The one problem with all these missiles is that they make the firing submarine extremely vulnerable to detection by aircraft or surface ships, and the amount of noise made by a missile being fired underwater is simply amazing. So it is essential that if the Miami is ever tasked with firing a weapon, as the USS Pittsburgh (SSN-720) and USS Louisville (SSN-724) did during Desert Storm (they fired a total of fourteen TLAM-Cs and TLAM-Ds), she will have to be sure she is clear of any threat during the launch cycle.

  Mines

  Probably the least appreciated weapons that can be carried by a 688I are mines. These "weapons that wait" are perhaps the most cost effective weapons ever derived for naval warfare. Though most of the mining done by the United States since the end of World War II has been done by aircraft, there may be situations where the stealth and precision of a submarine may be preferred for delivery of these dangerous "eggs."

  The first of these is the Mark (Mk) 57 moored mine. It is a derivative of the air-dropped Mk 56 and can be moored in several hundred feet of water. It has a variety of different sensor and triggering systems, including acoustic and magnetic influence fuses. They can be programmed for activation delay or programmed to activate only for certain types and numbers of ships.

  Another type is the Mk 67 mobile mine. These are obsolete Mk 37 torpedoes that have been rebuilt into mines that lie on the bottom and wait for a target to drive over them. A submarine might fire them up into a shallow channel, to a distance of 5 to 7 miles. Like the Mk 57, this mine has a variety of different fusing options.

  Mark 57 moored mine. JACK RYAN ENTERPRISES, LTD.

  Mark 67 submarine-launched mobile mine (SLMM). This is a converted Mk 37 torpedo designed to be fired from a distance, then to sink to the ocean floor to act as a bottom mine. JACK RYAN ENTERPRISES, LTD.

  Mark 6 °Captor mine. The long capsule contains sensors and a Mark 46 ASW torpedo. JACK RYAN ENTERPRISES, LTD.

  But the crown jewel of the U.S. mine arsenal has to be the Mk 6 °Captor mine. This is an encapsulated Mark 46 torpedo, programmed to wait for enemy submarines; when one is detected the torpedo swims clear and attacks the sub. As an added benefit they can be programmed to listen for a certain type of submarine, like a Kilo or Akula. During the Cold War, it was planned to seed Captors along all the transit routes used by the submarines of the Soviet Union. Now they can be used against any of the growing number of countries that have chosen to buy and use diesel submarines in their navies.

  One of the nice things about mines is that they take up only about half as much space as the other types of weapons a sub might carry. Thus a 688I could carry as many as forty mines and still have a couple of ADCAPs for self-protection. The deployment of the mines is no different from loading and firing a torpedo (the BSY-1 has a mine launch mode), though the position of the mine has to be plotted absolutely accurately, so that it can be swept later. Fortunately the advent of GPS has made this task a bit easier, though efficient use of the SINS system is also required.

  Forward escape trunk of USS Miami. Note the air bubble where the crew/swimmers would stand before egressing from the trunk. JACK RYAN ENTERPRISES, LTD.

  All in all, these weapons make for a very dangerous quiver of arrows for the submarine force.

  Escape Trunks/Swimmer Delivery

  Wandering aft about 25 feet from the enlisted mess puts you underneath the forward escape trunk. This is a two-man air-lock used for a variety of purposes, though primarily as the main entry point to the forward part of the boat. It is composed of a pressure vessel about 8 feet tall and 5 feet in diameter. At both the top and bottom is a hatch capable of standing as much pressure as the actual hull of the boat. Most often personnel and supplies are loaded through this trunk. There is also another trunk farther back over the aft machinery spaces.

  In the event of an emergency the escape trunk comes into its own. If the boat is on the bottom and stable, the normal procedure is to wait for one of the deep-submergence rescue vehicles (DSRV) to be transported to the rescue site. The DSRV then comes down and docks to the collar over one of the escape trunks. It blows out the water from its own docking collar, now held in place by the pressure of the surrounding water. The crew of the DSRV open their own bottom hatch and enter the downed boat through the trunk. Now the crew of the downed sub can come aboard, albeit only about two dozen at a time. This means that if a Los Angeles boat were to go down intact with all her crew alive, it would take something like six trips to get them all off.

  If the boat is flooding and the crew must get off immediately, the escape trunk takes on a more vital role, allowing the crew to escape from the boat under their own power. This is done using a Steinke hood, a combination life jacket and breathing apparatus that fits over the head of a sailor. Two at a time the men enter the escape trunk wearing their Steinke hoods. They close the bottom hatch and huddle under an air bubble flange installed in the trunk for such operations. The sailors then charge their Steinke hood air reservoirs from an air port in the side of the trunk, and open a flood valve to fill the trunk with water. While they sit under the air bubble flange, the upper hatch opens. If they are the first ones to escape from the sub, they will have the additional job of pushing a life raft out of the hatch; this floats to the surface and provides some shelter for the men when they get there. Then, one at a time, they duck under the flange and float up through the hatch.

  A student dons a Steinke Hood to practice escape from a sunken submarine. JOHN D. GRESHAM

  At 400 feet (the maximum depth that the hood can be used), the men will have something like a minute to flood the trunk and get out. Any longer, and they risk getting "the bends" (small bubbles of nitrogen gas that form in the blood) as they rise to the surface. After they have exited, the controller in the area below the trunk closes the hatch via his control panel and begins to drain the trunk for the next pair of escapees. Meanwhile the two sailors literally rocket up to the surface. This would be extremely dangerous (the decreasing water pressure makes them vulnerable to a variety of air embolisms if they hold their breath), but with their heads in the air bubbles of their Steinke hoods, the men are able to breathe normally throughout the ascent to the surface. Once on the surface, they try to inflate the raft and stay together.

  A diver prepares for egress in one of Miami's two escape trunks. JOHN D. GRESHAM

  One of the other primary uses for the escape trunk, this one far less ominous, is as an airlock for divers and special operations teams. One of the little-known facts about U.S. submarines is that they have, at all times, a small team of divers (usually three to five rated divers) aboard to support the operations of the sub. The diving equipment and other gear is stored in the compartment forward of the torpedo room, near the VLS support equipment room. The divers' jobs include everything from clearing fouled propellers and running gear, to running security checks on the boat before she leaves harbor. In fact, when the Miami is in a foreign port she is not allowed to leave the harbor unless she has at least three divers aboard to assist in examining the hull before she gets underway.

  The other type of diver-related operation that is conducted through the escape trunk is submerged "lock-out" of special operations teams, such as the U.S. Navy's elite SEAL teams. These kinds of operations are really not the forte of the 688I and will, until they are retired, be predominately the job of modified Sturgeon-class boats like the Parche (SSN-683). Part of the problem is that the Los Angeles-class boats are optimized for speed and are not properly equipped to conduct this kind of mission effectively. Also, the already cramped accommodations of the 688I make it necessary to set up temporary sleeping quarters for the team, perhaps on bunks down in the torpedo room.

  In the unusual case of a special operations mission, the boat nears the target of the team and hovers over the seabed. The team then enter the trunk two at a time under the air bubble flange, and follow the same procedure as escaping sailors except with their diving gear. Retrieval is exactly the reverse, with the team reentering the trunk two at a time, closing the hatch, draining the trunk, and exiting through the bottom hatch back into the boat.

  The Sounds of Silence — Acoustic Isolation

  Silence. That is what has made American boats better than their opponents for over thirty years. It is their armor and their cloak all wrapped up into one vital quality. Nevertheless it comes at a high price and is called a fragile technology-fragile because it is based upon well-understood principles of physics, and because it can be compromised so easily. In terms of military technology, it is one of the crown jewels, in the same category as the ability to build stealth aircraft and nuclear weapons. So effective has this silencing effort been that the latest U.S. SSNs and SSBNs are so quiet, they can effectively disappear in the ocean's background noise.

  To make a quiet submarine, the naval architects must take a holistic attitude to the design of the boat and every piece of equipment that goes into it. The key is mounting each piece of equipment that moves or makes noise on something that damps out the vibrations. The transmission of these vibrations-things like the spinning of a pump or the hum of a generator-sends noise out into the hull, where it is radiated into the water. In addition, the rubber decoupling tiles coating the hull help keep noise inside the hull from being transmitted out into the water.

  The mounts on the main machinery raft take care of the biggest source of radiated noise. The rest of it is probably taken care of by secondary mounts underneath each piece of equipment (pumps, turbines, etc.), designed to attenuate the specific type of noise generated by that particular piece of equipment. In addition, each piece of machinery is probably designed to be as smooth running and noiseless as America's best mechanical and electrical engineers can make it. For example, the seawater circulation pumps, which are arguably the most noisy devices on the boat, transmit almost no noise in the 688I-class boats. Supporting this is a noise-monitoring system with sensors throughout the boat designed to tell if any piece of equipment or gear is loose or malfunctioning. An added benefit of this system is that it probably is capable of predicting when and how a piece of machinery is going to fail by its acoustic signature (such as the sound of bearings wearing out).

  The various techniques used to decrease the radiated noise of American submarines constitute the single most classified aspect of the Miami and her sisters. The above description is only the most cursory discussion possible of this incredible technology. In fact, the only real way to describe the magnitude of the achievement is to say that the S6G reactor generates something like 35,000 shaft horsepower[10], yet with all this power the total noise radiated by the Miami is probably something less than the energy given off by a 20-watt lightbulb. It is for this reason that submariners sometimes refer to their Air Force cousins flying the F-117A stealth fighter as "the junior stealth service."

  Life Aboard

  So, you ask, what is it like to live aboard a submarine like Miami? Well, imagine a combination of living in an oversized motor home and summer camp, and this is a lot of what life in the 33-foot pressure hull is like. Not much room, very little noise, very little news from home, and virtually no privacy. Against these "downs" are the esprit de corps of the submarine force, and the knowledge that being a submariner truly makes a man the best of the best in the U.S. Navy.

  If you were to go out on a cruise on Miami, the very first thing you probably would notice is that you seem to be bumping into everything and everyone on the boat. This is not unusual for someone new on a sub, and after just a few hours you begin to "think small and thin" so that you can smoothly move around your fellow submariners.

  The next thing that comes to your attention will probably be the rather odd working schedule, a watch program that has a crewman working six hours "on" and twelve hours "off." While he is "on," a sailor is standing watch; while "off," he is eating and sleeping, doing maintenance on equipment and systems, and studying for qualification. This creates the unusual standard of a Miami "day" being eighteen hours rather than twenty-four. Unfortunately the entire boat takes on this schedule, which tends to lead rapidly to crew members' suffering from sleep deprivation. While in theory a crew member is allowed eight hours of "off" time in a given twenty-four-hour period, this rarely works out into long periods for sleeping. Very quickly one loses all sense of time on the surface and back home, and the sleep that one does get tends to be "on the fly."

  The main crew mess area, USS Miami. Here one of the chiefs is conducting a briefing as part of the continuing "school of the boat." JOHN D. GRESHAM

  As for sleeping itself, this is a relatively comfortable thing to do on Miami. With the exception of Commander Jones's stateroom, the bunks for all the officers and men are about the same size, with similar appointments. And while a berthing space is about the same size as a big coffin, once you learn to think small, the space seems quite roomy. With fresh air blowing on your face and a nice foam mattress, falling asleep is really not much of a problem.

  What is a problem is the "hot bunking" required for a large portion of the enlisted personnel on the Miami. This tends to dominate the schedules of the junior enlisted crew members, with a rigidly set schedule for many of the berthing spaces. If "special" or extra personnel have to be aboard, the crew will lay out extra bunks in the torpedo room over the weapons stowage racks. These are actually quite comfortable, with good headroom, though some folks find the idea of sleeping in a room with literally tons of explosive and fuel rather discomforting. Another problem is the lack of personal stowage space. For those with their own bunks there is a 6-inch-deep stowage pan under each mattress, as well as some locker space. For those having to "hot bunk," three men have to share the space normally allotted to two.

  A typical bunk space or rack in the forward enlisted berthing area. These are stacked three high, and frequently two of these will be shared by three men in a scheme called "hot bunking." JOHN D. GRESHAM

  Dining aboard Miami is truly a pleasure, as the Navy goes all out to give the men the best chow the taxpayers' money can buy. In fact, because of the limited room for exercise, many of the men actually tend to gain weight on cruise. The food itself is simple but wholesome, with fresh fruit and vegetables becoming the most prized items after a few weeks. The Navy has done some rather clever things to extend the storage life of much of the fresh food aboard. For example, eggs are specially treated with a wax coating to extend their shelf life.

  The cooks and their helpers (everyone does an occasional stint of mess duty) work hard to vary the menu and make meals interesting, using a galley about the size of an apartment kitchen. Certainly the culinary highlight of a cruise is the traditional halfway meal of "surf and turf" (steak and crab legs). Unfortunately, by the last few weeks of the cruise every man aboard will be sick of three-bean salad, and dreaming about fresh veggies almost as much as he does about his family.

  Those dreams of home and family are always at the center of the submariners' thoughts, though there is very little the Navy can do to give them the kind of communications home that sailors aboard a carrier or frigate might have. The stealth of the modern SSN means that the crew of the Miami is almost never allowed to send personal messages home, and news from home is heavily limited and censored. Word from home is limited to a series (about one a week while on patrol) of forty-word messages called "Familygrams." Each Familygram is carefully crafted by a wife, parent, or loved one to give the crewman at sea an idea of what is happening at home. An example of a notional Familygram is seen below:

  421. DOE LTJG 5/14: REMEMBERED MOTHERS-FLOWERS BEAUTIFUL-THANK YOU. GREAT NEWS. IN CHARGE SUMMER CAMP PROGRAM. THIRTY KIDS. STARTS 24TH. BOUGHT SWIMMING POOL JOHN JR. B ALGEBRA SEMESTER. NO TIME FOR GARDENING, CERAMICS. MONEY FINE-FEW BILLS. SAVING FOR VACATION. MISSING YOU. ILY. JANE

  Once the Familygram has been placed into a drop box at the boat's home base of Groton, Connecticut, it is reviewed by personnel at the submarine group for any security problems or personal bad news. Occasionally the message will be returned for an edit or suggested change. As a general rule, no "Dear John" letters or bad news (death, illness, etc.) will be transmitted to the boat.

  In addition, when the ship's office on Miami receives the Familygram, the personnel will also look over the messages and forward any that look like problems to the captain or executive officer for disposition. The Navy is quite conscious of the sacrifices of those who choose to love and live with submariners, and tries to close ranks whenever there is trouble. As it is, the majority of submariners I have met treasure the Familygrams they have received over the years on cruise. In these notes are news of babies on the way and babies born, birthdays and first words. For the men aboard Miami and all U.S. submarines, the Familygram with its "ILY" (I Love You) greeting is the only news they want to hear. It is their sole lifeline to home and "the world."

  One of the ways the Navy helps the crew keep their minds off their homes and loved ones is to work them very hard. Every day the officers and men stand watches, maintain equipment, and study. This studying, known as qualifying, takes up almost all the "free" time of a submarine sailor. Since the days of World War II, when the sub force had to expand rapidly, the Navy has always pushed its submariners to gain knowledge and move up in the ranks. There is a ship's library, and video movies on the closed-circuit system, but these tend to be left alone in deference to a sailor's or officer's qualification book. In the enlisted mess, there is frequently a class running in what is known as "the school of the boat." During a visit to Miami the chiefs were running an orientation program on the boat's reactor plant-all of this while stores were being packed away and lunch being served.