We returned to Norfolk, our submarine was slated for another long run patrol. You might get the idea that we spent a lot of time at sea. Sometimes over two hundred and sixty days a year or more. That said, The Skipjack was headed north again. We were all jealous of our sister ship, another fast attack nuclear submarine. They were stationed out of Norfolk too. The Scorpion was assigned to the Sixth fleet in the Mediterranean Sea a good will tour. The Scorpion left Norfolk and got underway on February 15, 1968. This was the end of March, we were headed back up to the Arctic Circle again. The “Blue Nose” ceremony was a highlight for the crew. I was the royal photographer and documented the event. The new mess cook, Sam and a few others had to be indoctrinated into the Royal Club. My first long run was my turn at being a Blue Nose. That said, this was my second long run, this ceremony was a lot more fun because I was recording it. King Neptune was in the royal chambers aka (crews mess). The newbies were blindfolded. The password was "More." The royal drink (thick green stuff) was ready and the punishment administered, then they shaved an “A” in the back of newly sworn-in guy's skulls. The kissing of the Buddha’s belly was real special, trust me. The greased belly of Neptune as your face is rubbed into it.on your knees, then to repeated the password. The chief aka "King Neptune" had a hairy beer belly for sure. The smack on the ass with the royal paddle and your initiated. Welcome to the Arctic Circle newbies. Life aboard was running smoothly on station. The submarine crossing under the ice was always interesting. Coffee runs and drills, breakfast, lunch and dinner. Soup down was on the new guy Sam, a real blue nose. The time moved along. I was now the ship's photographer, in my spare time. I'd process the film and had my own dark room. The captain would take pictures through the periscope and I would develop the shots in the lab. Sometimes with him right outside the door to make sure, we got the shot. The captain relieved me on this patrol from mess cooking. We had a target rich environment in these long daylight periods. The Russian Navy Fleet did war maneuvers on the surface. I was the only man qualified dark room photo technician. I felt important in these days on the Arctic Ocean. The time was fast approaching, our return to Scotland. We pickup a signal that our sister ship had not reported in. The fast attack submarine, USS Scorpion (SSN589) was missing somewhere on her return from the Mediterranean. This was my friend and my old sea dad's boat from the days on the diesel boat. The cook Richard, who had help me stay in the program at the start of sub school. This man who was my shipmate on the Cubera. The crew of ninety nine men were all missing. They were very qualified crew and had been awarded metals for their previous service. Skipjack was ordered to stay on station for twelve more days. This hit me very hard, my heart almost fell out of my chest. This couldn't be, the sub went down with all hands. The date was May 22, 1968. Our crew took it very hard. We all had friends on Scorpion. I've tried to make these chapters fun and more about my silly adventures. I've changed names and put the points of my sea tales in a good light. That said, this sailor couldn't talk about any of these things for along time. The human feelings are the hardest lessons for me. These people, I served with will live in my heart till it beats no longer. These men that never returned. The year of 1968, four other submarines were lost at sea. These are the other three: Israeli submarine INS Dakar, the French submarine Minerve, (S647) and the Soviet submarine K-129. All these boat crews will be missed. Submariners are a brotherhood and I'm proud to be in their numbers.
The orders had changed after seventy two days on sea patrol. The Soviets were suspected in this accident. Scorpion's last communication had said a Russian submarine was tailing her. On this patrol, no enemy sub approached their northern base from the south. The Skipjack was finally ordered to Holy Lock in Scotland. There could be some issue with the rest of the fast attacks in the fleet. We were mechanically checked out in Holy Lock. The Skipjack now ordered back to Norfolk on the surface. A much slower transit and more vulnerable posture. Talk about high alert, the captain kept us all busy with attack scenarios and responses. The sonar and lookouts on the surface kept a sharp vigil on the open waters.
Days and nights on the North Atlantic, the crew tense and moody. Waldo the cook was catching hell. We were half way across the Atlantic when it happened. It was flat calm and kind of eerie that morning. Our sonar had picked up a faint signal, the radar had a small blimp on the screen a possible periscope. The friend or foe radio signal was met with no response. The captain was called to the control room. The crew went to battle stations. I took over my position as helmsman. The captain climbed up to the bridge followed by three armed personnel. The captain order the course change to intercept the target. We entered a fog mist closing in on the prey. The crew was on edge, the torpedo tubes loaded. I think that I was the only one glad to see that it was a sailboat cutting through the mist. The front runner of the transatlantic sailboat race. I would think an armed submarine clearing the mist into their peaceful world was quite startling. They brought the sub-machine guns back down the ladder. Life at sea improved as we passed these majestic yachts for the rest of that day. The Skipjack headed west and the sailboats to the east. The Russians didn't show up. I was glad to get back to almost normal. The cruise into Norfolk was a sad and a meaningful time with family and friends. The loss of that many was heart felt by all. Rest In Peace... brothers.
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