The officers took a good look at the torpedo jammed under the reduction gear. The Material Officer asked, “Any idea how bad the engine is damaged?”
“It appears to be undamaged, sir. We ran back on both screws, and all of the temperatures remained in the normal range, and there was no deviation in the reductions gears normal noise level or pitch.”
“What about the torpedo, has anyone examined it?”
“Yes sir, our Chief Torpedoman went over it very closely, and said the torpedo was launched too close to arm, and it is still in the safe mode.”
“That a good sign,” After climbing out from under the reduction gear framing, he said, “Tell me, how did you go about accomplishing this at sea?”
The Captain laid out the entire scenario from torpedoing to arrival at Tulagi. He named the wounded men, ranks, and their divisions, as well as the Fireman first class Maxwell Henning.
The officers talked, then the Admiral’s staff officer said, “I won’t lie to you. What you and your men did will make history and, in my book, a handful of medals and awards should be in the offering. However, not everyone agrees with me, and there are questions to be answered, possibly even a board of inquiry. I can only say personally, I think you and your crew pulled off the impossible, and I wish you and your crew, good luck. Who came up with the idea in the first place?”
Lieutenant Lanner, not wanting the Captain to take the blame for his idea, stood up and said, “I did, sir. If anyone is to be cashiered, it’s me.”
Well, Lieutenant, you may get your wish. I see you wear pilot’s wings; may I ask how you got here?”
“I was injured in the Saratoga torpedoing in the waters around Midway and lost my flight status. Instead of quitting, I accepted this position because I have a Mechanical Engineering degree and didn’t want to waste all that time I studied.”
“Now that’s a story. Good luck to you, Lieutenant.”
“Thank you, sir.”
With that, the parade left, leaving everyone talking about what the future was going to hold.
The next thirty-six hours were used to clean up the ship and get her ready for her next destination. As usual, there was every port on the Pacific Ocean in the offering for repairs. Then the Squadron Commander came aboard and had a conference with the Captain; then he left without saying anything to anyone else about his visit.
The Captain had the duty Bo’sun call away a meeting for all officers in the wardroom. Ten minutes later, with the Captain sitting at the head of the table, he addressed the officers, who were a bit apprehensive.
“Men, we have been cleared of any dereliction, and we’re still in business.”
Immediately the officers congratulated the Captain and Lieutenant Lanner on their good fortunes. “Well,” the Captain added, “Not everyone agreed, but the powers to be were, and for that, I’m thankful. Mr. Lanner, you too are congratulated for a good resolution to a dangerous situation, and I’m sure we haven’t heard the end of this. In the meantime, we have been ordered, along with AGAR, to the repair facility in…,” he toyed with the officers, “Pearl Harbor for repairs and updating. We are expected to be there for a couple of months.”
That brought the men to their feet in a joyous response they have lacked in some time.
“We’re to take on supplies and food, then head for the Oiler near Rennell Island to refuel. From there, we head for Pearl. Our transit speed will be twenty knots. Better get the crew fed and the working parties set up, the supplies will be here by thirteen hundred. We set sail at eighteen hundred for the oiler.”
The officers began filing out of the wardroom when the Captain said, “XO will you the Chief Engineer Mr. DeMar and Mr. Lanner, please stay.” After the rest of the officers left, the three men sat with fresh coffee before them.
“There are some changes in the offering. Mr. Braxton, you will be receiving orders to Commanding Officers class at Pearl. We will be picking up a new XO when we arrive in Pearl, Mr. Lanner; you will be promoted to full Lieutenant early when we arrive in Pearl and assume the duties of Chief Engineer. Mr. DeMar, you will be headed for Executive Officers class, also in Pearl, and promoted to Lieutenant Commander upon successful completion of the course. Mr. Kellogg will be our new M and B Division Officer and first assistant to Mr. Lanner, and the replacement for Mr. Kellogg’s position will be Chief Banner, who will be field commissioned to Ensign. His degree in Mechanical Engineering and promotion just came in. Mr. Kellogg and Mr. Lanner will bring him up to speed on the responsibilities of his rank. Mr. Kellogg, the decision on this came from Division. Mr. Lanner was promoted before you, and he is as qualified. I’m certain your new position will be short-lived, well-experienced men are in woefully short supply. I bet you’ll see a Chief Engineers slot before you get up to speed minding the divisions.”
“I understand, sir, and my congratulations to you, gentlemen.”
Smiles broke out all around, and the meeting broke up. Mr. Lanner headed for Main Control with Mr. Kellogg. When they arrived just ahead of the Chief Engineer, he called to Chief Banner, “Chief, have everyone in B and M Divisions meet in the enlisted mess immediately. I just stopped by there, and they are getting ready for us. We’re going to have a short meeting. I need you to get relief for a short time and attend the meeting.”
“Aye sir, Chief Adair should be available, I’ll call him.”
Then the officers and off-watch crew headed for the mess decks full of questions. About five minutes later, Chief Banner joined the two divisions in the mess. It was almost too crowded.
Being a tall man, the Chief Engineer stood above the crew and called the men to order. Toying with Banner, he accused him of being out of uniform. A hardy congratulations began coming from everyone.
The Chief Engineer called for order and went on to fill the engineers in on the events, promotions, and new assignments. The men hooted and yelled their approval. The meeting broke up with all the non-rated men heading for the main deck and the replenishment work parties.
At sixteen-hundred hours on the bridge, the Captain asked, “OOD, has the replenishment been completed?”
“Aye, sir, the report just came in; everything is secure.”
“Talker, check with Main Control, have them call in when they are ready to test main engines.”
Seconds later, “Engineering reports ready to disengage the jacking gears and requests permission to test main engines.”
“Permission granted. OOD you have the conn, weigh anchor and get us underway,
Our speed will be ahead two thirds, turns for fifteen knots. Check with the navigator for your course.”
“Aye, sir.”
The OOD showed he had become an expert Officer of the Deck and capable of getting the ship underway.
The ship got underway at sixteen hundred and headed out of Purvis Bay and toward the Nggela Channel. Their destination was the oiler just north of Rennell Island.
By the time the two destroyers rendezvoused with the oiler, darkness had set in, and the refueling became a dangerous operation with very subdued lighting. The XO had the conn to sharpen his darken ship handling. The Captain maintained an alert watch from his chair.
About an hour later, the two Gleaves headed northeast on a non-stop run at twenty knots with cruising turbines engaged to the island paradise of Hawaii and the Naval base at Pearl Harbor.
Mr. Lanner was riding on a high; he was going to see the beautiful wife he left behind. He also knew he would be busier than a one-armed paper hanger in a paper hanging contest in his new position. It didn’t daunt his enthusiasm in the slightest.
The mood in the after-engine room was better than good with the ship underway for safer waters. The months of almost constant general quarters in the hot engineering spaces had all the men down twenty or more pounds in weight. Their uniforms hung on them like sacks in some cases. The rest of the ship was pretty much the same. The sound of ‘Going Home’ has an almost magical quality to it.
At a steady twe
nty knots, the ships were making just over five-hundred-fifty miles a day. That should put them in Pearl Harbor in six days.
****
Three hundred miles northeast of the Gleaves, a new Japanese RO class submarine was on patrol. The normal routine was to recharge the batteries at night and get the crew refreshed, then loiter just below the surface in suspected military sea lanes, waiting for a target.
Thirteen hours later, the submarine spotted a slight trail of light brown wispy smoke on the horizon. “OOD, bring the ship to battle stations, prepare two torpedoes for the attack.”
The crew of the submarine prided themselves on being one of the best-trained crews in the squadron. The efficient torpedo room personnel backed the ready torpedoes from two of the six tubes. It was carefully wiped down with special lint-free cloths dampened with a solvent that breaks down oil products for complete removal. Special attention was taken to ensure the filling connection was free of any oil. The men wore white gloves as a precaution to keep any contamination from oils, body, or otherwise from getting on or about the connections. Then they repeated the procedure on the mating coupling attached to a stainless-steel armored hose.
The hose was attached to the torpedo only after the torpedo officer wiped everything again with a new cloth and cleaner. The hose was grounded to the steel skin of the Type 95 torpedo, then it was carefully attached to the torpedo filling connection and locked down to ensure a solid seal. Only then, a pre-determined amount of liquid oxygen was pumped into the stainless-steel tank of the torpedo. The entire procedure was repeated, step-by-step as a safety officer read from a procedure sheet. Nothing was changed, added or deleted from procedure-to-procedure, and each step was read and followed, with each and every torpedo.
A single drop of oil or even a trace of oil film would explode in the presence of liquid oxygen. The explosion would be violent and cause sympathetic detonation of the torpedo’s warhead, along with the other torpedoes bringing about cataclysmic destruction of the submarine and death of every crewman.
An hour later, the submarine’s bridge was notified the two torpedoes were fueled, warmed up and ready for launch at the commander’s order.
Lieutenant Commander Kenshin Inukai looked through the periscope of his new submarine. The Americans were steaming a steady twenty knots.
“Set speed fifty knots.”
“Set,” replied the torpedo officer.
“Kasai.” The torpedo officer pushed the firing button, and a twenty-three-and-a-half-foot torpedo exited the twenty-one-inch torpedo tube. The deadly machine quickly sped up to the maximum design speed of fifty knots as it rose to the nine-foot depth programmed into it. Just before arriving at its setting, a burr stopped the tailplane, and the torpedo leaped from the sea like flying fish for fifteen to twenty feet before the almost thirty-seven hundred-pound torpedo slammed back into the sea and swam on the surface.
****
Seaman Second Class Thomas Reynolds watch in awe at the erratic behavior of the torpedo and almost screamed into the sound powered phone system, “T…T…Torpedo off the Port quarter bearing zero-five-zero, course two-three-zero, high speed.”
Caught off guard, with their minds on Hawaii, the bridge crew was stunned, but immediately recovered and sprang into action.
The Bo’sun jumped to the 1MC mike as the OOD called out. “General Quarters, submarine. Helm zero-nine-zero sharply, port shaft astern two thirds, starboard shaft ahead flank, twenty-five knots and watch the clinometer.”
The changing of the watch in the engineering spaces was professional and orderly. Most of the men assigned to the spaces were standing around talking about a hundred things sailors talk about, most of which were about women. The General Quarters watch took over and reported to the bridge. A minute later, the GQ OOD took over.
Captain Tyson burst onto the bridge, “Report.”
“Sir,” the OOD began, “the port lookout spotted a broaching torpedo at zero-five-zero, we set GQ and turned to zero-five-zero to get him to turn away, and we can pursue. Sound called in and are prepared to activate the sound gear once we slow down. The ship is at Condition one and buttoned up. We have four boilers on the line, and engineering said they are ready for all bells.”
“Very well; continue your attack.”
“Aye sir, talker to Gunnery, set all depth charges to two hundred feet. Fire Control, prepare all batteries for surface submarine contact in case we force him to the surface.”
“Aye, sir.” The messages set several teams of men into action, preparing to attack.
****
On the IJN submarine, Captain Inukai heard the report of a successful launch. He had the scope raised, looked around quickly, then screamed, “Emergency dive, one hundred meters, flank speed, at depth hard turn to starboard ninety degrees.” He nodded for the attending seaman to lower the periscope. “The Americans have turned straight for us. Somehow, they found out we were here. Hand me the message clipboard.”
The seaman handed the Captain the clipboard with numerous messages attached to it. He scanned through the flimsy sheets looking for any mention of American detection of torpedo attacks. He found none. The submarine was slowly falling through the one-hundred-fifty-foot mark when the first depth charges went off a half-mile behind them. The distance buffered the effects of the explosions.
The submarine reached its ordered depth, and the deck slanted as the helm turned the boat to starboard and continued at eight knots.
****
The destroyers ran on a half-mile, then turned to port, slowing to ten knots allowing the sound head to be lowered and begin looking for the submarine by pinging.
“Bridge, sound, no contact, too much disturbance from depth charges. Will advise when it clears enough to get a return.”
“Bridge aye.”
“OOD, call AGAR and coordinate a search pattern; if we don’t bag him by twenty-hundred, we go on.”
Half an hour later, the two destroyers were working the search, but in vain, the sub was able to get away, they turned to continue their trek to Hawaii.
In the after-engine room, the men corralled the Lieutenant, wanting to know more of his story.
“Where did I leave off?
“You just met your stateroom mate who snubbed you, and you hit the sack,” Williams said.
“Well, let’s see, the next morning, the blaring 1MC woke me up at zero-five-thirty. The massive ship never sleeps. I heard at zero-three-thirty, messengers woke the engineers to light off the ships sixteen Yarrow boilers and lined up the electrical systems to feed the electric drive motors.”
“I heard something about that, she didn’t have steam engines?” the throttleman said.
“No, the ship's design began life as a battlecruiser but was changed into an aircraft carrier. The boilers supplied steam for the turbo-generators, and the electrical system ran monster motors that turned the shafts.”
“Well, I rolled out, made my bunk, then left for a quick three-minute shower and shave. When I got back to the stateroom, the Lieutenant had already left. I dressed, grabbed my headgear, and headed for the wardroom. Following a light breakfast, Jake Mendenhall led me to the hangar deck, where I followed him to our muster location. The hangar bay was crammed full of aircraft, with men crawling all over them, making sure they were airworthy; The deck crew parked the aircraft closely, and our muster location was almost hidden.”
“We were a little early, giving me time to meet the other officers in the squadron. Lieutenant Rader shook my hand and simply said, “Welcome aboard,” then he moved on. Jake whispered, “Don’t take him to heart; he’s like that with everyone.”
“The Squadron Commander introduced me to the rest of the squadron, and the enlisted men wished me well. It sounded good, but I knew I would have to earn the respect of every man in the squadron, officer, and enlisted alike if I was going to make it there.”
“At zero-seven-fifty, we were secured from quarters and told to head for the ready room. At zero-eight-
hundred, the 1MC lit off, “Shift colors, underway.” As I looked around, I couldn’t miss the four-leaf clover trinkets, and rabbit’s feet for good luck. I learned early in my Naval career that pilots are, for the most part, a superstitious lot. I guess some would call me superstitious, I believe in God and His forgiving grace. I don’t need the trinkets or any other support other than from my God, family, and friends.”
“Jake took me by the arm and guided me to the supply petty officer, Second Class Aviation Storekeeper, Matt Hooper. He had me follow him to his small cubicle of an office. Behind him was a caged-in area holding boxes with flight suits, oxygen masks, leather helmets with goggles, and a host of other things I would need to fly. He had me try on everything since I have a larger build from the hard work of farming. Hooper told me he would hold onto the three flight suits and other gear until I finish the days business. After being dismissed, Jake got permission to take me to my assigned aircraft.”
“The Squadron XO, Lieutenant Commander George Taylor, told us, “He has the number twelve plane, get him set up in her, and meet the plane captain and crew.”
“On the hangar deck, Jake took me toward the stern of the ship, twisting and turning to get around dozens of aircraft, many of which were in various stages of planned maintenance. As we approached the stern, we could feel and hear the steady thump-thump-thump of the great four bladed bronze propellers pushing the ship forward at an easy twenty knots.”
“Then I saw her, a clean F4F-3 sporting a non-reflective blue-gray over light gray color scheme. She was armed with four fifty caliber Browning M2 machine guns, and four-hundred-fifty-rounds per gun. The identifying national emblems on the wings and fuselage was a white star with a red ball in the center. There were red and white stripes on the rudder.”
“The plane captain was Aviation Bo’sun mate third class Tom Elliot. Ens. Mendenhall introduced me to my plane handler.”
“Hi, glad to meet you, Petty Officer Elliot.”
Attack of the Greyhounds Page 9