Wahoo

by Richard O'Kane

  With the enemy ship not altering course and apparently unalerted, Sawfish surfaced for a 6-hour end-around, and dived for a second attack, this time with Mark-14 steam torpedoes. Maneuvering to a position 750 yards on her beam, Sands fired a spread of three torpedoes from the stern tubes. The first fish broached halfway to the target and ran erratically to the right, alerting the enemy, who avoided the others and opened up with his deck gun at the periscope. In so doing the ship made a target of herself, and Sawfish sent a fourth torpedo, which the enemy avoided.

  Explosions had continued, and 100-foot depth seemed advisable. Torpedo reloads were completed, and at 1900, Sawfish surfaced to return to the position she previously had been patrolling.

  5

  On Wahoo’s fourth patrol, Morton had told us of his prewar excursion through Japan’s Inland Sea. After stopping at Shimonoseki, they had sailed across the southern part of the Sea of Japan to Pusan, Korea. This latter passage had touched the northern end of the Tsushima Strait, the scene of the great Japanese victory over the Russian fleet. He had spoken of the heavy traffic along that last shipping lane, which had included everything from freighters to railroad train ferries.

  With torpedoes that would run true and detonate, and a lengthening dark of the moon to enable night surface attacks and evasion, the best time to attack there would come in about 4 days. Morton called for the conning tower chart, which Quartermaster Kemp spread out on the wardroom table, with dividers and parallel rules for plotting. The captain invited Kemp to sit down; he did so after retrieving the pertinent volume of Sailing Directions. Neither the captain and navigator, nor the officers present and Kemp, could find any obstacles that could prevent Wahoo from penetrating to the position Captain Morton had circled on the chart. Rather, looking ahead, the constant northerly current of 2 knots would assist in evasion and withdrawal, for the position was at the “T” formed by the Tsushima Strait crossed by the Shimonoseki-Pusan shipping lane. Though none present had voiced it, there was one required element—a skipper with guts, and this Wahoo had in Morton’s cautious, deliberate courage.

  Perchance, the course south lay atop the 130 east longitude line, but that would serve only as a base course for the greater part of the 360 miles. From it, Wahoo would conduct her own reconnaissance. Any large ship would be attacked, but “spit-kits” would be avoided, and all daylight patrolling would be submerged to insure surprise.

  Back on the line and with a full battery charge, Wahoo moved in on October 3. Verne and Kemp had good stars, and allowing for the current, Wahoo reached the selected position by 2200. Tracking had been manned in anticipation, and even those not going on the midwatch were up and about. They did not have long to wait, for the SJ was hot and soon had ships. One after another, their silhouettes showed that they were no larger than those already sunk, and at 0230 Morton ordered a retreat with the current to try again on the following night.

  A day submerged afforded those who had stayed up most of the night a welcome opportunity for shut-eye. By midafternoon, however, all hands seemed to be up and about and ready for another night. The lookouts’ accounts of darkened ships turning on their running lights to avoid collision, others running with lights burning, and a lesser number continuing darkened had stirred the imagination. The number had probably become exaggerated, since the stories came from lookouts and their reliefs for the watches. After an early evening meal, with sacks ready to go up and over, Wahoo surfaced into another black night. Two engines went on propulsion, the rest on charge, and in 2 hours she would be back on station.

  To clear the shipping lane for a better visual aspect after radar contact, and to still retain the three-way coverage, Captain Morton conned his submarine to a position between Tsushima Island and the coast of Kyushu and northeast of Ike Shima, and mentally noted, if hard pressed, this provided the shorter evasion route out into the East China Sea.

  Again only small ships passed, and the captain had to conclude that the major steamers were now making southern Pacific runs. Still, the Tsushima Strait remained a major passage, so the patrol there would continue around the clock. At Verne’s suggestion, Richie had been organizing section tracking parties. Primarily, this involved TDC instruction; the rest they knew anyway, so the regular watch would be responsible until battle stations. Duty Chief McGill was ordered to run the enlisted watch accordingly.

  The low silhouettes of two patrols were immediately reported to the captain and exec, as are all ships. This was a change that could have significance. Verne came to the bridge to see them turn north; he then conned Wahoo over to the approximate path they had followed, before going below to tell the captain. The time was 0200, halfway through the midwatch, and except for two more small merchantmen, the night passed quietly, while the boat maintained her position against the current.

  After stars on the first horizon, two blasts took her down. An air of excitement accompanied breakfast, for though Captain Morton had taken his submarine into taut places, heretofore he had promptly brought her out. Control’s report of two patrols did not help, but the Bells of St. Mary’s brought a cheer, as if they were the whistle for a kickoff.

  The patrols had returned and were stationed about a thousand yards on either bow of a large ship presenting a sharp angle. There was no question about gaining an attack position, only that of sneaking past the near echo-ranging escort. That had not fazed the captain, who was already conning Wahoo towards the escort’s stern, and maneuvering to present a small angle to the echo ranging.

  Verne’s angles, and stadimeter ranges from the estimated 130-foot height, flowed to Richie. And then came the first identification—a large transport. There was no need to identify her as enemy; the fact that she was zigging and escorted qualified her for torpedoes. Her speed of 15 knots, corresponding to Buckley’s turn count, was close to plot and TDC s. Never before had Morton enjoyed a finer solution on a more valuable ship.

  Four torpedo tubes had been readied forward and aft. The after room lost again as the captain ordered the outer doors opened forward and the torpedo depth setting increased to 10 feet. Verne’s angles were receiving Richie’s, “Checks,” and Morton made a final comparison between plot and TDC, the latter’s dial showing an angle of 80 port.

  “Any time, Verne,” he announced in a reassuring voice, and then stepped over to the firing panel. There would be a small change in the points of aim to secure maximum torpedo divergence: Verne’s constant bearings and Morton’s plunger sent torpedoes to hit the transport aft, then under the after end of her long superstructure, followed by the third under her bridge, and the fourth to hit forward.

  The momentary shudder, the zing, and the poppet pressure were all normal as the whine of four Mark-18s through the hull quickly faded, but not from Buckley and Carter on sound, who simultaneously called, “All straight and normal.” The time for the 950-yard torpedo run should be 63 seconds, and Bill picked up the count at 30 to go. On Morton’s nod, Verne made a cautious sweep to report the enemy proceeding on course. With 5 seconds to go he was raising the scope again when the crack and whack of the first warhead detonation hit Wahoo. The second, he described with a single word, and then passed the scope to the captain for the final two. The devastation was awesome. The captain reported the ship capsizing and then sunk. Bill’s recorded time from the first detonation was just under 1 minute.

  Sporadic depth charges rained, but a cautious look by Verne had shown the escorts milling around beyond the sinking. It was time to make tracks during the confusion, and Wahoo headed northeast to clear the small island of Okino Shima and then north into the Sea of Japan.

  In the wardroom, Verne and the captain were relaxing over a cribbage game, now that the tops of the escorts had dropped below the periscope’s horizon. After a game, they turned to the copy of ONI-208J, which MacAlman had brought to the wardroom. The long superstructure marked the ship as a transport, but the book showed none with her type of low stack and cruiser stern. She was probably too new to have been inclu
ded in the manual, so the Doc proceeded to the conning tower to record one transport of about 9,000 tons. Heading south, she had to have been carrying troops. It was a sobering thought, but eased by the knowledge that a like number of our soldiers might thus have been saved. This time starting forward, Morton commenced his turn through the boat to seek out, thank, and congratulate each member of his crew.

  Note from the Author

  Tokyo’s Domei news reported that on 5 October, a steamer was sunk by an American submarine off the west coast of Honshu, near the Tsushima Strait. The ship sank after several seconds, with 544 people losing their lives. (It had to have been Wahoo’s.)

  Time magazine reported this on 18 October, and compared the achievement to German Gunther Prien’s entry into Scapa Flow. (Had Time known that Morton had actually penetrated to the East China Sea, the feat would have been incomparable.)

  6

  The muffled sounds from distant depth charges had faded, for Wahoo’s turns for 6 knots and 2 more from the current had cleared the area. By noon, they had disappeared altogether. Tonjoson Wan was beckoning, and three blasts with engine bells initiated a high-speed surface run on course 355. If not driven down by a plane, Wahoo, at four-engine speed, should reach the last broad promontory before the great bay by dark, and she would be back in business.

  It was probably unnecessary to warn the lookouts, for all had seen the small chart now on display atop the gyro, but a good look at their submarine’s somewhat precarious position would do no harm. The total run to Imun Mal, which Kemp had marked on the chart, stepped off at 120 miles, and by the first dogwatch, 1600, the latest position showed Wahoo more than halfway there.

  The exhilaration from the last attack, in fact the whole patrol, had not subsided. Three ships down with the first seven torpedoes must have been some sort of a record, and this was not the halfway point for the time in the Sea of Japan. A few of the older hands, with many patrols, were not so vocal—they had gone to sea because they loved ships, but each one was a necessary step in bringing this war to a close, and for that they could cheer with their younger shipmates. There was not much time to consider these things, for on the very next midwatch Fire Control-man Logue raised a pip on the SJ where no island could be.

  Hiram Greene and Don Brown assisted by Simonetti assumed section tracking, while Verne, spelling the captain, took the conn until the contact was investigated. The ship was heading south towards Imun Mal, which Wahoo had passed at dusk. The broad point lay shoreward, but had a shoal area extending some miles to sea, and so would a passing ship.

  Through 7 X 50s, Verne was able to make out the ship as a cargoman of about the same size as the Masaki Maru, the freighter Wahoo had sunk to the north on October 1. Though there would be no advantage of wind and rain, Verne believed that a similar attack could be made, or there was plenty of time to be waiting for her off the point at dawn.

  Hiram came up to take the conn, and Verne went below to advise his skipper of the two possibilities. Morton chose a precise submerged attack, but came topside before making the final judgment. It was, after all, a captain’s decision. He conned his ship 5 miles to seaward prior to heading her south and turning the conn back to Hiram.

  For insurance and to provide time for a cautious approach to Imun Mal, Verne added a third engine and informed the captain. Abreast the point before the morning twilight, Wahoo stopped to confirm her DR with Buckley’s soundings as she moved cautiously westward towards the abrupt, 100-fathom curve. A sudden, though expected, 26 fathoms fixed her position and Verne conned Wahoo a mile to the east for diving at dawn.

  Morning twilight’s first horizon gave the navigator and Kemp a fine opportunity for star sights, which further fixed their location. Arriving on the bridge, Morton conned his boat closer to the 100-fathom curve, and pulled the plug when the enemy’s tops, in line, came over the horizon. Confidently, the crew had manned their battle stations on diving, so the Bells of St. Mary’s again were only a confirming formality.

  The freighter’s speed had been determined by the miles steamed since first sighted, allowing for the current, and was again confirmed when her hull came over the horizon—both 8 knots. Her course had been restricted by the shoals close to the 100-fathom curve, and measured 150 on the conning tower chart. Captain Morton was conning Wahoo to reach a position 800 yards from her restricted track when she would pass astern.

  Only one maneuver could have saved the freighter—an abrupt, dawn change of course to seaward—but the captain had already countered that by having three tubes made ready forward as well as aft. Verne’s angles and bearings kept pace with the TDC. There was no need for further consideration of the current; both submarine and freighter were being affected similarly, and so it would be with a torpedo and the target. The outer doors were opened aft; Morton gave his, “Any time, Verne,” and instantly the exec had marked a constant bearing. The first torpedo was on its way to hit below the freighter’s mainmast, and was followed by another to detonate under the foremast.

  All signs were normal, and the captain called Chief Carr to the conning tower to man the search scope at 15 seconds to go, advising him and Verne to remember details of the ship. The duration of the 1,300-yard torpedo run would be 87 seconds, and even Bill seemed to be counting slowly. Kemp raised the scopes, and instantly came the first crack, whack, and shaking explosion. Seven seconds later came a repeat. They were early, but only because of a range error which did not affect the lead angle or the accuracy. Chief Carr and Verne had identical reports: by the time the steam and smoke had blown clear, the freighter had completely disappeared.

  Wahoo continued eastward, and while their memories were fresh from the fleeting glimpses, Carr and the exec pored over ONI-208J. The only ship with the same configuration was about twice the target’s size, so they recorded her as Kanko Maru No. 2 of 1,288 gross tons.

  7

  Surfacing 30 minutes after the attack, Wahoo steadied on course 080 which would take her close to Ullung Do. This volcanic island, no more than 10 miles in diameter, had a 3,221-foot peak that might well serve as a beacon for larger north-south ships. Since it lay not far off the route, Morton wanted to give it at least a passing glance. The two engines on propulsion would have Wahoo there by noon. At the moment, breakfast was being served, and in the wardroom it would be difficult to describe a happier mess. If the sounds of comradeship drifting into the control room from the crew’s mess were a true indication, then the same mood was present there.

  Ullung Do’s peak came in sight at midmorning and continued to rise with every mile, the sight encouraging the lookouts and the search scope to find a mast ahead. As a check on the SJ and a practical demonstration, Verne and Kemp recorded the bearing of the peak when it was broad on the bow and the simultaneous reading of the mileage counter of the DRI. A similar recording when the peak was abeam showed the distance run matching the radar range, for they were two legs of an isosceles triangle. It would, of course, fix Wahoo’s position without the radar, and might stir a seaman’s interest in striking for quartermaster or signalman; already, Kemp was showing that it worked on beam and quarter too.

  On passing the island, Verne changed course to 060 as had been laid down on the chart, the duty chiefs messenger informing the captain. At the end of the fine pencil line lay Oga Hanto, a short, abrupt peninsula about 40 miles south of Tsugaru Strait and 350 miles dead ahead. Coming to the conning tower and noting the distance, Morton ordered a third engine on propulsion so Wahoo could approach Oga Hanto during the second night, October 7.

  Sawfish had made no further contacts in the area she had been patrolling, so just after midnight on October 3, she set course for Oga Hanto, about 2 days’ run to the south, making the transit in rain and through heavy seas. Smoke from three ships before breakfast on October 5 proved too distant to close, but during the first dogwatch, smoke developed into two other ships, which offered promise for an end-around. From her position 23 miles southwest of Oga Hanto, Captain Sands conned h
is submarine to a favorable approach position. Diving at 2215 to 40-foot keel depth, he conducted the approach by SJ radar and sound. With the TDC checking with both inputs, he ordered the normal 64 feet and fired a spread of three steam torpedoes by TDC from a range of 1,300 yards. Sound reported the dull thud from two of them on time, but again there were no detonations.

  At 1600 on October 6, from a point 6 miles west of Oga Hanto, Sawfish made her next contact on telltale smoke. It developed into a small, loaded freighter. Firing a spread of three Mark-18s at 8-second intervals, at least two missed astern as followed by sound. Thirty seconds after the first firing, a resounding thud was heard throughout the boat. (The second torpedo might very well have gone into a circular run and hit Sawfish seconds before arming.)

  Sawfish’s Mark-14 steam torpedo exploder performance had been comparable to Wahoo’s, and with this last Mark-18 performance, confirming that they were all running slower than designed, Captain Sands had decided to return to Base with the remaining Mark-18s. There, the experts might have the answer, whether it involved heaters, raising the specific gravity of the batteries, or modifying the TDC. In the Sea of Japan, 3,450 miles away was no place for experimenting, and Sawfish headed for La Perouse Strait.

  In his endorsement to Sawfish’s patrol report, the division commander wrote: “The performance of the Mark-18 electric torpedo is disappointing. Obviously, much work and test firings will have to be done before this torpedo is suitable for issue to our submarines.”

  Sawfish’s Mark-14 steam torpedoes, like Wahoo’s on her sixth patrol, were duds.

  A falling barometer gave a few hours’ warning of increasing seas and rain. They combined to make a daytime approach to the promontory more promising, and the third engine was taken off propulsion. At midafternoon, October 8, Wahoo closed the coast submerged. Through the periscope, the headland of Oga Hanto reached high above the waves and surf; it would have been unnerving to a surface ship. On the chart, the 20-fathom line was shown within 10 miles of the promontory’s hook-like tip. On either side of the short peninsula were soundings of 10 fathoms. Unaffected by the surface wind, Wahoo was able to reconnoiter the point and make tentative plans for attacking ships passing the point in either direction.