When operating at sea, a fundamental need for every watch of- ficer is to understand what is expected, and, just as important, what is not expected. Communications among watchstanders
– whether by SP phones, walkie-talkie, VHF radio, or face to face – of- fer infinite opportunity for misunderstanding, misinterpretation, and in- deed, basic “mis-hearing.” When multiple watchstanders are involved, the likelihood of such errors multiplies, often at a greater than linear rate. When miscommunication combines with uncertainty of data and sloppiness in use of reporting language, as can happen during casualty response or in attempting to make sense of multiple sensor inputs, the outcome can be confusion and delay in execution of tasks at hand, and at its worst, can result in disaster.
It is a known fact that your mind, on only partially hearing a ver- bal communication, will tend to fill in any missing words or phrases
– for better or worse. This trait of the human ear and mind is one of the concepts behind our insistence, across the submarine force, on an array of standard verbal communications. “Restricting” certain orders and reports to standard formats is a time tested method for minimizing the types of error alluded to in the previous paragraph. Standard, and in some cases very formal, orders and reports under normal conditions have the same meaning to all who hear them voiced (“I am ready to relieve you;” “Helm, Bridge, come right to 035.” Even our alarms are standard orders: on hearing the Diving Alarm, certain watchstanders automatical- ly take certain very specific actions). Under casualty conditions, stan- dard orders and reports can convey correct meaning from sender to re- ceiver, even when background noise garbles, and sometimes eliminates, part of a standard order or report. A report, voiced over/thru an EAB, of “the fire is out, the reflash watch is stationed!” can be understood, even when significant parts of the report are garbled: “…hsss, fire is out, hsss,
….reflash …hssss….gasp… …stationed.” Your mind knows the context from training and experience – damage control and firefighting response in progress, and your ear is ‘looking’ for standard reports, many of which have been heard numerous times in past drills.
What follows is a true story, not of watch stander communications, but of miscommunications between a Commanding Officer and his new – two months on board – Engineer on an SSN homeported in San Diego in the mid-1980’s. The misunderstanding, in hindsight, is almost comi- cal, but, in real time, well, see for yourself.
You are the Engineer on a brand new 688 submarine, some 6 months out from new construction and PSA at Electric Boat. Two months ago you relieved a classmate as Engineer. Since then you’ve had two under- ways for local ops in the San Diego OpAreas, mostly – from your per- spective – running engineering drills as you begin workup for an ORSE some 4 months down the road. Neither CO nor XO have been shipmates with either a 688 or your type of reactor plant, but then, neither have you, so learning to work CO-XO-DH relationships, figuring out drills, executing all the day-to-day requirements, has been a work in progress. You are 3 days at sea of a planned two week underway from Ballast
Point, on local ops.
The messenger of the watch knocks on your SR door. “Engineer, the Captain would like to see you in his Stateroom.” You glance at a clock; it’s late, about 2330. You are just finishing up review of tomorrow’s drill set paperwork. It’s been a very long day.
“Cap’n, you asked for me.”
“Yeah, Eng, come on in. Have a seat.” “Yes, sir.”
“You know we have the ORSE coming up. We need to get our act together to get ready. I’ve asked the XO to look at our schedule. What I need you to do is think about all the things you need to do, and get with the XO to work up an integrated schedule.”
“Yes, sir,” you reply, thinking, I hope drill performance gets better quickly – XO’s all over me about critiques, and getting my junior depart- ment up to speed…
“I told the XO I want a schedule – a plan – within two weeks.” “Yes, sir.”
“Make sure you look hard at switchgear testing. Right now, we have only one short maintenance period before Squadron starts working us up with drills. I want that testing done before then. Ok? That’s all for now, Eng. Get some sleep.”
“Thank you, yes, sir,” you respond, getting up and heading for the passageway.
“One more thing, Eng”, he calls out, as you try to slip the stateroom door shut.
“Sir?”
“I need a lighting plan from you.” “Sir?”
“A lighting plan – for the engine room.” “Er, yes sir. G’night.”
Next day, you get together with your EDEA, EMC Killeen, who is also E-LCPO, and the only chief in the department, except for A-gang’s chief. After some detailed discussion about ORSE planning, you re- member the CO’s last direction.
“Chief, we need a lighting plan. For the Engine Room.” “Uh, OK,” from the chief.
“You got any idea what the Captain has in mind?”
“I’ll get right on it”, he says, with the air of a chief who knows the score.
A week later in the command passageway, the CO calls you over. “Have you got that lighting plan yet, Eng?” he asks.
“Working on it, Cap’n.”
“Can’t be that involved, Eng…” “Soon, sir, I’ve got E-Div working it.”
Four or five busy days pass by; in a hurried conversation with your E-Div officer, the best response you get is, “Eng, we’re working on it.”
The following Saturday, the CO catches you in the Wardroom right after noon meal. It’s been nearly two weeks since the Captain first asked for a lighting plan. “How’s that plan coming along, Eng?” he asks, his tone clearly indicating he’s beginning to wonder about the delay. Your brief report, basically a repeat of the last one, doesn’t cut it. “Eng, why don’t you come by this afternoon, and show me what you’ve got so far? Say, 1600?”
With a quick “Yes Sir” you head off to find your EDEA, and find him at the workbench in ERUL, starboard side. “Chief!” you exclaim. “Show me what you’ve got on the lighting plan! I have to see the Cap- tain in about 3 hours and give him status.” Over the next 15 minutes, the Chief shows you a diagram of all the engineering spaces, including Diesel/AMR, with different sections marked, names of Petty Officers assigned, and a code to show locations of fluorescent lighting, battle lan- terns, and a few regular incandescent bulb locations. On a separate set of sheets, he shows you a partially filled out schedule for each section on the diagram, and explains to you how it will all work. It looks pretty good; in exasperation, you ask, “Chief, this looks fine; why haven’t you just gotten it to me?”
Chief Killeen just shakes his head, and reports in a subdued voice, “Yes, sir, everything’s basically a ‘go,’ but with all the mercury regula- tions and stowage requirements, I just can’t figure out where to keep all the new spares, or to store the old ones. Some of those tubes are pretty long. Didn’t want to tell you I was ready ‘til I got that part figured out.” With a nod, you give the Chief a smack on his shoulder. “OK, this will have to do. Good job. I have to meet with the CO,” you declare, collecting his diagrams and planning sheets, and glancing at your watch,
“in about an hour. I’ll let you know how it comes out.”
You spend the next 50 odd minutes between the SSTGs, conduct- ing an EWS qual checkout with a 1st class M-Div’r, your new division Leading Petty Officer. You wrap it up in time for a quick check on the EOOW, and then head for the CO Stateroom, lighting plan in hand.
“What’s all this, Eng?” he asks, as you lay out your diagram and schedule between coffee cups and Nav charts on the CO’s day table. “This diagram…?” he questions, pointing to the color-coded plan view of ERUL.
Before he can get rolling with a string of questions, you quickly interject, “Cap’n, it’s the plan you asked for. These sheets…” you ges- ture, pointing at the diagrams, “show sections assigned to specific petty officers, and you can see the color coding here…” And, smoothing out the schedule pages provided by the Chief, you point out, “… and here’s the quarterly schedule for replacing lights. The holdup,” you begin to explain carefully, “has to do with finding storage for all those fluorescent tubes. E-Div’s been working that piece, but….”
“Whoa!” interrupts the CO. “What storage? Why? What for?” he asks in rapid, clipped tones.
“So we have the new ones ready to go to meet the schedule,” you say, trying hard not to sound defensive, “in port or at sea.”
The CO gives you a look, then glances again at the lighting plan ma- terials your guys have worked up for you over the past 2 weeks.
“Ah, I see, Eng… all these plans,” he waves an arm across your handiwork. “…and storage is the problem, eh?” The CO slowly shakes his head, but his expression seems to remain neutral.
“Yes, sir,” you respond, suddenly wondering where the CO is going with this, thinking, It’s not like my guys haven’t been working hard on this plan.
“You know, Eng, this looks pretty good,” he says, nodding at the table. “Thank you, sir…” you blurt out, trying to get another word in. “But!” he continues, “this isn’t what I was looking for.”
You stare at your plan, then look up at the CO. You’ve got to be kid- ding, you think; but before you can blurt out anything more, the Captain holds up a hand, sips his coffee, and leans back in his chair.
“How much time did your people spend working on this, Eng?” This asked matter-of-factly, typical of the CO when trying to work through an issue.
“Um, a good number of hours, I think. The guys put some real thought into this,” you answer, hoping your guess, and your answer, will satisfy the CO.
The CO looks down again at the table and your “plan” spread out in front of him. He shuffles a couple of pages. At this point, you have no idea where the CO is going with this conversation.
After another long glance at your quarterly replacement schedule, the Captain looks up, takes another swallow of his coffee, and shakes his head slowly, twice. “Here it comes,” you suddenly think. But, looking at the CO, it dimly penetrates that you are seeing what looks like the hint of an upturned corner of his lips….
“Eng, you know…” he starts in, in a low, even voice, “this is all fine,
but it’s a shame you had your guys put all this work in.” He taps a long finger on your schedule. “It’s much too complicated. And the storage … don’t have any need for that.”
“But, Cap’n,” you start to interrupt, “we figured we have to have that, to execute the schedule.”
“Hold up, there, Eng!” he continues. “I guess you didn’t get my meaning when I asked for a lighting plan.” The beginning of an actual smile plays across the CO’s face.
Confused, you can only muster a weak “sir?” in response.
“All I wanted, Eng, was for you to come tell me when you plan to relamp the Engine Room before ORSE, during some inport period. Have to make things bright for those guys.
“In some ports,” he continues, “it takes some doing to get all those fluorescent tubes delivered to the pier when we want them during some inport period. Sometimes takes some coordination with the Supply Of- ficer, and the XO needs to know for his schedule when you’ll be pulling all your guys for relamp day, and when he needs to provide the Mercury Response Team to support you.”
A really weak, “yes, sir” is all you can manage to say. “Just trying to help out, Eng.”
Talking Points
What discussion should have taken place between the Eng and CO to get on the same page?
When would it have been a good time for the Eng (had he thought of it) to go back to the CO to ask what the CO really expected?
When you think of the word “plan” in terms of submarine operations and maintenance, what meanings come to mind?
Do you think the timing of the CO’s request, coming after putting major emphasis on ORSE planning and switchgear testing, might have influenced the Eng’s thinking that a “lighting plan” was some standard
thing that E-div would know about and have a plan for? As it was, the Chief’s initial response caused the Eng to pretty much leave it to E-div to produce the ‘plan.’
It was the case in this true story that each of the CO, Eng, and EDEA/ E-LCPO assumed understandings by the others which was just not the case. How do you know when you need to pull the string to make sure you and people you are working with are on the same page? Can you know? Or, is it the case that you might not know?
It is apparent from the story that the Engineer did not ask for, or require, any sort of work – in – progress report on the “plan.” Nor did he ask his Chief, at the start, to give him any description of what would be produced as the “plan”. Drawing on your past experience, can you come up with any broad principles to help you decide when asking about project details is appropriate and necessary?
Would this plan development effort have been any different if the Chief had not been so concerned about the issue of mercury control and containment?
