Full Speed Astern

Telephones jangled all over Washington within a few hours after the Post last week headlined on Page One: A-SUBMARINES HELD UNFIT FOR BATTLE NOW.

Among those trying to find out about the story were Defense Secretary Charles Wilson, AECommissioner Lewis Strauss -- and President Dwight Eisenhower. Cause of the excitement was a deliberate "leak" from the office of Rear Admiral Lewis S.

Parks, the Navy's chief of information and distinguished submariner in World War II, who should have known better.

A Parks aide and fellow submariner, Commander Slade Cutter, onetime Annapolis football hero (he kicked the field goal that beat Army 3-0 in the 1934 game), was the direct source of the leak ("Hell" said an old Pentagon hand, "that was no leak, it was a fire hose"). The inside dope from the Parks office, as splashed out in the Pentagon pressroom: the atomic submarine Nautilus is really unsuited for combat; it is too big, too expensive, too noisy; its torpedo tubes were added as an afterthought; its sonar equipment will not work at high speed; it has no safety features. All the criticisms were either false or distorted, and some of them were ridiculous as well.

A Brassbound Attempt. Veteran Pentagon newsmen recognized the story for what it was: a brassbound attempt to strike at Rear Admiral Hyman G. Rickover (TIME, Jan. 11) and his Nautilus. But a relatively inexperienced United Press reporter used the story. He quoted "a Navy spokesman," viz., Cutter, as saying: "The Nautilus is strictly a test vehicle. I doubt if she will ever fire a shot in anger."

When the story appeared in print, Strauss, Wilson and the White House raged. The White House called Strauss: Why, it wanted to know, is a Navy spokesman making destructive remarks about the boat which the top defense minds, including the Navy's best submariners, to say nothing of the President himself, have unqualifiedly approved.

The fact that Mrs. Eisenhower is to be the Nautilus' sponsor at its christening next week aggravated the offense. Secretary Wilson, as the man in whose bailiwick the trouble had started, was madder than anyone.

A Radish-Red Admiral. Wilson called in a whole task force of top Pentagon personnel for a blistering, table-thumping session which started with midday lunch and ended after 6 p.m. Frequently during the afternoon. Wilson tapped with thumb and forefinger on a memorandum written by Parks and Cutter which, like the U.P. story, described the Nautilus as a "test vehicle." But a radish-red Admiral Parks stoutly denied that he had leaked the story.

The next day, Slade Cutter got Navy orders to go full speed astern. He had to endure the humiliation of going into the Pentagon pressroom and "leaking" the news that the Nautilus was indeed combat-worthy. When newsmen sniggered at his straight-faced efforts, Cutter said: "Well, that's the party line, anyway."

All in all, on the eve of the atomic revolution in seapower, it was one of the Navy's less-inspiring demonstrations.

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