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Everyone
in Washington (D.C.) told me it was impossible to go aboard an atomic submarine, visit it
from top to bottom, from the housing to the magazines, and meet its Commander
face-to-face.
The American Navy and the offices of Admiral Rickover showed
that they understood; and there I am, deep in the Shark facing Commander Zebulon D.
Alford.
He seemed huge (6 feet, 1/2 inch) in his tiny cabin where
the main decoration is a mysterious machine that allows him the view the entire ship at
every moment. He is incredibly young and smiling. "You see," he tells me,
"I am a privileged person. The only one on board who has a cabin all to himself. Even
my officers are lodged in cabins of three. But if one of them were sick, I'd give him my
bunk.
"My command turned my family life upside down. Like all
wives of sailors assigned to a nuclear submarine, Margaret never knows how long I'll be
gone. I don't have the right to tell her. She knows that she won't receive any news and
that her letter will probably not reach me."
He speaks with enthusiam about his job. "The Shark
is not equiped with Polaris missiles. It's a submarine chaser. We practice," he says
fervently, "a new combat technique that you can't imagine. It's as spectacular
revolution as when, in 1914, the first chase planes began fighting their duels in the sky.
"It's a more secret revolution, however. Our goal is to
seek out the enemy, observe him, and destroy him without seeing him, in the obscurity of
the deep using ulra-secret electronic equipment. I can't give you details, but I can tell
you there is not a boat in the world that goes faster than mine, that descends as deep, or
is better equipped."  |
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