Free A Full Life: Reflections at Ninety by Jimmy Carter Page A

beat of screws,
    the murmurs of most distant ships,
    or submarines that might be hunting us.
    One time we heard, with perfect clarity,
    a vessel’s pulse four hundred miles away
    and remembered that, in spite of everything
    we did to keep our sounds suppressed,
    the gradient sea could focus, too, our muffled noise,
    could let the other listeners know
    where their torpedoes might be aimed.
    We wanted them to understand
    that we could always hear them first
    and, knowing, be inclined to share
    our love of solitude, our fear
    that one move, threatening or wrong,
    could cost the peace we yearned to keep,
    and kill our hopes that they were thrilled, like us,
    to hear the same whale’s song.
K-1
    I had qualified as a submariner quite early when serving on the Pomfret, but now I was senior enough to meet the requirements to command a ship. I had already mastered the necessary knowledge about and capabilities for submarine construction and operation, but an original thesis was also required. I reviewed my studies of differential and integral calculus and devised a system for determining the distance to another ship by the beat of its propellers and the rate of change of its direction from us. I was qualified to command when my plan worked in practice.
    The K-1 operated mostly in the Atlantic-Caribbean area and spent as much time at sea as possible. One interesting cruise was in the vicinity of Nassau, in the Bahamas, when we were instructed to remain continually submerged for at least thirty days. Unfortunately, after about twenty days underwater one of my electrician’s mates was afflicted with increasingly severe attacks of claustrophobia. Trying not to violate our orders, Captain Andrews directed that the sailor be strapped to a bunk in the officers’ quarters. But it quickly became apparent that this confinement only exacerbated the sailor’s problem, as he began to thrash violently and foam at the mouth. We had to surface and have him taken to shore by helicopter.
    The inside of a submarine is packed as densely as possible with equipment, leaving limited space to permit personnel to sleep, eat, and move. Even in the more luxurious officers’ quarters, we slept on bunks wedged closely above one another, with a narrow opening on one side through which we folded ourselves before stretching out. When I was lying on my back, there was not enough space for a paperback book to be opened on my chest. The K-1 was especially small, with our advanced sonar equipment making it even more crowded. Air for breathing was either recirculated through filters while we were deeply submerged or replenished while we were cruising on the surface or with our snorkel tube (about twelve inches in diameter) “inhaling” fresh air.
    A fire could be deadly, especially if toxic fumes were generated from plastic or rubber insulation. All submariners had to be trained in fighting fires, and while our ships were undergoing routine maintenance in a drydock or shipyard, we were sent to special schools to learn how best to combat this ever-present danger. On one occasion we had a fire in our engine room while submerged, and, as engineering officer, I was the leading firefighter. I donned the appropriate clothing and gas mask, discovered the source of the flames in the main motor, and directed the application of carbon dioxide and dry powder, since water or foam could not be used. I was wearing headphones and speaking into a microphone to the captain, and I reported that the fire was under control. The next thing I remember was lying on a table in the crew’s mess room with a hospitalman’s mate trying to get me to breathe oxygen. After a brief spell of vomiting, I was soon back to normal.
Truman and Race
    I had been serving on a ship in 1948 when President Harry Truman ordained, as commander in chief, that racial discrimination be ended in the armed forces and in the U.S. Civil Service. This was seven years before Rosa Parks took a front seat on a