Her keel was laid down on 29 May 1956 by the Electric Boat Division of the General Dynamics Corporation in Groton, Connecticut. She was launched on 26 May 1958 sponsored by Helen Mahon, wife of Representative George H. Mahon from the 19th District of Texas, and commissioned on 15 April 1959 with Commander W. W. Behrens, Jr., in command..

Advances in submarine design

On the Skipjack, there were many design changes that were products of new scientific insight into submarine design. The submarine industry, now with nuclear power, had wanted to make a "true" submarine. This required a design in its element underwater, not solely one theoretically able to remain submerged indefinitely. The greatest alteration was the new tear-drop hull, pioneered by the conventionally-powered USS Albacore (AGSS-569), and designed for optimum performance underwater. The new hull's only protrusions were the sail and diving planes. The twenty-three-foot sail, resembling a shark's dorsal fin, rose at a point midway in the hull to keep the ship stable. The diving planes, similar in function to the wings of an airplane, were moved from the hull to this new sail, with the periscopes and antenna masts. Thus, they could only be useful when the submarine is in its natural environment—like the control surfaces on an airplane. Also, a single propeller behind the rudder now propelled Skipjack, making it more maneuverable.

Other experiments in design also benefited Skipjack by allowing the vessel to be built with improved steel. Even the controls and the anchor were changed in the development of the new submarine. In the core, a "second generation" S5W reactor advance of the USS Nautilus (SSN-571) reactor was installed, allowing the ship to travel at full power for 90,000 to 100,000 miles (161,000 km). Nuclear power had already been discovered, but the reactor was such an advance on Nautilus's reactor that it entirely changed its magnitude and capability. Furthermore, although the S5W reactor was thirty percent bigger than Nautilus's reactor, the reactor compartment on Skipjack only occupied twenty feet of the ship's 252 feet (77 m) total length. (This reactor proved so efficient the Navy began to mass-order them). Finally, the design of the core was such that it became the new standard of accessibility.

Skipjack had such advanced underwater capabilities her path could be compared to an airplane in flight. As earlier private inventors like John P. Holland had envisioned, the submarine was designed as having its natural environment underwater, and became capable of things never before seen.

After launch

The boat's motto was Radix Nova Tridentis, meaning "Root of the New Sea Power"; and correctly so, as every US attack submarine until 1988 (when the diving planes moved back to the bow on the improved Los Angeles class) turned out to follow the Skipjack's design.

After being launched 26 May 1958, Skipjack was soon dubbed the "world's fastest submarine", after setting the speed record on sea trials in March of that same year. It was designed to have a speed in excess of 20 knots, but its actual speed was a guarded secret. However, the rated reactor power in shaft horsepower (15,000 shp) and reasonable assumptions about the hull's coefficient of drag, cross sectional area, and appendage drag can be combined via algebra to show that the vessel should have reached 31 knots submerged. This speed was some 9 knots faster than the Nautilus made using the same basic reactor, and only 2 knots shy of the Albacore's best theoretical submerged speed (33 kn).

Skipjack's maneuver capabilities, furthermore, added a whole different dimension to ASW problems as she could reverse direction in the distance of her own length, and were referred to as "flying", as Skipjack and her sister ships climbed, dove, and banked like an airplane. The antisubmarine warfare (ASW) problems created by such maneuverability and high sustained speeds took several decades to resolve to parity.

Shorter than following classes, Skipjack lacked the space to be upgraded with newer systems, meaning that in her later years she had second-class sonar equipment and fire-control systems. Despite these limitations, she remained an effective attack submarine through to the end of her career. She received a new seven-bladed propeller during a refit between 1973 and 1976—replacing the noisier five-bladed propeller with which she had set a trans-Atlantic underwater crossing record in an early return from a forward deployment in the Mediterranean -- quieted her considerably but also reduced her speed noticeably.

1960s

During her shakedown cruise in August 1959, she became the first nuclear ship to pass through the Straits of Gibraltar and operate in the Mediterranean. Following post-shakedown availability at Groton, Connecticut, the nuclear submarine conducted type training and participated in an advanced Atlantic submarine exercise from May through July 1960, which earned the submarine a Navy Unit Commendation, and also a Battle Efficiency "E" award, an award it would receive three more times.

In late 1960, Skipjack entered the mouth of a long ship channel leading from the Arctic Ocean to Murmansk in the Soviet Union. On the journey, she passed so close to the Soviet port that the officers could look through a periscope and see the port only 30 or 40 yards (27 to 37 meters) away. Upon entering the canal, crewmen saw one of Skipjack's officers turn off a tracing mechanism so that there would be no written record of the action. Upon returning from this mission, Skipjack spent the remainder of 1960 in a restricted yard availability and upkeep.

Skipjack commenced her 1961 operations by participating in two weeks of type training followed by anti-submarine warfare exercises through August, visiting Mayport, Florida, before returning to Groton.

In January 1962, Skipjack operated out of Key West, Florida, for two weeks before entering the Portsmouth Naval Shipyard in Maine for extensive overhaul, lasting four and one-half months. Following her return to New London, Connecticut, the submarine operated locally prior to departing in October for duty in the Mediterranean with the Sixth Fleet. During this tour, Skipjack participated in various fleet and NATO exercises and visited Toulon, France; and La Spezia and Naples, Italy, before returning to New London. In this year, the Skipjack also conducted the fastest submerged transit of the Atlantic Ocean on record, which is a record that still stands.

The year 1963 was occupied in submarine attack operations and ASW exercises, all designed to test the capabilities of the nuclear-powered attack submarine. The highlight of 1964 was two months of duty with NATO forces, participating in exercises "Masterstroke" and "Teamwork" and visiting Le Havre, France, and the Isle of Portland, England, before returning to New London in October.

After devoting most of 1965 to training exercises, the submarine ended the year by entering the Charleston Naval Shipyard in South Carolina for an overhaul that lasted until 18 October 1966. Skipjack then got underway for sea trials off Charleston, before joining Shark for four days of type training in the Jacksonville, Florida, area. She then sailed to her new home port, Norfolk, Virginia, before participating in Atlantic Fleet exercises.

Early in February 1967, Skipjack got underway for sonar and weapon tests and then participated in Atlantic submarine exercises from March through June. July and August were spent in restricted availability at the Newport News Shipbuilding and Dry Dock Company following which Skipjack took part in FIXWEX G-67, an exercise designed to evaluate fixed wing ASW aircraft against a submarine with Skipjack's characteristics. Following an extended deployment in October and November, the submarine returned to Norfolk to prepare for major operations of that year which she completed on 25 February 1968. The remainder of 1968 was spent in local operations in the Norfolk area.

On 9 April 1969, Skipjack commenced an overhaul in the Norfolk Naval Shipyard which was completed in the fall of 1970. After sea trials in December 1970, Skipjack returned to her regular duties.

1970s

Highlights of 1971 were sound trials and weapons system tests at the Atlantic Fleet Range, Puerto Rico, from 25 January through 5 March and NATO exercise "Royal Night" from 15 September to 9 October. On 22 October, Skipjack returned to Norfolk, where she remained through January 1972.

Skipjack spent most of 1972 in tests and type training out of Groton, CT and Norfolk, VA as well as the Caribbean. The submarine returned to Norfolk in late 1972.

Toward the end of spring in 1973, Skipjack returned to the Mediterranean Sea and conducted several exercises with the Sixth Fleet. During that time Skipjack was home ported at La Maddalena on the NE corner of Sardinia. Returning to Norfolk in September Skipjack crossed paths with Hurricane Ellen during the Atlantic transit. Down in the subsurface calm, the crew were hardly even aware of the turbulence above them.

After returning to Norfolk, Skipjack conducted several exercises with ASW aircraft flying from air bases in Virginia and North Carolina. In these exercises Skipjack played the role of a Russian submarine; ASW forces were to locate, track and conduct simulated attacks against the Skipjack. During the exercise, Skipjack was placed under certain handicaps that would not have been present in normal operations; for instance, she was restricted to a designated operating area measuring 20 miles by 10 miles. Also, at that time, Skipjack had a noise problem in her reduction gears. ASW crews were provided the sound profile of the reduction gears; in addition, Skipjack was required to generate a unique sound signal at all times. This was done so the ASW crews could be certain they were targeting the right submarine and not accidentally launch a simulated attack on a real Russian submarine. As a result of all these safety measures and restrictions, the ASW forces were able to locate Skipjack nearly 50 percent of the time.

At the end 1973 Skipjack was transferred to the submarine base at Groton in preparation for a refueling overhaul at General Dynamics' Electric Boat Division. After conducting a few more exercises, Skipjack entered the shipyard for overhaul in the summer of 1974 and remained inactive until the fall of 1976.

History from 1976 to 1979 needed.

1980s

History from 1980 to 1986 needed.

In 1986, Skipjack deployed on a "Northern Run" to the North Atlantic Ocean.

In 1987 Skipjack deployed to the Mediterranean Sea, returning in early September and entering dry-dock for the September – November time frame. In early 1988, Skipjack visited St. Croix, Port Canaveral, Florida, Bermuda, and Halifax Harbour, Nova Scotia; the last two port calls conducted during an exercise. In late April, Skipjack departed Groton, traveling to the south. During this underway, sister diesel submarine USS Bonefish (SS-582) experienced a disastrous fire. TV news broadcast reports of the fire with film; however, news studio editors failed to identify the submarine televised. Wives of the Skipjack's crew noticed the sub bore strong resemblance to the Skipjack, leading many to believe it was the Skipjack suffering the casualty.

Skipjack had a change of command during the summer of 1988 and the crew prepared for a UNITAS cruise to South America. Skipjack left in September and visited the Naval Base in Puerto Rico; Caracas, Venezuela (anchored out); Cartagena, Columbia and then transited the Panama Canal. While at a Naval Base on the Pacific side, one motor-generator suffered a unrepairable casualty. Skipjack left UNITAS, re-transited the canal and headed to Groton, where she entered dry-dock for repairs.

Skipjacks authorization to dive expired in March, 1989 since it was not cost efficient to inspect the hull in 1987 for a ship scheduled to be decommissioned. She had just been to St. Croix and some of the return trip was conducted on the surface. From March thru June, Skipjack provided bridge training to students at the Submarine Officer Basic School in Groton, mostly running up and down the river. During one trip out of the sound the anchor got stuck. Divers were called out from Groton to cut the anchor chain and retrieve the anchor. Skipjack entered dry-dock for the third time in three years to have the anchor fixed, at a cost of about $75K. Skipjack left Groton in early July to transit to Norfolk. After arrival Skipjack provided support vessel services for another submarine’s sea trials. Following this mission, Skipjack entered NNSDDCO in October for decommissioning.

Decommissioning in 1990

Skipjack was decommissioned and stricken from the Naval Vessel Register on 19 April 1990. ex-Skipjack entered the Nuclear Powered Ship and Submarine Recycling Program in Bremerton, Washington, on 17 March 1996 and on 1 September 1998 ceased to exist.
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Murmansk is our Playground by Steve Gentry

FOREWARD

Skipjack (SSN 585), was commissioned in '59. New hull design, 5-blade screw, she was maneuverable as hell, real fast (40+ knots submerged), but awfully noisy... like a Chevelle 396 with glasspacks and the AM/FM radio cranked up. We were cool!!! But when we were turning an 'All Ahead Flank' bell, you could hear us coming 1/2 an ocean away... At least by today's standards.

So, Fast Attack warfare tactics were rapidly changing... The original Hunter / Killer mission of the hull design and 5-blade screw (rapid hit-and-run tactics and speed) were giving way to the need to remain undetected and to implement a more stealthy strategy. Skipjack was kinda caught somewhere in that vast middle-ground between evolving sonar capabilities by the Rooskis and the inherent advantages of remaining undetected. As all of us who rode the boats know, once detected and triangulated, you had a very good probability of kissing your ass goodby. Thus, our normal outbound patrol strategy was to pull the plug when we hit the 100-fathom curve and not surface again until reaching a similar point when inbound. (I.E. Remain Undetected)

Two thirds of the Skipjack crew were 'nuclear power trained'. An elite group, schooled without regard to cost, honed to a fine edge, then cast upon the waters to make the rest of us 'forward of Frame 44' pukes envious of their lofty position on the food chain. Most crew interaction was based on 'Frame 44'... Those who worked forward or aft. I worked forward. I was a certified line handler, mess cook and planesman... And I also got to drive that sonuvabitch!

Our normal program consisted of occasional 3-5 day ops, lots of 7-20 day ops, all intended to be shakedown preparation for 60-80 day patrols off Murmansk... These patrols were what SSNs were all about. Because we were a nuke, there weren't many good liberty ports that allowed us to come in and visit anyway, and it seemed that constant pressure was placed on us to get out there in the Rooski's front yard and wait for something interesting to happen... Pursuit of targets of opportunity!

Fast Attack boats have one crew... None of that Blue/Gold stuff. Unbeknownst to us at this time ('67-'69), there was a lot of pressure being put on the navy by Congress concerning the cost of upkeep of SSNs and their frequent need for overhaul. Consequently, SUBRON 6 had put us on an OPS schedule that seemed to have us at sea all the damn time. The navy needed to get more bang for the buck out of the SSNs and logging max hours at sea was the solution. (Remain Undetected!)

You can see I'm going somewhere with this 'Remain Undetected' bullshit, huh? Well...

'This is a no shitter...'

THE THRILL OF THE CHASE

It's May '67 and the memories of Dunoon, Scotland are still fresh in my mind. I'll never forget my first sight of the USS Hunley (AS-31) as we rounded some spit of land that jutted out to meet the sea in the Firth of Clyde... This is the Holy Loch!

We're running on the surface, got the safety lines set up on the fairwater planes and 10-12 of us are standing on the planes getting our first look at Scotland. We'll have line handlers on deck in 30 minutes or so, but for this brief period of time I was able to just soak in the jagged coastline that juts from the sea, the sounds of the captain on the 21MC as he calls rudder angle changes to the Diving Officer or speed changes to the engine room on the 21MC... The snappy responses...

"Con, Bridge... Left 20 degrees rudder."

" Bridge, Con... Left 20 degrees rudder, aye."

" Bridge, Con... Rudder's left 20 degrees, sir."

A few minutes later, we spot the tugs who will bring us the harbor pilot and steer us the rest of the way to the tender, where we will berth for a couple days and venture out into this small town of Dunoon. For this young kid, these were some pretty heady times... Driving a submarine, seeing Scotland, drinking dark beer and scotch that nearly made me puke. Damn!

It was late May and the weather was brisk... Summer-like, for the folks in Scotland. I learn later that winters are long and cold, and the wind that sweeps down the fjords will chill you to the bone during the long winter months. But, its nice weather now and all the new stimuli are making me feel excited and full of anticipation. I've heard all the sea stories about going on patrol and now I'm finally on my first.

F*ckin A, this is big time!!!

"Kildin Island... MARK!!", the officer on the scope calls out. The QM reads back the bearing, marks it on the plot map, and records it in the Ships Log. Kilden Island is a navigation light on a small island just to the northwest of Murmansk.

I'll hear 'Kildin Island... Mark!' at least a couple thousand times during the next couple years... Yet, right now I'm driving the boat and absorbing every new detail of patrol off the USSR's major North Sea Naval Port. We're finally here and this is what its all about!

It takes a couple weeks to really get into the routine of being on station... Mostly just cruising around at 3-4 knots looking and waiting... Looking and waiting for something, we just haven't found it yet. Oh, we observe a number of coastal merchantman and Rooski naval ships... In fact, over the course of a week or so we have detected several man-o-war ships (subs and skimmers) that have fallen in behind a couple of them and shadowed them briefly, but whatever we were looking for, they weren't it. We'd just reverse course and return to that same 'ol location off Murmansk.

One morning, sonar reports a contact... Determines that its a man-o-war surface ship and we fall in behind this contact. We don't raise the scope any more than necessary, especially when other ships are in our close proximity, so sonar provides the bulk of our info. On this morning, there is a lot of chatter between the sonar shack and the con... The OD, XO, and captain are exchanging a lot of glances and from their discussion, its apparent that this contact MAY be the one that we have been waiting for. Its apparent that our 'sit and wait' game plan has now changed to 'follow the Rooskis'.

For about a day and a half, we follow this ship northeast of Murmansk. At some point in time, the captain decides that we have been shadowing the wrong ship and that we will return to our position north of Murmansk. We've trailed the wrong ship for a about a day and a half and must hurry back to station. Whatever we are looking for, must be important and there is concern that our objective may have left Murmansk while we were tailing the wrong ship.

We reversed course, went to about 400 feet and hummed along at about 25 knots to get back on station. Making some good time without letting everyone know we were here. At 25 knots, sonar was pretty marginal... Our own noise and the rush of water across the hull made it difficult to listen very far ahead, when the routine business of the control room is interrupted by,

"Con, Sonar... Contact bearing 075!"

The OD orders "All stop!" and asks sonar if they can identify the contact. Sonar says that they can't yet, BUT there are additional contacts bearing 015, 270, and 330...

"There are a bunch of them, sir."

The OD calls the captain to the con and things swing into action. Pretty soon we got us a full blown plotting party going and the control room is full of folks. The contacts are all identified as man-o-war and they are all around us.

We work our way up to periscope depth... 250 feet, wait a bit... 100 feet, check the baffles... And we come to periscope depth to take a peak. Holy shit!! The captain is raising and lowering the scope every couple seconds, observing a Rooski ship, lowering the scope again, and describing each ship that he observes! We have accidentally stumbled right into the midst of some Russian Fleet Exercise!

For 24 hours or so, we maneuver amidst the Russian fleet. Some real interesting activity and the descriptions that are being relayed from sonar to the con and the Captain/OD to the QMs, is the stuff movies are made of... And there we were, right in their midst and them Rooskies didn't know it! We were totally full of ourselves. The chatter amongst the crew was high energy... Stories were handed down from watch-to-watch as such interesting episodes continued to unfold.

We are the Silent Service, we are the hunter, and damn, we are good!!

THE WORM TURNS

Well, one must always guard against over confidence and complacency. If you are a crew with relatively little experience, this warning magnifies about 50 times! Such is the lesson to be learned for Skipjack.

Have you ever heard good 'ol US Navy types tell stories about some poor unfortunate Rooski boat that is detected by our surface ships and is literally hounded unrelentlessly? Dogged to the point of exhaustion, utter shame and embarrassment? Well, we must've come pretty damn close to being the Russian Navy's version of that scenario.

Into the 2nd day of moving more or less at will through the Rooski ships, everyone was getting tired. The excitement kinda faded due to fatigue (sleep loss) and the adrenaline flow had subsided. The more senior officers were catching a few winks with instructions to call if or when anything unusual came up.

A junior officer (LT or JG, not sure) had the deck/con by himself and we had the boat positioned a couple miles from the main Rooski activities. We were just tooling along at 4-5 knots (no wake from the scope) and from this distance the officer (Lets call him Mr. 'L') was making random observations through the #2 scope and the QM's were making log entries. At odd intervals he'd raise the scope...

"Up scope... Bearing MARK! Light cruiser 10 points to starboard... Down scope!"

"Up scope, (quick turnaround to scan the horizon)... Bearing MARK! High speed patrol craft... Down scope!"

"Up scope... Bearing MARK! I see several ships in the distance... Superstructure only... Just over the horizon... Down scope!"

"Up scope... Bearing MARK! Destroyer... Looks like a helicopter lifting off the stern... Down scope!"

Moments later...

"Up scope... Oh, F*CK!!!"

" DOWN SCOPE!! FLOOD NEGATIVE!! MAKE YOUR DEPTH 400 FEET!! ALL AHEAD FULL!! SOUND BATTLE STATIONS!!"

'CLANG, CLANG, CLANG...'

" CAPTAIN TO THE CON!!"

Things have just turned to MAJOR SHIT! The helicopter lifting off the Rooski destroyer moments earlier had taken up position right on our periscope!! Thus began 6 hours of the most gut-wrenching, escape effort ever undertaken in peace time!

We attempted every evasive maneuver known to man... Go deep, go fast, go slow, go quiet, go quieter!! Reverse course, noise makers, F*CK!! They were on us like stink on shit! Pounding us with practice depth charges, pinging on us with such volume that I'll never forget that sound... Just as we thought we'd gotten away, they were right back on us again! I very vividly remember the increasing gap of silence as we finally managed to escape their grip.

I sure would have liked to be a fly on the wall in the wardroom when the captain's debriefing took place. Mr. 'L' sure was rather sheepish the remainder of that patrol... Must have been a pretty major ass chewing. I have a feeling that Mr. 'L' got a remedial lesson in the benefits of REMAINING UNDETECTED!

Well, that sure humbled us a bit. From being 'king shit' one moment, to 'eating shit' the next. You can guess that the remainder of the patrol was rather uneventful. We were so shell-shocked that we kept our distance and you gotta know that them Rooski's knew we were in the area and just ran about PINGING the shit out of things. Well, lacking alot of confidence and bearing the scars of near-battles lost, we finally rounded the coast of Norway and started the long transit back to Norfolk with these words echoing in our muttled little brains...

REMAIN UNDETECTED! 
 

Since completing shakedown following our period in Charleston Shipyard (SubSafe Upgrade) we have moved to Norfolk D&S Pier 22, and have put in some hours at sea (20-30 days total). Having worked the boat through the paces (lots of drills, deep, quiet, slow, fast, and angle/dangles) the crew is becoming proficient and us new folks are getting certified at their watch stations. I’m just a boot FN who has been certified on the helm and planes and I am logging enough hours at the diving stations that I pretty well know the operational characteristics of the boat... Holding depth (especially at periscope depth so as not to broach the sail), certified as battle station planesman, making depth and course changes smoothly, and of course the ultimate... Angle/Dangles. For Skipjack, high speed and large up/down angles in conjunction with large rudder angle changes, is what the boat was designed for. We were designed to maneuver at speed, pursue the target, launch our fish, and get the hell outa Dodge!!! Here's a special story that I recall...

I was working the outboard position on the diving station. I had control of the rudder and the stern planes and my buddy had the fairwater planes on the inboard station. We sit side-by-side facing forward, the Diving Officer sits in a tall chair between us, the Ballast Control Operator (BCP) is just behind and to our left, and the Captain, Cmdr Tomb, has the Con from a slightly elevated position at the periscope stand just slightly aft and to the right. We're all close together... Takes up about an 8-foot radius.

Captain Tomb has been aboard Skipjack for several years and has worked his way from LCDR, to CDR (Captain of the boat). He is one sharp officer... Rhodes Scholar, fits a uniform well, and knows the boat from top to bottom. He projects confidence and authority and is just the kind of Captain you want to have... Well regarded by the entire crew. He'll be the HMFWIC during this memorable day!

"Now rig ship for Angle/Dangles", the Captain broadcast on the 1MC.

After giving the crew several minutes to stow what you don't what broken, we begin to maneuver. From the Con, the Captain orders several course/depth changes as we work our way from Ahead Two-Thirds, Ahead Full, and then Ahead Flank. As we increase speed the fairwater planes have a tendency to cavitate, so I'm controlling depth and headings from my outboard station. Man, this is fun and I'm getting pretty damn good at rolling out precisely on the new course and holding bubble/depth assignments as instructed. I've got my seatbelt pulled snug and sitting low in the chair to keep myself braced in nice and tight. When we do the big angles everyone has to hold on for dear life... It's like an 'E' Ticket ride at Disneyland!

I've learned that the boat has a rather unique characteristic when doing big rudder angle changes... Because of the torque of the screw and the slightly off-set rudder/stern planes, the boat behaves differently when turning left, or right. At a Full/Flank bell, when applying right full rudder, the boat will tend to raise its nose up and you must keep applying a little bit of 'down' on the stern planes to keep the nose down... Just a little! BUT, with left full rudder, the nose will raise very slightly and will then fall off into a nose down position... A delay of a couple seconds before you need to put some rise on the stern planes to keep the nose up. Got it? Right turn... Use a little 'down', and left turn... Wait a couple seconds, then use a little 'up'.

Enter the new Diving Officer trainee...

We've done a series of depth/course changes and all has gone well... The Captain has called the orders, the Diving Officer (sitting between the planesmen) has relayed instructions to us and insured they are complied with. The Captain now instructs the new officer, LCDR W., to take the Diving Officer position for training purposes. This is Mr. W's first opportunity to train as Diving Officer, but he is projecting confidence as he assumes the position.

The Captain calls several instructions, which are promptly responded to by Mr. W. and we begin to increase speed and depth/rudder angles. The boat begins to bank into the turns and she begins to perform like the sport model that she is! We ultimately are cranking along at a flank bell and make several depth changes... Then, a little rudder angle is added. We are starting to rock and roll as the Captain calls for Right Full Rudder!

"Right Full Rudder, aye.", responds Mr. W.

I crank in the rudder, report the rudder right full, Mr. W. relays this back to the Captain...

"Very Well", the Captain responds.

The boat begins to bank to the right and the nose begins to rise a bit... I bump the nose back down with some dive input on the controls. We hold assigned depth pretty well (within 20-30 feet) and roll out on the new assigned course. Everyone is happy! The Captain then orders Left Full Rudder...

"Left full rudder, aye.", responds Mr. W.

I crank in the left full order and report to Mr. W. that the rudder is left full... He relays that to the Captain.

Within a second or two, the nose begins to rise, as it always does, with left full rudder and Mr. W. tells me to watch my bubble... It's getting nose high. I start to tell Mr. W. that it’ll drop off into a nose down posture in just a second, BUT Mr. W. wasn't listening! He said,

"I told you to take that bubble off!"

And he reaches past me and pushes the controls forward. He pushes the controls forward at the same instant that the boat started its own nose-down attitude. The flank speed, hard left rudder, and Mr. W's pushing the nose over placed us into the most radical dive and turn that we'd ever been on!!!

The boat cranks in a huge bank to the left and a steep down angle... I'm holding the controls pulled back against my chest (maximum 'up' input), got the rudder cranked in left full, and I'm falling out of the seat because my seatbelt has come loose. A 'hush' has fallen over the control room as the boat does a 40+ degree port roll and 40+ degree down angle and we are out of control... Doing max speed in a big giant spiral!

The depth gauge is chattering off depths so fast (click-click-click-click) that I only make out every 50-100 feet. I am scared to death and I'm holding the rudder left full and full rise on the planes and we are diving FAST. Suddenly, the Captain's cool voice says,

"Rudder Amidships..."

Mr. W. relays the instructions, and I comply. The boat immediately rolls out level, I've still got full 'up' in the stern planes and we start UP! I release the full up on the stern planes and the Captain says make your depth 100'. Mr. W. relays the assigned depth and I acknowledge.

I'm watching the depth gauge and I keep bumping some of the 'up angle' off the boat as we continue our climb back to 100'.... We are going so fast!!! At some point, I realize that I need to apply lots of dive to level off at 100' and I apply 20-30 degrees 'down', then full 'down' on the stern planes to try to level off. Hell, we are going so fast that we fly right on past 100' and pop clear out of the water... We then plunge back into the water and dive uncontrolled back down to 300' while I am applying full 'rise' on the stern planes!! Finally the boat is back under control and we slow to Ahead 1/3.

Everyone is totally in shock... We have just been through the most hellish ride you've ever seen. I swear that while we were doing that death spiral, I would have sat right there, frozen in position, had it not been for the Captain's calm instructions to bring the 'rudder amidships'. It took us all 10-15 minutes to get our heart rates returned to normal, relax a bit, and think of the mess in our skivvies.

I recall overhearing the Captain exclaim,

"Mr. W., let that be a lesson to you... The planesmen know how this boat handles... Just relay my instructions!"

"Aye, sir", responds Mr. W.

Skipjack was a real motor scooter!