911: The Day the World Changed

A Sailor’s Perspective

A ballistic missile submarine has two crews, the blue crew and the gold crew. On the USS Michigan (SSBN 727) the blue crew was clearly the better crew. It should be easy to guess which crew I was serving on. The typical ship schedule was to go out to sea on patrol for a couple months, pull in and complete all required maintenance, then switch crews and do it again. This maximized the strategic deterrence threat, while maintaining an acceptable quality of life for the crew.

Part of the good natured rivalry between the two crews was to attempt to spread rumors about surprise inspections, patrol extensions, or rotten foodstuffs being loaded. It was a real triumph to get the opposite crew in a dither about some nonexistent crisis and watch them fall apart. Drama queens existed in their purest, most refined form onboard an all-male staffed submarine.

As the Machinery Division Leading Petty Officer of the outgoing crew, my position during the maintenance period was running the Maintenance Operations Center (MOC). Machinery Division and Auxiliary Division, the nuclear and non-nuclear mechanical divisions, had the bulk of the required maintenance. I was the natural choice to drive maintenance and track progress since I was familiar with the systems and material conditions of the reactor plant. The MOC was the nerve center of the ship while in refit. Everyone came in to talk to me about what was going on onboard ship, as well as in their personal lives.