Sea Stories: Surviving a Submarine Fire – USS Bonefish, 1988 (feat. Rick Neault)

Author’s note & Disclaimer: In contrast to most sea stories, this particular account has verifiable documentation that has been sourced. Therefore, the following is my best attempt at reconciling the facts found in official and unofficial documentation with personal recollections. Any less would be negligent of my duty as a historian. Still, inconsistencies between the various accounts are inevitable. (Such is the reality of attempting to corroborate facts in documentation with oral history interviews …and why I did not rely solely on personal testimony.) As such, this stands as one interpretation of the events under discussion.

The author of this post is not trying to discredit any survivor’s recollection, but it must be understood that human memory is imperfect and highly susceptible to influence over time. Additionally, the human brain tends to dilate or compress perceived time under extreme stress, so the timestamps should be viewed as a general indication of the sequence of events. Therefore, in instances where personal testimonies disagree with documented findings, the latter is used, and the appropriate sources have been cited.

The views expressed here are the presenter’s own and do not necessarily reflect the official policies or positions of either the Oregon Museum of Science and Industry (OMSI) or the United States Government. While strong efforts are made to ensure accuracy, all information is subject to change without notice. All personal statements, opinions, omissions, and errors are the commentators’ own.

Many scary things can happen at sea, but there are no sea monsters, rogue waves, or pirates in this story. The question is: How do you take your terror? If your answer was pure and unfiltered, with a splash of flaming hot and choking claustrophobia, then that’s what we’re serving up in today’s sea story; a real-life submarine horror story.

Of the various stories I’ve heard from the submarine veterans on USS Blueback, this one probably ranks among the most terrifying. This post is dedicated to the three men who perished in this fire.

Fires on a ship are bad enough. A fire on a submarine is even worse. This particular sea story takes place on USS Bonefish in 1988.

USS Bonefish – April 1988

USS Bonefish (SS-582) was one of three Barbel-class submarines constructed. The others were USS Barbel (SS-580) and USS Blueback (SS-581). These were the first production attack submarines with teardrop-shaped hulls and the last class of diesel-electric attack submarines in the U.S. Navy.¹ All three were commissioned in 1959 and served for about 30 years, being retired in the late 1980s, with Blueback being the last in 1990.

The final months of Bonefish‘s service were marked with difficulties. By April 1988, she had been in service for nearly 29 years and was experiencing maintenance issues with several of her systems and pieces of equipment. Lieutenant Commander (LCDR) Pete LeStrange, Bonefish‘s Executive Officer (XO) at the time recalls:

The ship had last been to sea in the fall of 1987 and had returned from sea with a number of significant mechanical issues, including severe problems with the main engines, the air compressors and the fresh water still. It appeared that it was going to take some time to return the ship to a sea worthy status. Additionally, crew morale seemed to be very low at that point, although they were all working hard in trying to repair and maintain the submarine.²

LCDR LeStrange adds that Bonefish had spent about three months undergoing maintenance and was scheduled to get underway for a “fast cruise” which would last around one or two days to test her systems. This event was also canceled due to the Commanding Officer (CO), Commander (CDR) J. Toney, being replaced by CDR Mike Wilson. In the XO’s opinion, once CDR Wilson replaced CDR Toney, the crew’s morale improved significantly. The repairs were completed and the rescheduled fast cruise was completed.³

Bonefish got underway for three weeks at sea in early April. The first few days focused on testing the boat’s systems, as well as crew training and qualification. This was followed by a submarine-versus-submarine exercise with a nuclear-powered Sturgeon-class boat. Following that exercise, she turned SSE and headed to rendezvous with the USS John F. Kennedy carrier battle group.⁴

Around the same time, the Oliver Hazard Perry-class guided-missile frigate, USS Carr (FFG-52) also got underway from Charleston, SC with LCDR Wade C. Johnson in command. They would arrive in the Jacksonville Operations Areas (JAXOA) and rendezvous with the John F. Kennedy and Bonefish to conduct Anti-Submarine Warfare (ASW) exercises.⁵

On 24 April 1988, Bonefish was about 160 miles off the eastern coast of Florida in the Atlantic Ocean. Bonefish was simulating an enemy diesel-electric submarine attempting to “sink” the carrier with USS Carr, and an SH-3 Sea King (“Dusty 613”) from USS John F. Kennedy tracking her as part of an ASW exercise.

Featured Tour Guide – Richard “Rick” Neault

The featured (volunteer) tour guide of this story is Richard “Rick” Neault. Rick is a former Quartermaster, 2nd class (QM2). Unlike the land forces where Quartermasters are in charge of supplies and provisions, in the Navy, they’re responsible for navigating a vessel.

As of 2024, OMSI has only two tour guides (both volunteers) who served on the three Barbel-class submarines. In Rick’s case, he served on USS Bonefish (SS-582) from 1984 – 1988 and USS Blueback (SS-581) from 1988 – 1989, currently making him the only tour guide who’s served on Blueback herself (and two of the Barbel-class subs).⁶ Consequently, he knows this boat better than any of us, and we always pick his brain whenever he comes aboard.

Transcript

[End of Interview]

Rick Neault’s service in submarines continued following the fire. He transferred to USS Blueback where he served from 1 July 1988 to 1989, after which he was transferred to the 32nd Street Naval Station. Rick was eventually discharged from the Navy due to injuries sustained during the Bonefish fire.⁷

Timeline of Events – 24 April 1988

The following (abridged) timeline is from the official U.S. Navy investigation into the incident based on interviews with the surviving crewmembers. While the chronology would imply a neat, minute-by-minute sequence of events, it’s important to remember that many of these events occurred simultaneously, and the timestamps should be taken only as a general indicator of when the events occurred.

(Times are local, +4 Quebec).

Battery Issues

• 1330 – 1515

  Bonefish was at periscope depth. She then commenced a two-engine battery charge. In accordance with procedures for charging batteries, the ground for the batteries had to be determined every 15 minutes. All DC power supplies (batteries, generators, and main motors) are on a common bus, so isolation procedures are used to determine the source of the ground.⁸

• 1532 – 1537

  Propulsion power ground was measured at 12 K Ohms which was below that for continued operation. (Battery charging was routinely done with a ground of <50 K Ohms.) The crew began ground isolation procedures on the number 1 and number 3 propulsion generators. Battery charging was then secured and the batteries were put on zero float. The diesel generators were used to provide propulsion and power load.⁹

  1538

  Permission was granted to conduct ground isolation of the forward and after batteries. However, due to operator error, neither of these were detected to be the source of the ground.¹⁰

• 1600

  USS Carr requested Bonefish go to 150 ft. The Officer of the Deck (OOD) (LT Ray Everts) reported to CO that neither battery was the source of the ground.¹¹

• 1609 – 1618

  The engines were shut down and propulsion was shifted to batteries. Snorkeling was secured and Bonefish arrived at the requested depth of 150 feet.¹²

  At this point, the junior controllerman realized that he didn’t read the battery ground detector correctly when the forward battery was originally isolated for a ground reading. Permission was obtained in maneuvering to read the forward battery ground and the forward battery was isolated.¹³

  The XO writes that “A low ground is not terribly unusual in the diesel submarine business and there are established, effective procedures for dealing with them.”¹⁴

• 1619 – 1621

  The forward battery ground was determined to be 14 K Ohms and the forward battery was returned to service, despite the instructions in the NAVSHIPS technical manual. The Auxiliary Electrician of the Watch entered the forward battery well. He observed water dripping from the battery water cooling onto a cell and left to get materials to clean it up. Upon entering the well, he and several others smelled an acrid odor, similar to a bad ballast on a lighting fixture. One man left to inspect the lighting fixtures.

  The CO, an engineer, and an Electrician’s Mate discussed propulsion limitations on a single battery with the OOD in the control room.¹⁵

• 1623 – 1625

  An Electrician’s Mate observed water on the deck covering the hatch to the forward battery connectors on the port side of the crew’s berthing. He alerted several other men who began inspecting the valves for leaks and reported the water to the maneuvering room. Upon tasting it, they realized it was salt water and began cleaning it up.

  The forward battery well was isolated and the ship was now on single battery operation.¹⁶

• 1626 – 1627

  After the forward battery breakers were opened, a sailor opened the hatch to the battery connectors and saw the lip drain full of water and a pencil-sized stream of water intermittently dripping onto the battery connectors. He left the hatch open to report to the engineer that he had found the source of the ground.

  Rubber gloves and a rubber mat were requested so the water could be wiped off the connectors. Several other men went to inspect the garbage disposal unit.¹⁷

“Fire on Third Street!”

• 1630

  Crewmembers reported an orange glow and sparks rising from where the bus bars exit the well and enter the plenum. Everyone was ordered out of the battery well. Flames and electrical arcing were now observed on the bus bars themselves. A man shouted, “FIRE ON THIRD STREET!”¹⁸

  1631

  Word reached the control room and a fire was announced over the 1MC. The messenger of the watch, FT2(SS) Bill Baker, sounded the general alarm. Meanwhile, men were blasting CO2 fire extinguishers into the battery well and a Chief went to the crew’s mess to isolate ventilation to the battery wells.¹⁹

  1632

  The CO went to the control room while the XO arrived on the scene of the fire and took charge. The rest of the crew rigged the ship for fire and a general emergency.²⁰

• 1634-1636

  Bonefish completed a baffle clearing maneuver and proceeded to periscope depth. The XO ordered all unnecessary personnel to evacuate to the crew’s mess or torpedo room. Efforts to fight the fire were getting hindered because smoke was obscuring the view of the burning cables.²¹

  The XO recalls:

  I could see that the battery well terminal lugs and the associated 5 large electrical cables that connected the main propulsion motor to the battery were glowing cherry red at and near the terminal lugs, (the cables ran from this point for a distance of approximately 120 feet aft along the port side of the ship through the ventilation plenum to reach the main propulsion motor. The point of the plenum was to support ventilation of the battery well.) I knew we had one hell of a short somewhere, but I didn’t know where. Also, since Bonefish was an old submarine (commissioned in 1959), the only way to disconnect the battery from these cables was to take a couple of socket wrenches and remove the bolts/nuts that connected the terminal lugs to the terminal bus (no pretty knife switches like on the newer submarines). We immediately recognized that any attempt to perform the socket wrench disconnect would be suicide.

  So we knew that at that point we had all of the electrical energy from a 506 cell lead-acid battery (with each cell being approximately 19 inches by 19 inches by 5 feet tall) going to ground through these 5 cables. No wonder they were bright red. We attempted to cool the cables with very short bursts from CO2 fire extinguishers, which obviously had little or no effect on the cable temperatures.²²

  1638

  The CO communicated with USS Carr that they were at periscope depth, but had a fire and light smoke, and to standby to render assistance. With the fire and smoke becoming heavier, the XO ordered the hatches to the well shut in hopes of starving the fire.²³

The Explosion

• 1639

  While attempting to shut the hatch (which was obscured by smoke) an explosion occurred. The battery well flashed over and the explosion blew the men at the scene ten feet across the room and into a bulkhead behind them. In a matter of seconds, thick black smoke filled the entire amidships compartment and reduced all visibility to zero. The CO ordered an emergency surface, and a normal blow was used.²⁴

  The XO described the explosion with the following:

  A fireball the size of Rhode Island (or so it seemed) erupted from the plenum access hatch and knocked us all on our asses on the opposite side of the ship. Both of my ears were immediately turned to 2nd degree burned blobs of flesh but the EAB had done a great job of saving my eyes, nose, etc. We returned to the fire scene, which now was visibly aflame and we could hear what sounded like a cutting torch in operation. Additionally, the explosion had also breached the ventilation plenum at several points, thus “taking out” the switchboard that powered the pumps that would have enabled the use of salt water on the fire (had we chosen to completely ignore the risk of chlorine gas). As an aside, another detractor to the use of salt water was the crew’s earlier reports to me that CDR Toney had contaminated the ships sea water fire fighting system with diesel fuel during an attempt to take on excess fuel in support of the ship’s earlier deployment in 1987. In either case, the loss of this switchboard meant that a source of sea water for fire fighting was no longer available even if we chose to try to use it.²⁵

• 1640

  On the surface, Bonefish was found to be riding at a depth of 28 feet. The CO ordered a 20-second blow to the main ballast tanks and the bridge hatches to be opened. Personnel [injured??] at the scene of the fire had been evacuated to either the control room or the torpedo room. The Class C fire was continuing to burn and the crew reported hearing continued explosions.²⁶

  1641

  The ship’s service power was lost on distribution boards 1B, 2S, and 1SF when the 1B-2B tie-breaker on 1B tripped on fault. This caused the loss of half the ship’s DC and 60 Hz AC power (1B and 2S switchboards), plus all of the 400 Hz power (1SF switchboard).

  LT Ray Everts went up to open the access hatches to the bridge. While he succeeded in opening the lower one, he could not open the upper one and returned to the control room.²⁷ (There was a known defect in the upper hatch. After operating the handle to the fully open position, it had to be turned the opposite way (closed) a quarter of a turn before the lugs would disengage the coaming ring. LT Everts, being fairly new to the boat, was unaware of this.)

  1642

  Another officer, LT Ellsworth, climbed up and opened the upper bridge hatch. The CO ordered the boat to emergency ventilate.²⁸

• 1649

  Emergency venting commenced with the number 1 engine starting. The problem was that the ventilating air was only coming from the snorkel induction and the open bridge hatches, which were not the normal operating procedures for an emergency lineup. Thus the main engine air intake was sucking air from the engine room. So when the ventilation fans in the amidships compartment were energized, all of the air to the engine room came from the bridge hatches, down through the control room, down the ladder, through berthing, through the mess, and into the engine room, or otherwise from the snorkel induction. This caused the air to clear in the control room, but the smoke built up in the lower amidships compartment and engineering spaces.²⁹

  Around this time, the fire had gotten into the cork insulation, becoming a Class A fire, and flames were seen behind the ballast control panel in the control room. The XO recalls:

  The fire was now burning the cork insulation on the inside of the submarine hull (cork insulation is another “old submarine” artifact) and was thereby producing copious quantities of thick black smoke. The fire had also moved forward from the switchboard a few feet to the fuel oil sampling station, where the cork insulation was also impregnated with the diesel fuel residue from nearly 30 years worth of periodic fuel samples. Not surprisingly, the fire got a little stronger and produced a lot more smoke. The fire subsequently also reached the small diameter tubing that connected the ship’s four high pressure air banks (at 3000 PSI) to the gauges on the ship’s ballast control panel in the control room, (no electrical pressure sending units on this old gal). Once the first silver-braised joint gave way under the heat the nearly 500 cubic feet of 3000 PSI compressed air in the ship’s high pressure air banks was ported onto the fire.

  I don’t believe that the fire fighting team and I were still at the scene when the high pressure air arrived. The “cutting torch” sound we were hearing was clearly coming from the vicinity of the original fire scene in the ventilation plenum. With the loss of fire fighting water and the arrival of the fire at the fuel oil sampling station I concluded that the fire was out of control. I directed the fire fighting team to evacuate the area. I then went to the control room and reported that the fire was out of control.³⁰

• 1655

  The CO went to the bridge and ordered another 20-second blow after noticing that they were still riding low in the water.³¹

• 1658 – 1659

  The CO layed below to the control room.

  Without orders, the engineers managed to briefly start the number 3 engine to increase the ventilation rate, but it stopped about 30 seconds later.

  The XO reported to the CO that the fire was out of control, an engine (No. 3) had stopped, and communications were severely degraded.

  Another explosion was heard. The CO saw flames on the port side of the control room and smoke filled the room again. The CO ordered the ship evacuated and the XO made the announcement on the 1MC.³²

Evacuation

The problems did not end for the crew once Bonefish surfaced and the crew evacuated to the topside deck. The escape provisions for a submarine (at this time) assumed that the crew would need to escape from a sunken submarine in relatively shallow water. As such, there would be enough escape appliances (Steinke hoods) for each individual; however, it was not assumed that the crew would need to escape from a surfaced submarine. Hence, there were only two life rafts, each with a seven-person capacity, on Bonefish.³³

When USS Carr arrived to assist, they began readying their SH-60 helicopter and put their motor whaleboat, along with various inflatable liferafts into the water to provide assistance. Ultimately, Carr would end up controlling five helicopters and a fixed-wing aircraft during the rescue.³⁴

Jim Chapman, a crewman aboard the SH-3 Sea King “Dusty 613” from USS John F. Kennedy, had been tracking Bonefish on their dipping sonar as part of the ASW exercise. Referencing the original sonar log recorded during the ASW exercise, he recalls:

For us, the ASW exercise began at 1555 24 Apr 1988. Our first simulated attack occurred at 1622. At 1628 I heard what sounded like an explosion and frantic UQC transmission. Still unsure of the significance of the UQC, at 1630 Bonefish was still submerged with a bearing of 262 up doppler and within 1500 yds so LCDR Waickwisz (my pilot), the HAC, ordered another simulated attack.

We continued to hover above and track the submerged Bonefish (unknown to us but fighting the fire) until it surfaced at 1640. Hovering less than 100 yds from the now surfaced Bonefish, the HAC immediately radioed the USS Carr of the unfolding emergency. The Carr ordered us away, saying they were enroute but our HAC, replied “NEGATIVE we are commencing rescue operations at this time.” Below us, the Bonefish crew began frantically pouring out of the hatches like ants out of an ant hill on a hot summer day. They desperately jettisoned their breathing devices (we call them OBAs) and melting boots. Meanwhile, the Carr was flailing to pull their H-60 out of the barn to prepare for their rescue attempt.

What CDR Johnson could not understand from his vantage point is that I was doing a triage from the air as to which Bonefish crewman to take next. I took the most injured first. The Bonefish crewmembers under direction of my hand signals passed the rescue strap from man to man until I got to the right person (most injured). It is noted that there was one instance were a partially unconscious heavy set crewmember laying on the sail was put into the rescue strap facing backwards. But due to the seriousness of his conditon, I assessed that it was worth the risk to continue the evolution and successfully brought him aboard the helicopter.

Dusty 613 was on scene during the initial explosion and fire and remained in position above the Bonefish until it surfaced and only left the scene after we could not physically fit any more souls onboard. I saw the H-60 lower Mr. [Brian] Hendrix to the Bonefish, which was well after I had already rescued 9 of the most injured submariners and delivered them to the USS Carr. By the time the H-60 finally came into play, I had already rescued 12 Bonefish crewman, most critically injured. I rescued a total of 24 that day.

Due to the severity of the fire/smoke and the risk of further explosions during the initial phase of the rescue, we were ordered by higher authority to not put any more personnel aboard the submarine.³⁵

A particularly difficult hoist involving Dusty 613 involved them lowering the horse collar down into the submarine through the aft deck hatch. As they began to hoist a survivor up, Chapman noted that the helicopter’s blades were flexing, indicating that it was struggling to stay within its performance envelope. (Being a hot day with thinner air and hovering over a burning submarine, the helicopter was already struggling to stay aloft.) Just as Chapman was about to shear the hoist cable to save the aircraft from crashing, a 250-pound sailor popped out of the hatch; dangling from the horse collar.³⁶

The XO writes of his evacuation:

I eventually exited through the hatch at the submarine bridge after first attempting to verify that the rest of the control room personnel had already evacuated. I believe that I was the last individual to use that evacuation path, although there is speculation that one or more crewmembers may have used that route after I did. In my opinion, the submarine bridge route was the most dangerous, since the sailor had to take off his EAB at the base of the exit ladder and then climb up the ladder to the bridge without an air source while completely engulfed in a column of thick, toxic smoke. Not surprisingly, more than a few of the crewmen that were subsequently hospitalized for smoke inhalation had used this exit route.

When I arrived on deck I could see the USS Carr, one covered life raft, and a motor whaleboat. I began pacing the deck to find the CO, to count heads and to try to keep everyone as organized and as calm as possible. The head count turned out to be close to impossible. After an indeterminate period of time the Torpedo Room hatch and the aft Midships compartment hatch were both shut. The bridge hatch, however, remained open because the billowing smoke was by now so thick and toxic that none of the crew could survive climbing back down into the bridge cockpit to shut it. I later recall reaching down and doing a temperature check on the exterior of the submarine’s hull. It was distinctly hot to the touch. I recall wondering if the Bonefish would literally blow up underneath us before the evacuation was complete.

The last evacuation helicopter flight picked up three personnel – one last crewmember, the CO and I. I recall looking at my watch and noting that it was about 2030. The helicopter flew to the USS Carr, and the CO and I headed for the ship’s bridge. I was detained and diverted by what I remember to be a very large and muscular Warrant Officer (I would later look in the mirror and come to understand why), who demanded that I follow him to sick bay. I protested, but eventually ended up doing things his way. I was soon parked in a chair and sucking on an oxygen tank. I also quickly learned that silvadine cream is great stuff for burns.³⁷

Bill Baker remembers this of his evacuation:

I ended up on the aft deck just past the sail. When the boat would go down in the wave, it would lift us up and when the boat would come back up, we would scramble back to the center and attempt to hold onto the safety track and each other.

When it was my turn to go, I go up, went to the side of the sail and threw my new sneakers into the water. When the lifeboat got close and the boat was up and going down, I jumped on top of the raft and pulled myself inside. The next 2 hours were some of the worst in my life. I was seasick and the only place I could throw up was to unzip my poopy suit and throw up into it. I was by a hatch but couldn’t lean out. I remember just wanting to close my eyes and sleep. TMC Blackburn grabbed my hand and told me I could close my eyes, but I had to occasionally squeeze his hand to let him know I was still alive. I appreciated that. After a while, a diver came to the hatch and we were taken out one by one to a helicopter. I remember when I was in the water with the guy holding me, telling me what was going to happen, I threw up on him. To his credit, he just washed it off and kept going. He later ended up on the Kennedy on a makeshift bed next to me. He had rescued about twice the number of people he was supposed to.

From the helo, I was deposited on the Carr and I remember a gung ho corpsman (he had just finished a tour with the Marines) came up to me. All I wanted was to get horizontal. They took my clothes and gave me a dry poopy suit and I laid down. I got an IV and they then transferred me to the Kennedy.³⁸

As a direct result of the fire, 21 injured crewmembers were evacuated for treatment at the Naval Hospital in Jacksonville, Florida.

The Fate of Bonefish

USS Hoist (ARS-40) arrived to tow Bonefish back to Charleston, South Carolina and moored her next to the submarine tender USS Frank Cable (AS-40). Her torpedoes and other sensitive materials were removed while the Navy began its investigation, which included interviewing the surviving crewmembers. The investigation would ultimately last until the end of the year.³⁹ Rick Neault later told me that, as Quartermaster of the Watch, he was maintaining the deck log at the time of the fire. However, the smoke completely ruined the paper of the log, making it illegible. As a result, he had to recall details of the events purely from memory.

Several officials from the Submarine Force toured Bonefish after she was recovered; their intent being to learn about the material hazards of the boat so they wouldn’t be repeated during the design of the then new Seawolf-class. Reportedly, many were shocked that 89 crewmen managed to survive given the intensity of the fire and the state of the Bonefish‘s interior. In June 1989, the damage to Bonefish was deemed too extensive and the Navy decided to dispose of her. Bonefish was decommissioned on 28 September 1988 and towed to New Orleans for scrapping in August 1989.⁴⁰

Walkthrough

The following photos will give you an idea of the geography of what was going on and where the fire was. Bear in mind that these are all from USS Blueback, not Bonefish, but it’s the same class of sub, and according to Rick Neault, all three Barbels had identical interior layouts by this time late in their careers. That said, they were all built by different shipyards, so whether or not they were 100% identical (down to the nuts and bolts) is debatable. For any Bonefish sailors out there, your recollection may be different, and as always, I’ve made efforts to use reliable sources, but all other errors and omissions are my own.

Control Room

Berthing

Radio Room & Yeoman’s Shack

These two rooms are across the passageway from each other, just forward of Officer Country. The radio room is on the port side and the Yeoman’s shack is on the starboard side.

Summary of Findings Regarding the Cause of the Fire

What started as a Class C (electrical) fire quickly flashed over into a Class A (solid combustibles) fire. Findings of the U.S. Navy inquiry note that the intensity of the fire would have required a supplemental air source, such as the ventilation fans and a ruptured airline. Other substances, such as hydraulic fluid, refrigerant, and PVC would have fueled the fire and created more toxic gasses.

Material & Training Deficiencies

Bonefish had several known, but seemingly minor, material deficiencies that caused operations to be canceled or delayed to correct them. Even then, she got underway with several maintenance problems still unfixed. The Navy also recognized that this was an older submarine and not built to (then) modern standards.

A 0.25” stainless steel plate, where the battery cables penetrate the lower platform deck, is welded to a medium steel expansion joint in the hull. Continued exposure to water caused galvanic corrosion that formed a 6” x 3” hole and compromised the watertight integrity of the battery well below. Additionally, the steel stuffing tubes for the cables had corroded away at the stainless steel plate. The plate and the stuffing tubes formed a part of a waterway that ran between frames 33 and 43 on the port side, outboard of the lower platform deck. The trim system valves above this area also were known to leak saltwater. Two cooling coils, drain pans, and piping were also located in this area, but obstructions in the piping and pans caused condensation to overflow and enter the waterway. Unfortunately, there was no drainage here in the waterway, and the layout of the false bulkheads and overheads in the crew’s berthing area prevented direct observation and access to this waterway. 

The Garbage Disposal Unit (GDU), which was 9 feet aft of this stainless steel plate, had a known leaking flushing valve (TD-22). This was identified and removed for repair, but despite this, an O-ring groove was improperly repaired and continued to allow water to leak.⁴¹

The crew also experienced a degree of turnover prior to this event. Bonefish had been through four COs in the past three years, including five XOs, and six engineers. The staff of Submarine Squadron Four (SUBRON 4) took measures in January and February 1988 to improve crew training and proficiency.⁴²

Opinions of the Investigation

The Navy investigation came to the following conclusions:

1. Inspections over an extended period were deficient in scope and the impact of existing problems wasn’t appreciated. Many of these deficiencies weren’t corrected or properly repaired.
2. Repairs to the Garbage Disposal Unit flushing valve and the lower engine room hatch were deficient.
3. Overtravel between the locking ring lugs and coaming ring lugs in the upper bridge hatch prevented Lieutenant Everts from opening it and contributed to his death.
4. Preventative maintenance practices of the crew were deficient. Poor housekeeping standards and existing problems with the construction of the ship created a series of events that led to the fire.
   • The stainless steel plate welded to the mild steel created a place for galvanic corrosion when exposed to water for some time.
   • The construction of the waterway allowed standing water to accumulate.
   • The sleeping berths hindered access to these areas.
   • Leakage from the AC coils, Trash Disposal Unit valve, and other valves were tolerated and not promptly repaired. This allowed the salt water from the TDU to collect over the hatch.
5. The Quality Assurance practices of the submarine force need to be reviewed to prevent a repetition of defective repairs to TD-22 and the lower engine room hatch.
6. The opening of the battery connector access hatch allowed salt water from the deck to drain onto the exposed corroded cables which caused arcing and sparks which caused the fire.
7. The Submarine Force should evaluate the provisioning of submarines with sufficient life rafts to permit the crew to escape a stricken surfaced submarine.⁴³

Despite these known deficiencies, the investigating officer found that no single element was responsible for causing the fire and no individual was culpably negligent to warrant any punishment under the Uniform Code of Military Justice.⁴⁴

On Eternal Patrol

The following three men lost their lives in the fire.

YN3(SS) Marshal Todd Lindgren, LT Ray Earl Everts, and RM1(SS) Robert Wayne Bordelon all succumbed to asphyxiation and smoke inhalation. The following is what is believed to have been their fates:

LT Ray Everts

Lieutenant Ray Everts was the Officer of the Deck (OOD) when the fire started. He was manning the number 1 periscope at 1639 when smoke filled the control room and wasn’t wearing any breathing protection, such as an Emergency Air Breathing (EAB) device. He was relieved at the periscope to go obtain an EAB, and at 1640 attempted to open the hatches to the bridge, but was unable to open the upper hatch, being unaware of its defect, and returned to the control room. Still not wearing any breathing protection, he collapsed on the floor.⁴⁵

FT2 Bill Baker recalls:

When the call came out “Fire in Berthing, Fire on Third Street,” I sounded the general alarm. I then got out an EAB for me and one for the Officer of the Deck (Lt. Ray Everts). The OOD disregarded the EAB to take the ship to PD (Periscope Depth). If anyone has ever been on a scope with an EAB on, you know that you can’t really do a good search. I believe he disregarded it because of the Carr and Kennedy being in the area, he wanted to get to PD quickly but more importantly, safely. While the boat was on the way to PD, I heard what can only be described as the sound you hear when you throw an old wet decomposing log on a fire. That crackling sound. At that point, smoke entered the control room. I have never believed in smoke as a living thing, but the smoke looked like a hand closing around Lt. Everts. At that point, things are a bit fuzzy. Things I do remember are my EAB getting filled with warm smoke (which I later found out was the dirt, oil, and dust from the MSA filters installed in the system burning off). The entire ship went black and literally, you could not see your hand in front of your face.

The next thing I remember was a couple of hands raking down my arm and someone wheezing “Help, I can’t breathe.” I didn’t know who it was but found the persons head, took my own EAB off and put it on his face. Immediately his hands flew to the facemask and I realized he didn’t want to give it back. I forcibly took it back, took 3 breaths and gave it back to him and told him we were going to buddy breathe while I secure another mask. When he had the mask, I got out another one. We buddy breathed till I got the mask setup. During all this, the CO came into control and stated, “XO, it’s not worth it. Abandon ship.” I know that the word went out on the 1MC. I later heard that people aft of the engine room door didn’t hear the word.⁴⁶

At 1642, as the CO was about to go up to the bridge, he felt someone grab his leg and say he couldn’t breathe. The CO removed his EAB, placed it on the person’s (Everts) face, and proceeded up the ladder to the bridge. At 1649, when ventilation had cleared some of the smoke from the control room, another Lieutenant and FT2 (SS) Bill Baker found Everts on the deck without an EAB. Dragging Everts to the side of the room, they placed an EAB on his face and he began vomiting into it. Noting that Everts was going into shock, with a rapid pulse, shallow breathing, black saliva coming out of his nose and mouth, and his eyes rolling back, they placed Everts on his side to clear his airway and then sat him upright.

Not responding to verbal commands and unconscious, the order was then given to evacuate. Unable to move Everts, the men evacuated to the bridge and informed the captain that Everts was below.⁴⁷

While it may seem like they abandoned LT Everts, Bill Baker recalls:

Lt. Everts breathing became very shallow and he was unresponsive. I looked down at him and thought to myself, I can stay here and die with him, or I can get out. I chose the latter. I stood up, and then did the stupidest thing in my entire life. I took the mask off and then attempted to get it free of my belt. In my panic, I ended up pulling my entire belt off. While attempting to locate the bridge trunk, I found the chart table next to the DRT table had come down blocking the ladder. I climbed over it and got about half way up the trunk when I heard my wife’s voice say, “they aren’t going to do anything about that boat till it kills someone.” My response was always, “I’m not going to leave you a rich widow.”⁴⁸

The order of events surrounding LT Everts breathing with the EAB mask is confusing based on these accounts. The official Navy report notes that the CO initially gave his mask to Everts, but Bill Baker’s account implies that he later found Everts without a mask; after which he attempted to buddy breathe with him. At some point, Everts was observed to vomit into the mask he was wearing and went into shock, at which point, Baker decided to escape.

RM1(SS) Robert Bordelon

RM1 Robert Bordelon was in the radio room at the time of the fire. He and a Chief (Tony Silvia?) attempted to transmit an OPREP-3 Navy Blue concerning the casualty. When smoke filled the radio room, both men donned their EABs. Upon hearing the order to evacuate, the Chief and Bordelon discussed egressing via the control room bridge hatch.

Stepping out of the radio room, they encountered another petty officer standing in the wardroom doorway (possibly Lindgren), but couldn’t identify the person due to the smoke. The Chief instructed the sailor to exit via the amidships hatch and they complied. Meanwhile, the two men proceeded to the control room and the Chief ascended the ladder with Bordelon following.

Upon making it up to the nav level of the bridge, the Chief continued up while holding Bordelon’s hand. Once the Chief made it to the bridge, he couldn’t pull Bordelon up and asked for help from the CO and a Fire Control Technician (possibly Bill Baker) on the bridge. The three men attempted to pull Bordelon up by his EAB hose which was connected to his belt, but were unsuccessful.

At this point, another sailor (Shawn Glappa) had climbed back up to the bridge and descended to the nav level to attempt to carry (read: push) Bordelon up the ladder. Unable to breathe due to smoke, he (and the other men) lost their grip and dropped Bordelon who fell back down into the control room.⁴⁹ Bill Baker recalls:

Shawn Glappa dropped down to the nav level and was attempting to push Bob up. I had hold of his “poopy suit” at the collar. None of the three of us was able to pull Bob up. Bob was not a big guy, but our strength was just sapped. I can still hear the sound of his body tumbling down the trunk.⁵⁰

YN3(SS) Marshal Todd Lindgren

The fate of Lindgren is somewhat debated, but the three theories, based on testimony, are as follows:

The U.S. Navy report says that YN3 Marshal Todd Lindgren reported to the wardroom upon hearing of the fire and assisted the Chief Hospital Corpsman and several other sailors in setting up the wardroom as a battle dressing station. Lindgren donned his EAB just as smoke reached the wardroom.

At this time, Lindgren may have gone forward through the wardroom door and bumped into Chief Silvia and RM1 Bordelon who were then exiting the radio room. The Chief asked Lindgren where his EAB was plugged in, and he responded that it was in the wardroom. Chief Silvia then instructed Lindgren to evacuate using the amidships hatch and he replied in the affirmative. At this point, Chief Silvia and Bordelon proceeded forward and Lindgren wasn’t seen again. After the boat was entered following the fire, Lindgren’s body was found in the Yeoman’s shack in a kneeling position.⁵¹

The XO’s recollection is that Lindgren made it to amidships hatch, but returned to the Yeoman’s shack for some reason to retrieve something, and couldn’t make it back out.⁵²

Rick Neault said that the Chief Corpsman had Lindgren by the hand as they headed to the amidships hatch to evacuate, but for whatever reason, Lindgren panicked, pulled away from the Chief, and disappeared into the smoke.

From this point on we can merely speculate as to what happened. All three theories make sense, but I would posit another theory.

Bear in mind that the entire deck was filled with smoke and there was zero visibility. So anyone attempting to escape would have to take a deep breath from their EAB, hold it, pull their mask off, and then find their way through the smoke to an open hatch. This is easier said than done, even for sailors who know this submarine inside and out. It’s not that far from the Yeoman’s Shack to the amidships hatch, and it’s a straight shot, but attempting to feel your way through the smoke while holding your breath would be very stressful and disorienting.

It’s possible that when Lindgren removed his EAB mask to proceed to the amidships hatch, he may have gotten turned around and accidentally entered the yeoman’s shack, believing he was headed back aft through the wardroom. In reality, he was headed toward a dead end and became trapped in the yeoman’s shack. Alternatively, perhaps he made it to the ladder but when he returned to the yeoman’s shack to retrieve something, he couldn’t escape because he had run out of breath.

Conclusion

Thus ended the service of USS Bonefish (SS-582) and the lives of three of her crewmen. Many of the survivors continued to struggle through their ordeal while others have done their best to come to terms with what they experienced. We shall do our best to keep them and this event in our memories.

This post was published on the 36th anniversary of the Bonefish fire.

Notes

1. These are not to be confused with the last diesel-electric submarine in the U.S. Navy which was USS Dolphin (AGSS-555). Dolphin was a deep-diving research submarine that was decommissioned in 2006. ↩︎
2. Pete LeStrange, “BONEFISH FIRE 24 APRIL 1988 – XO’S RECOLLECTIONS,” 1988, 1. ↩︎
3. LeStrange, “BONEFISH FIRE 24 APRIL 1988 – XO’S RECOLLECTIONS,” 1988, 1. ↩︎
4. LeStrange, “BONEFISH FIRE 24 APRIL 1988 – XO’S RECOLLECTIONS,” 1988, 2. ↩︎
5. “A Date with Destiny – Part VI,” Chaotic Synaptic Activity | It’s Not Random, It’s CHAOS! (blog), April 24, 2007, http://www.chaoticsynapticactivity.com/2007/04/22/a-date-with-destiny-part-iv/. ↩︎
6. The other volunteer tour guide served on USS Barbel, early in her service. ↩︎
7. Rob Downie, “BLUEBACK SCUTTLEBUTT,” no. 1 (2022), 1. ↩︎
8. “Investigation to Inquire into the Circumstances Surrounding the Fire on USS Bonefish (SS 582) Which Occurred on 24 APR 88” (U.S. Navy, November 30, 1988), 12. Hereafter referred to “Fire on USS Bonefish 24 Apr 88.” ↩︎
9. “Fire on USS Bonefish 24 Apr 88″, 12 – 13. ↩︎
10. “Fire on USS Bonefish 24 Apr 88″, 13. ↩︎
11. “Fire on USS Bonefish 24 Apr 88″, 13. ↩︎
12. Interestingly, Rick Neault said in the interview that Bonefish went down to 200 feet. In contrast, another of Neault’s written accounts of this event mentions that they descended to a depth of 250 feet. (See: Date with Destiny part VI.) In many ways, this represents the biggest challenge of corroborating oral accounts with documented facts. Since Neault is recalling a 30+ year-old memory it’s reasonable to assume that he may have recalled some of the finer details incorrectly. Memory isn’t infallible, despite assurances that we can “remember it like it was yesterday.” Since the U.S. Navy report is documented and closer to the actual event, I’ve used the depth of 150 feet. Additionally, a submarine can precisely control its depth. So if Carr asked Bonefish to go down to 150 feet, then they would have gone to exactly 150 feet. Not 149, 151, 200, or 250 feet. ↩︎
13. “Fire on USS Bonefish 24 Apr 88″, 13. ↩︎
14. LeStrange, “BONEFISH FIRE 24 APRIL 1988 – XO’S RECOLLECTIONS,” 1988, 2. ↩︎
15. “Fire on USS Bonefish 24 Apr 88″, 13. ↩︎
16. “Fire on USS Bonefish 24 Apr 88″, 14. ↩︎
17. “Fire on USS Bonefish 24 Apr 88″, 14. ↩︎
18. “Fire on USS Bonefish 24 Apr 88″, 14. ↩︎
19. “Fire on USS Bonefish 24 Apr 88″, 14. ↩︎
20. “Fire on USS Bonefish 24 Apr 88″, 14 – 15. ↩︎
21. “Fire on USS Bonefish 24 Apr 88″, 15. ↩︎
22. LeStrange, “BONEFISH FIRE 24 APRIL 1988 – XO’S RECOLLECTIONS,” 1988, 3. ↩︎
23. “Fire on USS Bonefish 24 Apr 88″, 15. ↩︎
24. “Fire on USS Bonefish 24 Apr 88″, 15. ↩︎
25. LeStrange, “BONEFISH FIRE 24 APRIL 1988 – XO’S RECOLLECTIONS,” 1988, 3. The tour guides on USS Blueback have identified six fire hose connections on the submarine (all on the port side of the vessel). So it stands to reason that Bonefish would’ve likely had these, as well. However, Rick Neault doesn’t recall either Bonefish or Blueback ever carrying fire hoses when he served on them. ↩︎
26. “Fire on USS Bonefish 24 Apr 88″, 15. ↩︎
27. “Fire on USS Bonefish 24 Apr 88″, 15. ↩︎
28. “Fire on USS Bonefish 24 Apr 88″, 15. ↩︎
29. “Fire on USS Bonefish 24 Apr 88″, 16. ↩︎
30. LeStrange, “BONEFISH FIRE 24 APRIL 1988 – XO’S RECOLLECTIONS,” 1988, 3 – 4. ↩︎
31. “Fire on USS Bonefish 24 Apr 88″, 16. ↩︎
32. “Fire on USS Bonefish 24 Apr 88″, 16. ↩︎
33. “Fire on USS Bonefish 24 Apr 88″, 24. ↩︎
34. “A Date with Destiny – Part VI,” Chaotic Synaptic Activity | It’s Not Random, It’s CHAOS! (blog), April 24, 2007, http://www.chaoticsynapticactivity.com/2007/04/24/a-date-with-destiny-part-vi/. ↩︎
35. “Date with Destiny Part VI.” ↩︎
36. “Date with Destiny Park VII.” ↩︎
37. LeStrange, “BONEFISH FIRE 24 APRIL 1988 – XO’S RECOLLECTIONS,” 1988, 4 – 5. LCDR LeStrange also mentions that the climb up the access trunk to the top of the sail is 55 feet; however, this doesn’t make any sense. Assuming that all three Barbel-class submarines are built to the same dimensions, then it’s about 48 feet from the keel (the very bottom of the boat) to the very top of the sail. So if the sail was 55 feet tall, then it would be taller than the entire submarine! In reality, it’s about a 25-foot climb from the control room to the very top of the sail. ↩︎
38. “Date with Destiny part VII.” ↩︎
39. LeStrange, “BONEFISH FIRE 24 APRIL 1988 – XO’S RECOLLECTIONS,” 1988, 6. ↩︎
40. LeStrange, “BONEFISH FIRE 24 APRIL 1988 – XO’S RECOLLECTIONS,” 1988, 6 – 7. ↩︎
41. “Fire on USS Bonefish 24 Apr 88″, 8 – 10. ↩︎
42. “Fire on USS Bonefish 24 Apr 88″, 27. ↩︎
43. “Fire on USS Bonefish 24 Apr 88″, 20 – 22. ↩︎
44. “Fire on USS Bonefish 24 Apr 88″, 27. ↩︎
45. “Fire on USS Bonefish 24 Apr 88″, 18 – 19. ↩︎
46. “Date with Destiny Part VI.” ↩︎
47. “Fire on USS Bonefish 24 Apr 88″, 19. ↩︎
48. “Date with Destiny Part VI.” ↩︎
49. “Fire on USS Bonefish 24 Apr 88″, 19. ↩︎
50. “A Date with Destiny – Part VIII,” Chaotic Synaptic Activity | It’s Not Random, It’s CHAOS! (blog), April 24, 2009, http://www.chaoticsynapticactivity.com/2009/04/24/a-date-with-destiny-part-viii/. ↩︎
51. “Fire on USS Bonefish 24 Apr 88″, 19 – 20. ↩︎
52. LeStrange, “BONEFISH FIRE 24 APRIL 1988 – XO’S RECOLLECTIONS,” 1988, 6. ↩︎

Bibliography

Chaotic Synaptic Activity | It’s not random, it’s CHAOS! “A Date with Destiny – Part IV,” April 22, 2007. http://www.chaoticsynapticactivity.com/2007/04/22/a-date-with-destiny-part-iv/.

Chaotic Synaptic Activity | It’s not random, it’s CHAOS! “A Date with Destiny – Part VI,” April 24, 2007. http://www.chaoticsynapticactivity.com/2007/04/24/a-date-with-destiny-part-vi/.

Chaotic Synaptic Activity | It’s not random, it’s CHAOS! “A Date with Destiny – Part VII,” April 24, 2008. http://www.chaoticsynapticactivity.com/2008/04/24/a-date-with-destiny-part-vii/.

Chaotic Synaptic Activity | It’s not random, it’s CHAOS! “A Date with Destiny – Part VIII,” April 24, 2009. http://www.chaoticsynapticactivity.com/2009/04/24/a-date-with-destiny-part-viii/.

Downie, Rob. “BLUEBACK SCUTTLEBUTT,” no. 1 (2022).

“Investigation to Inquire into the Circumstances Surrounding the Fire on USS Bonefish (SS 582) Which Occurred on 24 APR 88.” U.S. Navy, November 30, 1988.

LeStrange, Pete. “BONEFISH FIRE 24 APRIL 1988 – XO’S RECOLLECTIONS,” 1988.