later.
Despite this record of failure, Fulp was encouraged to reapply. When he was admitted for the 1930 fall term, he never looked back. By the time he graduated four years later, Fulp had gone from being a somewhat doughy, awkward-looking teen, into movie star handsome. Annapolis had not only fixed his teeth, it had turned him into a serious young man ready for responsibility. Fulp may have felt more at home on Farragut Field than with academics, but his classmates considered him “a true southern gentleman” for his good looks and polite behavior. 18
Upon graduation, Fulp was commissioned an ensign in the U.S. Navy and posted to the USS
Tuscaloosa
(CA-37). He was soon promoted to lieutenant (junior grade) and transferred to the USS
Winslow
(DD-359), where he won distinction as a gunnery control officer.
Fulp’s life changed dramatically in January 1939 when he enrolled in the basic officer class at the Submarine School in New London, Connecticut. Classmates included Chester Nimitz, Jr., son of the famous admiral, who six months later graduated second out of a class of 26. Fulp graduated sixteenth. Soon afterward he was assigned to the
Sargo
.
Fulp found time to marry in between war patrols, and in August 1943 he entered command class at the New London Sub School. Enrollment in the six-week course was for only the most promising candidates. Lt. Cdr. Nobukiyo Nambu had entered a similar program in Japan the previous year and emerged a full-fledged sub captain. Fulp hoped for a similar result. Continuing his mixed academic performance, he graduated tenth out of a class of ten. InJanuary 1944 Fulp was transferred to the Portsmouth Navy Yard to fit out the
Segundo
. If all went well, the new sub would be his first command.
T HERE ’ S NO UNDERESTIMATING the complexity of a Balao-class sub, even if it operated on basic principles. There were miles of piping, a rat’s nest of wiring, and complex ballast tank arrangements to understand. Emergency valves hung from bulkheads like mushrooms after a rainstorm, and there were so many systems to comprehend, it could be intimidating to the uninitiated. In addition to propulsion, ventilation, refrigeration, and air-conditioning systems, there were trim and drain systems, as well as water-distillation and waste-removal systems (all with their own plumbing), not to mention hydraulics, steering, bow and stern plane mechanisms, anchor handling gear, and fuel and oil lubricating systems. Many of these were necessary to keep a sub not only habitable but a functioning war machine as well.
The sheer mechanical intricacy of a World War II sub was so overwhelming, it required an understanding of math, geometry, science, chemistry, physics, biology, mechanics, and engineering. And if that weren’t enough, whenever a sub was at sea, the very environment she operated in threatened to flood her at any moment. It was a never-ending battle that put a sub crew on their guard, and this was before they’d even encountered a single enemy.
In terms of sophistication, a Balao-class sub was the space shuttle of its day, only safer. And though low-earth orbit may be a hostile environment, at least it didn’t have enemy ships whose sole purpose was to sink you with a depth charge. One way sub designers managed risk was to build redundancy into every system. If steering failed in the conning tower, there was another steering station in the control room. If bow plane hydraulics failed, they could go to manual. If the sub was having trouble surfacing because a main ballast tank was ruptured, they could always blow the safety.
It was this emphasis on redundancy that made submarinerscheck and double-check everything they did, because one mistake could cost them their lives. Safety extended even to the way submariners spoke, with each command crafted to ensure accuracy and clarity. Nothing was left to chance.
I T WAS A major challenge to forge a group of sailors into a functioning crew. You couldn’t