This subject brings to mind a NTINSer that still sends chills up and down my spine.

OK, I admit it - I am terrified of snakes whenever I encounter one by surprise - and I do mean piss my pants scared!

The bridge watch folks on a DBF will especially appreciate this scenario --

July/August 1965 patrol off in some spot on the globe that has really warm water, some torrential rains that result in a lot of runoff into the ocean, sometimes 100 miles or more offshore. This particular area also has deadly sea snakes who haven't even been catalogued or named yet.

Looking thru the #1 scope, you can see huge balls of writhing, wriggling masses of those snakes, angry fang-equipped jaws spread wide - and striking the headwindow in anger with such force that if you are the one with your eyeball to the scope, you literally jump back. Then you have to dip the scope to rinse the venom and busted fangs off the headwindow.

Come nightfall, those sneaky bastards are still out there -- but you can't see them. And, being a DBF, you have to surface to jam in a quick charge so you can remain submerged tomorrow. Yes, a snorkle charge is possible but it will take too long. So you finally do everything that is necessary, then surface into that slimy, viper-infested water.

Even though it was hotter than the hinges of hell, the lookouts and OOD all went to the bridge bundled up in foul weather gear like Eskimos with some hope that if one of those critters was in the sail somewhere, the gear would give us some degree of protection.

For those who remember those old grey US&N standard flashlights with a removeable cover on the back end that housed red lenses? Let me tell you this - screw those red lenses and screw where we were - my flashlight had the clear lens it it and I did my search throughout the sail superstructure and up on the masts for whatever might be dangling there before I gave the first hoot in hell about any nearby contacts.

We were a GUPPY-III by then which meant a long trunk between the Conning Tower and the dance floor one level down from the bridge. And upper and lower conning tower hatches.

Our 3rd officer/Navigator (XO-in-training) had a nasty habit of coming to the bridge without announcing himself - which as we all know, is a serious violation of satndard procedures. The OOD is responsible to know how many are on the bridge at all times - even the CO and XO would announce themselves "Coming up!" -- but not Benjo.

What he didn't realize is that whenever anyone was in the bridge trunk, the air flow sound changed - so we always knew when someone was coming up with or without the customary "Permission to come up?"

He also took delight in giving me a bad time about snakes.

So, maybe 2 hours into the midwatch, I heard the familiar change in air flow down the trunk. No "Permission to come up?" followed by what I sensed as something browsing around the back of my foot just above my heel.

I went into a stomping exhibition that outshone anything you'd ever hope to see at a West Virginia clogging bee with kicks the Rockettes never even thought of trying. You never saw any of those moves on American Bandstand either!

Yup, it was Benjo! When everything finally settled down, he had a broken nose, a broken cheekbone, two black eyes, two broken fingers, 4 broken or missing teeth, 2 of which he swallowed, bruises about the head and shoulders worthy of 15 rounds with Sonny Liston, and a sprained ankle.

So, you see, having a snake aboard a submarine really can be dangerous - damn dangerous!

>>>How much time did you spend in the brig?

Actually, not a second. I had a very understanding CO who shared my attitude towards snakes - and a-holes who pretended to be a snake.

I saw the CO literally jump away from #1 scope, hurdle over the handrail blocking the hatch down into Control, and wind up jammed against the helmsman after one of those babies struck our scope one bright sunny day. It dumped enough venom on the headwindow that we actually had to dip the scope to clean it off.

After we surfaced that evening, we found a piece of a fang wedged in one of the headwindow retaining screw slots. The damn thing was over 1" long. The Doc collected it in a specimen bottle and turned it in to the hospital at Yokosuka when we got back in. I never heard anything more about what they figured out, if anything.

The closest I ever came to having some critter on the bridge with me (that I know of, anyway) was off San Diego when we surfaced and a Portugese Man-of-War was draped over the SS radar antenna - it dropped off onto the port lookout's neck and shoulder when the ETs cranked up the radar. Now, that was painful! But at least it wasn't fatal!