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THE DIVING TOWER |
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| The training for submarines was quick, rugged and efficient. It seemed that those
that designed the program were trying to give all the possible experiences that could be given to make us efficient
crewmen. The training we received at the diving tower is a good example of what I mean. The experience there was
more than was needed. In 1938, the Squales (later to be called the Queenfish) had a disaster in the Long Island Sound. Through some sort of failure, mechanical or human, the boat went down in 300 feet of water. Most of the crew was lost and those that were saved were recovered by the use of an emergency recovery diving bell. The loss of that ship and others made it popular to train all new submariners to escape from below by the use of a "Munson Lung." It was a simple device. A bag, with a mouth piece attached, was filled with oxygen to be breathed while ascending from the submarine to the surface. A guide rope was used to control the ascent of the person. The theory was that if a submarine was sunk in 300 feet of water or less, a guide rope would be floated to the surface and a crewman breathing in a Munson Lung device could ascend to the surface. It would be pointed out in the many years that the Munson Lung was part of the equipment aboard the submarines, not one person ever resorted to its use to escape from the waters below. However, the preparation for such a method of escape was a very important part of the training that each of us was subjected to. I believe that it did wonders for morale. The very thought that there was a planned method for escape from below caused most of us to assume that there had been preparations for such an emergency. At some point in our training, we were marched over to the base of a 100 foot cylindrical tower at the north end of the training base. I remember the tower to be about 12 feet wide. At the base and at every 25 foot interval, there was a compartment attached to the side of the tower. The tower was filled with water for its entire height and it was obvious to us that we would somehow enter the tank at the bottom and make our way up to the top of the tower. There was an air of excitement among our group. There was also a little fear of the unknown. Our faith in our trainers gave us the assurance that it could be done and we were going to be shown how to do it. It was also known to us that unless we successfully ascended the tower, we would not qualify for submarines and would be sent out of that branch of the service to some horrible place like surface craft. We entered the building where we found ourselves in a classroom atmosphere. We were then subjected to a long and detailed training lecture on how we were going to be trained to make a theoretical escape from a submarine stranded on the bottom of the ocean 300 feet below the surface. The Munson Lung was exhibited and explained in detail. It was a simple device. Basically, it was a canvas bag that could be filled with oxygen and a mouthpiece that would enable the wearer to breath in and out while ascending to the surface. It was explained that if you held your breath while rising to the surface, the difference in the water pressure would expand your lungs and rupture them. It was, therefore, most important that you continually exhaled as you ascended to the surface. There were warnings given to us that we should not ascend very fast, because that would also contribute to the rapid expansion of air to the point that it could rupture the lung tissue. However true or not, it was said that there had been a number of fatalities caused by the wearer not allowing the air pressure to equalize as you went to the surface. I can assume that there were more persons lost to the training of this device than were saved, because there is no record of anyone being saved by the use of the device. Such is the efficiency of the military training system. We were then instructed to get dressed in our swimming suits so that we could demonstrate the benefit of learning from a lecture. Upon getting dressed, we anxiously reported to the the door of one of the compartments that we had seen attached to the side of the tower. The door to the compartment was opened to reveal a room barely large enough to hold 10 persons. At least 12 of us were promptly jammed into the cramped space so that we were compressed together like the proverbial sardines in a can. There was a moment of panic, when I realized that there was not space to move at all. My arms were pinned at my sides and so were the arms of all of the rest of those in the tank compartment. I happened to be only 5 feet 8 inches tall at the time. It seemed that most of those in that space with me were several inches taller than I was. I had the feeling that I was buried alive among my shipmates. In order to make entrance into the large vertical tank, the water pressure within the small compartment had to be equalized. To do this, the instructor simply opened a valve at the bottom of the compartment and allowed the water from the tower to enter into where we were. With a "whoooose"...the compartment filled and the water entered the compartment. It came within a fraction of an inch of covering my nose and there was a feeling of panic as I envisioned myself being trapped among the bodies and unable to move enough to save myself. However, the water stopped just short of my nostrils and I stood there, in fear, as the instructor guided the men in the compartment to step out of the compartment into the vertical tower to ascend to the top. My turn finally came and I made my way to the compartment door. It was now that you needed to gather your thoughts and remember all of the many instructions that you had received in order to properly make it to the top safely. Before I knew it, I was guided to the rope outside of the compartment and was on my way to the surface. Slowly, as I had been instructed, I made my way up the line. I remembered to exhale continually so that I did not do harm to my lungs. Finally, I found myself on the surface of the water at the top of the tower. I had done it!!! Looking back on that experience, I realize that it was not a great feat to accomplish. Many men had done it before me and many would do it after I had left. What was important is the fact that only those that were submariners were called upon to do such a thing in the course of their training. It was a badge of honor that would soon be forgotten because we would never be called upon to demonstrate that we had retained the knowledge that we had gained from the experience. Over 4000 submariners would go down with their boat and be lost on patrol forever. It seems odd to me that not one of those men, not a single one of them, donned a Munson Lung and escaped to safety and survival from a submarine in distress. I conclude that it was because there is no orderly drill for those in such a situation aboard a sinking submarine. It must be all chaos and confusion when the delicate balance of a cruising submarine is disrupted. God rest their souls. |
Copyright © 1994, 2004, 2005, 2006 by Glen Stinson & Mark Stinson