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Ex-submariner knew crew had trouble from start By Paul Fattig Like most Americans, Ken Millman closely monitored the ghastly plight of the Russian submarine crew this past week. From the outset, he saw few encouraging signs surfacing in the news. "I doubt they will make it," he concluded. "It�s not only the problem of oxygen depletion. It�s also the cold. Unless you are in one of the compartments with food, you�ve been without nourishment all this time. You are cold, weak. Probably in the dark. "Once you start going rummy, well, that�s ... " he added. The former submariner need not finish the thought. Even Stephen King working with the ghost of Edgar Allen Poe could not create a more frightening scenario: Entombed at the bottom of the ocean, you are running out of oxygen. Icy water creeps up the bulkheads. Darkness closes in as the batteries die. In essence, the Russian sailors � those who may have survived whatever explosion or collision caused the nuclear submarine Kursk to take its deadly dive � were slowly being buried alive. Millman, 54, was a submariner during a four-year hitch in the Navy ending in 1970. That was before he descended into the world of journalism. He is now the special projects editor at the Miami Herald in Florida. The former Rogue Valley resident is also an old friend. We worked on newspapers together in Grants Pass and Anchorage before he headed south with his family. Ostensibly, he went to Miami to join the staff of what is arguably one of the better papers in the land. But anyone who knows Millman, with his sailing cap and bushy beard, suspects the real reason was the opportunity to frequently sail out of Biscayne Bay with his wife, Ann. Yet his thoughts this week were on those with whom he has shared the experience of having prowled the deep. No matter what nation�s uniform they wear, submariners the world round have a strong bond. With good reason. Not everyone has the mettle to voluntarily descend into the dark depths in what some of us landlubbers consider a large metal coffin. A petty officer second class, Millman was a quartermaster in navigation who helped steer the Pomodon SS486 as it patrolled off the coast of Vietnam. "It was one of the last of the diesel electric submarines," he said. "We�d patrol for three and four months at a time. You get used to it." Maximum diving depth was about 400 feet, much shallower than today�s nuclear-powered submarines. Usually, the Pomodon patrolled at periscope depth of about 55 feet. Although not one to tell war stories, Millman acknowledges there were a few hairy moments. "Everything is balanced and trimmed on a sub," he observed. "We were out on patrol one time in pretty heavy weather when we started taking in water. "The water came in through the snorkel that pulls in air to keep the diesels running," he added. "We took on so much water that it created a tremendous angle in the stern. We started sinking fast, real fast. There were some anxious moments there." Fortunately, the crew corrected the problem, sending the sub back toward light and life. Their training passed the test. Had the descent not been stopped and the submarine survived its voyage to the bottom of the sea, Millman and his crew could have faced what awaited those who may have survived in the Kursk. None of the deadly options are for the squeamish: suffocation, carbon dioxide poisoning, nitrogen narcosis, hypothermia. If the submarine had settled at a much shallower depth than the Kursk, there is the chance the submariners could have escaped through the torpedo tubes. "They put you through an emergency ascent in sub school," Millman explained. "You go into this tank from this lock on the outside. You duck down and swim to the top." The problem is that you have compressed air in your lungs. The air expands as you rise in the water. "You have a life jacket on which blows you to the top fast," he said. "So you have to expel that air all the way as you come up. You yell �ho ho ho� as you go. If you break that rhythm it could kill you. I wouldn�t want to try that anymore." Millman, who recently earned his master�s license as a sailor, enabling him to operate any surface vessel of up to 100 tons, doesn�t intend to. "I expect to stay up on top now," he said. Reach reporter Paul Fattig at 776-4496 or e-mail him at [email protected] Obituaries | Sports | Business | Classifieds | Tempo | Prime Times | So Oregon Sites | Outdoor Journal | Subscribe | Contact | Movies | Advertise | Real Estate Showcase | Archive | Editorials | Letters to the editor | Religion | Wake-up Call | NIE | Cyber Chef | Job Network | So Oregon Weather | WSJ Northwest | Forums | AP Wire | AP Money | F.A.Q. | Awards Ottaway Newspapers, Inc. The Community Newspaper Subsidiary of Dow Jones & Co, Inc Copyright �The Mail Tribune 2000, Medford, Oregon USA