UNDERWAY ON THE U.S.S. MISSISSIPPI — Only when my feet are above my head do I remember I’m on a submarine.
I tried to catch a quick nap in my rack, the narrow metal bunk bed on the U.S.S. Mississippi assigned to me, since it’s easy to lose track of time when you go days without seeing the sun. But suddenly the sub pitches forward — sharply. I slide down the mattress, noticing that my socks are about 20 degrees above my head. One hand grabs the edge of the bed for support and the other protects my Kindle Fire from smashing onto the floor. So much for that nap.
A few minutes later, the ship levels out — before dipping in the opposite direction. This is a maneuverability and steering exercise called “Angles and Dangles.” It’s vaguely nauseating to those who haven’t been on a sub before. It’s also the exception to a surprisingly smooth, uncomplicated underwater trip across hundreds of miles from the Florida coast to Pascagoula, Mississippi.
Having never been on a sub before, I came aboard the Mississippi not knowing what to expect. Would it be claustrophobic? Would there be any privacy? Would the Mississippi‘s crew go stir-crazy? As it turned out, all these questions had the same answer: no.
The Mississippi is, as its crew constantly reminds a visiting reporter, a warship. On its lower level is a hydraulic conveyor belt to send 27-foot-long torpedoes and Tomahawk missiles screaming through or out of the water at a target. While the Navy hasn’t fought a sub-on-sub battle in decades, submarine warfare is hardly obsolete. The fast-attack submarine, smaller and lighter than its siblings carrying ballistic missiles, is silent, stealthy and, as I learn, steady even at 20 knots. Its lockout trunk, a bay for allowing divers on and off while underwater, can insert and extract SEALs on clandestine missions; and its advanced sonar arrays make it a predator of the deep.
But as the above video shows, being on a sub takes a little getting used to.
For one thing, the crew of 138 sailors is in constant close proximity to each other. That’s obviously nothing new for submariners, but it’s hard for an outsider to understand without experiencing it. The passageways of the Mississippi aren’t wide enough for two-way traffic, but people still need to duck through them going in all directions, so everyone learns early on how to give up his personal space. That gets reinforced when it’s time to use the very narrow, multi-stall bathrooms.
The Mississippi can stay submerged for 90 days at a stretch, so during four days on board ahead of its June 2 commissioning ceremony, the crew doesn’t seem perturbed by the mostly-underwater trip from its Connecticut shipyard to its Pascagoula destination. Before and after a six-hour workshift, enlisted sailors exercise in the makeshift gym in the torpedo room — a weight bench next to a couple ellipticals and stationary bikes — bide time until the next meal, watch evening movies in the mess and, inevitably, crack on each other. Pack a deck of cards if you go aboard.
And the mood isn’t much different amongst the boat’s officers. Although the 14 officers aboard eat in the fancier wardroom, their newly inaugurated tradition is for junior officers to play the embarrassing contents of their iPods to provide mealtime ambiance, with the captain present.
Then there’s the food — the astonishingly delicious food. The “Gator Pit,” as the kitchen crew calls itself, could win awards on Top Chef or Chopped. For a tiny undersea kitchen, it pumps out four meals a day, starting at 5 a.m., of comfort food that shouldn’t be so delicious, seeing as how the nearest supermarket is hundreds of miles up and away. That’s freshly chopped garlic accenting those hand-sliced potato wedges. It’s a miracle that the crew doesn’t plump up, especially considering how few people the gym can accommodate at once.
Meals serve another role, as Master Chief Bill Stoiber, the chief of the boat, explains. With florescent lights shining constantly, they’re the best way to keep your body clock aware of what time it is. It’s not easy to communicate with the outside world once you’re underwater, so setting regular schedules for checking in with your family is a non-starter. Sleeping on a sub is a matter of grabbing half an hour of unconsciousness whenever you can grab it.
And all that is a testament to how steady the sub is. Thanks to the relentless monitoring of the “trim” or evenness of the boat, rapid dives and ascensions are barely perceptible. Maybe you’ll lean forward a bit, but you probably won’t lose your balance. At least not until it’s time for Angles and Dangles. LINK
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