Authors: David Capps
U.S.S. Massachusetts, Pacific Ocean, Off the Coast of Oregon
The massive shockwave hit the
Massachusetts
on the port side of the bow, both lifting and twisting the sub in the water. Similar to the blast from the colliding torpedoes, the
Massachusetts
was violently shoved backward, slamming everyone inside into the forward bulkheads. The
Massachusetts
rolled to the right more than 90 degrees, tumbling everyone onto the right bulkhead. The air that had remained in the starboard ballast tanks rolled under the sub and bubbled out into the open ocean, while most of the air in the port ballast tanks remained trapped in place. The
Massachusetts
rolled partially back toward upright but still listed to starboard by 40 degrees. The sub began sinking by the bow.
“Blow the stern auxiliary tanks,” Jacobs ordered. “We’ve got to get more water out of the boat!”
“Blowing auxiliary tanks, Sir.”
Jacobs watched as the
Massachusetts
tipped further forward with more air slipping out of the main ballast tanks.
“Down angle is now 60 degrees, Sir,” the Helmsman reported. The crew of the control center now stood on the forward bulkhead rather than the deck.
“Down angle is stable at 70 degrees, Sir.”
At this angle the ballast tanks wouldn’t hold enough air to keep them from sinking. The air would all slip out into the water. Jacobs climbed over the broken tactical display and grabbed a headset off the console. “Torpedo room, con, what is your status?” There was no answer. He spoke firmly three more times while watching the depth gauge move steadily toward the red line that marked the sub’s 2400 foot crush depth. “Lieutenant Grimes, report,” he shouted into the intercom. “Lieutenant!” He was about to tear the headset off when he heard her voice.
* * *
Tiffany struggled back over to the communications console in the torpedo room and put the headset on. “Captain?”
“Yes, lieutenant, it’s me. What’s happening?”
“Sir, we can’t counter the water pressure. The torpedo room is flooding. We can’t stop it.”
“What about your crew?”
She looked around the room. Caleb Johnson was sitting against the bulkhead, blood seeping out of his mouth. Hector was unconscious on the deck a few feet away from her. The wooden plugs they had hammered into the torpedo tube door now floated on the top of the churning sea water. “Sir,” she replied, “of the ten men under my command, I see only five of them. Three of them are floating in the water, Sir, they’re face down in the water. I think they’re…”
“Lieutenant?”
“They were all working down by the torpedo tube when the shockwave hit, Sir, I should have had them back away from the door.”
“You were doing what you were supposed to do, Lieutenant.”
“Sir, Petty Officer Johnson is still alive. He’s bleeding badly. Petty Officer Hector, he… he isn’t moving.” She looked around the torpedo room once more, forcing herself to think. “Sir, what is our depth? It feels like we’re sinking,”
“We’re at 1,820 feet and going deeper.”
“Sir, with the water coming in so fast, the air pressure in the torpedo room is getting really bad. We have to get the water out of the torpedo room. I just… I…”
I have to get the water out of the torpedo room, but how?
She looked up at the open compressed air line that had been hissing all this time. It was now silent.
The air pressure in the room is above what’s in the compressed air system, that’s why it’s not making any noise. I need more air pressure to push the water out of the torpedo room. But from where? If I can’t get the water out of the room, we’re all going to die.
Then it came to her. The fear and sense of panic she was feeling faded away. It was replaced by a serene calmness and the knowledge of what she had to do.
“Lieutenant?” Jacobs said. “Lieutenant, what are you doing? Lieutenant, answer me!”
She moved slowly over to one of the work stations with the tool trays mounted against the bulkhead. “Sorry, Sir, I needed to get some tools.”
“Tools?” Jacobs asked.
She looked over at Caleb Johnson as he watched what she was doing.
“Yes, Sir,” she said. “I have to get the access panel off.”
“Lieutenant? What access panel?”
“The one over the high pressure bottles,” she said. She picked a socket from the tool tray, snapped it onto an extension and then to a ratchet handle. She began spinning the bolts out of the access panel on the side wall of the torpedo room.
“Lieutenant, those are for the main ballast tanks.”
“Yes, Sir,” she replied. “Those are the ones. Panel is off.”
“Lieutenant, that’s too much pressure. Those tanks hold 10,000 pounds per square inch of air.”
“That’s what I’m counting on, Sir,” she replied. “What is our depth now?”
“Two thousand and eighty feet.”
“I’m closing the manual valves on the tanks, Sir. Oh God. The pressure hurts so much. If I can…” She wobbled from the dizziness and the pain.
I have to get the water out.
“Lieutenant?”
“I’m loosening the connector nuts. I can get to only two of the bottles, Sir, I…”
Tears flowed down her face as the pain in her head became severe. “Sir, my ears. I can’t hear you anymore. My head…” Blood began streaming out of her nose and ears. Instead of tears, blood now ran down her face. She looked at Caleb Johnson. “If I do this…”
He nodded at her. “Do it.”
She used the handle on the wrench to pry the lines free of their connectors. “Sir, the connectors are off. I just have to open…”
* * *
The extreme screeching sound of high pressure air being released screamed in Captain Jacobs’ ears. He pulled the headset off and threw it across the control center. The intense noise echoed all over the sub. She had accessed the high pressure air tanks and released the air into the torpedo room, forcing the sea water back out through the broken torpedo tube door and out the torpedo tube into the ocean. She had turned the torpedo room into a new ballast tank, giving the
Massachusetts
new volume and new buoyancy. Jacobs watched as the depth gauge slowed its rush to crush depth: twenty three hundred feet, twenty three twenty, forty. The sound of the high pressure air escaping faded. The tanks were running out of air. The gauge needle slowed even more: twenty three fifty, and finally settled at twenty three hundred and sixty feet. The
Massachusetts
hung silent and still in the ocean on the edge of its crush depth, clinging to the thin line between life and death.
Dolphin Beach, Oregon
Willa watched as Chief Dolan stumbled through the scattered debris surrounding the pile that used to be the Ocean Grand Hotel. He looked badly banged up. She suddenly realized she must look as bad as he did.
“Willa?” he shouted. “Are you okay?”
“Chief, over here,” she called out. “I can’t find Frank.”
“Why are you looking for Frank?”
“He was standing in the doorway, right over there,” she replied.
“Willa,” he said, “Frank is probably dead. We can’t waste any time, the tsunami is coming.”
“I have to know,” she said. “I can’t leave someone behind in Dolphin Beach to die – even if it’s Frank, I just can’t.”
A distant boom sounded from escaping natural gas exploding. The snap and crackle of live electrical wires punctuated the deathly silence.
“Oh, for cryin’ out loud,” he said.
Willa picked up pieces of the wrecked building and tossed them to the side.
“Come on, Willa, we have to go.”
“Wait,” Willa said. “I think I heard something.”
“How can you tell?” he said. “All I can hear is this horrible ringing in my ears.”
“No, listen,” she said as she lifted another shattered 2x4 out of the pile and threw it to the side.
Chief Dolan walked over, bent down, and stuck his head next to the debris pile, mostly to humor Willa so he could get her to leave.
That’s when he heard the soft moaning coming from the pile. “Willa, we can’t get him out in time. If we stay all of us are going to die.”
“Then you go on,” she said, “but I’m going to get him out.”
“Willa…” He realized nothing was going to change her mind. “Alright, just remember, this is all on you.”
Willa was too busy digging through the pile to say anything. Chief Dolan pitched in feverishly grabbing piece after piece and flinging them off to the side. The moaning became louder as they dug. Soon Frank’s head was visible and they could see which way they had to dig.
Progress was slow. Too slow. There was at least six feet of debris piled on top of Frank. There simply wasn’t enough time to remove it all. Chief Dolan looked around. A three inch diameter steel pipe stuck out of the debris pile about twelve feet over. He rushed over and pulled on it. The pipe moved but then became stuck on something.
“Willa, over here,” he said. “See that 2x4 right there? Lift up on that as hard as you can.”
Willa came over, looked at the pipe and smiled. “I get it,” she replied. She gripped the 2x4 and pulled up with all of her strength. Chief Dolan yanked hard on the pipe, with most of it pulling free.
“Again,” he shouted. The pipe came out. Chief Dolan ran back over to where Frank was buried and examined the way the debris was lying. He found the hole in the debris he needed, inserted the pipe, bent over and placed his right shoulder under the pipe. He straightened his back and legs, lifting a major section of the debris off of Frank.
“Those pieces should be loose now,” he said straining under the weight. “Pull them out and then pull Frank out.”
She snatched one piece after another from the pile until she could see that Frank was mostly clear. She grabbed Frank by the left arm and pulled. She could move him only six inches at a time.
“Come on, Willa,” he shouted, “I can’t hold this up forever.”
She yanked at Frank over and over until he was free of the pile. Chief Dolan set the pipe down and came over to Frank.
“Oh crap,” Chief Dolan said as he looked Frank over. “There’s blood all over his lower right pant leg and his foot is facing backward.”
“Which means?”
“His lower leg is broken,” he replied. “From the blood, it’s probably a compound fracture.”
“What are we going to do?”
Chief Dolan walked over to the south edge of the pile that was the Ocean Grand and looked at the water in the small bay that formed Dolphin Beach. “Oh, dammit,” he shouted.
“What?” she asked.
“The ocean is rushing out to sea. I can see the bottom of the bay for two hundred yards out.”
Willa rushed over to where the Chief stood. “Oh no,” she said. “That means…”
“Yeah,” Chief Dolan replied. “The tsunami is coming – we’ve got maybe two minutes. We’re trapped.”
“Not necessarily,” Willa said, “we have the old stairs going up to Promontory Point.”
“But Jason said the tsunami would over run the point.”
“Yeah,” she replied, “but the first wave won’t be the highest, the fourth one will be.”
Chief Dolan ran back over to Frank. “Help me get him up.”
“He can’t walk,” she replied.
“Fireman’s carry,” he shouted. “Help me get him up.”
Frank was only semi-conscious, but he stood shaking on his left leg. The Chief crossed his arms, grabbed Frank’s wrists, ducked and turned, pulling Frank’s arms over his shoulder. As the Chief stood, Frank’s feet cleared the ground. “Now run,” Chief Dolan shouted.
Willa and Chief Dolan got to the old stairs and started climbing. There was an old steel pipe railing along the steps that had been there for decades. As they climbed, Willa’s legs began to burn from the exertion. She could only imagine what Chief Dolan’s legs felt like with Frank’s weight added onto his own. Willa paused briefly to catch her breath and looked at the bay. Boats that were anchored in the bay rested on the mud, many on their sides. The large rocks that stood as the Three Sentinels to Dolphin Beach jutted up from the bottom of the bay. Then she saw the tsunami forming out in the deeper water. It was rising out of the ocean and drawing everything in under it. As the tsunami rose it began to dwarf the Three Sentinels. Chief Dolan glanced back.
“Run, Willa, run,” he screamed.
She forced herself to look away from the tsunami and rushed up the stairs. Chief Dolan had stopped and slowly turned to Willa.
“The rock has cracked,” he said. “We’re missing two steps. Do you think you can make the jump?”
“Yes,” she replied.
Chief Dolan backed down two steps to let her pass. Willa looked at the cleft in the rock where the steps had been. The step beyond looked solid, but she really didn’t know.
“It’s now or never,” the Chief said.
Willa breathed heavily three times, rushed forward and jumped. She landed on the step right at the edge of the cleft, her momentum carrying her up the next two steps. Willa turned back, holding on to the old railing.
“It’s solid,” she said.
Chief Dolan already looked exhausted. He was breathing hard and his face was flushed. He looked at the steps, counted back from the edge, took one step back and took a deep breath. He rushed up the steps and threw himself across the gap. His left foot landed solidly on the step, but his other foot fell short, and hung in the air. He tipped backwards. Willa grabbed the center of Chief Dolan’s shirt and pulled with all her might. Chief Dolan began to collapse with Frank’s weight on him. Willa held on to the railing with her right hand and pulled on Chief Dolan with her left. As the Chief collapsed, his right knee landed on the step. Willa pulled him forward and he gradually managed to stand.
“Thanks,” the Chief said.
They both looked at the tsunami closing in on Dolphin Beach and continued up the old stone stairs. As the tsunami closed in, they could hear the roar and rush of the wall of water. Before they could reach the top of the steps the tsunami hit Dolphin Beach. The wall of water didn’t slow down. It just plowed through everything, lifting and pushing cars and building debris along the front edge of the wave. The sound of the tsunami hitting the remains of the Ocean Grand Hotel sounded like everyone hitting a strike in the Dolphin Beach Bowling Alley, all at the same time. They still had a dozen steps to go as the tsunami swept past them demolishing the railing behind them. Willa recoiled as the railing she was holding was ripped out of her hand. She held close to the rock wall as she made her way to the top of Promontory Point, Chief Dolan right behind her.
As they stepped onto the hard flat surface of Promontory Point they turned to see the water rushing up the side of the hill. Willa watched in horror as the wave, filled with debris, rose up the side of the hill and curled around and over the road that led to Promontory Point. The wave covered the parking lot with incredible speed and swept back toward them pushing a shifting wall of building debris.
“The stairs,” Chief Dolan shouted.
Willa and Chief Dolan made it down only three steps when the wave hit. They ducked down. Willa clung to the only remaining piece of railing and wedged Chief Dolan and Frank against the rock wall. The wave and debris poured over them, heavy objects bounced and bumped against their backs and heads. When the water stopped Willa and Chief Dolan stood and looked around. Debris was scattered everywhere. They couldn’t even get a footing to walk, there was so much wreckage from Dolphin Beach left on the large flat surface. Jason had been right about changing the safe zone to the other side of Highway 101. Had the city collected here, the vast majority of people would have been washed out to sea. They wouldn’t have survived the fall from Promontory Point after being washed over the edge.
Willa cleared a place for Chief Dolan to set Frank down and wait for help. Many of the people up on the other side of Highway 101 had seen Willa and Chief Dolan as they made their way up the steps. They began clearing a path to her and the Chief. Within an hour Frank had been carried to higher ground and was one of the first to be examined and treated by the EMT’s who arrived in an ambulance.
Willa looked down on what little remained of Dolphin Beach. She couldn’t imagine three more tsunami’s hitting her beloved town. But the tsunamis were coming and all they could do was watch.