The sociology onboard a submarine, interestingly, is the finest aspect of this particular career field. There are many varieties of social structure and behavior within the military, and even outside the military in close conditions (such as a space station or field research team). However, few groups of people compare with the close knit crew of an attack submarine. I can try to explain: but I’m not working and reworking the words, so it may fall a little short.

Given that there are about 120 men onboard the sub, and it is an organization, you can imagine there must be a hierarchy of authority. One man is the Commanding Officer, and he reports to nobody at sea. He is “the man”. His authority is complete over the entire crew. Below him stands the Executive Officer, and he has no peer. This may be compared to the President of the United States and the Vice President.

Below the Executive Officer, there are a handful of senior officers, with the title, “Department Heads”. These men are responsible for the major facets of the ships operation. One man is the Engineering Officer, another is the Weapons Officer, another Navigation Officer.. I think that’s all of them. The remaining officers (“Junior officers”) are generally first timers for submarine service. In other words, this is their first submarine tour, they haven’t been in the Navy more than 5 years and they’re learning. In fact, the Junior Officers come onboard with “few” qualifications (except educational) and work their way through Engineering (nuclear propulsion plant supervisor) and ship’s controls (actually giving depth and navigation orders). They have alot to learn, and once they’ve learned the tasks – they just “stand the watches” – periodically working in shifts to supervise shipboard operation.

That takes care of the officers. There are a total of 10 officers.

The enlisted chain of command starts with the “most senior enlisted man onboard”, and he is the Chief Of the Boat (COB). The COB reports to the Executive Officer and Commanding Officers. He represents all enlisted men onboard, and acts in their interests. Additionally, he schedules clean up sessions, assigns racks (beds) and stands watches. The watches are too extensive to get into with this email, so allow me to skip that topic. There are other “Chiefs”, about 8 total. Each Chief is responsible for a group of enlisted people. Think of it this way: There are about 10 occupations onboard a sub – including Sonarmen, Electricians, Torpedomen, etc etc.. Each occupation is composed of several workers, and one Chief. Each Chief is responsible for scheduling maintenance activities, making sure his guys are learning about their occupations, and stands his own watches. Just about anybody can become a Chief if you stay in the Navy long enough. Between 7 and 13 years ought to do it. And the Chief of the Boat is the “Chief for the Chiefs”.

The enlisted guys are the majority of the crew. Probably just under a hundred crewmembers. These guys learn and stand their watches, in addition to running drills (practice casualties) and going about the business of the ship (might be shooting torpedoes, listening to sonar, navigating, running the power plant, whatever).

I was an enlisted crewmember for 4.5 years onboard TUNNY. I received 1.5 years of Navy schooling prior to checking onboard TUNNY, and then had 4.5 years of shipboard work onboard TUNNY.

Now that you know who the “players” are, let me describe the social environment. Close quarters and a full schedule set the pace.

Even if we’re at sea, not at war, we’re practicing around the clock. It seems the submarine community has evolved and become competitive in every aspect, between submarines who share a squadron and squadrons against squadrons. By this I mean, the subs performance is measured and compared to her peers. Within a squadron, 10 subs may compete for awards. And each squadron’s efficiency is measured and compared to others. A submarine is routinely evaluated for its ability to handle routine operations (leaving and returning to port / navigation), maintain the power plant operational, combat nuclear accidents, prevent nuclear accidents, reactor plant knowledge, weapons abilities, ability to track a target, etc etc. This list seems endless. We are just barely able to complete an examination in any one topic before the next is due, and we are constantly preparing for all of them. This schedule is maddening. In order to practice power plant casualties and control, the engineering watches are divided into 3 shifts. The day is also divided, into the following shifts: 0200 to 0600, 0600 to 1200, 1200 to 1600, 1600 to 2000, 2000 to 0200. Or in other words, 6 hours, 4 hours, 4 hours, 4 hours and 6 hours. Assume there are 3 watch sections, and follow your shift through the sequence of a few days. Now add the complication that you WILL NOT SLEEP during the 1200 to 1600 and 1600 to 2000 shifts, because the entire ship is awake, conducting drills (practice casualties). And there may be maintenance conducted on the 2000 to 0200 shift. We have now developed a scenario where you will work almost two days on 4 hours of sleep, until you finally get 6 hours down. As a matter of fact, this happens routinely – every 3 days – unless Sunday interrupts the schedule – there are no Sunday ships drills (usually).

Let me re-state my point:

Periods of time (that civilians call “days”) are DELIBERATELY MANIPULATED using years of submarine experience to MAXIMIZE THE DRILL SCHEDULE. Sleep is NOT the primary consideration. Days don’t start and stop with distinction, they roll into each other. Weeks roll into each other. An underway has a continuous and persisting concept of time unlike the one you use at home.

The command doesn’t care if you’re getting alot of sleep — we MUST be proficient and maintain a high level of readiness. This is easy to “say”, but really starts pissing you off after a couple of months at sea. My point? The schedule reduces men into constant, informal, task-at-hand relationships. It’s like watching a team of lawyers the night before a trial – the scope of the work is so huge that they call each other by their first names, effortlessly draw from their technical and professional vocabulary, use shortcut phrases to evaluate and manipulate a situation, and make decisions on the fly. Running drills is like this, except its all happening fast, there are people watching, and it goes on every day. A watch section, therefore, can develop a personality, and predict each others behavior, and become recognized by the command as a team of bulldogs. “You can’t run a drill these guys can’t handle.”

The other major contributing factor to the social environment is the size of the submarine. 300 feet, mostly filled with gear. There isn’t alot of room to walk around, almost nowhere to sit and read (except your Watchstation – where reading is prohibited except materials related to your watchstation). There isn’t 2 square feet anywhere for moving about. There’s gear in the way. Now, add 120 men, and you have a constant refrain of, “Excuse me” and “Coming through” etc etc. Lots of cramped quarters. This could be described similarly to a crowded equipment space in building maintenance department. If there are 5 people trying to move about a room, sometimes 4 have to move to let 1 do his thing. Anyway, it’s cramped. Gear everywhere. With this in mind, and remembering that sub sailors (underway only) are ALL DRESSED ALIKE – no rank insignia displayed – there is a courtesy involved in walking around. Another analogy would be a Japanese city. You allow people to pass when they need to, and you try to minimize rude behavior. You make another pot of coffee when you take the last cup. people who are inconsiderate are quickly straightened out. Usually name-calling. Peer pressure is unreal. Conform, conform, do a good job, don’t be an asshole, do a good job, be faster, I can do that better than you, etc etc. This mentality feeds off itself, until each group of men have really learned to act as team members within their watchsection and occupational group. I was a fine Electrician, and pretty good power plant electrical operator. I was the best throttleman onboard (ability to control the speed and safe operation of the main engines and steam plant) in the power plant. I eventually qualified Engineering watch supervisor, which means I could be the senior most enlisted person in my watchsection. This accomplishments were SOLELY due to the highly aggressive nature of my training environment. Professionalism was demanded all the time, for four years. I didn’t have much time to relax, but I spent alot of time becoming a good power plant operator and electrician.

I was workaholic in an enclosed environment of workaholics.

It wasn’t our choice to become great submariners. It is a credit to the organization of the United States Navy and the submarine community – which exerted its lessons learned on us – to ensure we prevented accidents and knew what the hell we were doing. This giant task takes alot of effort – and we were TOLD how it was done. After I understood the strategy – I expected no less from new crewmembers. And today, when I stop and think about the 100 or so U.S. submarines on active duty in various time zones across the world’s oceans, I know those 120 guys are sleepy, miserable, and could out shoot and out perform any other submarine force on Earth. I am grateful that I am no longer onboard TUNNY, it can work you to death – but I am grateful to my country that there are crews out there – living that nightmare.

Hope that answered your question. It was kind of a broad approach to a big topic. Let me know if you have more questions.