Word: portsmouth
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Shortly after noon Tuesday, Thresher was 30 miles southeast of Portsmouth. With the rescue ship Skylark standing by, the submarine's klaxon blared, and she buried her nose in the Atlantic for her first series of test dives-all shallow. She performed perfectly, and at 9 p.m. Tuesday headed for deep water 220 miles off Cape Cod. Next morning, with Skylark bobbing above and maintaining constant contact with sonar and telephone, Thresher glided through a set of medium-depth dives. Her skipper, Lieut. Commander John Wesley Harvey, 35, decided that she was ready for the maximum test. None...
...Portsmouth seven officers, most of them skippers of other submarines, manned a battery of phones and began calling the next-of-kin. They read a terse message: "U.S.S. Thresher is overdue, and we are investigating and will keep you informed as we receive information." About a dozen wives came to the base for the vigil, and Navy chaplains sat with them. At 11:30 the men on the phones changed their message: "We have heard no more from Thresher. We hold very little hope for survivors. Official announcement will probably come later from Washington." They kept up the calls until...
...hours later, rescue ships found another oil slick. Floating in it were bits of cork, plastic, and two gloves-identical with those used to work on Thresher's nuclear reactor. At 10:30 Thursday morning-slightly over 48 hours after the submarine slipped out of Portsmouth harbor -a weary, grief-stricken Admiral Anderson told the press of the oil slick and debris and said, "So I conclude with great regret and sadness that this ship with 129 fine souls aboard is lost...
Thresher's loss was the worst U.S. submarine disaster in history, and dramatized the terrifying dangers that submarines face as no other since the U.S.S. Squalus went down in 1939.* On Friday morning last week, Portsmouth marines marched to the Portsmouth flag mast. Drums and bugles sounded a muted dirge as the flag ran to the top, then fluttered down slowly to half-staff. The bustling base became silent. Military men snapped to rigid salutes; civilian workers stood with heads bowed, and a burly mechanic cupped his safety helmet over his heart and cried like a child...
...Squalus, fresh from the Portsmouth shipyard, plunged 240 ft. to the bottom off the New Hampshire coast when water suddenly filled a compartment. Twenty-six men died in the flooded section, but others remained alive behind a watertight hatch. They sent a smoke bomb and a yellow buoy carrying a telephone to the surface. Four hours later another sub found the buoy, talked by phone with those trapped below. Twenty-four hours after the Squalus sank, a Navy diver reached her deck and directed a 10-ton diving bell in four dramatic descents that saved...