Another series of messages concerning a conference that was going on at the scene of the disaster. They were considering whether the officers and men should make an attempt to escape with the submarine escape appliance, the "lung". Of course, all of the men in the SQUALUS had been trained in the use of the "lung" as an escape apparatus, and we could assume that they would know how to use it. But there were many reasons for skepticism regarding the chances of their successful individual escape from a depth of 240 feet in water as cold as that off Portsmouth. The temperature of the water on the bottom around the SQUALUS was 35 degrees Fahrenheit, and that is cold enough to cause shock. It certainly is cold enough to cause the teeth to chatter, and that would make holding the “lung” mouthpiece most difficult. And the depth of 240 feet would exert a pressure great enough to cause mental clouding so that the men would probably not be able to function normally. The unpleasantness of ruptured eardrums for a few men, and the danger of air embolism due to holding their breath during the escape to the surface were also deterring factors. And then there was the imminent danger of compressed-air illness. We had shown by experimental work, at a depth of 240 feet, that they could not safely take more than ten minutes to flood the compartment and escape. This was obviously impossible in their situation.
I took an intense interest in this particular exchange of messages because this was an area in which the medical group had done a tremendous amount of work this was the area of our contribution and of our knowledge. We added our bit in advising against the use of the "lung" and in favor of using the bell, even though they would have to wait a long time for it. We endorsed the bell as a sure method of getting the men out of the submarine and up to the surface. There was a time later when we wondered how we ever could have been so sure about the functioning of the bell, but the decision was reached that the men in the submarine should be as quiet as possible, conserving their energy and more importantly the small amount of oxygen they had, while awaiting the arrival of the FALCON with the bell.
Since there was nothing more that I or many of the others could do, we decided to get some sleep; it was obvious that there would be no sleep for some time after we arrived. I remember turning in as we began to transit the canal and the next thing I remember was that I woke with a start and said to my roommate,"What's that noise?" Actually I had been awakened not by noise but by the lack of it. The engines had stopped. We had arrived. I looked at my watch--it was 4:30 in the morning of the 24th of May. I hurriedly threw on some clothes and was on deck in a matter of three or four minutes. Ahead I could see the riding lights of the anchored fleet, in readiness to assist in the rescue operations. Streaks of dawn were just beginning to show. I went up on the bridge with my good friend Lieutenant George Sharp and, standing at one side, watched him perform the most superb job of seamanship that it has ever been my previlege to witness.