Manan S. Bhatt@mananbhattnavy
A true Naval story of Leadership
Back in the early 80s, I was a young SAM Control Officer on a Durg-class corvette (those tough little Russian Nanuchka-II boats the Indian Navy ran, missile launchers, Styx missiles). We followed the "user-maintainer" concept, so my team and I personally serviced the missile launcher gear. No fancy contractors, just us sweating it out.
One morning, we did routine maintenance on the launcher's fire-fighting system. (Old-school setup: they used CCl4, carbon tetrachloride, as the fire suppressant in confined spaces like that. Super effective against electrical fires, no residue, non-conductive. But man, it was deadly poison, colorless vapor heavier than air, knocks you out, fries your liver and kidneys, causes unconsciousness or worse in high concentrations. Banned worldwide now for good reason.)
Lunchtime rolls around, and suddenly we get the word: toxic gas leaking in the junior sailors' mess (yep, the launcher sat right there in that compartment). We crack open the hatch, do a quick check, it's CCl4 gas pouring out. Invisible, heavy, pooling low and nasty.
The shut-off valve? Buried in a tiny crawl-space compartment under the launcher. Height? Barely 2.5 feet. Narrow as hell, valve at the absolute far end from the hatch. You'd have to belly-crawl the whole way like a snake in a pipe, dark, tight, no room to turn or stand.
Shit escalated quick. Someone had to go in and crank that valve shut before the whole mess filled with more gas and took out the crew.
My expert weapon mechanic, solid, experienced guy, steps up. But I look at him and say, "Bhai, you're married, got a wife and kids waiting at home. You stay the fuck out here. I'll handle it.
"He protests, but nah, I wasn't sending a family man into that death trap. I slap on a single smoke mask (basic one, not full breathing apparatus), take a deep breath, and crawl in.
Imagine it: pitch black, toxic fumes thick, mask fogging up, scraping elbows and knees on metal, dragging forward inch by inch to reach the valve at the end. Lungs burning, head spinning even through the filter, CCl4 is sneaky, depresses your nervous system fast, dizziness hits hard. But I make it, twist the valve shut, stop the leak.
Crawled back out somehow, mission done. Then... blackout. Collapsed right there. Woke up the next day, full unconsciousness for hours from the gas exposure (even with the mask, enough seeped in or hit me systemically). Medics watched me overnight, but I pulled throug, no lasting damage, pure luck and youth maybe.
The heavy part, extracting the whole leaking CCl4 bottle, came later. Navy divers geared up in full dive equipment (proper air supply) and squeezed into that same coffin compartment to haul it out safely.
No big parade, no medals shouted about, just another hairy day on a Durg boat. The officer steps up, risks everything for his men and the ship, and lives to yarn about it later over chai (or something stronger).
Capt Rajbir Singh, I.N. (Retd.)