Tackling one torpedo at a time, all parts of the depth-keeping mechanism—the pendulum, hydrostatic diaphragm, the depth engine, the differential valve, and the small air flasks—were checked. When this was completed, each torpedo was suspended by a loading strap with chain fall, then swung and tilted, with gyros running, to check the operation of both horizontal and vertical rudders. With the exception of some stickiness, which was remedied by solvent and light oil, no faults were found, and for most of us, some faith in these torpedoes was restored. The task had taken all day, and we surfaced into another overcast night.
The hours of darkness were undisturbed, as were those of early morning. With improving visibility and then with lifting overcast, we dived at 0958 on June 27 for another day of submerged patrolling. The weather was now to the enemy’s liking, for Larry reported a Betty searching just ten minutes after we submerged. At first it appeared that the plane might presage ship movements; but then the general nature of its search, not along any projected track, dispelled this hope. Probably several days would pass before ships ventured this way. Another Betty wandered about in the late afternoon, and then a Dan bomber just before sunset completed the enemy’s activity for the day. Close to the end of evening twilight, we surfaced into a quiet night to conduct a surface search of our own. Trash and garbage went down in weighted sacks and sanitaries were blown with Tang heading upwind. In the middle of these operations, Hudson, the duty chief, called over the bridge speaker: “Ultra for action Sealion, Tang, and Tinosa!”
6
The message was not a true Ultra as we had come to know them, in that specific enemy ship movements were not mentioned. Instead, the dispatch contained the coordinates of an enemy shipping route. The ports—Shanghai to the west and Shimonoseki, leading from the Tsushima Strait into the Inland Sea, to the east—were important, however. Ogden brought the chart, with dividers, pencils, and parallel rulers to the wardroom. Fraz went to work with the table as a chart desk.
Navigating unquestionably provides the best way of learning an area. The seriousness and responsibility connected with the work and the constant plotting imprint an almost permanent memory. The first set of coordinates that Fraz plotted rang a bell for me; the second pair confirmed my suspicion. This was turning out to be essentially the same route I had plotted when navigating Wahoo here some 15 months before, but that time my skipper had brought the coordinates aboard on a slip of paper just before our departure.
Tang was a long way from Pearl, so we could not be sure of the source of this information. But Japanese ship movement reports, and consequently Ultras, were nonexistent in these waters. Our guess was that the coordinates had been part of a fake message sent in the enemy’s ship movement code. The ruse would lure our submarines to the area while enemy shipping avoided it. The period during which the three submarines were to work together was being prolonged, for the dispatch further directed Don Weiss to position us to intercept the enemy. As we saw it, the time for the three boats to fan out and find the enemy’s ships was past due. There were probably 60 vessels or more, mostly unescorted, now at sea and ripe for torpedoes. Every wasted day gave the enemy an opportunity to shift more patrols to these seas and to bring ships home safely. To me, this was a perfect example of telling a commander how to do his job instead of properly spelling out what was wanted—and this from across the seas.
Another rendezvous was scheduled for Danjo Gunto which, translated, must mean “meeting place.” Again Fraz paddled out into the night, but this time without instructions. He would play it by ear, for we had not yet been hurt by this dispatch. The meeting was relatively short, and Fraz was soon back aboard. With Tang heading northward, Fraz joined us in the wardroom. He was obviously waiting for my question, so I obliged.
“We’ve been banished,” he said, but with a twinkle in his eye. Then he explained. Don Weiss had placed his Tinosa to the south of the reported shipping lane and Sealion to the north of it; he had assigned Tang the area commencing 40 miles north of the line.
“And the other boundaries?” I asked.
“Well, Captain Weiss didn’t get around to that, and I didn’t think we would want to bring it up.”
Fraz was enjoying every minute of it, and well he might. As at San Diego, where the southern limits of our training area had been omitted, here the northern boundary had not been specified, nor the eastern and western for that matter. That should guarantee the contacts, and once the enemy was sighted hot pursuit had no limit. We had the whole Yellow Sea.
Our movement northward was slow and deliberate; we crossed the specified route submerged on the 28th and then proceeded northwest at one-engine speed after dark. Again we had one objective: To make our presence known only by our torpedo detonations. To this end, the small APR-1 radar detector was in constant use whenever Tang was surfaced. Hour after hour, one member of the radio watch cranked the dial up through its range of frequencies and then back down again. It was a monotonous task, rechecking static and spurious signals that our electrical machinery generated. When opportunity permitted, these were identified and logged, but every now and then the patience paid off. At 2000, Bergman detected a momentary noise that repeated and then developed into the short buzzes characteristic of a revolving radar. It was probably from Saishu To, sometimes called Quelpart, a great island with a 6,000-foot peak that lies 45 miles off the southern tip of Korea. Possibly the signal was coming from Mara To, a small island five miles closer to Tang at the moment. Fraz laid down a new track that left both islands farther on our starboard beam to insure that we would remain undetected or at least unrecognized.
The rituals that always followed cleaning up after the evening meal had been completed. Larry had reported us back on course after the short run to windward, and now the noises of a Western movie were drifting back from the forward torpedo room. For two-thirds of the ship’s company, this could just as well have been a training cruise, remarkable when you consider that the chart in the crew’s mess showed Tang about to enter the Yellow Sea, 4,600 miles from Pearl Harbor. It was a compliment to the duty section and a measure of our self-confidence and of our faith in our boat. Lest we forget for even a moment that the enemy was just as determined as we in Tang were, I again penned special cautions following the usual entries in the Night Order Book.
The course of 315 degrees true would take us between Kakyo To and Hen Sho, just off the southwest coast of Korea. The evening was interrupted only by the report of sampans and by our occasional maneuvers to avoid them. In the early morning hours, however, weak 95 megacycle radar on our APR-1 and an SJ contact near Kakyo To brought Fraz and me to the conning tower. It need not have, for the section tracking party determined that the contact was actually another one of the side lobes that plagued us from time to time. I did not object to having my sleep disturbed, for there had been doubt, and then especially I was to be called. For the real enemy, it was simpler: Head for him, head away, or dive. Happily, our APR-1 signal did not increase in intensity as we drew near the island, thus eliminating Kakyo To as the source of the radiation and assuring us that we remained undetected.
It was too late to turn in again, so Fraz and I brought Tang up close to Hen Sho, a small island in the middle of the pass. Here we dived at 0441, when just a semblance of gray was noticeable in the drizzle and overcast.
The 34th parallel of latitude divides the East China Sea and the Yellow Sea. Our position was ten miles north of this parallel and west of the myriad of islands that make up the true southern tip of Korea. From here we could intercept enemy shipping that followed either the general path of the parallel or the safer route winding through the islands. There could be an additional advantage, for if Sealion and Tinosa, patrolling to the south, were sighted, traffic might well be routed our way.
Daylight brought low, fast-moving fog patches, not bad in themselves, but the cold water, which was responsible for the fog, chilled our periscopes. Within a second or two after the lens broke surface into the moist summer air
, it fogged over hopelessly. The watch was soon using both scopes alternately, one searching while the other dunked. This proved inefficient, almost impossible, so sound and periscopes were backed up with periodic SJ sweeps, with a generous amount of shears exposed momentarily.
The morning wore on, especially for the navigator, as our set and drift varied with each attempted fix. An occasional single ping sounding assured us that Tang was remaining outside the 30-fathom curve, however, and should be unhampered in any maneuvers. At 1140 the 1MC hummed in all compartments, presumably to announce, “Chow down!” but the words instead were, “Freighter to the north! Course west!”
The duty chief had preempted the 1MC to locate me aft. The announcement was really not a bad idea, for certainly the whole crew shared an equal interest in any bona fide ship contact. Not until Ogden raised the scope did I become aware that the drumstick I had snitched from the galley was still in my hand. Not too dignified, but I forgot about it when the enemy came into the field.
The scope was vibrating as Tang picked up speed, for Mort had already ordered a normal approach course and had gone ahead standard. The major details of the ship were discernible, however, a fine mast-funnel-mast freighter, but with approximately a 60-degree angle on the bow. The generated setup on the TDC checked closely with the observation, and Mort’s initial action was the best we could do until tracking showed the freighters base course and speed.
Waiting between periscope exposures while closing the enemy could frequently be more trying than standing by for torpedoes to hit. Then only torpedo failures or an incorrect firing solution could save the enemy. But this freighter was still free and could escape to the islands with the aid of the rain and squalls. We needed to close her track, but most of all we had to maintain contact. A good ten-minute full-speed run was in order, but halfway through we stopped our screws to permit sound to take a bearing. Bergman flipped on the speaker, and the loud wump-wump-wump of the target’s propeller filled the conning tower. We were closing, but the enemy was drawing left. I let Tang coast on down to 4 knots for a periscope observation. The standard procedure for an observation served only as good training, for though the freighter was nicely broad on our bow at 4,000 yards, we were on her port quarter. Overtaking torpedoes would barely reach, and hits would be most unlikely.
“Left twenty degrees rudder. All ahead standard.”
A glance at the TDC while we were turning, then running a finger across the target dial and off on the inscribed ship’s port bow gave our course. We called it the normal evasion course, one that would maintain the best bearing possible while Tang opened the range preparatory to a surface end-around. We settled on 235 and would slow only as necessary for a quick glance at the enemy.
Not long before, such courses were determined quickly, avoiding the delay of plotting, by using a multidialed calculator, resembling a circular slide rule and called an Is-Was. I had reluctantly put it aside as a standby, for even with electrical failure, Frank could crank in the correct picture on the TDC.
Increasing seas as we left the lee of the islands slowed the enemy but did not affect us submerged. Tang maintained the bearing on the freighter’s quarter, actually gaining at times as the range increased.
“Lookouts to the conning tower. Stand by to surface, four engines.” The order, which Fraz announced over the 1MC at my nod, still sent a tingle through my spine and probably that of every man aboard. Ahead lay a race and maneuver impossible to duplicate in other than submarine warfare, and one in which a fair portion of the ship’s company could visually participate. Not since our first patrol had we been so involved, but this should be a relatively quick, concise action. Larry took the dive, and I called him up to the lower conning tower hatch for a word of caution.
“We’ll be surfacing into a heavy chop. Don’t economize on the high-pressure air. Give her at least twice the normal blow.” Machinist’s Mate De Lapp, from the air manifold, had moved over below Larry. They were a good combination. How good I was to learn after the three blasts. The time was 1330, an hour and a half into the attack.
De Lapp didn’t crack the high-pressure valves, he opened them, probably fulfilling a long-standing desire. This was the time, for we were rolling, working on up to full power on all mains without a moment lost. Only a short blow by the turbos had been required, for the high-pressure air had done a part of their work. Now the bridge was quiet except for the wind and the slap of heavy spray blown against the conning tower fairwater. We were not buffeted by the seas as was the freighter, but in working through them Tang took on a rather uncomfortable twist. It was soon forgotten in the excitement of keeping the enemy in sight and not at the same time disclosing ourselves to the freighter or to an ever possible air patrol. Fortunately, the remoteness of this area and the weather almost precluded air opposition.
We had anticipated passing the freighter on an arc at maximum raised periscope range, but reducing visibility permitted a nearly straight course, and we relied on our crow’s nest and the SJ to maintain contact. Occasionally an angle on the bow from a raised periscope would supplement the information for Frank.
We were not at battle stations, but one after another those men and officers with key billets took over. It soon seemed that every one felt that his was a key job, and viewing the problem at hand in its entirety, each was correct. An hour and a half had gone by since surfacing, and the freighter was now 15,000 yards abeam. We were on a parallel track and would now follow the courses recommended by the navigator to maintain the range at about seven and a half miles and put us dead ahead of the enemy.
On each glimpse of the freighter, a bit of information was supplied to our identification party. They had become less hesitant about asking for a specific detail when it was required to solve their puzzle. They had tentatively settled on the Tazan Maru and brought ONI-208J to the conning tower, open to the page. It was one of the extra things that could be done on an approach such as this and helped to make it exact. The length and masthead height would be used on the stadimeter.
At 1600 on the button, two blasts took us down dead ahead of the enemy. Frank had the freighter on base course 255 at 7 knots. The range was fine, 16,000 yards. Proceeding with the enemy would delay the attack, but there would be two advantages: She would be farther from any help, and our maneuvers for the desired bow shot would be simplified. With these considerations, we let her overtake us.
A stern chase was always long, and when waiting for an attack time seemed to drag. Another hour passed, but now the freighter was in constant view. It was tantalizing but not easy on the nerves, and I considered turning towards to get it over with. The enemy ship did her part, however, and at 1730 the Bells of St. Mary’s chimed again. Compartments reported from forward to aft, and Fraz gave the order: “Make ready tubes three, four, five, six, and seven, eight, nine, and ten. Set all torpedoes to run on ten feet.”
That should be enough torpedoes, four forward or four aft, to sink this freighter two times over, but we need not necessarily fire a full salvo. We had discussed the depth setting at some length, but with our experience of the surface runners in mind, and now with choppy seas that tended to make torpedoes broach, a ten-foot running depth seemed the minimum.
Our first maneuver was a dipsy doodle, a gradual turn off the track and then a sharp turn back, like a question mark laid out a little to the right ahead. It brought the bow tubes perpendicular to the enemy’s track, insuring a bow shot. This was of some importance, for we would retain our ability to fire from forward or aft on later attacks if we did not use our electric torpedoes now. The enemy did not completely cooperate and zigged towards, requiring a repeat maneuver by Tang, but that was par.
Now with the angles I called and the ranges Jones read all checking closely with TDC, Fraz announced, “Five degrees to go.”
“Stand by for constant bearings. Up scope.” Jones brought it up smartly, all the way. The freighter had no chance of spotting our two feet of scope in this chop.
&n
bsp; “Constant bearing—mark!”
“Set!”
“Fire!” Her mainmast had touched the wire, and our first torpedo zinged on its way. The second went to her foremast.
The range on firing was 1,250, the track 90; Fraz called the time of run, 47 seconds. I watched the smoky wake of each torpedo right to its point of aim. There were no explosions; they had passed under the enemy ship. The freighter turned menacingly towards, down the still visible wakes.
7
“All ahead standard. Left full rudder. Flood negative. Take her deep. Grab a sounding.” I felt a little silly acting like we had a destroyer after us, but we would not be reattacking this alerted ship now, and besides, if you’re not on the offensive, be on the defensive. Tang was now passing 200 feet, still 50 feet off the bottom, when quite unbelievably the freighter gave us two very close depth charges. The shoe was on the other foot; they weren’t supposed to do that!
Caverly had shaken the depth charges out of his ears and donned his phones again; he reported the enemy’s screws drawing away. We started back up, as a quarter of an hour had gone by. Larry approached periscope depth, and the scope was coming up to deck level, to my hands as I squatted for that first look. A shaking whack and rumble sent us back down to think this one over. There had been no planes, and we came to the conclusion that the detonation of a third charge had been delayed, perhaps intentionally with a time device, to keep us occupied while the freighter escaped. We returned to periscope depth, this time into the fading twilight. A sweep with the SJ, and Tang surfaced onto the Yellow Sea, all her own.
Clear the Bridge! Page 26