Few remember the 1972 Submarine Squadron 10 deployment to set up the advance submarine refit site at La Maddalena, Italy. SUBRON 10 then consisted mostly of maturing 594 Class ships and submarine tender USS Fulton (AS-11), oldest commissioned ship in the Navy. Sudden announcement of the plan around 1 April was thought an April Fool’s lark by some, including this writer, then Squadron Engineer. Fulton was simply not in condition for any arduous deployment and lacked neces- sary capability to produce oxygen and nitrogen. They had to be kidding! Our Commodore, Jeff Metzel, thought otherwise! In his thought-
ful and persuasive manner, he made it clear this was going to happen. Through herculean efforts he badgered funding and an army of support to bludgeon the necessary upgrades, including an O2-N2 plant. He bull- dogged the project relentlessly, using 3×5 cards holding vast details re- gardless of orientation. Fulton deployed on schedule, units following.
Getting there was without incident. However, the refit site was the remote, rocky, uninhabited island of Santo Stefano, off the resort island jewel La Maddalena, which itself was off the tip of Sardinia. The mis- sion of refitting submarines got off to an inauspicious start. Basic chal- lenges of establishing services occupied all waking hours. The coopera- tive spirit of the local Italian Navy over a friendly glass of wine, solved most problems, generosity we would cherish. Unfortunately, zeal of the Italian Defense Ministry was countered by the haughty obstinacy of their Foreign Ministry. Diplomats alone would decide if and when clearance could be granted for nuclear submarines and it was their August “fes-ta” season.
While the Commodore was on the mainland jousting with bureau- crats, a peculiar solution percolated. The submarine tender would service destroyers in La Maddalena while the destroyer tender in Naples would service our submarines. In that regard, destroyer skippers never had it so good, getting work done they weren’t likely to get done elsewhere, with the added luxury of submarine quality control. Reciprocal service was however, as they say in Naples with a shrug… “not so good.”
Meanwhile, on La Maddalena it was obvious that, aside from the destroyermen, nobody was happy. The problem was BEER. Beer trans- ported at great effort to serve in our make-shift cantina on The Rock was Birra Peroni’s lowest label, a foul brew with suspicious taste and odor. With no submarines to work on, there was plenty of time for complain- ing. Standard sailor parlance was… “Don’t want no (STINKIN’) beer.” Sailors wouldn’t drink the swill for free, exceptional behavior for tough Navy bluejackets.
Staff priorities quickly changed. Priority #1… get BEER! Many tender sailors had not yet ventured off The Rock to enjoy the pleasant summer vacation atmosphere on La Maddalena. So idle time was in abundance to hang around the cantina. Little creativity was needed to vi- sualize beer containers becoming convenient projectiles for makeshift games gone awry, or worse. Best to be hoped for was holding the troops ‘sullen but not mutinous’ until the relief beer train arrived. A likely hero stepped into the breach, Commander Jim Rolfe, the suave squadron and tender supply officer. Though this event would hardly rank as a signal achievement to his stellar career, we thought it his finest hour. Accepting no excuses, he was a tireless bulldog locating, moving and tracking a lifeblood of beer ever closer to our thirsty shore.
The beer, mostly basic American, arrived several weeks later to great joy and relief. By coincidence, the Foreign Ministry granted grudging approval for nuclear submarine clearance in La Maddalena Roads al- most the same date. While no logical connection can be made between the twin miracles, it was magic indeed, like Italy itself. Most likely clearance approval was related only to return of Italian bureaucrats from traditional summer vacations. A measure of normalcy descended on this outpost of the realm as we serviced deployed submarines until Decem- ber. Forgotten is what became of the vile Birra Peroni. But local Italians had early on shown resourcefulness in making use of materials the Navy discarded, even if the materials were STINKIN’. We can only hope the Birra Peroni found a happy end… “Italian style.”
