(My grandfather, Theodore (Dode) Hammond, was a Los Angeles boy who was admitted to the Naval Academy at the age of 16 and who graduated in 1911. In 1914, he went to work for the California Shipbuild- ing Company in Long Beach as they started to build submarines during the early years of World War I. In 1917, he was transferred to the Lake Torpedo Boat Company in Bridgeport, CT to serve as a trial captain for new submarines. The attached excerpt about an O Class submarine trial in 1918 is from an unpublished memoir. I am certain my grandfather would love knowing that exactly one hundred years later his story would be of interest to today’s submarine officers and crew. – Richard Andrews)
“An exciting experience today on the submarine O-13. One of the tests for all new subs is to submerge to a depth of 200 feet and remain there under control for 10 minutes. The naval officer, representing the Trial Board, stays on the surface in a row boat and measures the depth by marks on a thin rope which is attached to the sub. He is also connected to the sub with a telephone so that we can set the depth gauges as he telephones down the depth readings.
There was only one deep place in Long Island Sound near the east entrance where we could make these tests satisfactorily. We started very early, on a perfect day, calm and smooth, and by 9AM were prepared to submerge.
All submarines are more or less alike — cigar shaped with a hor- izontal deck lengthwise through the middle — under this deck are the ballast tanks and above it are the working and living spaces. When water is let into the ballast tanks, the submarine sinks. When water is blown out of the tanks, the sub rises.
So we closed the conning tower hatch and started down, smoothly and slowly. The officer in the row boat was supposed to watch for the depth marks on the thin rope, and then to telephone to us at 50 feet, 100 ft., 150 ft., and 200 feet. In some unaccountable manner he missed the
first mark and at the second mark he reported our depth at 50 feet when actually we were at 100 feet. We set our gauges as he reported and thus from then on were always 50 ft. deeper than we thought we were. When we got to 200 ft. (our gauge read 150) he discovered his error, but the telephone would not work.
The sub was leaking in two places rather freely but we continued to sink and in spite of the leaks we decided to complete the test. The leaks worsened and as we neared the 200 mark on the gauge (actually 250 feet) and started to check our descent by blowing water out of the ballast tanks, suddenly the 2” steel deck on which we were standing popped like the end of a tin can, and below us in the ballast tank it sounded like a re- volver going off as the rivets in the struts sheared off due to the pressure. One leak in the engine room was squirting a stream like a fire hose. And we continued to sink slowly.
The challenge was to let enough air into the ballast tank at a high enough pressure to blow the water out, but if too high, it would blow the deck in, weakened as it was. There was no time to think. No one had been in this fix before. Barnett, in charge, gave the order “More pres- sure” and then “More pressure,” and at last, by the Grace of God, at 285 feet the sinking stopped and in a moment more the gauge showed we had started rising. My duties, in inspecting the leaks, had brought me into the Control Compartment during this tense period. The one thought now was to get to the surface quickly and safely which we did with a rush. Some say that we popped clear out of the water, just as a tennis ball would do if released below the surface. But at least we popped up with a great splash. While submerged, due to the water leaks and to the compressed air leaks, the pressure inside the sub had risen very considerably. It was not uncomfortable until the moment the escape hatch was opened, and then with a great whoosh the air rushed out taking with it everything that was loose and in the vicinity of the hatch. Hats, glasses and papers went whirling up and overboard, including mine. For a long time this 285 ft. dive was the deepest any submarine had ever gone and come back safely to the surface.
In the meantime, on the surface, the officer in the row boat discov- ered too late his error. The telephone was waterlogged and useless. And the sub was still going down. When it came to the end of the thin rope, the officer tied on a heaving line of about 40 feet length. And the sub still kept sinking. Soon it came to the end of the heaving line and the officer next tied on the row boat’s painter (this is the row boat’s mooring and bow line which is spliced to a ring bolt in the bow). And the sub kept go- ing down. The officer got out his knife ready to cut loose if all the painter was used, and just at the last minute as the bow of the row boat was about to be pulled under he felt a little slack. He felt again and got more slack. Quickly he cut the line and shouted, “Row for all you are worth, she’s coming up.” And well it was for them that they got clear away.
This test showed up structural weaknesses which required 6 months to correct.”
