Haunted Fast Attack Submarine
By
MMC/SS (ret.) D. Clayton Meadows
You’ve all heard tells of ghost ships, or spirits on old liners, specters roaming the decks the few ships of sail that remain.
Well shipmates, pull the cover a bit tighter, splash a bit of rum in that hot tea, and listen to the tale of the haunted SSN.
I had reported to USS DALLAS SSN 700 while Operation Desert Shield was in full swing. By no means was I a “nub” and found the life on a 688 to be not so bad. As the days turned to weeks I qualified my watches and earned the respect of the crew.
It was on a mid-watch. That lonely time when most are in their racks. The movie was over. The night baker was the crank were busy making rolls. I was at my station in the Torpedo room.
The 0200 rounds were made, and I sat updating OD 44979 Vol. 3 (Firing Craft Operating Procedure) ADCAP, when the door from the gyro space suddenly shut. I thought nothing of this as it was just about the time for the AEF to do morning gravity on the battery. Then I heard steps coming up the port torpedo hoist, but no one was there. Then the supply door opened by itself and then shut.
Jerry Nelson who was AUX forward came in a few moments later, and I asked him if he had been on the gyro space. I told him why and he smiled. “Hadley is up to it again.” He stated.
“Hadley?” I asked.
Jerry told me the story of the EB worker who had fallen asleep in the Starboard WRT tank during construction. The tank had been sealed and nitrogen pumped in to test the seams. Hadley had perished in the tank.
Not one to believe in such things I thought nothing of it, for awhile….but then. It was in Italy, that I and my leading Fist Class were at the Weapons Launch Console just to the side of the MK 82 Torpedo Data Converter. I heard him gasp and look at the deck. There transparent and sloshing along where a pair of boots, moving slowly along the deck. The boots faded as they rounded the hydraulic manifold. We both agreed never to speak of it.
Soon other reports of Hadley began to circulate. I kept silent as I was not sure of what I had seen. It became a kind of joke around the boat. As it has since man first went to sea the story grew.
Then on a Friday just after a field day, about seven of us were up forward when the subject of our “Spirit” came up and the jokes started. It was all in fun until someone mentioned weather or not Hadley’s Mother performed certain acts. Then from the after end of the Torpedo room, a ball of white light rose. At first I thought the static inverter had blown. The ball rose to the level of the hoist and hissed. Automatically my hand was on the 4mc, ready to call away a fire. The ball then flew forward toward us. The supply door flew open and the ball spattered against it sending sparks everywhere. Then the door slammed shut. The list of those who agreed to never say anything grew that day.
