This html article is produced from an uncorrected text file through optical character recognition. Prior to 1940 articles all text has been corrected, but from 1940 to the present most still remain uncorrected. Artifacts of the scans are misspellings, out-of-context footnotes and sidebars, and other inconsistencies. Adjacent to each text file is a PDF of the article, which accurately and fully conveys the content as it appeared in the issue. The uncorrected text files have been included to enhance the searchability of our content, on our site and in search engines, for our membership, the research community and media organizations. We are working now to provide clean text files for the entire collection.
She was slogging westbound from the United Kingdom with a slow convoy in the early days of World War 11. I was a “boot ensign” and the antisubmarine officer assigned to her—the USCGC Campbell (WHEC-32). Our villain that black night, however, was not a sub, but rather a North Atlantic hurricane. It swept down upon us without warning and scattered our convoy over hundreds of miles. As the weather worsened, it became a matter of survival.
Suddenly, the Campbell rocked from the tremendous shock of two explosions. The jolts knocked many of our people from their bunks and scared the hell out of the rest of us. We scrambled to general quarters. Damage control parties “buttoned up” and searched for torpedo hits. Gun crews fired starshell barrages. Sonar pinged. Carbon-arc searchlights lit up the stormy waters. No damage; no sub. Finally, our warrant gunner noticed that two 600-pound depth charges were missing. They had been torn from their racks by breaking seas and exploded 330 feet straight down, almost directly underneath our stern. Somewhat chagrined, we stood down from general quarters. The gunner jammed crowbars into the racks to prevent further roll-offs.
We squared away from this, but the real battle was still in the offing. The barometer was plunging, the wind was howling, and the seas were becoming mountainous. The ship labored to stay bow-to-wind in towering combers. Frantic twisting of engines and full power were needed to hold her up. The anemometer pegged at 80 knots, then blew away- Breaking waves smashed our port lifeboat in lts davits. Ready ammunition boxes on the foredeck were twisted and dented by the force of the sea^ The bow was frequently slewed into a trough by thc 40-foot rollers. The Campbell rolled deeply, some' times nearly to her beam-ends. As she fought back with engines and rudder, she took repeated ham' merlike blows up forward. She shuddered and twistch ominously.
I was the officer-of-the-deck of the midwatch tha wild night. No one was allowed on exposed decks or bridge wings. Damage control patrols were doubled, then tripled. The wind screamed. Green water crashed against bridge windows. Sheets of spray- driven horizontally by the wind, streamed past us- Inside our darkened bridge, engine order telegrap1 bells clanged constantly. Conning orders and >c' ports were passed back and forth. The wheel spun to and fro. The bridge lookout, posted inside, quictb vomited in a bucket. .
I was keeping the captain informed of condition via the voice tube that led to his bunk. Commando Don C. McNeil—far from a “Nervous Nelly ,"T acknowledged my reports of worsening weather wit laconic “Very wells.” Toward the end of my watch- he appeared, quietly and unannounced, on mL bridge—a towering, parka-clad figure. Without a word, he wedged himself between his bridge chuh and the outboard bulkhead and surveyed the situ ation. He heard the clanging annunciator, saw th1-
78
Proceedings / February
I9f0
the
engines, Earle.”
th k°l W'^ t*lc savagery of their earlier attack , e bow. With little forward motion, there was no
‘end,
sPinning wheel, and listened to the rapid-fire con- n‘nS orders. He peered through the porthole glass und saw the bow repeatedly disappear into onrush- seas. He felt the ship shudder as the bow rose s °wly, throwing tons of water aft. finally, the captain spoke, quietly but firmly. “Stop
^ couldn't believe my ears. “Did you say stop the Cngines, Captain?”
Yes, stop 'em,” he said.
1 moved the twin annunciator handles to stop. I .f t we were surrendering to the sea. I envisioned c Campbell drifting helplessly in a trough, being cPcatedly swept, then finally rolled over, without power, the Campbell did indeed imme- lately fall into a trough. She took several deep rolls. ut suddenly the rolling eased. The force of the wind ^. superstructure had turned the bow downwind 1 u- The ship was no longer in the trough. She had ^ lr|d and sea on her quarter, not deep to be sure, u‘enough to ease the dangerous rolling.
, A sudden quiet settled over the ship. The shud- e'lr>g, banging, and twisting we had experienced mle holding her into the sea were gone. We were ' rolling deeply but much more easily in a sort of 'Shaped motion. The stern would rise to meet an | PProaching sea, and the ship would roll easily over crest, then settle back down in its quartering l s,t|on. Seas occasionally dumped on the fantail
nnl \t/lt K t U /\ n i r s~\ t-i » ^‘x f 4 f\ \ 4 ♦ a 1/ C3F1
a JCncy to broach. The Campbell was riding like 8°*ng with the forces of the sea rather than PPosing them.
Iee | er a while, the captain said, “Let’s open the door and get some air in here.” The rush of fresh r Was invigorating.
(o °°n it began to get light. I requested permission sv|enture out on the lee bridge wing. “Go ahead,” c| ‘he captain. “Take your lookout out there, too.” °oking aft from the bridge wing, I saw seas bigger than any I had ever imagined marching down on us from the weather quarter. A particularly massive one loomed ahead, and 1 thought, “My God. we can’t possibly survive this one!” But, as 1 watched, the stern rose like an elevator, a sprinkling of sea dropped on the quarterdeck, the ship rolled quietly over the crest, then settled back down. 1 knew then the Campbell was safe.
Returning inside the bridge, 1 excitedly reported, “Captain, it’s beautiful out there, and the ship is riding much more easily!” Salty Don McNeil just grunted. This was no revelation to him. “Em going down and get some food,” he said. “Steady as you go, Earle.”
Don McNeil taught me a lesson that night that has stood me in good stead over six ship commands of my own. In an all-out situation, don’t fight the sea—ride with it. It is scary as hell to stop those engines and bob like a cork. But if your hull is intact and your stability okay, try it. It works!
Woceedi
•"Ks / February 1983
79