The FM …Slide….

The FM …Slide….

Back in the mid ‘70’s was a good time for many of the original Fighting 41 for Freedom. SOP was being reevaluated and in some instances it was liberalized. I don’t think Adm. Zummwalt had anything to do with it. Or did Adm. Rickover. So, appropriate thanks to those responsible were never doled out by me personally.

However, as our home port at the time was that jewel of the south of Europe, Rota Spain, and was being changed to Charleston South Carolina, the crew, as Mike Tyson would say, was ‘estatic’ to be making the move.
In the anticipation of the return to Charleston our Atlantic Fleet commander authorized some ‘special’ duty ops. to help keep us motivated.
We were ordered to report to Cape Canaveral, Coca Beach Florida for daily ops with a Destroyer being outfitted with “special submarine busting sonar”. Like there ever was such a thing.
The sonar, called the FM slide, sent up to fifteen separate sonar pulses out at close to the same time. Virtually blanketing the undersea area with sonar pulses. It was cool to look at. But I digress.
Since these were considered ‘day ops’ thirty percent of the crew was allowed to remain behind on the beach on deployment every morning.
We began on the first day at a known starting point (known to the destroyer) and depth. The Destroyer (target) was allowed to acquire contact via sonar and then we were to progress through a previously designated course at a pre determined speed. That way even if for some unknown reason contact was lost, if one had a stop watch and the map you could plot exactly where we should be at any given time. The underwater phone was used to start the event.
By most accounts this was an exercise dreamed up in skimmer heaven. “We’ll show those Sub sailors who’s the target”, I could just hear them saying.

Before we had gone to the second turn they were heading in the opposite direction.
We followed our designated course and completed at the exact time and point we were expected to.
That night a pow-wow was had by the combined wardrooms and everyone agreed that a better effort could be managed the next day.

The next day the plan was to allow the Sub to begin directly under the surface craft. Once the surface craft had acquired contact we were to move out and follow a pre designated course known only to the Submarine instead of both. I guess the thinking was that possibly the surface craft quartermaster and helmsman crew couldn’t navigate, and that was okay for reasons sound enough for a navy that floats on water. Obviously, those reasons were unsound when applied to a submerged navy already sunk.

As the exercise matured it was again clear that the surface craft was outside of its ‘comfort zone’. Unable to navigate a course that mirrored a submerged contact and remain temporarily undetected in it’s baffles is, one would believe, a woeful position for a combat ship to be in. Just the same, they proudly displayed the Battle Efficiency “E” with several hash marks on their stack.
That night on the return of both vessels to the pier yet another command conference was assembled and a post mortem of the days events conducted.
Finally, after more than a week of day ops and several FM slide tune ups an opportunity for the C.O. to shine was presented.
The final day we began on the surface immediately in front of the Destroyer. They had us dead to rights on their sonar. Duh.
We dove the ship and with in 10 minutes we were alone once again. The C.O. was a little miffed. This was a giant waste of time, money and effort. These guys couldn’t find their ass with both hands.

It was time for a little lesson in humility. We began by getting in their baffles at time Zulu + 00:13. We remained there all day taking time to come to periscope depth often taking pictures and getting in some fire control practice at the same time. At the end of the time allotted for the exercise we were required to disclose our location. Since we were directly astern of the destroyer we moved to their starboard at a range of about 70 yards and directly on their beam with the attack scope sticking out of the water about 12 feet. Since a surface craft operates with their radar going all of the time we figured we had about two minutes before we were detected by the radar or by the lookout. As we moved along at 4 knots, the surface craft called out on the UQC (underwater phone) for us to show ourselves.
Not wanting to quit without making a statement our C.O. said “raise the #2 scope”. Every one knew this would more than double the radar signature as the #2 scope fairing was huge and we virtually felt we were had.
But, surprise! No notice. Now the C.O. was really irked. “Raise the radar mast”… nothing. “Raise the …16 mast”… nothing. “Raise the snorkel mast”. Nothing. “Broach the ship!” Nothing. Remember we were only 70 to 100 yards off the starboard beam. I could clearly see our counter part using low power on #2 scope and couldn’t believe we were undetected.
The C.O. went to the bridge. From there he ordered a green smoke loaded and fired on his mark from the signal ejector. The smoke crossed the bow of the destroyer only seconds after they saw us.
Granted, there were obviously some extenuating circumstances in the example sited above. But given that and what we already know about submarine operations and stealth it can only be a good thing that the last true naval war was WWII and that 52% of all tonnage sunk in that terrible conflict was sunk by 2% of the fleet. Those incredibly brave men in the sinking machines.