So, I checked with the OP and got the green light to share the following:
My first boat was the USS Barbel (SS580) and we were homeported in Sasebo, Japan (right across the bay from Nagasaki). At a time when most SSNs had a crew of 135 and a Senior Chief as the COB, we had a crew of 89 including FIVE Master Chiefs.
While it was odd having a crew which was
that top-heavy, a lot of it came down to location (we weren't in Yokosuka with the seventh fleet brass) and duty. There was still a lot of tradition and bragging rights on a US diesel boat once you got past the hardships and for a lot of the senior sailors there was the YOLO factor since the diesel boats were on their way out. Getting a duty assignment in Japan could also lead to some serious bending of the Navy rules without too much effort. Many guys went way beyond their sea tours by transferring between the Barbel and the USS Darter then transferring back. It was a lot easier to keep a guy in Japan than to send him back home.
Which didn't make life any easier if you are the Master Chief in charge of Aux Div and Damage Control, how do you get noticed by the skipper if being a Master Chief isn't really that big of a deal?
You build a portable pier-side damage control wet trainer.
Never mind that we don't need one or even want one, you just build it anyway.
And this one was a p#sser. Imagine an 8 foot length of 6 inch steel pipe, capped on one end with a solid plug and on the other with a main pressure valve and fitting for a fire hose. Underneath was a sturdy frame and wheels re-purposed from a large hand truck and grab handles so the trainer could be wheeled to any of the ships in port. The pipe also featured various types of leaks and out-right blow outs which were cut into it.
There were only a couple of problems.
Like I said, the rest of us didn't need it and we also didn't want this thing screwing up our duty day.
All of us had at least two runs in the big wet trainer in Groton, and to be honest after two runs the adrenalin stopped and water felt a LOT colder.
The other matter was practical, if you knew for certain you were standing below decks watch on your duty day, you could just show up wearing your work uni and a semi-shined pair of shoes plus your ball cap. If you weren't sure, you also brought a set of working whites/working blues and maybe even your dress whites/dress blues plus two "Gilligan hats" and shined shoes in case you drew a topside watch while the sun was up. In other words, we didn't need to be stuck on board for a day with wet clothes.
We got to see "the device" at various stages of its construction and were told of the wonders it could perform. Ten gallons per minutes? Maybe even more if the fresh water connection was stout. Finally, it re-appeared on the pier- resplendent in a flawless coat of Pea Green enamel with its own coiled fire hose and color coded valve handles. Word came out "the device" would be inspected by the skipper and members of the ward room prior to its christening under fire (or water, as it was) during Quarters On The Pier at 8 AM, sharp.
Then the sun went down...and "the device" stayed on the pier.
The next morning, I showed up and got into ranks. I nodded to my A-Gang buds and noticed that they seemed pre-occupied with staring at their shoes and trying not to smile. Could something be up?
The skipper, XO, and COB took their tour of "the device" and heads nodded and fingers pointed as the other Master Chief explained its magic and the rest of us stood at parade rest. Then, it was time. The hose was connected and charged and the Master Chief gripped the main pressure valve with resolve and turned it...
Remember when I said "the device" spent the night on the pier?
As it turned out, someone (and to this day I still don't know who) loaded the main pipe with SIX dye markers, which did their job as detailed on their spec sheet. To be honest, six dye markers was over-kill. One was plenty for a poor soul who had fallen over board and was hoping for an airplane to fly by, just to give you an idea of the carnage on the pier.
