Clear the Bridge!
Page 39
The LST was heading for the beach, and a sweep showed no ship or plane paying attention to our immediate position, so Fraz and Frank each took a squint of the sinking transport, followed by Ballinger. It was not just pure generosity; we wanted extra witnesses to watch her go.
Some ship or plane dropped two depth charges, nicely spaced so Caverly obtained two soundings. Following the bottom, 100 turns on the props cleared us out of the area. For once, counterattack of the submarine seemed to be of second priority, undoubtedly as the survivors were picked up. Ten full minutes passed before the charges rained. Tang was then snug at deep submergence, and two hours at high speed followed by gradual slowing kept everything astern, including a multiship echo-ranging search. The enemy was persistent, apparently staying with us, and we came back to periscope depth for the advantage of a visual observation. Masts, four of them, were fanned out across our stern, but the howling pings were not as disturbing now that we could see the ships’ tops. It was so easy to think that echo-ranging was getting closer that watching the enemy as soon as it was reasonably safe had a mental as well as a tactical advantage.
Our patrol had been punctuated by disappointments and triumphs, but each had added to our total experience, and especially to that of our new hands. In just over three weeks they had participated in more action than I had seen in Wahoo’s two long early patrols. As I watched Basil going about his duties with confidence, it was evident that he had already acquired the pride I had hoped for.
During the afternoon, volunteers commenced sorting the freezer room; this patrol now promised to be of no longer duration than the last. Darkness was trebly welcome, for the three blasts of the surface alarm would herald a rush of God’s fresh air, then frying steaks, and a full-power run away from the enemy, now back on the dark horizon.
9
Jones had spent a part of the afternoon over the chart with his tracing sheet firmly secured in place, apparently oblivious to the sonar search going on behind us. Keeping busy was the best way to keep the enemy from getting on your nerves, but Jones’s task had become a necessary and continuing chore. After a week our tracks were crossing on the navigator’s chart, and a glance at all of the tracings now showed a confusion of lines. They were visual evidence of our hit-and-run policy, always trying to put at least a hundred miles behind us after an attack, and preferably twice that figure. It was not just a measure affecting our immediate safety but one that we hoped would confuse the enemy. Our torpedoes, whether they hit or exploded on the beach, were announcing the presence of a submarine. The Japanese had those positions plotted, but without the tracks they would certainly attribute them to more than one submarine, maybe three or four. How could they be expected to know of our extra fuel capacity and attendant long legs when our own force engineer and operations hadn’t? At least this should disperse the enemy’s escorts.
At the moment Tang was charging through the night and before dawn would have added another 160 miles to the 3,000 that Jones had added up roughly, 3,160 miles just in these two areas.
“That should provide the DivCom with his endorsement,” Fraz commented as we relaxed with after-dinner coffee. “‘Excellent area coverage is indicated,’” he intoned, of course needling me a bit about the endorsement I disdained. This time there might just be some periods of running scared. Midway was only 2,500 miles away; we had the fuel, and if it could add to our safety and help promote this patrol, we’d not carry any excess back.
“I’m still wondering about that destroyer we had this morning.” Frank had changed the specific area of the conversation a little, but turning entirely away from the morning attack would be like forgetting an Army-Navy game with the last play. It was routine to discuss any attack, sometimes to find out what went wrong, but going over what went right was a lot more fun and sometimes just as important.
“Maybe she never did train her sound gear far enough aft,” said Mel. “As I remember, we were almost continuously on her quarter.” I was pleased to have the junior officers join in, for they were flexible and could come down with fresh ideas. Without a watch to stand, I had been mulling over the subject for some hours, and Mel was close to my conclusion. I threw it on the table to see what comment it might elicit from others.
“I figure she had a fixed sonar and was searching by maneuvering in lazy circles. We stayed on the inside, keeping our bow to her, and as Mel said, never did get off her quarter for any appreciable length of time nor into a forward sector where she could have obtained an echo.”
“Could it have been just a Fathometer we heard?” asked Dick. None of the rest of us had considered this, but it was as plausible an explanation as any other. A Fathometer is just a vertical echo-ranger; its pings would sound the same and could drive a submarine out of position just as effectively as horizontal echo-ranging and might even make a contact. Many an attack had been thwarted by random depth charges, and the combination of an old type destroyer with long depth-charge racks and a powerful Fathometer could have been successful, too. That is, if we had not unwittingly done the right thing, not through any logic other than remaining in an attack attitude. One thing was certain, however; the failure of the destroyer to make contact would remain a pleasant mystery.
We had received no identification of the transport during the attack, partly because of the few observations and little information sent to the party. Had it been a normal attack, the ship could not have been typed anyway, for she was nowhere in the books. The party had done the next best thing, submitting a paragraph for the record:
The Naval Transport would appear similar to Buenos Aires Maru, page 45, if she were given a raked bow and her stack cut down level with the highest point of her superstructure. The gross tonnage would be about 10,000 and the standard displacement 15,000 tons.
We checked ONI-208J again and none of us present who had seen her disagreed. I recorded the latitude, 34° 37′ north, and the longitude, 137° 50′ east, and to ward off any questions added one sentence, This was not a hospital ship, since the identification book contained a small note saying that the Buenos Aires Maru had been designated as such. The night orders were again brief, my congratulations having gone over the 1MC. Proceeding at three-engine speed on course 247° true to pass Shiono Misaki before dawn and attack shipping on southern coast. When the battery charge is completed at about 2300, put the fourth engine on propulsion and work up to full power. Call me topside for any contact inside of 10,000 yards or dive.
A turn through the boat, the report of increasing seas from the west slowing us a knot, the completion of the battery charge, and then the expected radar signals from Shiono Misaki, all of these made the night go quickly. It was speeded further by an SJ contact out at 10,000 yards. The time was 0336 on this August 24, and section tracking was sufficient for the moment. With Hank, Charles, and Frank assisting, the tracking went smoothly. It was like old times, gaining position ahead with a surface dash on an enemy ship making only 6 knots, but we had not yet made her out in this darkest part of the night. The run carried us toward the beach from the 100-fathom curve, and now we had a second ship, close inshore and seemingly larger. As the first contact was probably an escort, we shifted targets. The Bells of St. Mary’s called an 0428 reveille to go with battle stations, and moments later Larry took our ship below the seas.
Our approach went smoothly on to a generated range of 3,000 yards. Then in the dawn light the ship commenced signaling with yardarm blinkers and maneuvered away, displaying a super load of depth charges and efficient looking guns. We kept a bead on her, but like the destroyer the day before she could foreshadow a real target. None of us regretted that her maneuvers took her shoreward, never giving us a suitable setup. It appeared that she had been relieved by a second patrol, which kept us occupied for the next two hours. The troops, a few at a time, finished breakfast. And then, too late, we saw the second escort lead a medium-sized diesel tanker out of Kazampo, just east of Ichiye Saki, and head for Shiono Misaki hugging the coast.
The freighters were in ballast or riding high. Still 13,000 yards away, we should have no difficulty in making the necessary run to close the track. An escort similar to the Hishun Maru following astern offered no problem; neither did two destroyer types, one just to seaward of each freighter. Tang was on a long run in, and we’d take a look from the 30-fathom curve. It was always a long wait, but finally Fraz gave me a nod.
“All ahead one-third.” Maneuvering answered, but with the bells came reports of light screws and echo-ranging on our starboard beam and quarter. When Welch called 3 knots and Jones brought up the scope, I trained first to starboard. We had two PCs, not yet threatening, though the one on our quarter was obviously already to seaward of our position. Left to the freighters showed them coming on, and against the background of the beach they were definitely painted white. This was unusual and so were the maneuvers of the destroyers, which were patrolling with a worm turn, a sine wave track, each still abeam of her respective freighter.
Tang was charging in again, and the next observation would be from about the 25-fathom curve. The ocean floor shelved very slowly, and we had time to consider further the details of our last observation. Were the destroyers searching with fixed sonar, or were they momentarily expecting torpedoes and wormturning to add to the difficulties facing the submarine? Further, what were the PCs doing this far to seaward, considerably outside of a submarine’s firing position? We slowed again; the situation was changed only by the addition of another PC to starboard. The scope was down, and I looked over the situation on Fraz’s chart. Neither of us liked the pending long torpedo run, but we’d see what developed at an estimated 20 fathoms. We were now moving in at a somewhat cautious two-thirds speed.
Again Welch rang up one-third speed. Caverly swept around and had the jumble of freighters’ and destroyers’ screws on our starboard bow as expected. Further to starboard and across our stern, he now reported light swishes of four patrols, the two on our beam somewhat close. Jones had the scope ready and brought it up for one of our water-lapping looks. The sweep was quick and the scope was down. We’d need to move in another thousand yards for the shot we’d want, in to 15 fathoms. But what disturbed me as much were the PCs, now five of them, poised in an arc between us and deep water.
“Fraz, this situation stinks!” I remarked, straightening up as Jones lowered the scope.
Fraz’s thumb pointing seaward and his pleading expression fortified my decision. No exchange of words was necessary. Routine orders sent Tang into a great descending curve, the half turn of a helix, toward the PCs and friendly seas beyond. In all compartments our troops quietly went about rigging for depth charge.
10
Our speed was two-thirds, not sufficient to permit the patrolling PCs to hear our screws, but the 5 knots was bringing us around handsomely. Fraz and Jones had used their Ouija board in arriving at the depth of the sea, and Larry was about to settle us two fathoms off the bottom at 90 feet. Rather than dispute the navigators’ figure, I ordered the sound heads rigged in. It need not be for long, and at the moment Bergman, with the topside-mounted JP head, was doing a masterful job in reporting the low-pitched pings of the enemy. Larry went through to a 3-degree up-angle in leveling off, not unusual and advantageous on this occasion. The stern didn’t hit, so neither should the sound heads.
We had the choice of heading off to pass between two PCs, giving each of them the opportunity for a broadside echo, or of heading directly beneath the one nearly ahead and presenting a minimal angle. The fine line traced by the stylus of our bathythermograph showed a minute horizontal movement at our present depth. It could signify a temperature gradient ahead. We repeated the sound head procedure while going down another 50 feet and passing directly beneath a PC. The seas were kind, and we cruised to deep water below a 5-degree gradient, which would reflect all but a fraction of each enemy ping.
One depth charge, perhaps dropped in disgust, bade us farewell, and we commenced rigging for normal submerged cruising. Tang had been completely on the defensive since the decision to break off the approach, and the immediate rigging for depth charge had obviously smoothed out our withdrawal. This became especially evident when Fraz and I compared it to the simultaneous rigging and evasion following the first successful attack of this patrol, out of Owashi Wan. It would seem that some rigging for depth charge could take place during the approach, thus speeding the transition to the defensive after firing. We each knew of boats that operated that way, but in them the spark that turned a ship’s company into a fighting unit seemed to have been snuffed out along the way or never was ignited at all. They had sunk some ships, but not many.
Tang would continue on the offensive just as long as she logically could; we’d worry about evasion when the time came. It had come this day for several reasons: The enemy at least suspected our presence, or had made a good guess, and true surprise was lacking; Tang was being forced to attack from a precariously shallow position and would have no torpedoes left for defense; and the enemy’s antisubmarine unit was already in place, waiting for us to shoot. Retreat has its place in any battle, even in a submarine’s. We could find a better spot, with conditions more to our liking, and we still had our last three torpedoes.
The patrol was young, a week shy of a month, and timewise we could afford a ropeyarn Sunday. But the waxing moon dictated otherwise, for now late in the second quarter, it was shining bright at sunset. An extra day and it would be low above the horizon and a definite hindrance to a submarine wanting to surface and make a run for it. We could avoid the worst of this by attacking tomorrow.
The horizon was clear late into evening twilight, when we surfaced under a three-quarter moon. It was 1930, the evening meal was over, and only routine dumping of weighted sacks held up another high-speed run. Fraz had laid down a track that would take us well clear of any possible radar detection from Shiono Misaki and then northeast past Kantori Saki and back to our old stomping ground near Miki Saki. We would not be moving onto this point nor into Owashi Wan but to a lesser point about five miles to the southwest called Nigishima. It is tipped by a small island lying about 300 yards off the point, and any sizable ships would have to pass to seaward. Further, the motorboat patrols that we had observed before near Miki Saki—and who had observed us, too—did not range this far. With 50 fathoms close to the seaward side of the island, it appeared a natural for our last attack.
The squalls reported to be gathering should make the passage more secure, but with the sudden change in the weather, I went topside to see for myself. Fraz was already there, and though the lookout efficiency and even that of the radar were reduced, this would affect the enemy without radar more adversely. I was on my way below when Hank’s firm voice called me to the bridge. There, unbelievably close and parallel to us, was a submarine. Radar called 1,100 yards, and I called, “Left full rudder!” putting her astern. We had moved out to 5,000 yards when tracking showed that she had turned away also. The battery charge was complete. All engines went on propulsion and Tang rolled at full power in a midnight end-around. We did not get far before the pip on t
he SJ’s A-scope became smaller and then disappeared altogether; she had dived. We ranged ahead on her original course and then stopped and waited. A long hour went by; she had not surfaced and her submerged speed could now be bringing her within torpedo range of us. It could be a case of who was hunting whom, and without reluctance we bent on the knots and headed for Nigishima Saki.
We were too keyed up for sleeping, and over a cup of coffee Fraz and I talked over the possibilities, joined a few minutes later by Hank and Basil, who had come off watch. Could we have missed a Fox that told of a friendly submarine? It did not seem likely, but we would have wanted to observe this submarine in daylight to be sure. Fraz left for a moment and came back with some notes. This was the area where four torpedoes had missed our submarine Tautog, and we concluded that the enemy had outfitted at least one submarine with radar and she was looking for us.
Diving was but two hours away. Fraz would be up the rest of the night making our landfall, and then I would con us in while he navigated. There was time, however, to kick off my shoes; and in the quiet, perhaps fortified by the excitement of the last two hours, I decided on our tactics for the coming day. I doubted that they had been tried before; they hadn’t in Wahoo, and that covered most everything that submarines had ever done. More important, they should be new to the enemy and would avoid the difficulties we had experienced in attacking the Biyo and Akasi Maru.
The two hours passed quickly and at 0420 we slid under the sheltering sea a mile and a half from Nigishima Saki. As insurance against being caught in left field, we continued in to 1,500 yards off the rocks. As expected, patrol activity commenced within the half hour, but it turned back northeast short of us. In the calm, we now learned that Tokyo Rose had again pointed the finger at us, but encouragingly had used the word “submarines.” Our hit-and-run tactics had the enemy confused, but he was doing a pretty good job of getting under our skin. Perhaps by this night we would have evened that score.