New book: 'Tales of Da Bronx Submariner'

[Bill Nichols]

Review from New London's 'The Day':


Former Submariner Chronicles ‘The Life'

By ROBERT A. HAMILTON
Day Staff Writer, Navy/Defense/Electric Boat
Published on 10/16/2005

North Stonington -- It might not be a Tom Clancy novel, but Donald J. Kamuf's self-published “Tales of Da Bronx Submariner� gives you the perspective of submarine life from someone who lived it.

“I have three kids, and a couple of years ago they said, ‘Dad, you tell a lot of stories, why don't you write a book?' � said the Babcock Road resident. So every morning for two years he sat down with a yellow lined pad to make notes about his life, and spent $3,170 getting it into print.

If you're offended by scatological humor and some frank sailor chatter, you might want to give “Bronx Submariner� a pass, but if you're interested in a deckplate view of the sailors of the undersea force, Kamuf has a knack for language that really captures the essence of submarine life.

His apt description of the smell of a submarine, for instance, characterizes it as a strange mingling of cigarette smoke, diesel fuel, lubricating oil, solvents, sanitary tanks, baked goods “and strange smells coming from socks stuck to the deck in the berthing area.� Anyone who's ever spent a few weeks underway has to understand what he means.

And he fills his readers in on what it's like to be a “dink� (delinquent in qualifications) on a ship that needs every man pulling his own weight.

“They would let you understand that you had to qualify in a timely manner or else,� he writes. “The ‘or else' could be hiding your shoes, squeezing your toothpaste into your bunk bag, goosing you, or putting lapping compound (an abrasive mixture) in your Vaseline jar.�

He — along with every other dink — spent months mess-cooking when he reported to his first boat, the Bang, and his imagery of eating habits shows an eye for detail, and a submariner's knack at memorization.

“There was one torpedoman who would take a quart jar of peanut butter and eat it with a soup spoon until it was all gone,� Kamuf writes. “A large first-class engineman, Nick Mace, nicknamed Mumbles Mace, would fill his mouth until his cheeks bulged and then close his eyes and slowly chew until he was ready for another load of chow. He could eat two meals and still have dessert.�

Any time you have a bunch of young men pulling into foreign ports there are bound to be amusing stories, and Kamuf delivers, such as his account of a transit to Bermuda, where the pier was built with a red light sticking 30 feet out past the end of the pier on an extension.

“Two members of the crew coming back on motorbikes at high speed started to brake at the end of the pier, thinking the red light was the end, which caused them to fly into the air as they hit the wood railing,� he writes. “We got them out of the drink wet, drunk, a little foolish looking, and a little busted up, but the bikes were a total loss. One of these bikes wound up in the after engine room, a keepsake.�

He made the transition to the nuclear Navy with orders to the ballistic missile submarine Abraham Lincoln, a new construction boat at Portsmouth Naval Shipyard in 1961. The sense of awe of a guy who grew up in cramped, smelly diesel boats comes through clear in the text.

“It was hard to describe the wonder of the large, clear, quiet submarine,� Kamuf writes. “I felt this was the Waldorf Astoria hotel in Manhattan, New York City.�

His account spans the period from the start of the Cold War, through the largest peacetime buildup of the U.S. submarine fleet. He was aboard the Dace when it was commanded by Kinnaird McKee, who would go on to head the nuclear Navy as a four-star admiral — and when the Dace had a historic “meeting� with one of its Soviet counterparts, he was there to collect a little of the sound-absorbing tile that it left behind.

He was on the Sea Poacher when it was fired on by a Cuban Patrol craft not long after the missile standoff, and he was assigned to the tender USS Fulton when it crossed the Atlantic to set up the submarine base at La Maddalena, Italy, which gave the submarine fleet a foothold in the Mediterranean that is still in use today. It's submarine history from a real insider.

There's a short description of his childhood in the Bronx at the beginning, and some non-submarine “odd thoughts� at the end (“Words spoken in an elevator are stupid,� for example) which probably aren't going to be of as much interest to the submarine aficionado, but the rest of the book is pure gold to someone who wants to understand not so much submarines as the men who drive them.

It's only sold 70 so far, and while it's available on Amazon the Internet bookseller it's having a slow start (ranked 268,507th in sales one day last week). But Kamuf said he's gotten good reviews from one former shipmate who served on the USS Dace with him.

“The first thing he did was read that chapter to his wife,� Kamuf said. “He loved it.�

“Tales from Da Bronx Submariner,� 400 pages, by Donald Kamuf. Published by Iceni Books. Cover price $27.95, available for $18.45 on Amazon