DVIDS – News – The story of a Silent Service underwater doctor

Beneath the waves, where steel behemoths patrol in near-total isolation, underwater medicine walks a tightrope. The health of the crew is paramount, but unlike on a surface ship, even minor emergencies cannot lead to a medical evacuation. The submarine’s medical provider therefore assumes a unique burden: keeping the crew healthy and mission ready while anticipating and preventing any medical crisis that could force a critical overhaul during a patrol.

Since 1924, when Chief Pharmacist John Harrison Davis reported aboard the diesel-powered USS V-1, hospital corpsmen have been mainstays aboard submarines, providing essential medical services needed to keep the submariners healthy and the boat operational. However, there was a period between 1959 and 1970 when medics joined the Independent Service Corpsmen (IDC) aboard the fleet’s nuclear-powered ballistic missile submarines (SSBNs). Among these pioneering underwater doctors was retired Captain Henry “Hank” Schwartz.

Dr. Schwartz is a 27-year veteran of Naval Medicine whose career included tours as Director of Submarine Medicine at the Bureau of Medicine and Surgery (BUMED), Pacific Submarine Force Physician and research doctor at Naval Experimental Diving. Unit. Schwartz began his naval journey in 1966 aboard the Polaris guided-missile submarines USS James Monroe (SSBN 622) and USS Daniel Boone (SSBN 629).

During the Cold War, SSBNs were the ultimate deterrent against the Soviet Union, carrying intercontinental ballistic missiles ready to be launched on presidential orders in the event of a catastrophic conflict. During the rapid expansion of submarine service in the 1950s, a special need arose for these submarines to be able to handle any medical emergency. As Vice Admiral Robert Brown, surgeon general of the Navy, noted in an article in the Journal of the American Medical Association (JAMA) in January 1966: “While serving as a ship’s surgeon aboard a submarine Polaris, the submarine’s doctor, doesn’t just take care of the usual care. health problems of the submarine’s personnel, but it also develops an awareness of potential health and safety risks.

The SSBNs carried two crews – Blue and Gold – each requiring a dedicated medic and IDC. Fresh out of internship and newly commissioned as a direct lieutenant in the Navy Medical Corps, Schwartz found himself assigned to the Monroe and thrust into the world of submarines. Before joining the crew, he completed a 5-day accelerated underwater medical training course to equip him with the rudimentary knowledge and skills needed to meet the unique medical challenges of underwater life. While IDCs made up the bulk of medical care on board, doctors like Schwartz helped perform comprehensive physical exams, monitoring the health of the crew for exposure to hazards like tritium (a potential byproduct of nuclear weapons), carried out health checks in the kitchens and treated more serious medical cases. , if they occur.

“The idea was that the Polaris boats (SSBNs) were strategic forces and it was very important to keep them on patrol,” Schwartz explained. “They had doctors on board in case of a medical emergency or if it was necessary to make a medical decision to avoid resurfacing.”

Captain Schwartz describes treating a broken leg and a case of hepatitis, highlighting situations where the presence of a doctor proved crucial.

“In the case of the broken leg, we still had about two or three weeks before the end of the patrol,” Schwartz says. “We repositioned the leg that was at 45 degrees, reduced it, put a cast on it and stayed on patrol.”

Even with doctors on board, Schwartz says the IDCs provided most of the day-to-day medical care. Often the worst medical problem among crews was heartburn, which was treated with antacids, sometimes called “Polaris candy.”

Schwartz remembers smoking, reading, and playing dice for cigars as popular recreational activities aboard the Monroe. During one patrol, there was even a slot machine on board.

“It was a real nickel slot machine, set up next to the kitchen,” Schwartz said. “At that time, you had to pay five cents for a Coke, which was right next to the kitchen. And all the money went to the REC (recreational) fund. Even the captain would come down every once in a while, and you’d give the cooks a dollar, and they’d give you a dollar in nickels, and then you’d put your nickels in the slot machine.

During long patrols, cut off from the familiar sights and sounds of the surface world, a deep feeling of isolation could set in. In these lonely times, Schwartz recalls, the crew relied on the submarine’s radioman as a lifeline to culture and a channel of access. to the world they temporarily left behind.

“The (ship’s) radio received official messages, but since they only made up part of the broadcast time, the rest of the radio time was taken up by all kinds of information from public news sources,” Schwartz explained. “Sports news, fashion news, headlines of all kinds, anything that came from United Press International was filtered by the radio operators, and articles of interest were cut out and added to the ship’s newspaper by pasting them onto a sheet of paper. This sheet has been sent to the mimeo machine for publication.

At the height of Cold War tension, the ever-present threat of war grew as the United States and the Soviet Union clashed in a swashbuckling duel for global influence. One patrol, particularly etched in Schwartz’s memory, involved a suspicious fishing boat attempting to follow them near Holy Loch, Scotland, then home to Submarine Squadron (SUBRON) 14, Submarine Forces of the American Atlantic Fleet.

“On that patrol, coming out of the Holy Loch, you had quite a distance before the water was deep enough to submerge, and there was always a Soviet trawler playing ‘rules of the road’ with you. , Schwartz said. “They would try to get in front of you. It was a pretty good size trawler for a fishing boat. You wouldn’t see any nets, but you would see a lot of antennas.

After his first patrol aboard Monroe, Schwartz completed the official underwater medic course at the School of Underwater Medicine (later the Navy Undersea Medical Institute), Groton, Connecticut, thereby consolidating his qualifications before serving aboard the USS Daniel Boone. After three deterrent patrols aboard Boone, he was assigned to the Pearl Harbor Submarine Base Dispensary, where he volunteered to treat the injured crew of the USS Enterprise (CVAN 65) after a devastating fire on January 14, 1969. He will never do it again. serve aboard a submarine.

The end of medical conscription and the Vietnam War led to a natural withdrawal of personnel serving in naval medicine. The decline in the number of military doctors, coupled with a BUMED-sponsored report that IDCs could handle the majority of medical services aboard submarines, led to the elimination of dedicated submarine doctor positions aboard SSBNs .
Nonetheless, although it was short-lived, the presence of medics like Captain Schwartz only helped ensure the health and well-being of submariners during prolonged, high-pressure missions away from support. traditional medicine. The legacy of these underwater doctors is a reminder of the role that medical professionals play, sometimes even in the most unconventional environments.

Today, as he looks back on his Navy career, Schwartz remains proud to have served as a submarine medic and relishes the opportunity to have served aboard submarines.

“The Navy helped me find purpose as I began my career in medicine,” Schwartz said. “Those years on submarines during the Cold War lit a fire in me. Serving alongside these incredible crews, knowing the challenges of each patrol, is what really made me understand the meaning of being operational.

Source:

Schwartz, Henry “Hank”, Oral History Captain. (Directed by AB Sobocinski). Sessions held on December 16, 2022 and January 13, 2023.