and any water storage tank; start, stop and run a diesel engine; and operate the power control stations in the maneuvering room.
Normal sounds—including the running of diesel engines, silent running, sound system announcements and commands at all hours, the crew constantly moving to and fro with watertight doors constantly opening and closing—soon were hardly noticed. It even became easy to sleep with the normal diving and surfacing procedures, including the "Ugh-Ga, Ugh-Ga … Dive! Dive!" alarm. The sounding of emergency alarms such as the collision alarm got your attention quickly, however—no matter what you were doing.
The enlisted men's sleeping quarters were primarily in the after battery compartment, but each torpedo room had a few overhead bunks, which were difficult to get in and out of. Each bunk had a canvas cover zipped shut, and rarely were they opened because there were not enough bunks for everyone. We "hot-bunked"—which meant that if a bunk was empty you could use it. The officers and chiefs had sleeping space in the forward battery compartment, which also had a ward room where officers had their meals and meetings.
Fresh water was always in short supply. The priorities for water use were cooking, drinking, washing dishes, and providing showers for cooks and mess cooks. The low priorities included hygiene for the rest of the crew; therefore, body odor helped to alter the ship’s smell with time. Although we could not bathe, we found various methods of cleansing body parts with small amounts of water. The smell of fuel oil in the two engine rooms made another contribution to the ship’s aroma, along with battery acid from the battery compartments. The coffee pot was always on, and that and other smells from the galley were pleasant. When on the surface, the conning tower hatch was open, allowing some fresh air into the boat.
There were two main bodily waste tanks that had to be emptied from time to time, plus one single toilet in the after torpedo room that had a small holding tank that was discharged to sea after each use. This private throne got little use because it required knowledge and skill to use, and the results of errors in judgment were repugnant.
Today, members of the Clamagore Veterans Association gather at yearly reunions in various cities; these are well attended by young and old shipmates of the past. For three or more days and nights we bring back memories of a time that once was without TV. Wives, sweethearts and guests blend into group activities, and we miss them should they not attend a reunion. Every other year we return to Charleston, SC, where we have access to the ship to visit and hold our memorial service for those who have passed on.
During the memorial service all veterans stand on the boat facing the pier, where the ladies take their places before the service begins. The service includes live music, emotional prayers and a reading of the names of Clamagore veterans who have passed on in the last year. The names are read one at a time, and the ship’s bell is sounded as one of the ladies drops a carnation into the water. This continues until all names have been read, at which time the flowers are floating closer to the boat. One memorial wreath is lovingly tossed into the water by the ladies, in honor of all Clamagore veterans who are no longer with us. Tears of love, longing and remorse roll down our cheeks, and for a moment in time we are together again.
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