Clear the Bridge!

by Richard O'Kane

  Willing hands were helping with the torpedo reload while the evening meal progressed, probably with the knowledge that the movies could not start until the job was done. Our 5 knots had carried us well to seaward, but the depth charges kept rumbling. On surfacing, we found that the area astern was being swept by searchlights, and we knew that if the good Lord had not been on our side, we might be back there looking for an opportunity to surface and run for it. The time was 2010, and all engines went on charge or propulsion. Fraz gave the new course, 108 degrees true. It would take us back past Inamba Jima for a day or so of quiet patrol in deep seas.

  We had broken the ice, but our start was not auspicious. Nine torpedoes expended with one ship down and another damaged was nothing for Tang to crow about. We knew that the second, smaller maru had sunk, for there had been nothing left after the Biyo Maru class freighter had disintegrated to make the sobering breaking-up noises. Thirty-eight minutes later there was nothing in sight. Her best speed could not have taken her clear in that period. Still, the same rules applied to all of us, and visual evidence was required for the credit of a sinking. That was frequently easy enough early in the war, and even now in a few areas like the Yellow Sea. In some boats back in 1943, the camera club would be ready for daytime shots through the scope, and quite often had the opportunity. Now, with the ratio of escorts to ships practically reversed, cameras, even official ones, remained in the lockers during attack. At least this was so in Tang, though anyone could hang his camera around his neck if he wished. Actually, we had been fortunate to see the first ship break in two, for only the choice of basing our initial evasion on visual information rather than blind luck had made it possible.

  The orders this night contained the course, our speed of 18 knots, and the searching instructions. In the second paragraph I penned heartfelt congratulations to all hands. Staying within a patrol’s echo-ranging distance hour after hour had not been easy, and I doubted if any of our boats had ever done so before, but it insured joining the enemy. The troops knew that I had patrolled in fast company, but had they known that this was also my first experience in so slugging it out, some might have had heart failure. Somewhat regretfully, it might not be our last, for Admiral Lockwood’s letter left us little choice. At least we had found one way to put ships down in this area.

  Frank and Charles were in the wardroom when I laid the Night Order Book on the table. At hand was ONI-208J with slips of paper, one containing latitudes and longitudes, inserted at pages 220 and 230. It was a helpful gesture by the identification party, and we recorded the ships as usual:

  Sunk:

  Biyo Maru class freighter 5,425 tons Lat. 34° 12′ N.

  Long. 136° 19′ E.

  Damaged:

  Akasi Maru class freighter 3,057 tons Lat. 34° 12′ N.

  Long. 136° 19′ E.

  It was the first I knew of the identification of the second ship, but quite a bit was going on at the time, and the pictures shown did seem about right.

  While we were making the entries, some weird sounds floated aft from the movie in the torpedo room. I had to laugh with Frank, Charles, and Adams, who was serving me coffee. The crew had selected a Dracula film, perhaps to ease them back to normal gradually, but since the volume seemed unusually high, the choice might be for my benefit.

  Only the reports of the completion of the battery charge and of Inamba Jima on our bow and then abeam to starboard disturbed the night. Maneuvering bells and the feel of our ship told me that we had slowed on station, and I went topside for a look at the sea before we dived. Even in the first gray of dawn, the calm, almost oily surface was discernible. It would be a day for caution even in this remote spot.

  Charles called an unhurried “Clear the bridge.” Each lookout dropped to the step at the foot of the ladder, using the hand-grabs as dual firemen’s poles, then ducked clear and on below. If one of our new men was among them, he had learned quickly. The two blasts had initiated the dive, and now Tang was sliding below the surface in the same spot where she had dived on the first day in the area. Perhaps Basil was hoping for another chance to locate his smoke, but what all hands would like best was the 155 miles that separated us from the scene of our depth-charging.

  We had been too busy with our own little battles to think much about the rest of the war, but an item in the press news put us back in our proper place. Our forces’ assault landings to retake Guam, which had been a U.S. possession for 40 years before the war, had commenced during the last week of our refit. We had just assumed that with command of the air and sea for bombardment, all had gone well. The Japanese, however, had made every effort to reinforce the island, bringing its troop strength to an estimated 50,000. Guam had finally been secured just two days before, on August 10.

  Further consideration of the item and breakfast were interrupted by a call from Charles. We had a patrol boat in sight. The enemy was out early, for the wardroom clock read 0736. Fraz took this one, maneuvering to give the patrol a reasonably wide berth. As the morning progressed, we had our first tussle with the Kuroshio, or Japanese current. It sets about 065 degrees true in this locality, with a drift of anywhere from one to 3 knots. At our position, perhaps also affected by the tides and the islands, the drift appeared to be maximum. We found ourselves being set directly toward Mikura Jima and had to run to the south to stay clear of the island. In midafternoon, quite unexpectedly, depth-charging commenced. Planes and patrols were now in sight on every observation, and then came smoke in the direction of our dawn position.

  Tang was off on a long submerged run, making the maximum turns she could hold till dusk. Our attempt to maintain contact with the smoke failed, but we gave it a try at full power upon surfacing. Fraz’s plot showed the futility of continuing, however, for even a 6-knot enemy ship would reach the sanctuary of Tokyo Bay ahead of us. We had simply guessed wrong, as our evasion of the early-morning patrol could just as well have been to the west. That might have led to timely periscope sighting of the enemy and a successful submerged attack. Perhaps we were not using the talent embarked in Tang to its fullest. An arrow on a compass rose for Walker to spin could certainly do no worse.

  “Why not let him spit in his palm and hit it with his finger?” suggested Frank, and we might just do exactly that.

  As our chase had taken us close to Sagami Trough, south of Tokyo Bay, continuing on for a crack at any shipping along the southeast coast of Honshu seemed only logical. On the seaward side of the peninsula that forms Tokyo Bay, this 70-mile-long section runs from Nojima Zaki in the south to Inubo Saki in the north. Any traffic between Tokyo and ports to the north would be vulnerable when rounding each of these points. Fraz laid down the track and recommended our new course. Tang steadied on 046 and we went below for a very late evening meal.

  The chips weren’t falling our way, but this did not seem to affect the exuberance of our young officers. Mel and Dick came off watch as cheerful and optimistic as ever and seemed to lift the spirits of the rest of us. A report of weak radar signals of 260 and then 150 megacycles when Nojima Zaki was nearly abeam rang a bell for Mel.

  “That one-fifty is the same frequency radar that steadied on us in the Nakano Strait,” he recalled. “If they have surface-search radar here, they’re expecting ships,” he continued. Fraz sent for the Quartermaster’s Notebook, having remembered another frequency for the Nakano Strait. He thumbed it through and conceded that Mel was almost correct as he read 153. There was a logic in Mel’s appraisal that we might prove before the skies again turned gray.

  At 2300 we turned left toward Katsuura Wan, an open bay only 20 miles up the coast from Nojima Zaki. Just short of this roadstead, a finger of the 100-fathom curve extends to within two miles of the beach. We would attempt to stay close to this deep area and spend the remainder of the night inshore. Closing the enemy’s coast on the surface would never become routine, but a thoroughly competent navigator helped.

  The coast is long and low and this night seemed deserted. Tang was ne
ver more than three miles from the shore, so visual or SJ radar contact was assured, but nothing moved. The only sign that the peninsula was even inhabited came at 0300 when wood smoke commenced rolling from the beach. The aroma was so pronounced that we could almost see it. The inhabitants were probably withdrawing charcoal from retorts and restocking them, but knowing the source of the smoke did not help the visibility, which dropped quickly to zero. Even a radar approach would have been futile, so we withdrew for a submerged patrol at dawn, still wondering if the enemy knew he had a new submarine defense right at hand.

  We cleared the smoke by proceeding to the southwest well off the ten-fathom curve, and then Basil took us down in the gray of dawn. The concave shoreline insured a distant sighting of any coastal ship, with ample time to close to an attack position. Tang had been submerged over two hours on this August 13 when the anticipated call came from Hank on the periscope. Maneuvering bells brought Fraz and me to the conning tower on the double.

  Hank’s contact was smoke, not up or down the coast, but off to the southeast. A second true bearing showed that the enemy was drawing right, undoubtedly heading for Tokyo Bay. Tang was off to intercept at the best sustainable speed. Four bombers, and later a surface patrol, prevented a surface dash to get on the enemy ship’s track, and our 12-mile high-speed submerged approach fell short by three miles of reaching a firing position. Frank and Fraz practiced calling angles on the stern of a fine medium-sized freighter until she disappeared around Nojima Zaki.

  This was our drill and contact for the day. After surfacing at 1921, we took one more turn up the 100-fathom curve to Inubo Saki and then headed toward the Tori Shima area of the southern islands. Tang would not be able to cover the 300 miles before the next night even at full power, so we rolled south at a comfortable three-engine speed. Comfortable till dawn, when Ed’s “Clear the bridge!” and two blasts sent us down. The time was 0429, close to our usual time for diving at dawn, but this time we had submerged for a yacht. The craft was not on a pleasure cruise, however, for a closer look showed heavy machine guns and extra antennas. What she was doing here, 40 miles east of Hachijo Jima, we meant to find out and at the same time keep her in sight as a target for our 4-inch gun crew if nothing worthy of torpedoes showed up.

  Though my intentions were not announced, not even whispered, the ship’s company sensed the plan and started with such preparations that stopping them would have been difficult indeed. It was entirely possible that the yacht had plans that included Tang, for numerous planes kept our scopes dunking, and her maneuvering prevented our surfacing for high periscope searches. The troops experienced some anxiety at midafternoon when we lost their target, but a dash on the surface between planes regained contact and all was forgiven.

  After the last plane had apparently retired, we surfaced to check all guns, and then Ballinger passed the word, “Battle stations—gun!” The general alarm pealed with all of the authority that would accompany a full-fledged torpedo attack. At range 7,000, I ordered, “Commence firing!” Dick and Mel took it from there.

  The yacht was tenacious and wiry, twisting and turning and closing the range at every opportunity. Her weapons seemed to be the equivalent of 20-millimeter machine guns but maybe larger, for she kept us outside of 4,500 yards and stayed on in deflection. The shoot provided a good example for my argument against having a single gun forward, since at one point while we were opening the range, our 4-inch came against the stops short of the conning tower and would not bear. With the slow rate of fire, about seven seconds per round, it was impossible to stay on the yacht for more than one or two hits after Mel had spotted the splashes on, and only eight sure hits were observed. They were good ones, however, exploding in her side and upper works, and demolishing her deckhouse.

  After 88 rounds, I ordered, “Cease fire,” so we’d have the remaining 40 rounds for defensive purposes. To me, the enemy still seemed under control, and I thought it best not to mention a somewhat similar incident, though at much shorter range, when the enemy’s crew had come up from the sheltered side and thumbed their noses at us as we withdrew.

  The activity gave the troops something to talk about as we proceeded down the island chain. This was well, for only daily dives to avoid bombers and one depth charge from a Mavis bomber marked our surface patrol off Tori Shima. Again, however, we caught up with the war by the brief, nightly reports of press news. Allied forces commenced landing on the south coast of France on the 15th and the buildup was continuing. Hitler had another front to face, and this should be the beginning of the end in Europe.

  It was 1410 on the afternoon of August 18. Tang had been down an hour for another bomber, marking time in this area, and was about to surface.

  “Fraz, let’s head in and get a ship!” His answer was a broad smile and an OK sign.

  6

  Any change of mood usually spread quickly through a submarine, probably due to the physical closeness of the whole ship’s company. Even experienced hands who might otherwise be conservative were caught up in a chase and often turned out to be the more aggressive men. Their knowledge of what had to be done and how to do it was, of course, a factor, and when the enemy was joined you didn’t stand in their way. There was no enemy in sight, nor in all probability would there be for another 300 miles, but the three engines on the line and our new course were all that was needed to spark a feeling of enthusiasm within our ship.

  Our few days of open-sea operations were a necessary part of this patrol, and more might follow. I would be remiss in not trying to find the enemy in waters where we could take full advantage of our strong points in attack and evasion. That, for the moment, having proven unproductive, we would attack the enemy on his terms, and our beeline track toward the southwest coast of Honshu told all hands where.

  Kantori Saki, our destination, is the next sizable promontory to the south of Miki Saki. A shallow, low coastline extends northward without interruption for some 20 miles. Thus, sufficient tracking of all ships coming down the coast should be possible. Those heading north might get torpedoes shot from the hip. In either case, Tang should be able to reach deep water within minutes. Fraz had brought the chart to the wardroom with our estimated positions marked along the track. If Tang could stay on the surface undetected until the following noon, a submerged run would put her in position to attack after dark. My night orders emphasized the key points.

  Proceeding on course 312° true at 18 knots toward Kantori Saki for inshore patrol against the enemy. Our success can depend on reaching the promontory undetected. Search with the SJ continuously during the night. Man the search scope at dawn, and station two extra lookouts at sunrise.

  Inform me when the battery charge is completed, and call me to the conning tower or bridge for any contact this night which is inside 10,000 yards. If in doubt, dive first.

  I entered the usual call, this time for 0400, and handed the book to Walker for delivery to the duty chief. A few minutes later I walked aft to the control room on my way topside. De Lapp was standing the duty chiefs watch with Hudson. That was the way it would be for the remainder of this patrol, as those about to make chief petty officer worked into the new responsibilities they must assume. The watch was staggered so that the best from our experienced duty chiefs might rub off on those who would fill out that watch list. It was a continuation of the program we had commenced a patrol ago to insure that Tang’s key billets were all filled by seasoned hands.

  It was well to look ahead, but now Fraz and I had to concentrate on the present to be sure of Tang’s arrival at the exact spot to intercept the enemy whenever he chose to move along the coast. On topside, the lower limb of the near new moon had set and a light overcast was blanking out all but the brightest stars. Even the turbulence along the limber holes and our wake were barely visible on this black night. We could not have ordered conditions more to our liking, for they practically guaranteed an uninterrupted night. Still, on such a night there often arose an unconscious tendency to relax, even e
ver so slightly. On the way below, I mentally pictured myself as the OOD as I reread my night orders; they seemed adequate.

  Before dawn, Charles reported a drizzle and low overcast. We would have ordered this, too. Extra lookouts were posted nonetheless, and we rolled on through the morning. Fraz’s dead reckoning position at noon showed that Tang could now close Kantori Saki submerged. With deference to the Kuroshio and to insure reasonable battery gravity, I put off our dive for an hour but welcomed Basil’s two blasts sending Tang down still undetected.

  The submerged hours could well have been spent on Fraz’s educational program, the course books and qualification, but when closing the enemy’s coast none of us could concentrate on such things. The watches, library books, and acey-deucey games took precedence on this August 19, that is, until evening chow was piped down a half hour early. The change was just to permit all messes to be squared away before surfacing. With improving visibility, Fraz had obtained high periscope bearings of Kantori Saki and Shiono Misaki to the south. His lines crossed close to our dead reckoning position, and now three blasts sent us up into the darkness of the night. The time was 1904.

  The run in to the coast just north of Kantori Saki must have given Fraz and Jones fits, for as they were attempting to fix Tang’s position, we were following an irregular worm turn in avoiding sampans. Nothing interfered with our closing to 5,000 yards from the beach, however, and here we were assured of finding any ship that dared to pass. Evenly spaced dim lights, perhaps a mile apart, were now visible along the shore. They were possibly lighted buoys marking the six- or seven-fathom curve and meant to guide shipping in those safe shallow waters. This was the thought that first came to mind, and it led us to believe a ship might this minute be approaching the point where it would become distinguishable on the SJ. As time went by with nothing moving, we thought of typical water-colors or prints showing a Japanese fisherman at the end of his small pier. There could be night fishing going on out there, with lanterns hung out to attract certain fish. Further contemplation was put aside as a patrol boat came down the coast to seaward of us. When she was nearly abreast of our position, she slowed and her silhouette sharpened. So did Tang’s as we turned toward the patrol and deeper water. Holding our breath a little, we waited; no one spoke. And then her silhouette broadened as she completed a 180-degree turn to proceed back up the coast.