The navigational hazards in the Aleutians were potentially as lethal as those in the South Pacific. The often overcast conditions provided little opportunity to take visual bearings to determine a submarine's position, and unpredictable currents could sweep a craft far off course. Pinnacles of rock dotted the harbors and waters off the coast, and the presence of magnetic ores affected compass needles. Added to this was the inaccuracy of many of the charts supplied; on some maps, islands might be as much as five miles out of position, and there was no indication of depth soundings for many areas.15
While carrying out reconnaissance off Amchitka Island in June 1942, the S-27 was swept onto rocks 400 yards from the coast. Fortunately, all forty-nine crewmen were able to reach shore safely. Even the Japanese were not immune to the weather conditions: the Japanese submarine I-157 ran aground in the perpetual fog and was able to extricate itself only after firing all its torpedoes and throwing overboard a large number of the battery cells needed for underwater propulsion.16
After its third war patrol, the S-28 left Dutch Harbor and arrived in San Diego on 23 October 1942 to undergo dry-dock maintenance and the installation of some additional equipment, including the newly developed SJ radar system. This surfacesearching radar, which sent out a rotating directional beam, would allow the submarine to track targets in the dark or in the poor visibility so prevalent in the Aleutians. It could detect a large ship 7,000 yards away and land up to 20,000 yards away. The S-28 would thus be able to contact a greater number of enemy ships, but the downside was that the new radar equipment required a lot of the S-28’s scarcest resource—space—taking up a large part of the conning tower area and necessitating the removal of several crew bunks.17 The S-28 also received a Fathometer, permitting accurate depth soundings, and a new Kleinschmidt distilling unit. The Kleinschmidt vapor-compression still could produce 750 gallons of fresh water a day, suitable for drinking as well as for use in storage batteries. Some considered the Kleinschmidt still one of the most important technical innovations of the submarine war.18
Departing San Diego on 9 December 1942, the S-28 commenced its fourth war patrol, terminating at Dutch Harbor on 21 January 1943. With the aid of radar, the submarine was able to make six enemy contacts, all during the hours of darkness. On two occasions the S-28 fired multiple torpedoes at targets but scored no hits. In what was becoming a recurring pattern, the patrol report endorsement by Crowley's superior officer read: “It is regretted that the USS S-28 was unable to complete its attacks with success.”19
During the S-28’s fifth war patrol in February 1943, the weather continued to be a major concern. Before going topside to man the bridge, crewmen had to dress in multiple layers of woolen underwear, shirts, sweaters, trousers, and socks. Crowley noted in his patrol report that the rubber-lined trousers and hooded jackets distributed to the crew generally provided good protection against the cold. Gloves, however, quickly filled with water, and whenever the men raised their arms, the icy liquid would pour down inside their jacket sleeves.20 This time an endorsement described the patrol as “well conducted,” even though the S-28 had carried out no attacks and on 18 February had been bombed by a Japanese floatplane. In the grim conditions of the Aleutians, simply making it back constituted a successful mission.
Crowley was replaced as skipper of the S-28 on 20 March 1943. The change of command took place at the Canadian naval base at Esquimalt, British Columbia, on the southern tip of Vancouver Island. The Canadian Pacific Fleet, lacking any submarines of its own, borrowed the S-28 to practice antisubmarine training.21 The S-28’s new skipper, Vincent A. Sisler, had seen action with the fleet submarine Sailfish, and although he had experienced defective torpedoes and depth charge attacks, Sisler considered the southwestern Pacific a place for “sissies” compared with conditions in the Aleutians.22
In May 1943 the Americans would retake Attu from the Japanese after a bitter fight. Under the command of Rear Admiral Thomas C. Kinkaid, the Americans made their third amphibious landing assault of the war on the south coast of the island at the aptly named Massacre Bay (Russian Cossacks had slaughtered Aleuts at the site two centuries earlier). The submarines Narwhal and Nautilus played a role in U.S. operations, slipping in 200 army scouts before the main landing. Although the battle for Attu was expected to last three days, it continued for three weeks, with heavy casualties from both the fighting and the cruel weather. In the soggy tundra, the Americans’ military vehicles proved largely useless, and many of the troops contracted trench foot. Nevertheless, of the 2,000 Japanese defending the island, fewer than 30 survived to become prisoners of war.23
Having captured Attu, the Americans turned their attention to the Japanese fortifications on the bat-shaped island of Kiska. On 15 August 1943, after a prolonged bombardment, almost 35,000 U.S. troops staged another amphibious landing on Kiska's rocky beaches. They were surprised to find the island deserted; the Japanese garrison had slipped away in the murky mists. Admiral Kinkaid described the action as “a darn good dress rehearsal under combat conditions really.”24 Even so, the Americans suffered several hundred casualties, largely from “friendly fire” by jittery troops in the fog.
The S-28 made two more war patrols in northern latitudes before heading for the friendlier climate of Pearl Harbor, where it arrived on 16 November 1943. After an overhaul, the aging submarine was utilized for training exercises. By the end of 1943, all the S-boats had been relegated to training or less active patrol duties.25
Despite being taken out of combat and assigned to the warmer waters of Hawaii, a grim fate awaited the S-28. Naval reservist Jack G. Campbell assumed command of the S-28 on 20 June 1944. On 4 July, while participating in sonar exercises with the Coast Guard cutter Reliance, the submarine vanished. When the Reliance lost contact with the S-28, it summoned additional ships from Pearl Harbor to join the search, but they found only a large oil slick where the submarine had last dived. In waters more than 8,000 feet deep, rescue or salvage was not a possibility. A subsequent inquiry concluded that the submarine had probably lost depth control, but there was no way of knowing whether this had resulted from mechanical failure or human error. Less than two months later, John Crowley's next command, the USS Flier, would be lost as well.
2
A New Boat
John Crowley's reward for his perseverance with the S-28 was command of the brand-new fleet submarine the USS Flier (SS-250). After being replaced on the S-28 in March 1943, Crowley attended the Prospective Commanding Officer School at New London, Connecticut. All officers receiving their first command or a newly constructed ship were required to take a four-week course of lectures and practical training. With its focus on attack techniques and rigorous exercises at sea, the course would later be called the “Command Class in Attack Technique.”1
Beginning in July 1943 Crowley was involved in fitting out the Flier at Groton, Connecticut. The Flier’s keel had been laid at the Electric Boat Company in Groton many months earlier, on 30 October 1942. Originally known as the Electric Storage Battery Company, Electric Boat had obtained patents in 1897 for the first submarine capable of recharging its own batteries while at sea. From that point on, Electric Boat built the lion's share of the U.S. Navy's submarines.
The U.S. submarine-building program first picked up during World War I and continued to gain momentum thereafter. Following the fall of France in May 1940, Congress approved the building of more than seventy new submarines. By July 1941 Electric Boat had eleven ways in operation for submarine construction. By March 1943 an additional ten ways were in use at a new facility called the Victory Yard. The USS Dace (SS-247) became the first submarine built at the Victory Yard, as production reached full throttle. With the motto “Keep’em sliding,” swing shifts operated twenty-four hours a day. By the time the Flier was launched in July 1943, a new submarine was being completed at Electric Boat every other week.2
The official launching of ships served a number of purposes beyond simply carrying on a naval tradition. At
times, the launching of a new craft reflected the family networks so pervasive in the navy. For instance, when Slade Cutter was assigned to the newly constructed USS Requin, his wife became the sponsor and officially christened the submarine on 1 January 1945. At other times, ship launchings provided an occasion to grease the wheels of bureaucracy and consolidate government patronage. Thus, when the USS Missouri was launched, Senator Harry S. Truman of Missouri was the principal speaker at the event, and Truman's daughter, Margaret, christened the ship. The ceremony would prove prophetic: when Japan surrendered, Truman was president of the United States, and it was Truman who decided that the surrender ceremony at Tokyo Bay should be carried out on the deck of the Missouri.3
With less spectacular results, the launch of the USS Flier was similarly politicized. The secretary of the navy designated Mrs. Anna Smith Pierce from Lynchburg, South Carolina, the Flier’s sponsor. Not coincidentally, she was the daughter of Ellison DuRant Smith, a member of the Senate's Naval Affairs Committee. Smith had first been elected to the Senate as a South Carolina Democrat in 1908. He gained the nickname “Cotton Ed” for his efforts on behalf of the Southern Cotton Association. Any anticipated gains from Smith's navy patronage proved short-lived, however. He died on 17 November 1944, barely a year after the Flier was commissioned.
The launch of the Flier was, as expected, organized with military precision, and press releases were distributed to the South Carolina newspapers. Mrs. Pierce, along with her sister-in-law Mrs. Farley Smith, would depart South Carolina by train on 9 July 1943. They were scheduled to arrive at Groton on Sunday, 11 July, at 3:30 P.M., with the ceremony set to commence at 4:45 P.M. The two women would begin their return trip the same evening.
Employees of Electric Boat, along with their families, were encouraged to attend the launch ceremony at the company's Victory Yard. To reduce worker absenteeism, the ceremony included a raffle in which maintenance electricians with perfect attendance records would have the chance to win a $25 war bond.4
Veteran skipper Glynn R. “Donc” Donaho delivered the keynote address at the Flier’s launch. Lieutenant Commander Donaho, then on leave, had been recommended by Commander Lewis Parks to give the approximately five-minute speech. Donaho had been awarded three Navy Crosses, the navy's second highest combat decoration. He had a reputation as a “spit and polish guy” who was a stickler for military protocol. Paul Schratz, who encountered Donaho at New London, described him as “humorless and a rigid perfectionist.”5 Donaho's notorious inflexibility had been demonstrated in 1942 as he commanded the Flying Fish on its maiden cruise from New London to Pearl Harbor. Despite spotting a Nazi U-boat on the way to Panama, he made no attempt to close with the enemy, stating that his operation orders said nothing about attacking enemy ships while in transit. As a result, all future operation orders were altered to specifically direct an attack on any enemy craft encountered. For the Flier’s launch, Donaho chose as his text, “Building Subs that Can ‘Take It’ in Battle.” Electric Boat's personnel manager, A. D. Barnes, later assured Donaho that his talk had been “one of the finest that we have had in the plant thus far” and claimed that it would inspire “increased efforts to build better submarines.”6
Apart from Crowley, there were a number of other submarine commanders and their wives in attendance at the Flier’s launch ceremony. Some of these men had already gained outstanding reputations, such as Reuben Whitaker and William Stovall. Also present was Admiral Freeland A. Daubin, commander of submarines in the Atlantic.7 (Daubin would later assume an important, if unexpected, role following the loss of the Flier in 1944.) At precisely 5:00 P.M. the Flier’s hull slid stern-first down the Victory Yard's way number five into the Thames River. For many of those present, these moments were full of pride and anticipation. Later the hull would be towed a few miles upstream to Electric Boat's fitting-out basin, and the submarine would be completed over the next three months.
As the Flier’s prospective commanding officer, Crowley's job was to serve as both observer and adviser in the final stages of construction. He had access to the blueprints (covering a quarter of an acre), as well as other machinery and equipment specifications. It was his right to suggest modifications or to complain if he found any workmanship deficient.8 The fitting-out period allowed the officers and some key enlisted men to begin familiarizing themselves with their new submarine. They also had the opportunity to attend special schools covering such subjects as gunnery, sonar, and mine warfare. Most important, this time allowed the men to begin bonding with one another and forging a cohesive fighting unit. On 18 October 1943 the Flier was officially commissioned under Crowley's command.
As a fleet boat, the Flier (named after a common species of sunfish) offered a stark contrast to the old S-boats. The first of the larger and more agile fleet boats had begun appearing in 1933, and about forty were in service at the start of World War II. The Flier was almost a third longer than the S-28 and could carry nearly twice the crew. With a greater periscope depth, fleet boats were less likely to be rammed by enemy ships. Whereas the old S-boats had riveted hulls, the Flier was constructed with welded seams, a method first introduced in the early 1930s. Welded hulls were stronger and could be made from lighter materials. Welded hulls were also cheaper to build, requiring less skilled labor and no plate overlap. Most important, there were no rivets to pop out in the likely event of a depth charge attack.9
The Flier had ten torpedo tubes, compared with only four on the S-28. Equipped with the latest in radar, the submarine could detect ships 20,000 yards away. When used in combination with the plan position indicator, the radar system provided a two-dimensional image of surface targets in relation to the submarine. At the same time, the torpedo data computer on board allowed more sophisticated attacks. On the S-boats, angles of fire had to be preset by hand, and the submarine needed to be more or less pointed in the direction of the torpedo track. On fleet boats, in contrast, the torpedo data computer automatically adjusted gyro angles on the torpedoes and offered the best submarine fire-control system in the world.10
Before departing for a forward base, all new submarines went through a shakedown period of testing. Originally the shakedown period was six weeks, but starting in July 1943 it was reduced to thirty days. The crew then underwent two more weeks of training at Pearl Harbor. With a critical need for manpower, some crew had little preparation for submarine duty. Although young officers were occasionally sent straight to new constructions, most officers attended the Submarine School at New London. There, they spent their mornings in classes and their afternoons working in an attack or diving trainer. Some of those with technical aptitude spent their time at New London studying radar exclusively. Others were given specialized training at universities, such as electrical engineering at Texas A&M. Regardless of his background, every officer would eventually be required to go before a qualification board.11
Once on board a submarine, the officers and petty officers began the process of qualifying the men under their command in what was known as the “School of the Boat.” Each man had an assigned station, but all crew members were expected to have a grasp of the equipment throughout the submarine. It was an arduous process that involved both studying plans and gaining practical experience in each compartment until the men knew the function of every pipe, valve, and piece of machinery. Eventually, when the chief of the boat deemed a sailor ready, he would undergo both an oral and a practical examination given by the officers.12
The Flier sailed from New London for Pearl Harbor on 20 December 1943. As the submarine approached Panama in the Caribbean Sea, it was attacked by a “friendly” merchant ship. The merchantman fired off thirteen shells before the Flier managed to disappear, still on the surface, into a rain squall.
Despite designated safety zones and recognition signals, such attacks were unnervingly common. The Flier’s executive officer, Lieutenant James Liddell, had already experienced a “friendly” attack while serving on the USS Snapper. As that submarine had tr
aversed the Indian Ocean on its way to a patrol in the Philippines, an amphibious patrol bomber had dropped two bombs nearby. Liddell later described the damage to the Snapper as “fairly limited.”13
Like the Flier, a number of new submarines received their baptism of fire from Allied ships and aircraft while making their way from New London to Pearl Harbor. The USS Scorpion was fired on by a merchant ship as it cruised between Panama and Hawaii. The USS Harder was strafed and bombed by an American patrol plane as it made its way through the Caribbean a week after departing New London. The USS Dorado, similarly en route to Panama, was sunk by an American aircraft only six days before the Flier was commissioned. News of the Dorado’s loss with all hands naturally upset the Flier’s green crew.14
3
Midway
War manufactures death and irony in abundance, as the men of the Flier would discover only days into their first war patrol. Although John Crowley had managed to evade the myriad hazards of the Aleutian Islands for five patrols in the antiquated S-28, he would come to grief in his brand-new submarine on its first outing in the Pacific. The Flier departed Pearl Harbor at 1:23 P.M. on 12 January 1944, and only four days later it would be a wreck at Midway.
The circular atoll known as Midway lies some 1,250 miles from Pearl Harbor, about one-third the distance from Hawaii to Tokyo. Surrounded by a ring of coral reef five miles in diameter are a number of tiny plots of dry land. The largest island of the group, Sand Island, is only a mile and a half long by half a mile wide. The next largest island, Eastern Island, is a mile and a quarter long and three-quarters of a mile wide. This rather pathetic piece of real estate would assume enormous importance in the Pacific war.
The USS Flier Page 2