Oh yeah. Quite some years ago my wife and I went on a tour through a WW II era submarine. Luckily for us, the docent leading the tour had served on an identical subs in the Pacific theater. Anyway, about 1/2 way through the tour, my wife went top-side. She isn't normally claustrophobic, but has a slight touch of it. The sub was triggering.
The docent was great. "All submariners are pillow-huggers." Everyone but the commanding officer hot-bunked. You shared a bunk, and just about everything else. The things you didn't share were your pillow, your toothbrush (when there was water enough to use it), and the clothes you were wearing. Said clothes being a tee-shirt and shorts which you wore until they rotted off of you and then discarded -- no water to waste on laundering clothes.
Fresh water was made by desalination. Desalination took fuel.
"The things you didn't share were your pillow, your toothbrush (when there was water enough to use it), and the clothes you were wearing. Said clothes being a tee-shirt and shorts which you wore until they rotted off of you and then discarded -- no water to waste on laundering clothes."
I'd be tempted to cauterize my nostrils under such circumstances. I don't know how they could bear it, but presume fart and BO jokes must have been flying 24/7 during their whole deployment.
Sensory adaptation. Itβs why your house smells weird when you come home from a long trip, or why people with horrible smelling breath often have no idea.
The docent was great. "All submariners are pillow-huggers." Everyone but the commanding officer hot-bunked. You shared a bunk, and just about everything else. The things you didn't share were your pillow, your toothbrush (when there was water enough to use it), and the clothes you were wearing. Said clothes being a tee-shirt and shorts which you wore until they rotted off of you and then discarded -- no water to waste on laundering clothes.
Fresh water was made by desalination. Desalination took fuel.