Chapter 1: The Hurricane
I yelled above the noise, “Sir! Sir! I can’t move the wheel! I’m losing it! Nothing works! We are out of control!”
While this went through my head, the ship’s bow jumped straight out of the water and tilted up, so steep I couldn’t see the ocean; all I saw was sky.
I wasn’t scared, yet. Then the ship pitched down, and the sky went away replaced by surrealism. I couldn’t see the surface; instead I saw two huge perpendicular smooth walls of water, one on the port side and one on the starboard side. We fell between those deep walls, descending like a high-speed elevator; I was certain we would die when we hit bottom. Amazingly the ship’s buoyancy took-hold, we stopped.
I sighed with relief thinking it was over, that we would rise, surviving a big vertical pitch. I was wrong; the ship lurched dropping 54 degrees to the starboard side, almost tipping over. I was a young sailor in dungarees; I gripped the wheel, so I stayed upright on my feet. The Captain and three officers stood near me on the bridge, fell, slid on their asses about ten feet, and collided in a heap of arms and legs against the bulkhead. They looked like stooges in a farcical comedy, the scene overrode my fear; I could hardly keep a straight face; I laughed inside.
Loud crashing sounds erupted from the turmoil below decks. Everything even slightly loose spilled. Food, supplies, kettles, tipped over, and fell. Pissed-off cooks in the galley, seeing the colossal mess, swore like pirates.
It was rough, but the ship stabilized. We rode it out till the storm was over, ever concerned that the ship might go under.
Being a close call, Destroyers like this one should capsize in a hurricane that powerful; ours didn’t. The year was about 1955 and the ship was the USS Frank Knox, DDR 742; we sailed the South Pacific. Under weigh, I took the helm every eight hours. The rest of the time I was a “Gun Fire Control Technician”, FT3.
For three days before this event, waiting it out, we stayed trapped within the hot and placid eye of the hurricane. Smooth as glass, the water showed not a ripple. A tropical sun beat down; there wasn’t the slightest breeze. Yet it was creepy, with a horizon ringed by angry black clouds. We knew there would be big trouble ahead when the eye collapsed. There was.
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Epilogue
Note: At one time, we took the Knox to Mare Island shipyard for modification and overhaul. The yard reduced the steel on the housed gun mounts from about ¾ inch thick to ¼ inch. The yard changed much top side superstructure from steel to aluminum. The modification removed tons of top weight. I can’t remember if the yard did the modifications before, or after the hurricane incident. It was probably before. Anyway, we saw 54 degrees on the inclinometer.
___________________________________________________________________
A Reference
"All gun design tin cans [Gearing, Fletcher, Adams] would typically lose their gun mounts at about 55 degree rolls. Removing the topside weight would increase the righting moment [GC moves lower, greater buoyancy, reduced displacement] and hopefully the ship will recover."
http://www.peachparts.com/shopforum/open-discussion/297050-how-far-will-ship-roll-without-capsizing-5.html
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Permission
I authorize the use of this document for non-profit use to promote the history of the USS Frank Knox, and the U.S. Navy in general. Private use for profit is denied.
I yelled above the noise, “Sir! Sir! I can’t move the wheel! I’m losing it! Nothing works! We are out of control!”
While this went through my head, the ship’s bow jumped straight out of the water and tilted up, so steep I couldn’t see the ocean; all I saw was sky.
I wasn’t scared, yet. Then the ship pitched down, and the sky went away replaced by surrealism. I couldn’t see the surface; instead I saw two huge perpendicular smooth walls of water, one on the port side and one on the starboard side. We fell between those deep walls, descending like a high-speed elevator; I was certain we would die when we hit bottom. Amazingly the ship’s buoyancy took-hold, we stopped.
I sighed with relief thinking it was over, that we would rise, surviving a big vertical pitch. I was wrong; the ship lurched dropping 54 degrees to the starboard side, almost tipping over. I was a young sailor in dungarees; I gripped the wheel, so I stayed upright on my feet. The Captain and three officers stood near me on the bridge, fell, slid on their asses about ten feet, and collided in a heap of arms and legs against the bulkhead. They looked like stooges in a farcical comedy, the scene overrode my fear; I could hardly keep a straight face; I laughed inside.
Loud crashing sounds erupted from the turmoil below decks. Everything even slightly loose spilled. Food, supplies, kettles, tipped over, and fell. Pissed-off cooks in the galley, seeing the colossal mess, swore like pirates.
It was rough, but the ship stabilized. We rode it out till the storm was over, ever concerned that the ship might go under.
Being a close call, Destroyers like this one should capsize in a hurricane that powerful; ours didn’t. The year was about 1955 and the ship was the USS Frank Knox, DDR 742; we sailed the South Pacific. Under weigh, I took the helm every eight hours. The rest of the time I was a “Gun Fire Control Technician”, FT3.
For three days before this event, waiting it out, we stayed trapped within the hot and placid eye of the hurricane. Smooth as glass, the water showed not a ripple. A tropical sun beat down; there wasn’t the slightest breeze. Yet it was creepy, with a horizon ringed by angry black clouds. We knew there would be big trouble ahead when the eye collapsed. There was.
___________________________________________________________________
Epilogue
Note: At one time, we took the Knox to Mare Island shipyard for modification and overhaul. The yard reduced the steel on the housed gun mounts from about ¾ inch thick to ¼ inch. The yard changed much top side superstructure from steel to aluminum. The modification removed tons of top weight. I can’t remember if the yard did the modifications before, or after the hurricane incident. It was probably before. Anyway, we saw 54 degrees on the inclinometer.
___________________________________________________________________
A Reference
"All gun design tin cans [Gearing, Fletcher, Adams] would typically lose their gun mounts at about 55 degree rolls. Removing the topside weight would increase the righting moment [GC moves lower, greater buoyancy, reduced displacement] and hopefully the ship will recover."
http://www.peachparts.com/shopforum/open-discussion/297050-how-far-will-ship-roll-without-capsizing-5.html
_____________________________________________________________________________________
Permission
I authorize the use of this document for non-profit use to promote the history of the USS Frank Knox, and the U.S. Navy in general. Private use for profit is denied.
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