Drill ('8?)

A few night ago on TV, a military pilot and a computer
scientist debated the value of flight simulators in
training. While conceding some value to the simulators, the
pilot argued that nothing could replace actual flight
time. The computer scientist disagreed. "On our simulator,"
he said, "you can do everything you can in the aircraft --
except use up fuel and crash." Even though he failed to
explain how to load 229 people into the simulator and fly
them to Chicago at $154.75 per head, I thought he had a
point. Then I remembered an incident when I was an ensign
on a Navy destroyer.

We were in mid-Atlantic, well away from normal shipping
lanes, returning from a Mediterranean deployment. When my
watch-mate, Jim Hoskins, and I relieved the bridge watch
shortly before midnight, we saw that were were in for the
worst: no changes in course or speed all night, no ships in
company, and very little chance of seeing anything --
merchant ships, land, or aircraft -- even on radar. We were
faced with the prospect of a long, dull four hours.

After the rest of the bridge watch -- the helmsman, the
bridge telephone talker, the man on the engine order
telegraph, the petty officer and the quartermaster of the
watch -- had been relieved, and I had taken the conn, the
actual control of the movements of the ship, Jim and I went
out on the starboard bridge wing to talk. Jim had made a
discovery about the steering control alarm which he thought
we could put to good use during the usual mid-watch loss of
steering control drill.

This drill comes about because of the navy's desire to make
a ship at sea as damage-resistant as possible. The helm,
the ship's steering wheel on the bridge, must send its
control signals more than three hundred feet to the steering
engine in the very stern of the sip. As a back up, these
signals have two possible paths, a cable running on the port
side of the ship and a second cable running to starboard. A
large brass rotary switch on the after bulkhead of the
bridge can connect the helm to either cable or disconnect it
entirely. Thus, should one cable be damaged -- say by
collision, enemy gunfire, or simple malfunction -- the helm
and steering engine can be switched over to the alternate
cable. Further, should both cables be damaged or the bridge
destroyed during combat, a member of the watch in after
steering, the compartment containing the steering engine,
can use a similar rotary switch to disconnect the bridge
helm and steer himself.

At sea, the two cables are used on alternate days. When the
switchover is made during the mid-watch, there is a
temporary loss of steering control on the bridge. Most
watch officers use this loss as a drill for both the bridge
watch-standers and the man in after steering. Jim was
concerned that through constant, unvaried repetition this
drill had degenerated to a routine -- almost to an automatic
ritual, performed without conscious thought by the conning
officer, the helmsman, and the bridge phone talker, with
some off-stage assistance from after steering:

(Scene: the bridge at midnight. The watch officer without
the conn approaches the steering cable rotary switch and
stealthily turns it, disconnecting the helm from the cable.)

Steering alarm (from the forward bulkhead): BRINGGGGGGG!

Helmsman: Bridge has lost steering control, sir.

Conning Officer: Very well. Tell after steering to take
control and steer course 255.

Bridge talker: Aye, aye, sir. After steering, bridge. Take
control and steer course 255.

(A pause while after steering disconnects from the steering
cable, mans its wheel, and steadies on course.)

Talker: After steering has control, sir. Steering course
255.

Conn: Very well.

(After a decent interval, long enough to give after steering
a good workout, the conning officer turns the rotary switch
to the other cable.)

Conn: Tell after steering to relinquish steering control and
switch to the port cable.

Talker: Aye, aye, sir. After steering, bridge. Relinquish
steering control and switch to the port cable.

Helmsman (after discovering that the ship responds to the
wheel): Bridge has steering control, sir.

Conn: Very well. Steady on course 255.

Helm: Aye, aye, sir. Steering 255.

Conn: (ending the nightly loss-of-steering-control drill)
Very well.

Jim's discovery, by which we intended to revitalize the
drill, was a method of using his foot to make the steering
alarm sound, even though the rotary switch was still in
position and the helm connected to the steering engine. We
decided on the details of our little mouse trap and returned
to the bridge.

"Mr. Hoskins has the conn," I said.

"Aye, aye, sir."

"Steering 255, sir."

"Very well."

"Both engines are ahead full, indicating turns for 24
knots, sir."

"Very well."

Jim walked to the forward bridge windows, near the steering
alarm box, and stared out into the darkness. I baited the
trap by nonchalantly going to the chart table on the after
bulkhead, right next to the rotary switch. I killed some
time making an entry in the ship's log.

BRINGGGGGGGGGGGG!

"Bridgehasloststeeringcontrolsir."

BRINGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG no answer NNNGGGGGGGGG!

"Sir: bridge has lost steering control, sir!"

The alarm stopped as Jim wheeled away from the bridge
windows and stalked back to the helmsman.

"Test your helm," he said.

"Aye, aye, sir. Bridge has regained steering control, sir."

"No it hasn't. You never lost it. That bell doesn't steer
the ship; you do. Check your wheel and your compass.
They'll tell you whether you have steering control or not."

"Aye, aye, sir. Sorry, sir."

"Don't be. Mr. Despain and I will see to it that you get
plenty of practice in the next two hours."

We did: we interspersed false and real alarms; we arranged
to have after steering disconnect while we both stood
innocently clear of the bridge rotary switch; sometimes we
had after steering take control and sometimes we kept
control on the bridge, coming up directly on the alternate
cable; we traded the conn back and forth, once having loss
of steering control occur at the same time. At the end of
two hours, we'd covered every combination of circumstances
involving loss of control that we could think of.

Toward the end of the watch, Jim took the conn while I wrote
up the log entry. I checked the rotary switch and
discovered that we had ended our intensive drills on the
wrong cable for the day. I slipped out on the wing and we
arranged one last drill. Jim came back and took his
position at the front of the bridge, one again near the
steering alarm. I turned the rotary to the neutral position.

Nothing happened. The one thing we couldn't rig had
occurred: the alarm had hung up, giving no warning that the
bridge had, in fact, again lost steering control. I was
delighted at the prospect of ending the watch with something
unprecedented.

I glanced at the helmsman, wondering how long it would be
before he sang out, starting the drill. He was watching his
compass and noticed that the ship was drifting off course.
He put the helm further over, without effect. Suddenly he
shifted the helm, turning it as far to the left as he had had
it to the right.

Good, I thought. He's figured it out. As I waited
expectantly, he turned the wheel back to the right. I
decided he needed a little jog, so I left the cart table and
went to the radar repeater alongside the helm.

"Anything wrong?" I said, thinking he would now realize
that he'd lost control and sing out.

"Gee, Mr. Despain, I don't know, but I think this
son-of-a-bitch is broke."