January 24, 2005
Damage control
Bravery and ballast save a submarine and her crew
By William H. McMichael and Mark Faram
Times staff writers
Like driving blind into a brick wall. That’s what it must have seemed like to members of the submarine San Francisco when it slammed at high speed into what apparently is an underwater mountain southeast of Guam on Jan. 8.
The collision sent many crew members flying, injuring at least 60 and killing Machinist’s Mate 2nd Class Joseph Allen Ashley, who was thrown forward 20 feet into the propulsion lube oil bay, where he struck his head and never regained consciousness.
Investigators are looking into the cause of the deadly grounding while assessment teams determine what needs to be fixed.
But given the extent of the damage — three main ballast tanks and the sonar dome were partially flooded — that the sub was able to surface and make it to its Guam home port seems as much a testament to the crew as to the seaworthiness of the nuclear-powered attack submarine.
That conclusion is based largely on two e-mail messages sent by Rear Adm. Paul Sullivan, commander of the Pacific Fleet Submarine Force, and a crew member’s conversation with his parents. The Navy has not made crew members available to speak to the media about the incident. But the messages, the crew member’s recollections and observations from retired submariners give a strong sense of the crew’s exceptional performance.
“The fact they recovered enough to save their ship and get it to the surface is testimony to their training and experience,” said John C. Markowicz, a retired submariner and Reserve captain who once operated in the same area of the Pacific where the San Francisco grounded. “Those folks did one hell of a job.”
The San Francisco and its 137 crew members were making a submerged transit to Brisbane, Australia, for a port visit. Just after midnight Jan. 8 local time, the 362-foot sub was moving to the east at top speed — in excess of 30 knots, or nearly 35 miles per hour — through what Sullivan described as a submerged moving haven, or an underwater passage thought to be free of obstacles.
Suddenly, and without any apparent warning, the sub crashed into “something topographical,” according to Lt. Cmdr. Jeff Davis, spokesman for the Pacific Fleet Submarine Force. The violent force of the impact sent the crew flying forward.
One sailor onboard gave his parents a firsthand account of what it was like.
“Dad, get in your boat and run at full throttle and hit something straight on — it was like hitting a wall,” Electrician’s Mate 2nd Class Bryan Barnes told his father, Dean Barnes of Rosewood, N.C., who related the conversation to Navy Times. His son also told Barnes that it was “like G forces [hitting] you from out of nowhere, when I wasn’t expecting it.”
Barnes had just come off watch and was heading for chow when the collision occurred. He told his parents he was thrown to the deck and suffered a hyperextended elbow and severe bruises on his hips and back. Barnes was one of about 60 crew members injured; 22 could not stand watch and required hospital treatment after returning to Guam. Injuries reportedly ranged from head and back injuries to broken bones, Sullivan wrote.
Despite his injuries, Barnes, like most in the crew probably fueled by adrenaline, was one of the first to reach Ashley. Sullivan said Ashley, who was in the aft main seawater bay when he was thrown forward, suffered a “severe” blow to the head, which Barnes verified, telling his parents it was a “sight you really would not want to see.” He said he stayed with Ashley until help arrived.
But even as crew members worked through their own injuries to help those more seriously injured, they also struggled to keep the sub from sinking. The Navy has not released the depth at which the mishap occurred, although NBC News quoted unnamed officials as saying the sub was 525 feet beneath the surface.
Little is known about the topography of the ocean floor, another retired submariner said. “You know the macroscopic features,” said James H. Patton, a retired captain and former attack sub commanding officer, “where the big ranges and ridges are.
“You like to think with these large great abysmal plains that they are all flat and for the most part that is true, but not always.”
Markowicz said soundings on deep-water charts often are questionable, although this improves greatly in waters near ports. Still, he said, “You have to trust the accuracy of your charts. But if this was an uncharted sea mount in the middle of a sea plain, there was probably nothing you could do.”
While the nuclear reactor plant, propulsion train and electrical distribution systems were unaffected, Sullivan wrote, the nose of the sub sustained significant damage. Main ballast tanks 1A, 1B and 2B and the sonar sphere were partially flooded and buoyancy was a major concern.
The details of which crew members did what in the aftermath of the collision and precisely what happened next remain unknown. NBC reported that the sub surfaced by way of an “emergency blow,” which would have used pressure to empty ballast tanks of seawater.
According to Barnes, one piece of equipment saved the sub: the LP, or low-pressure blower, which was used to push air into the damaged forward main ballast tanks. Once on the surface, the blower had to be run constantly to keep the bow from flooding, Barnes told his parents.
The LP blower, however, isn’t designed to run continuously. “Everyone onboard was praying it would keep running,” Barnes told his father. According to Sullivan, Naval Sea Systems Command devised an emergency procedure to allow use of the diesel generator as a blower for the forward ballast tanks in the event the LP blower failed.
At the same time, the sub’s independent duty corpsman, whose name could not be obtained by press time, worked to stabilize Ashley and treat the other injured sailors. The following morning, a surgeon from Naval Hospital Guam, an undersea medical officer and another independent duty corpsman arrived on the sub via helicopter to help out and to prepare Ashley for transport back to Guam.
They apparently were thwarted by a combination of rough seas, the sub riding low in the water and the forward damage, making a safe small boat or helicopter transfer impossible. Navy officials confirmed that an attempted medevac through the aft escape truck failed because of seas washing over the hull, and that two attempts to bring Ashley up through the bridge hatch failed.
Ashley died about two hours later, Navy officials confirmed.
Once surfaced, the sub sailed home at 8 knots with “a slight port list, increased draft and slight down angle,” Sullivan wrote. The sub, with visible damage topside to the sonar dome, held steady at a zero-degree trim angle with a port 2-degree list, and made it home just after 4:30 p.m. local time Jan. 10. At its mooring, the sub’s tail is higher in the water than normal, with the aft draft at 27 feet, 10 inches — normally, it’s at 32 feet.
“We saved it by teamwork and the grace of God,” Barnes told his father.
Sullivan said he spoke with Ashley’s father before and after his son’s death and wrote that the father “expressed great gratitude for the extraordinary efforts made by the Navy to save his son’s life. He told me his son loved the Navy, having just re-enlisted earlier this year, and wanted to make it a career. That when he called home, he always talked about the many friendships and the wonderful camaraderie the crew of [the submarine] exhibited. Prior to sailing, he was really excited about the pending ship visit to Australia.”
Damage assessment and an investigation into the crash continue. Meanwhile, professional counselors, medical personnel and Navy chaplains have been meeting with crew members to provide grief counseling and assistance, Sullivan said. As of press time, Cmdr. Kevin Mooney remained in command of the sub.
Defense News staff writer Christopher P. Cavas contributed to this report.
William H. McMichael is the Hampton Roads bureau chief for Navy Times. Reach him at (757) 223-0096 or by e-mail at bmcmichael@navytimes.com.