Portsmouth Naval Shipyard is on an island in the Piscataqua River across from Portsmouth, New Hampshire. The island, originally called Fernald’s Island and its adjacent island, Seavey Island are both in Maine. The confusion as to (the) name exists because the post office was in Portsmouth and that is what address was used. In use since just after the American Revolution, the yard has built, launched and repaired Naval vessels since then. Its first vessel was actually a Royal Naval ship built before the Revolution. 

Simon Lake’s L-Class design was modified by yard engineers and the L-8 became the first submarine built at the yard. She was launched from the Franklin Boat house at the yard on 23 April 1917. L-8 now lies some three miles south of Brenton Reef light just east of the Narragansette Bay entrance channel in 85 feet of water. 

In 1963, a young clueless EMFA reported to the USS Dogfish (SS-350) undergoing overhaul in the yard. It was early March and the wind was very cold as it blew in off the Atlantic. The “puppy guppy” was in Drydock No.2 with large holes in the hull and scaffolding all round. There were two barges tied to the cassion of the drydock. Inboard was a living barge and outboard was the work barge. The EMFA dragged his seabag up the ladder to the berthing compartment and was assigned a rack. The crew started their indoctrination to the world of boat sailors right away.

The weather improved toward the last part of March and the days turned warmer. The yard was a fascinating place. Two large ships with what looked like yo-yo’s mounted on their bows were tied up at the wharf near the drydock. They were the Aoleus and Thor, cable layers. The Jack, SSN-605 was being built in the submarine erection building along with the Dolphin (SS-555). Tinosa was being fitted out and was in Drydock #3. Along the quaywall that pointed toward the lift bridge across the river, was the John Adams SSBN-620, and the Thresher (SSN-593). 

Up near the Commandants House sat the conning tower, bridge and shears of Squalus (SS-192) as a memorial. Just down the street was the building in which the treaty was signed that ended the Russo-Japanese war of 1905. Then there was the “Castle”. A large imposing grey concrete building with crennelated towers, this was the Portsmouth Naval Prison. Just walking past seemed to incur the wrath of the Marines whose job it was to guard the inmates. This was their turf and they protected it with vigor. 

The shops and buildings that supported the ship repairs and building that went on were a maze of machines, offices, storage areas, fenced enclosures and all manner of things to investigate. A person could get “lost” while on a simple errand and spend some quality time in the shipyard cafeteria or other place while “seeking your way back”. COB Seely saw right through that though and his wrath increased. Things settled into a routine. Mornings started a 0600 with revellie on the barge and 0630 breakfast. At 0700, the local TV station showed Three Stooges, which was a favorite of the crew. The show was over at 0730 and the crew mustered for quarters at 0745. Then the work day started. 

March turned to April and the springtime sun started to warm the afternoons. On Tuesday, the ninth, This young sailor was awakened by a rough shaking by the duty chief at 0400. It was cold and a light rain was falling. He had the honor to be a part of a thing called a “line handling party”. Not having done this before, he was most confused. Maybe he should have paid better attention in sub school and boot camp when the lecture was on “line handling”. Oh well, it was too late. He and some of the other of the Dogfish junior people tumbled into the boat’s truck and went over to the appointed pier. There was much activity and much of it little understood. Some, including me, the new non-qual were directed to a bollard near the stern of the boat and tried to keep warm in the early morning drizzle as the submarine we were untying had tugs come alongside, and got underway. The glare of the lights and the mist, made the scene a little unreal as I remember it and I was struck by the number of people hurrying on and off up until the gangway was crane-lifted off. We didn’t wait to see the ship turn and head down river as it was already nearing 0900 and we hadn’t had breakfast and had missed the Stooges. The normal routine on the Dogfish living barge was to watch the Three Stooges from 0700 till 0730 then go to quarters. Not everyone did, it just seemed to be the tradition of the moment that April.

Nothing untoward happened on Wednesday, the tenth of April at the yard. We didn’t have a clue anything was wrong. Thursday morning, however, was different. In place of the Stooges was a morning news program which outlined what was known. The Thresher was overdue and presumed lost. I had a fire watch that morning and proceeded down to the dock. There were little knots and groups of workers standing around all over the place. I was on the scaffolding aft near the rudder when the realization struck me what had happened. A ship not too much different than the one next to me had sunk and with it all her crew. She had taken two friends of mine. Guys I had known there in the yard. Crewmen of Thresher. 

We, like crewmen of the other subs in the yard, were tasked to help with the myriad of things that must be done to take care of the families. The contents of the lockers in the barracks were inventoried and packaged for mailing home. This was done under the watchful eye of our COB. I was to assist in ushering at the Protestant Memorial service to be held at the small chapel on the 12th. It had been expected that there might be 500 people in attendance and we were worried about where to seat them all. Over 5000 showed up and the service was moved out to the Squalus conning tower. 

My memory of the events is through a thirty five year old foggy lens. One thing that stays with me is what the COB said at noon on Thursday after we had been told ‘officially’ what had happened. He looked at us and said “Just remember, there, but for the Grace of God, go all of us”. 

I’ll always remember that week in April so long ago. I feel indeed fortunate that I have been granted the chance to do so.

Keep the faith
Jim Christley