Sleep was impossible; the roar of seas racing by, and a harmonic of our diesels, setting up a pulsing throb, were Tang’s war drums, or so it seemed to me. But others heard it, too, if the congregation in the wardroom was an indicator. Ed and John had raided the great, wide file drawers under the sideboard and had another chart of the Pescadores area spread out on the table. Dick had joined them, and the three were plotting out the possible routes for penetrating the banks. Unfortunately the deepest was only 12 fathoms, but it was five miles wide and extended like a crooked finger in for ten miles. Reaching it would require another 60 miles, however, since it led up from the south, but it might well be the route of the carrier or where she was actually anchored. We weighed this against a surface dash and the strong likelihood that we would get away with it unsighted but reached no decision before Jones came forward to call Frank for the morning stars.
When a situation is suddenly thrust upon you, finding the courage to see it through comes automatically. This operation was entirely different, for we still had three-quarters of a day to plan and also think about the enemy. Of one thing I am sure, without men like those in Tang, finding the courage would have been impossible.
Frank and Jones got their stars and I followed them below. The horizon was clear, but a sighting would spoil the whole effort. Paul’s “Clear the bridge!” and two blasts initiated the dive, and 40 seconds later we were leveled off at periscope depth. Our heading remained 230, but now our speed was down to 5 knots.
The morning watch remained uneventful, but air patrolling commenced shortly after they had been relieved. The planes were almost welcome, for at least they signified that Tang was no longer patrolling a dead sea. The forenoon watch, with Larry in the conning tower, did an excellent job of establishing the enemy’s air search pattern. It definitely showed that we were not the object and increased our hope that a practical commander might indeed make a run straight up the slot. Surface patrols in the afternoon added to the likelihood of coming shipping, and in all truthfulness, such a ship or convoy would give us a legitimate reason not to try penetrating the banks, the way the appearance of the Yamaoka Maru in the Yellow Sea had got us out of a pending inshore predicament.
Before the first scheduled Fox after we surfaced, another Ultra came in. Any Ultra had its own highest priority, but this message contained an operational emergency procedure sign in its heading. The last such use I could recall concerned the Tambor-Triton incident. Ed and Mel set up the strip cipher on the control room chart table, and never had a watch been quieter as the strips were inserted in the prescribed order for the date. Ed called the five-letter groups as Mel set the strips and then read down the prescribed column. The first four words were padding, but the next six letters spelled CANCEL. The remainder of the message would be academic, and right 15 degrees rudder brought us to 050, right back toward Pakusa Point.
We could only surmise that at headquarters a well-meaning duty commander had released the first Ultra without prior reference to the chief of staff or Admiral Lockwood. Very probably the admiral had taken one look at the dispatch board and, seeing the concise message containing no “for information” or other modifying words, immediately knew the action Tang would take. The message just decoded would be his countermand. We were still curious about the original information, however, and wondered if it was derived from a sighting or, as the word Ultra signified, from a broken dispatch. And of course, in the latter case, was it a ruse to sucker us into another type of typhoon.
That it might be a ruse became more than just a possibility when a bloodcurdling “Clear the bridge!” and two blasts took us down. Frank questioned the lookouts, and even those who were supposed to be guarding the after sectors confirmed the roar and blue exhaust crossing our bow. We considered this for a half hour, for only radar-equipped planes or those directed by other radar could come so close. Our SJ had detected nothing, so we tried another surface run, reluctantly at reduced speed since our wake at higher speed could be a telltale. Our nondirectional APR-1 had radar signals on the usual frequencies as before, but they could originate in the Pescadores, Formosa, or anywhere at sea. Only the intensity of the signal was significant, but the log showed no marked increase in any signal strength.
The slower speed seemed to have solved the immediate problem, but just before midnight two blasts took us down again. The blue exhaust was aft this time, and we rested below for another half hour, now quite convinced that the enemy did indeed possess a radar-equipped bomber. Just as our SJ was unable to detect planes at any appreciable elevation, so his radar lost us when the down-angle increased during his approach. This was our theory anyway, but we had no desire to put it to further test. Three blasts and four engines pulled us clear, and we dived within striking distance of Pakusa Point at dawn.
We still considered this our lucky point, but only two patrols came in view of our scope during the day, and even they seemed to retire for the night. We stuck it out another day, perhaps becoming too impatient and completely forgetting the 26 days of our first patrol without a contact. Still, over a week had gone by since our last attack here, and this should be a concentrated area for shipping. The Japanese could be shuttling supplies to Kiirun for rail transportation farther to the south. It would be the hard way, but we would have to admit that it would be safer.
It was pitch dark on the evening of October 18 when we followed the contour of the island to the northeast. Rounding Fukl Point, our bow rose to great swells rolling in from another Pacific storm. In anticipation, Caverly with the SJ watch was already wearing his trademark, and as our bow commenced plunging downward others might need one, too. Our new course of 110 would keep our head into the seas as we skirted the dark northern coast, and the troops could at least be thankful that these seas were not on our quarter. Our immediate destination was a point three miles off Keelung To, a small, tall island that sits just inside the ten-fathom curve off Kiirun.
According to our information, Kiirun was the best port of Formosa, being completely sheltered and of recent years dredged to accommodate ships of all drafts. The city’s ancient structures were built by the Spanish, but it had modern railway connection to Taihoku, the capital, only 18 miles away. An additional note that Frank had added made us all chuckle. The city boasted three gold mines, discovered by a Chinese miner from California.
The bits of information might not seem important, but those concerning the port and the railhead were responsible for our present course, and the rest added a bit of interest for all hands. The yearly average of over 200 rainy days and 200 inches of rain at Kiirun might discourage some of us from ever visiting the port, but we would see it from a distance at daylight.
Frank picked up the phone to his right. It was Dick reporting that SJ had Keelung To at 12,000 yards, and the navigator went topside to pilot Tang to the selected position off the island. We slowed and moved in cautiously; there was no hurry. The wavy interference of 10-centimeter radar appeared on the SJ, probably from one of our wolf packs, and it served to remind us that we were not alone in this endeavor. If they could make it too hot on the Pacific side of Formosa, ships would come our way. They, of course, were even more dependent on Tang’s actions within the strait.
At 2330 we turned left to the least uncomfortable course and slowed to steerageway. The run had been only 45 miles, but it could be an important one. We did not have long to wait before the after lookouts spotted a patrol moving out from the harbor across the open roadstead. We discreetly moved to the west as the patrol passed east of Keelung To. At least the enemy was patrolling, and we followed him out to the northeast, as this would give us the distance and time for predawn tracking of any inbound ships. Only an inbound patrol disturbed the night, and Frank piloted us back to our original position before dawn.
Larry took us down to trim our ship for these unusual conditions lest the great swells push up our bow, causing us to broach. It was 30 minutes before he reported, “Satisfied with the trim.” He quickly modified t
he standard statement by reporting that depth control would be difficult. A few of us were in a position to appreciate the task that faced our diving officers this day, but all of us would share the results of any misjudgments. So Larry came off the regular watch list and stood by to assist the diving officer or take over if he saw fit.
Only patrols came in view in a long, tiring day. The swells made it necessary on occasion to run below periscope depth. Larry would then ease Tang up while holding appreciable down-angle, exaggerating the attitude I preferred when firing torpedoes. After a periscope sweep, he could call for speed as necessary and swim our boat down if she were tending to rise. Of course we could still flood negative, but during an attack phase the submarine might not then recover in time for constant bearings.
Darkness was welcome this night, especially to the planesmen and the diving officers, who could now relax as three blasts sent us to the surface. It was unnecessary to ask for a healthy blow, and our decks were high by the time we reached the bridge. Astern were Keelung To, the outer harbor, and then the harbor of Kiirun. The strong currents had made it inadvisable for us to poke very far into the roadstead, and we could not determine the actual presence of shipping at Kiirun. Certainly none would be leaving or entering now, for there were no patrols about. We could spend an easier night in the channel, southeastward toward Sakishima Gunto, and return prior to dawn.
Jones brought the chart to the wardroom, and Frank laid out a track for the night for one-engine speed. We’d need that at times for good steerageway. Frank relayed my instructions to the OOD, and Tang was just picking up a new roll from the change in course when Bergman came to the wardroom.
“We have a priority dispatch, Captain,” he announced. Then turning to Dick and Mel, he continued, “It’s all ready for breaking.”
9
Dick beat Mel to the passageway, but only because he was seated at the end of the transom. The race aft was not all pure dedication, for the words forming the message coming clear one at a time added a suspense that could never be duplicated elsewhere. Then, being the first to know, even ahead of the captain for a short time, put the members of the coding board in an exclusive position.
It was 2200, and while Dick and Mel worked on the dispatch we came left to west, put on the spare engine, and then stole another from Larry’s battery charge. Aside from the content of the message, we could control anything in our immediate area, even from many miles away. A race toward China seemed obvious; Tang was on her way, and while waiting Frank and I spoke of peacetime communications training, which revolved around a so-called communications competition. Tests were conducted with stopwatches held by the observers, and time became almost as big a factor as accuracy. The result was a thoroughly boring affair, but there was nothing dull about the message Mel and Dick brought to the wardroom and placed on the table:
TASK FORCE PROCEEDING NORTH
ALONG CHINA COAST
Larry pleaded for his last main engine, and we compromised on another half hour since a fully charged battery would surely be required. The timing fitted in well, since the nearly ten miles we would travel should bring us to calmer seas. Now we considered the message itself. It had not contained the Ultra designation, and this removed a bit of the apprehension we would have felt in view of our last two experiences. On further thought, I personally believed that Admiral Lockwood himself had dictated the message form, since the Ultra prefix would have again been demanding. Tackling a task force was quite an undertaking, even for a submarine, and doing so in 20 fathoms might well be on the border of those taut demands of our Articles for the Government of the Navy. But Tang would do all that I felt she could reasonably get away with, and I kept all of these thoughts to myself, including my doubt that an enemy task force would be steaming north, away from pending action.
The increased speed, the change in the motion of our ship, and changes within the watch section quickly alerted the ship’s company. One would think that we already had the enemy in hand, for an unusually large number of men had gathered in the crew’s mess, and on second thought, the same had been true of the wardroom when I left to go topside.
Our course remained due west for Turnabout Island, as this should insure intercepting the enemy. As soon as the SJ presentation was sufficiently detailed to show that no ships were getting by, we would turn down the coast to gain contact and attack in darkness. The plan was logical and flexible, and I went on topside, for only the weather could cause a change. The seas had continued to moderate on this black night, and with complete confidence in Hank with the deck, I went below.
The midwatch relieved and then came the 0230 call in time for the first possible SJ contact on ships or the island. Within minutes the return from Turnabout appeared on the screen, followed by the pips of the smaller islands. No major ships could pass unnoticed, and we came left 30 degrees to 240 so as to close the coast of China obliquely.
An hour passed with no contacts other than the islands, though our SJ was turning in its peak performance as each new pip was tracked at zero speed. Ed came to the conning tower; Caverly switched on the old A-scope, said nothing as he cranked the range step, then calmly announced, “Ship bearing four zero, range thirty thousand.” That would be 280 true.
The A-scope now had two dancing pips where there had been only one island pip moments before. One of them was a ship, moving away from the island, but determining which would take a minute. We crossed our fingers that the ship might be the one to the right, for that would mean she was heading northeast, putting us on her bow. Successive ranges would tell, for radar could not immediately determine the small bearing change. No change in range on the left-hand pip told the story: We had a fast ship heading southwest at approximately Tang’s speed, and we were already well abaft her beam.
Culp conjured up a few more turns and Tang commenced closing the range slowly, too slowly. We would never be able to draw ahead to an attack position before dawn. Two more pips, obviously escorts, most surely marked the enemy as a warship and added to the urgency of getting in to attack. Plot now had the approximate track of the enemy, with frequent zigs, and therein lay our only chance. The Bells of St. Mary’s held reveille for those few hands not already at their battle stations, and we came right to converge on the enemy’s track.
With the decision, I accepted the loss of bearing. Plot already had an initial speed estimate of 20 knots, and we could not otherwise close the range. There would be refinements in our course as more accurate information came from plot and TDC, but only the very remote possibility that the enemy would assist by changing his base course to the left could really help our taut situation. The range was closing however, and I went topside to join Jones and Leibold, who had now spotted the blurps broad on our starboard bow. Though indistinct, the aspect was broad and confirmed what I had just seen on plot; Tang was holding her own, losing little bearing, and literally walking in on the enemy’s quarter.
Details of the silhouettes sharpened as we moved inside of 10,000 yards; we had a cruiser type and two destroyers, not exactly a task force and heading in the wrong direction as far as our priority dispatch was concerned, but SubPac’s message was responsible for this contact. The cruiser would be radar-equipped, and we hoped that her operators would search ahead, in the sectors where a surfaced enemy submarine was supposed to be, at least until Tang had gained a position astern of the widely spaced destroyers. Then our pip could be lost amid the confusion of sea, wake, and own ship’s returns, which would build up an incandescent hub about the center of the enemy’s PPI screen.
The range decreased slowly past 5,000 yards, and now I could call the enemy’s frequent zigs with some accuracy. Though they often left Tang practically astern, Frank reported that we were still holding bearing relative to the enemy’s advance along the base course. No doubt with others, I found myself taking shallow breaths as we passed astern of the port destroyer, which plot had at 2,000 yards on the cruiser’s bow. We occupied an identical position on the po
rt quarter, and now at a glance identified her as a Katori class cruiser, one of the enemy’s best.
Jones kept his eyes glued on the destroyer’s stern and Leibold on the cruiser to instantly detect any change in either’s attitude. Frank reported all tubes ready for firing, and I called angles as we continued to slide diagonally toward the cruiser. The range was 1,650 yards, and with steam torpedoes we could have opened the outer doors and fired Our poor Mark 18-1s at 27 knots offered only a maximum of 7 knots speed differential; it was probably closer to 6 knots. Once launched, they were strictly on their own and could not reach the enemy for eight minutes. Not only was this almost three minutes beyond their best endurance, but the cruiser, with zigs every three to four minutes, would be off on another course long before then.
We would not leave the whole task to our torpedoes but would count on the cruiser’s reducing the torpedo run with her first zig in our direction. Even then we would have one additional problem, for these torpedoes were known to tumble and otherwise run erratic if fired with submarine speeds above 12 knots. Backing full and firing would coincide, and so as not to add another detail at that time, I ordered the outer doors opened forward.
We rehearsed the procedure, all back full on the zig, my single estimate of her angle, followed instantly by firing. It would be a somewhat more complicated firing than that on the freighter of the two ship and destroyer convoy west of Saipan. But we’d fired once backing down and aground; this would not be too complicated. Perhaps the thoughts were to build up my courage a bit, for though this cruiser was no more lethal than the two escorts off Nagasaki, she looked big, mean, and more forbidding as we slowly crept toward her port beam. The zig could come at any instant. Frank called up the range, 1,400; it seemed closer.
Clear the Bridge! Page 47