The Search:

During the months of May through July of 1990, the USS Grasp (ARS-51), a Navy salvage and rescue ship was attempting to locate and recover the Navy?s deepest salvage project up to that date; an S-3B aircraft that had crashed after being launched from the USS John F. Kennedy (CVN-67) off the coast of Norfolk, Virginia.

What made this mission so tedious wasn?t the fact that the plane lay in over 10,400 feet of water in the middle of the Atlantic Gulf Stream; it was pinpointing its exact location that kept us so absorbed. Little did we know that two months of searching would seem like nothing compared to the actual chore of raising the aircraft.

Once we located the plane, we then began the arduous process of maintaining the ship?s position in the unforgiving Atlantic seas while deploying a remotely operated vehicle (ROV). The Cable-Controlled Underwater Recovery Vehicle III (CURV 3) was deployed and started its two-mile descent to the bottom of the Atlantic. The CURV 3 is an unmanned, self-propelled unit with cameras, lights and maneuverable arms.

The Recovery:

After the CURV 3 reached the plane, it did the required survey to establish a plan of action to lift the plane to the surface. The CURV 3 was sent to the bottom with a lifting line and shackles. This was supposed to be a ?simple? shackle in, lift, and go home recovery. What was not known until the plane traveled its two-mile journey and reached the surface, was that the main lifting shackle was accidentally inserted backwards allowing it to open when placed under extreme pressure. As we sat on deck for what was supposed to be a non-diving salvage operation, we all watched in disbelief as the main shackle started to spread open under the weight of the plane. Suddenly, after two months of search and recovery we were back to square one as we watched the shackle open and the plane quickly sink back to its watery grave.

The Second Search:

With the plane relocated, the CURV 3 was sent back down to repeat the process for recovery. Except this time, it would be retrieving the only airplane to ever reach that depth twice. With our lessons learned, we started the reattachment of the lifting harness. After checking and rechecking the lifting bridle, the infamous S-3B began its second trip to the surface. Divers were to be deployed prior to the plane reaching the surface and this is where the diving sea story begins.

The Second Recovery:

As the plane approached a depth of 100 feet, my partner and I were preparing for our task of securing a secondary backup line to the plane in case it tried to get away again. The details of the dive were covered in a briefing attended by all personnel involved to explain the risks and the emergency procedures to follow in the event something went wrong. Divers would be untethered in SCUBA, descending with a 10 inch line in hand, to tie to the plane under the ship which was trying to maintain its position in 3 ½ knots of current.

So there I was;

Descending to 100 feet with a brief pause to relieve the pressure in my ears. A quick circle of the plane revealed everything was set properly, so we attached our 10 inch ?insurance policy? around the plane?s tail section and secured it with a properly threaded shackle. A final check showed everything was progressing according to the pre-dive brief, so we gave each other the signal to begin our ascent to the ship that we could see so clearly above us. While ascending to the surface, we had to hold on tightly to the line due to the 3½-knot current whipping us around. As we approached the bottom of the ship (around 15 feet), we had to reposition ourselves so we could continue to ascend without being pinned between the 10 inch line and the hull of the ship. Our problem was that we had to fight the strong current to keep from getting pinned to the ship. As my partner made it past the hull?s halfway point, he was forced against the hull by the current but managed to swim and slide up the hull. I was not as fortunate. As I approached the hull?s halfway point, I was forced against the hull by the current as well but I slid down its curve until I reached the ship?s keel. This was not that big of a deal. I looked up to see my dive partner gesturing me to drop down under the ship and let the current take me out of harm?s way where I would ascend and have the diver recovery boat pick me up. I let go of the keel and started to drift under the ship when it started to happen. One of the ship?s propellers, which was operating to maintain position in the rough seas, was sucking me rapidly towards the rear of the ship! These were no ordinary propellers mind you. Each of the two propellers measure 13 feet 6 inches across with a shroud around them so they could generate enough power to pull the largest of ships. There was absolutely no chance of surviving an encounter with a live propeller like this. It was literally sink or swim. My only hope for escape was to grab onto the hull again. I swam back to the ship with everything I had.

After getting myself safely back to the keel, I began to realize the fix I was in. I was about 20 feet away from the 10 inch line (directly in front of me and against the current). Behind me were the propellers. I had no communication with topside and was left with no choice but to swim against the current and try to reach the line. After what felt like 10 - 20 minutes, I started to over-breath my regulator from the exertion, which caused it to malfunction. I was beginning to lose hope (and consciousness) when I somehow managed to finally reach the line. I locked my hands around it and held on for dear life. That is all I remember until reaching the surface with an exploding headache. Each second after surfacing felt like an eternity with my heart pounding in my head. I felt as if I were about to die.

On a Treatment Table 6A to 165 feet as fast as possible:

A few moments later I was on board the ship and being helped to the dive locker. The dive team was alerted to the possibility of a stricken diver and was standing by the shipboard multiplace recompression chamber. As I approached the chamber, the tenders removed all my gear and the Diving supervisor began the neurological examination. I realized I was rapidly losing sensation in my legs. I closed my eyes and tilted my head back for a Romberg and that was the last thing I remember until waking up in the chamber at 165 feet next to my dive partner who was now my inside tender. Within minutes the headache was disappearing and I was starting to feel sensation return to my legs. I looked up and the first thing I remember seeing in the chamber was the look of relief on the face of our Commanding Officer. A near tragedy had been avoided and the mission turned out to be a success. Although my bottom time felt like 20 or 30 minutes, I found out later that it was only 8 minutes from left surface to reached surface. My, but how time flies when you?re having fun!

The moral to this story:

No matter how well a mission is planned, unexpected accidents can and do occur. A dive team needs to plan for the unexpected and be prepared to treat such an accident. The US Navy diver-training program addresses these safety and procedural issues in an intensive educational curriculum. These divers understand the risks that are so inherent in diving and salvage and eagerly accept those responsibilities with great pride and dedication to duty. It is a very dangerous vocation. I owe my life to these professionals for taking care of me throughout this unexpected (as all treatments are) event. To the men and women on-board the Grasp during this mission, thank you.

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