That’s what the recruiter at the MEPS station told me. I was wanting to join the Navy and work in avionics. I was 18, what did I know. Apparently, that week there was a shortage of able bodied sub sailors available. So, he told me, working with weapons systems or navigation electronics on a Nuclear Submarine would be just the same. Part of me knew this to be untrue, but I was ready desperate to get out of my house, so I said what the hell. Lo and behold I was on my way to being a bubblehead. Only at that time I didn’t know that word. I would find out soon enough. In the interest of not dragging out our hero’s story I will skip 8 weeks of hell, otherwise known as bootcamp. Next we were on our way to Submarine School in beautiful New London/Groton Connecticut. One was the sub base and one was the school base. My memory is fuzzy as to the delineation now. Honestly it has nbo bearing on our story(yet). So several weeks of school, morning PT (physical Training),being picked on by the Marines every morning waiting in the chow line as they ran past. A favorite song they would share with us was as follows: I wanna be a Submarine Sailor, I wanna eat 5 meals a day. I wanna grow to be fat and lazy, so I can be a chief someday….
Now in all fairness, we did eat very well, but it was only 4 meals a day. 
and then only if you were awake.
Another fond memory is DC or Damage Control training. They put you into a mock up of a fast attack submarine aft engine room. I was lucky enough to be the engine room phone talker. Having no clue what was going on, I foolishly thought it would be easy, this would not be the last time I was wrong.
So, I’m standing there, nervous. Afraid I’d screw up.Being newly in the Navy, etc. The next thing I know, there is water where there should not be water(inside the people tank). I calmly grab the phone and call out “Flooding in the Engine Room”. I should point out, the water in question was pumped in from the Thames River, a river not known to ever be even close to warm. I’m thinking it was eleventy million gallons of 0 degree water. It was probably closer to 60 degree water. But, when you have leaks everywhere, water gushing out under pressure, and water up to your claves, in a few minutes, wtf really cares or has time to think about water temperatures. You know how a shower feels? It’s nothing like that. I think it’s closer to a fire hose. But less friendly. Eventually, we either stopped the flooding and saved the sub, or they just felt sorry for us and stopped the drill. Either way, I was very very happy it was over. A few more weeks and I was a fledgling Submarine School graduate.
Next I was on my way to the arm pit of VA Beach, known as the FLCTC or Fleet Combat Training Center.
This is where our hero discovers he really really sucks at math. Although he has more practical knowledge of electronics than 90% of the kids in his classes. The Navy doesn’t seem to care, so he is dropped from the program and loses his Submarine designation. He is then rlegated to working on base until something better comes along. Enter the evil detailer Kronewiter(Ive forgotten his first name) He has plans of sending our hero to an Auxiliary oiler, in the North Atlantic. But, We’re getting ahead of ourselves slightly. For you see, the star of this tale, works very hard in the records vault and makes many higher level friends, among them some Senior Chiefs and some officers. One of these officers, sees this young man delivering records to the school office. He asks this normally, happy go lucky sailor, why he seems so down. He listens intently, and tells the sailor to not worry. He will take care of this. He seems to have some pull. Our hero doesn’t know at the time, but he is deliverd from near obscurity as a glorified oil deliverer. For, a few days later, the eveil detailer shows up at the records office, looking very very unhappy. As if he’d eaten somethign especially foul tasting(perhaps his own ass?) And relays that the sailor must have friends, and he will be going to the Sub. Fleet after all. Cue angels singing and streamers falling).
So, we catch up to the sailor ready to leave for Charleston Naval Base, in sunny So. Carolina. We would be remiss if we didn’t pause here to recall and mention someone very special. Her name was Vicky and she was a PN2 (Personel man second class) She was slightly older than the sailor, but a very good friend. She was also the object of a serious crush. She is missed and fondly remembered all these years later.
Oh yes, off to Charleston. He reported in early July of 87. He was a few weeks early,waiting on his sub crew to come back from sea. Many weeks were spent working in the personnel office.
Then he meets the crew of the SSBN 655. He is assigned to the blue crew. Each Ballistic Missile sub(at that time) had 2 crews blue and gold. This is somewhat misleading as there is technically three. When something was broken, it was the other crew. SO you had the blue crew, the gold crew and the other crew.
Eventually he would come to love the sub and his submarine family.That’s really what it was, It transcended shipmates, or co-workers. With the exception of a few screw-ups, you learn to trust and rely on these guys to save your life if the defecation ever hit the rotary oscillator. Think about, you’ll get it.
I will tell more stories as I can recall them. As I get older, it gets more difficult.
