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"GQ" Means Battlestations
Here I am in Halifax leaning on the sail of the Hammerhead. Not much
fashion sense, and the clothes reeked of the submarine, an olfactory
cocktail of diesel oil, ozone, cooking grease, cigar and cigarette smoke and
raw sewage. Sewage was handled by taking the waste and storing it in a
sanitary tank. When submerged, the tank, when full, would be pressurized
with 700 psi air and the sewage would flow out the bottom tank valve to the
sea, the operators being careful to ensure that none of the air left the
ship (it would allow us to be detected). Then the problem of what to do
with a tank full of high pressure stinking air was "solved" by venting it
through an activated charcoal filter back into the ship, into the "people
tank." The filter soon became overwhelmed, and was rarely changed. And the
exhaust from the filter was right at the head of my rack in the three man
stateroom. It would not have surprised me to see people crossing the street
to avoid me in downtown Halifax. We loved Halifax, a beautiful welcoming
city, a secret jewel. The Canadian submarine force was extraordinarily
hospitable. I'd go back anytime.
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