by M L Maki
USS SAN FRANCISCO
Thurman sits in a trance, listening. He picks up whiffs of the battlegroup ninety miles behind them. The carrier’s four huge screws cannot be disguised. He hears a new sound. The unmistakable sound of a diesel. “Conn, Sonar. Sierra 4 is back. Bearing is 348.”
Cumberland materializes behind him, “Is it close?”
“Closer, sir. I think they were drifting. I heard bubbles, then their diesel started back up.”
“Why did they shut down?”
“I don’t know, sir.”
Cumberland rushes back into control, straight to the tracking table, “What do you have?”
“Sir, it looks like it was drifting.”
“Why?”
Miller, “They may have stopped to listen.”
Cumberland, “I thought World War 2 subs had their sonars on the deck.”
Miller, “Our subs had one on deck and one underneath. I don’t know enough about Japanese subs.”
“We need to know. Miller, get us behind it and work up a profile. At least we can learn what type of boat it is.”
“Yes, sir.”
USS SAN FRANCISCO
2335, 22 December, 1941
Wankowski in maneuvering, the reactor and propulsion plant control room, is turning over Engineering Watch Supervisor to ET1 Alan Washburn, “So, air in the banks, shit in the tanks, water all around, clean, crit, and the same old shit. I had it, you got it.”
“I got it. Get some sleep.”
They hear, “Man the tracking party. Rig for silent running.”
“So much for sleep.” Wankowski exits maneuvering, passes through a hatch into the tunnel which passes through the reactor compartment, and walks forward into control. “Request to enter as tracking party.”
Lt. Hank Thoreau, the submarine’s weapons officer, now standing OOD, says, “Enter.”
Mallory shows up a minute later and joins Wankowski, “What’s going on?”
Wankowski points at the table, “Single track cruising along fat, dumb, and happy.”
Thoreau joins them, “Diesel boat on the surface. We need to build a profile and figure out if they’re friend or foe.”
Wankowski, “You know, sir, if an American sub spotted the Vinson at night, they would think it was Japanese.”
Thoreau, “I know. It keeps me up at night.”
Mallory, “Would they know we are out here?”
Ski says, “Think.”
Mallory, “Fuck. We have no reliable way to contact them except just showing up. Unless they were close enough to see the flag, they might take us under fire in broad daylight.”
Thoreau, “Exactly. We would have to sink them to save the carrier.”
Mallory, “Yes, sir. That would totally, unequivocally suck.”
A new bearing comes in and they get busy. Time crawls as they work their way behind the Japanese sub at a depth of 300 feet.
The XO walk in and straight to the table. Thoreau joins him, “They are motoring along on an intercept course to the carrier group.”
“Con, Sonar. Sierra 4 has secured engines. They’re submerging.”
Morrison, “All stop. Diving officer, hover the boat.”
“Yes, sir.” The submarine uses rudder, dive, and sail planes to control depth. Trim is controlled by adding or removing water from the trim tanks located fore and aft. As the sub coasts to a stop, the trim tanks have to be adjusted exactly to keep the boat trim.
Thoreau picks up a phone, “Sierra 4 has stopped again, sir.”
Cumberland comes into control, “How close are we?”
Thoreau, “About a half a mile, sir. We’re drifting.”
“Are we drifting closer?”
“Very slowly, sir. We are both slowly drifting north east, sir.”
“What is their depth?”
“About 100 feet.”
“Carry on.” Cumberland walks into sonar. “Are we getting a good track, Gordon?”
ST2(SS) Gil Gordon says, “Yes, sir. We’re learning a lot. These boats are really noisy.”
“Can you reliably give me a nationality?”
“No, sir.”
Cumberland takes a deep breath, “Okay. Keep me posted.”
“Yes, sir.”
Cumberland goes back into control. He can feel his boat settling a little bow down. He goes down the stairs to the crew berthing, “I need twenty people to walk aft to the engine room.”
Sailors grumble, but get out of their racks and get dressed. Cumberland, “Grab TLDs and go. You’re human ballast.”
“Yes, sir.”
Morrison stands behind Gordon, “Do we have a 60 hertz or 55 hertz engine?”
“It seems to be all DC.”
“Okay, and we know it’s two three-bladed screws.”
“Yes, sir. A bearing on the right shaft has a noticeable defect.”
“How close are we?”
“Maybe 500 feet, sir. I can hear their feet on the deck plates.”
JAPANESE SUBMARINE I-76
Engineer Third Class Ushio is taking advantage of the listening period to adjust the throttle linkage on number two diesel engine. He’s using a small wrench and is twisted in a difficult position so he can see what he is doing in the poor light. He moves to get a better look and takes a deep breath of the very humid, human sweaty stink. The wrench slips in his hands, then falls and rattles down to the bilge, “Kuso!” Shit.
His engineer first class yells, “Baka Yarou!” You idiot.
USS FRANCISCO
Gordon raises a hand, “Sir, I heard spoken Japanese.” He plays the recording.
“Wow. Good job, Gordon.”
Morrison walks into control, “Captain, she’s Japanese. Gordon caught voice, sir.”
Cumberland goes immediately into sonar to listen.
Morrison goes to the plot table. The two subs are slowly drifting north on the current. The carrier group is getting closer by the minute.
JAPANESE SUBMARINE I-76
Commander Yahachi Tanabe studies the plot table. The American group will likely pass several miles in front of them. “We will make our attack from below the waves. Ahead 2/3rd on battery.”
“Yes, sir.” The levers are pulled and DC electric motors start turning the shafts.
USS SAN FRANCISCO
Gordon says, “Con, Sonar. Sierra 4 is moving again. This time on battery.”
Cumberland rushes in, “Show me.”
Gordon points to the broad cavitation noise on the waterfall, “Do you want it on speaker, sir? You can hear them clearly.”
“Yes.”
Gordon flips a switch and they hear a hissing sound like static mixed with a fairly highspeed vibration.
“I thought it would thrum.”
“The screws are too small, sir. Let me slow it down.” Gordon adjusts some switches and the blade beats of the screw are evident.
“Thank you, Gordon.” Cumberland walks back into control. “Load and flood tube two.”
“Yes, sir.”
Thoreau asks, “Ahead bell, sir?”
“No, let’s get some distance between us.”
“Yes, sir.”
Morrison, “We want two miles space.”
Cumberland, “Yes, but we’re still bow heavy. XO, go below and send ten more men aft.”
“Yes, sir.” Morrison pops below, “Guys, I need ten of you to quietly head aft.”
One of the men asks, “Sir, why are we still hovering?’
“The captain is setting up a shot.”
“Yes, sir.”
Morrison goes back to control. “XO in control.”
Cumberland has his hands behind his back and a smile on his face. He goes to the plot table, “Two miles. Good.”
On the box they hear Kichiro, “Tube 2 is loaded and flooded.”
Cumberland, “Open the door.”
JAPANESE SUBMARINE I-76
Sonar says, “Sir, I heard a gurgling that sounds like a flooding tube from behind us.”
Tanabe, “Thank you, sonar.” He’s quiet for a moment, “It is possible, yes. Left full rudder. Ahead full. Prepare torpedoes 1 and 2 for launch.”
“Yes, Captain.”
USS SAN FRANCISCO
“Conn, Sonar. Aspect change. Sierra 4 is turning north. They are accelerating.”
Cumberland to the tracking team, “Range?”
Wankowski, “About three miles.”
Cumberland, “I want five.”
“Conn, Sonar. Sierra 4 is circling.”
Cumberland looks at Morrison and smiles. He walks to the weapons panel, “Firing tube 2.” He depresses the button. There is a swooshing shudder.
Kichiro on the box, “Conn, Torpedo. Tube 2 is fired electrically.”
“Conn, Sonar. Our fish is running hot, straight, and normal.”
JAPANESE SUBMARINE I-76
The sonar operator shouts, “Torpedo in the water, sir!”
Commander Tanabe, “Calm. Helm, give me a twenty degree down bubble. Right full rudder.” The helm repeats back and the deck slopes down.
“Sonar, was it launched by a surface ship or submarine?”
“A submarine, sir.”
“Any idea of its depth?”
“No, sir, but it is close. Only a few miles away. Bearing 245.”
“Back on shaft one. We need to turn. Set depth for 100 feet.”
“The torpedo itself has sonar.”
“100 feet set.”
“Understood. Fire one and two. We do our duty.”
There is a thud whoosh as each torpedo launches.
The Mark 48 torpedo from the San Francisco has no difficulty finding the Japanese submarine with its sonar. At 55 knots, it’s a short path. It recognizes the target is a submarine and detonates right against the hull.
USS SAN FRANCISO
“Conn, Sonar. Two torpedoes in the water.”
Cumberland, “Very well. Did our fish hit?”
Morrison catches Thoreau’s eye and mouths, “GO!”
Thoreau, “Ahead flank power limiting. 20 degrees down bubble.”
Cumberland to Sonar, “What bearing?”
“Conn, Sonar. Our fish hit the Jap sub. They’re the ones who fired at us.” They all feel the sub shake as the pressure wave from the explosion reaches them. The San Francisco picks up speed and slopes down.
Cumberland, “Where are the torpedoes?”
“Conn, Sonar. It’s hard to hear, sir.”
Cumberland storms into sonar, “We need to know!”
“Gordon, ‘Yes, sir.” The waterfall is a mess of reverberations. As the noise of the explosion dies down, it’s replaced by the flow noise of the flank bell. “Sir, they’re passing astern.”
“Are they turning?”
“Sir, they’re continuing straight.”
Cumberland nods and takes a deep breath, “Thank you.” He walks back into control, a huge smile on his face. “They missed. Carry on.” He walks out forward.
Morrison, “Ahead standard. Ten degrees up angle. Make our depth 300 feet. Come to 045.”
The helm repeats.
Morrison looks around control, “I would like to congratulate all of you for an exemplary execution. The hover was text book and the shot well executed.”
Chief Giblin at the dive panel, “How many people on a Japanese submarine, sir.”
“I don’t know. Those old boats typically had about seventy-five.”
Giblin continues, “It’s enough to be considered mass murder, right?’
Morrison, “We have a job to do. It’s hard, and the consequences are dire, but it’s also very important. The Japanese submarine was setting up a shot on the Vinson.”
Giblin, “I agree, sir. My point is just that not all of us have a hard-on about it.”
“That I understand, Chief.” Morrison turns to Thoreau, “He didn’t say, but continue north. When we’re about one hundred miles ahead of the carrier group slow to SOA”
“Yes, sir. Speed of advance. Sir, did the Japanese hunt in packs?”
“Not that I know of.” Morrison walks into sonar, “Good job Gordon, Pritchel.”
Gordon, “Thank you, sir. I’m sorry we couldn’t track the torpedoes in. It was just too loud.”
“That’s okay. We’re going to sprint ahead and get back on station and back to the search.”
“Yes, sir.”
“How are you guys doing?”
“Is this how it’s going to be?
“Until we can find out where all the American subs are located, we’re going to need to get close and develop a profile.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Are you okay?”
“It’s just…I heard them talking. I can’t see them as inanimate objects. We just killed people.”
“We did. We’re at war, Gordon. It will take some time to wrap our head around that idea. We have two airdales on board who were machine-gunned in their chutes after they punched out. People are going to die. We may die. It’s war.”
“Yes, sir.”
“If you need to talk it through, see me, okay?”
“I will.”
“Good.”
Morrison passes Brown as he walks back into control. ST1(SS) Mike Brown, the sonar division LPO, asks, “How are you two holding up?”
Gordon, “I heard them Brown. I could hear them talking. Then we killed them.”
Brown, “Yeah, it’s hard. It’s damn hard. The other guys can pretend it’s an object we kill and not people.”
Gordon, “The captain doesn’t seem upset.”
Pritchel, “Yeah, but our XO is cool. The captain, though, is horrible.”
Brown, “Normally, it’s the XO who is a mercurial ass and the captain is cool. This captain is so far the other way that Morrison has to balance him out.”
Gordon, “Have you ever had a captain this bad before?”
Brown, “Yeah. My second boat. He was all over the place. One moment he was trying to be your buddy, the next, he was a tyrant. The thing about Cumberland is, that so far, he is an ass, but he is a consistent ass. I can work with that
CHAPTER 3
USS SAN FRANCISCO, 90 MILES NORTH OF THE CARRIER GROUP
0919, 23 December, 1941
A helicopter comes to a hover on its approach to the submarine. The seas have finally moderated, the swells at about five feet with a slow periodicity. The crew chief drops a line and Morrison grabs it with a grounded hook. This keeps the static electricity the helicopter generates from going down the line and grounding through Morrison. With the helo electrically grounded, Wankowski grabs the litter with the first body and helps Mallory attach it to the line to be lifted up.
Ski asks Morrison, “Sir, do you know what is going to happen to them?”
“The Vinson is having a funeral ceremony. A burial at sea.”
Ski, “We could do that and save the helo.”
Mallory, “And fucking chop them up in the screw. No, this is better.”
Mallory and Ski attach the second litter, the body securely strapped in, and send it up. The litter is pulled into the helo, then the SENSO motions them to wait. Soon, the litter returns with two bags of mail and eight five-gallon tubs of ice cream.
Morrison, on the phone, “Sir, we need a working party to pass below eight tubs of ice cream and the mail.”
Cumberland replies, “Oh, for recovering the aircrew.”
In a few minutes the ice cream is passed below and the bridge cleared. The XO carefully checks to make sure all gear is passed below. Then he carefully inspects and wipes each seal as he passes through the hatches and dogs them down. With the lower hatch shut, he announces, “Chief of the Watch, last man down. Hatches shut. Bridge is rigged for dive.”
Chief Giblin repeats him.
Cumberland, “Quartermaster, sounding.”