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recognized the error of his actions. He rapidly and meekly marched his subordinates out of our clutches.
    Twenty-four weeks after the start of Nuclear Power School, an eight-hour comprehensive written exam (comp) provided the grand finale. Elimination was the fate of many who were unable to score greater than 2.5.
    As a sidelight, Rickover thought the Comprehensive Exam scores for 67–4 were too low and demanded a re-grade. I believe he liked to show off how smart his people were. He had his standards, because no one who failed the first grading passed after the second review.
    I finished the school with a 3.144 average.
    I spent the last half of Nuclear Power School at the U.S. Naval Nuclear Power Training Unit (NPTU), Windsor, Connecticut. It was a prototype of a submarine nuclear power plant, associated electrical generation, and steam propulsion equipment. Sailors simply called it prototype. It was one of three similar training facilities. The Windsor site was designated S1C. The “S” stood for submarine, the “1” meant it was the first of its type, and the “C” denoted that Combustion Engineering, Incorporated, had built it. Located in Idaho was S5W, the fifth submarine Westinghouse design. Situated in Saratoga Springs, New York, D1G was the initial General Electric reactor design for destroyers.
    I reported to S1C, Windsor, Connecticut, on May 6, 1968. I thought the security was tight at Basic Nuclear Power School, but it was nothing compared to prototype. It bordered on paranoia. Trainees had to live off base. When traveling to and from the site, the Navy required us to wear civilian clothes. This made it more difficult to determine how many men were in training. When onsite, trainees changed into dungaree uniforms with blue ball caps, and wore white pinned-on nametags.
    From the moment we reported, the staff dispersed warnings about Russian spies. They could be anybody. We should be especially suspicious of people who seemed too friendly. One of the examples of subversive activities concerned a sailor from a Fleet Ballistic Missile submarine who sold nuclear technical manuals to the Soviets. I found out much later that he was a crewmember of the USS Henry Clay .
    As in Bainbridge, we studied onsite, because of the classified nature of the training materials.
    The first phase of prototype consisted of 10 weeks of classroom instruction on S1C’s systems and components. There were eight hours of classes followed by four hours of mandatory study, five days a week.
    Saturday study sessions were mandatory when a student could not maintain the proper grades. If this did not improve academic progress, school officials restricted him to the site and he had to live in Quonset huts, nicknamed the Hymie Hilton. Confining students to the site allowed maximizing study by eliminating behaviors that had a negative effect on the learning process, such as drinking and staying out late.
    My determination to complete the training kept my performance at an acceptable level.
    To counteract the intense instruction, I frequented a Hartford nightclub. One night, I met Kathy. We hit it off from the start. Our dates and the time we spent with her family helped ease the stress of the demanding curriculum.
    On May 27, 1968, bad news circulated throughout S1C. The submarine USS Scorpion and her crew of 99 did not arrive in port as scheduled. Rumors of her fate quickly spread. They ranged from a Russian submarine sinking her with a torpedo to an explosion in the Scorpion ’s battery.
    Many of the sailors at S1C were destined for submarine duty. We followed the sparse news reports with great interest. The official Navy position was that the submarine was “delayed.” A week later the Navy upgraded Scorpion ’s status to missing. After a few more days, the Navy classified her as lost, but without stating a cause.
    I understood submarine duty was dangerous. The incident really brought the danger to the