Silent Sea (The Silent War Book 2)

by Harry Homewood

  Flanagan nodded and told how the tube had been fired, the noise the runaway torpedo had made in the tube, and how he and Fred Nelson had decided to get the fish out of the tube.

  “How in the hell did you get a line around the tail of that damned fish?” Wilson said. “My God, the screws turning up maximum RPMs, the hot exhaust gases?”

  “You take a look at the screws back there on that fish,” Flanagan said. “That steel cable all wrapped up in the screws, that’s how we did it. We didn’t have to pull the damned thing out of the tube. The Jap dropped a charge right above our bow. You can see the damage up there when you go topside. The boat took a down angle by the bow and this fish came sliding out. Jammed its busted-up screws in the bulkhead to the Engineering Log Room. Then we had to jockey the damned fish out of the bulkhead and then move the after end of the skid over and pull the fish away from the tube so’s we could get the inner door closed. It wasn’t what I’d call a picnic.”

  “Water coming in all the time?” Wilson asked. Flanagan nodded. “Got to be waist deep before we got the inner door shut. Helluva mess.”

  “How many of you back here?” Chief Nuthall asked.

  “The Gunnery Officer, he’s a Reserve named Lee, Fred Nelson, the guy who has the After Room and me. They bled high-pressure air into the room to keep the water down, but it didn’t do much good. The Old Man had to wait until the tin can up above would drop charges, and then he’d put the drain pump on the line and get some water out.”

  “What about the outer door?” Warrant Glover asked. “Is it still there?”

  “I don’t think so,” Flanagan said. “Nelson didn’t hear it banging or anything on the way home. I’d bet it’s gone.”

  “The Squadron Office told me something about the warhead being armed,” Glover said.

  “The stream of water coming out of the tube spun the impeller and armed the exploder,” Flanagan said. “We dropped it out and disarmed it.”

  “You’ve had a lot of experience taking exploders out of warheads,” Mr. Glover said with a crooked grin.

  “Mr. Glover.” Flanagan’s face was set, expressionless, as he looked at the shorter man. “Between you and me and these other two Chiefs we all know damned well that the Mark Six exploder doesn’t work the way it’s supposed to work. You got to know that every boat that goes to sea out of Australia is modifying the exploder to work on contact. And you know something else. It’s all a bunch of fucking nonsense. Pearl Harbor modifies the torpedo exploders for contact before they give them to the boats. But out here, shit!” He laid a hand on the warhead of a reload torpedo. “The way this room is, full of fish, partly flooded, we couldn’t change the exploders back to the way we got them.”

  The Chief Warrant Torpedoman looked at Flanagan, the crooked grin still in place. “You figure you’re looking at a court-martial? Stop worrying. The big boss over in Brisbane, Admiral Carpender, he’s been relieved. Admiral Kinkaid took over. He’s an old buddy of Admiral Nimitiz. Admiral Kinkaid has put out the word, and when he puts out the word you obey. The exploders will be modified in the shop before you get them.

  “Admiral Christie’s no dummy. He’s whipped and he knows it. As of now you don’t have to go through that crap of modifying the exploders and then changing them back on the way home.

  “Now what the hell else is wrong with this fish? At least you got the bastard shut down, and it looks like the air flask and the after body might be okay. No discoloration in the metal that I can see.”

  “The tail cone has got to be all messed up inside,” Flanagan said. “When I got that wire into the screws I know it chewed up the idler and the bevel gears. The gyro is okay. We took it out and checked it and stowed it away. I’d guess the depth and steering engines might be okay. I don’t know about the main engine.

  “The warhead split when it hit the outer door. It’s been leaking exudate. We sealed the split with Tacki-wax, but I guess you’ll have to deep-six the warhead.” He paused.

  “Okay for me to tell the Old Man about the exploders? He’s kinda worried.”

  “I don’t see why not,” Warrant Glover said. “I knew Mike Brannon when he was a cub, down in Panama. He’s good people. Just tell him to act surprised when he gets the official word.”

  “We’ll go over the side tomorrow morning,” Chief Wilson said. “Take a look at the door area of the tube. If nothing’s busted up we can hang a new door for you as soon as we get it. When we got a copy of your Skipper’s message I told ‘em we didn’t have a spare door. But they fucked around for three days. Then the paperwork took another three days. You know what the Navy is like.

  “If we’re lucky we should have a door in another three, maybe four weeks. Then we got to requisition dry-dock space for you. No telling how that will come out. We might get you in dock the next day, might take a week or two. That shouldn’t make you too hot under the collar. The beer is awful good here, and the ladies are something out of this world.”

  “If you want to drop by for lunch at the CPO quarters on the tender tomorrow,” Chief Nuthall said, “We could give you a report on what that tube looks like. If you’re interested.”

  “I’m interested,” Flanagan said. He led the way up to the deck. John Olsen saw him climb out of the Engine Room hatch and beckoned to him.

  “You’d better get the prisoner ready for transfer, Chief. They’re taking him to our intelligence people at the Bend of the Road. But this is an Australian port and we have to observe protocol; they’re sending a squad of Aussie soldiers to take him over there. Make sure he’s in clean clothes and tell him to be on his best behavior.”

  Flanagan stood to one side as the prisoner climbed out of the Forward Torpedo Room hatch, blinking in the bright sunshine. He walked slowly down the deck, speaking to crew members, shaking hands. At the gangway a small, wiry Australian Army sergeant had drawn his squad up in formation. He extended a sheaf of papers to Flanagan.

  “Just sign this top one, cobber,” the sergeant said to Flanagan. “I keep that one to show you turned this bastard over to me. The others are for your office wallahs to file away. Thank you, cobber, and now we’ll take this slant-eyed bastard to your people.” He grinned evilly at the prisoner, and Flanagan felt a shiver of premonition.

  “You will go with these people to our headquarters,” he said to the Japanese. “I wish you luck.” The prisoner bowed from the waist.

  “You have treated me humanely and with much kindness,” he said. “I offer you my hope you survive the war and live in peace and happiness.” He bowed again and turned to the squad and smiled.

  “Good morning, gentlemen. A nice day for a walk.”

  “I’ll good morning you, you yellow son of a bitch!” A soldier in the squad reversed his rifle, raising it, aiming the steel-shod rifle butt at the prisoner’s head. He drew back his arms to smash the prisoner’s head as Flanagan started toward him.

  “Hold it soldier!” Mike Brannon’s voice was a whip. The soldier turned, his rifle still upraised, and looked at Brannon, who was standing on the cigaret deck.

  “Ground that rifle and come to attention, soldier!” Brannon roared. He climbed down from the cigaret deck and walked, stiff-legged, his eyes flaming, to the Australian sergeant.

  “Identify yourself, Sergeant. Name. Rank. Unit. Name of your commanding officer.” Brannon took a piece of paper and a pen from his breast pocket and wrote, as the sergeant, standing stiffly at attention, carefully gave the identification Brannon had demanded.

  “This is an American prisoner,” Brannon said slowly. “American. Not Australian. He will be treated by you in full accordance with the Geneva Convention Articles of War. You will escort him to our headquarters as instructed. You will do so without harming him in any way. I am going to telephone as soon as you leave and a doctor will be on hand to examine him. If there is one mark on him, one mark, Sergeant, I’ll have you court-martialed and shot! Is that clear?”

  The Australian looked into Brannon’s blazing eyes.<
br />
  “Perfectly clear, sir.” He saluted, his hand quivering at his hat brim in the approved Australian manner.

  “Beggin’ your pardon, sir,” he said. “These chaps of mine, me, we fought in New Guinea, sir. We know what the Jap did to our nurses when they captured them. I can’t blame any of my chaps for wanting to brain this bast — ... this prisoner, sir.

  Brannon returned the Australian’s defiant stare. “I think I know how you feel. Bear in mind that this prisoner was not at New Guinea. He is not a Japanese soldier. He is an officer in their Merchant Marine. Based on his conduct aboard my ship I am confident that he will make no effort to hinder you in your work or to escape. Which means that if you report that you had to shoot him dead because he tried to escape I will still have you court-martialed. Carry out your orders, Sergeant.” He returned the sergeant’s salute and watched the squad form around the prisoner, each man carefully keeping his distance, and march up the gangway and into the submarine tender. He turned to John Olsen, who had come to the gangway.

  “We brought that fellow so damned far and got so much out of him and they’d have killed him on my own quarterdeck!”

  Olsen nodded. “I don’t think the Aussies will ever forget the atrocities the Japs committed against their nurses. I don’t think they should forget. It was a beastly, evil thing to do.”

  “Let’s get the Chief of the Boat started on getting the crew ready to go ashore,” Brannon said. “We, you and I and Bob Lee, have got to sit down with Admiral Christie and his staff this afternoon.” He turned to go down the deck, and John LaMark, who had the gangway watch, spoke in a low voice.

  “If that Aussie had moved that rifle butt one inch toward the prisoner’s head I’d’ve shot the son of a bitch in the kneecap!”

  “Gunner,” Brannon said. “the forty-five pistol the deck watch carries is supposed to be unloaded.”

  “Yes, sir,” LaMark said. “I musta forgot that order, sir.” He pulled the gun from its holster and pointed the muzzle skyward and released the clip. He put the clip in his pocket, worked the slide, and caught the live cartridge as it was ejected from the gun.

  “Full clip and one up the spout,” Olsen said in a dry tone of voice. “Gunner, you’re a bad man, you know that?”

  CHAPTER 10

  Flanagan rapped at the bulkhead outside Brannon’s stateroom and went through the green curtain in response to Brannon’s reply. Brannon turned from the washbasin and the small locker above it where he was packing his shaving gear.

  “Chief Warrant Glover came aboard with a couple of his Chiefs, tube experts, a while ago, Captain. They’ll look at the tube tomorrow morning. I guess the two Chiefs will go over the side with shallow-water diving gear. I’m coming back to the tender for the noon meal and they’ll give me a report then.”

  “I’d appreciate it if you get in touch with me,” Brannon said, and Flanagan nodded.

  “There’s something else, sir. You’re not supposed to know it so when you get told, Mr. Glover would be happy if you look surprised.

  “Admiral Carpender over in Brisbane has been relieved and a new Admiral, Kincaid, has taken over. He’s issued orders to modify the Mark Six exploders, just like they do in Pearl. Mr. Glover, I knew him a long time ago when I was Second Class and he was a Chief Torpedoman, he says not to worry about our exploders back aft not being put back the way they were.”

  Brannon smiled. “Ah, that’s a load off my mind, Chief. What about the tube door, have they got one?”

  “No, sir. They’ve ordered one from New London. What will happen, I guess, is that they’ll scavenge a door from a boat they’re just starting to build. One of the Chiefs said it might be three, four weeks getting here, and when it gets here, not before he said, then they’ll requisition time for us in the dry dock so they can hang it. Provided the tube itself hasn’t been damaged.”

  Brannon cleaned out the small locker over the washbowl and packed the shaving gear in his bag. “Looks like we’re going to be here awhile. I don’t like it but there’s nothing we can do about that.

  “I’ve told Mr. Gold to muster the crew when the buses get here. That will be just before noon. Mr. Olsen and Mr. Lee and I have to go to a debriefing at headquarters. One of the Staff officers told me that the paymaster will be in the hotel lobby right after the noon meal at the hotel. Keep the crew together until everyone’s been paid. And please get in touch with me after you talk to the two Chiefs tomorrow.”

  “Will do, sir,” Flanagan said.

  The Operations Officer, his lined face grim above the silver eagles on his collar tabs, turned to face Mike Brannon.

  “The point is, Captain Brannon, you damn well know that you disobeyed orders and modified those torpedo exploders. Your patrol report conveniently leaves out the depth setting for the torpedoes. You people must think we’re idiots! You know your orders; you are to set torpedoes to run at a depth of from five to ten feet below the estimated draft of the target so the magnetic exploder will detonate the warhead beneath the target and break its keel. You fired two torpedoes at the first tanker and missed. You fired two at the second tanker and got one hit. That’s damned bad shooting, Mister!”

  “We got a hit on the first tanker, sir,” Brannon said. His normally pleasant face was set and grim. “I observed a low-magnitude explosion against the starboard bow of the first target. I so reported in my contact report and my patrol run report. I observed a hit and exploder failure against the hull of the second tanker. The second torpedo fired at that target worked and the target blew up. Three hits out of four torpedoes is not, I submit, bad shooting.”

  John Olsen, sitting beside Brannon at the table in the conference room of the headquarters building, could feel the chill in the air. Bob Lee, sitting beside Olsen, stirred restlessly. Olsen turned his head as Brannon took a deep breath.

  “With all due respect, Captain Rivers, I am not going to argue about the Mark Six exploders. Too many submarine commanding officers have already done that. I can add nothing to that argument. You must know, again with all due respect to Admiral Christie, to you and the Staff, sir, you must know that most submarine Captains have very little faith in the Mark Six exploder.”

  “You are coming dangerously close to insubordination, sir!” Captain Rivers’s harsh face was set, his eyes blazing.

  “With all due respect, sir, I am a ship’s captain —”

  “At our pleasure,” Captain Rivers snapped.

  “Yes, sir,” Brannon said. “I submit that I intended no insubordination. If I gave that impression then I apologize for stating my thoughts in a clumsy manner.” Brannon stared past the close-cropped head of the Operations Officer, his eyes looking out the window at the lush greenery of the grounds.

  “Sam, let me say a few words,” Admiral Christie said from his place at the head of the table.

  “Mike, I helped develop the Mark Six exploder, as you know. I helped develop the Mark Fourteen torpedo. I know that the exploder, the torpedo, work. If the approach to the target is made correctly, if the observations by the Commanding Officer are accurate, if the torpedoes are fired to run at the correct depth, if those torpedoes have been properly cared for — remember that part, Mike, because I am going to come back to that — if all those things are done I know that we have a torpedo and an exploder that are far superior to those of any other submarine navy in the world!

  “Now let me say this, and what I am going to say does not apply to you or to the Eelfish.

  “I have submarines come into this port and into Brisbane with their torpedoes so poorly maintained that those torpedoes would not have run if fired. I have seen some torpedoes with alcohol and water tanks half full. They wouldn’t have run five hundred yards if they were fired.

  “I have seen relief crews rig block and tackle and have to use the tender’s crane, sir, to get torpedoes out of the tubes! The tube rollers were so poorly cared for that the torpedoes were literally frozen in the tubes. If they had been fired they wouldn’t have ev
en gone out of the torpedo tubes!”

  “Sir,” Bob Lee blurted out, “sir, every torpedo on the Eelfish is pulled out of the tubes and routined on a regular maintenance schedule. Every torpedo we have will leave the tube and run properly when it is fired!” His eyes widened and then squeezed shut as he suddenly realized what he had done. He, a Reserve Lieutenant, Junior Grade, had interrupted an Admiral, had spoken without being asked, had dared to contradict an Admiral.

  Admiral Christie, his square jaw set, stared at Lee. Then the Admiral’s glare softened.

  “Well said, youngster. I am delighted to hear that.” He turned to look at Mike Brannon.

  “You see my point. I am faced with constant criticism of the Mark Six exploder and the Mark Fourteen torpedo by submarine Captains.

  “I am faced, also, with the disturbing fact that some of those who criticize the loudest come into port with torpedoes that I know will not run if fired, not run properly.” He lowered his head and stared at the table top for a long minute. Then he raised his head.

  “Perhaps there is justification for criticism on both sides. Whatever there is, it is ended as of today. The Mark Six exploders will be modified in the shop before you get them. And I will relieve at once any Commanding Officer who does not command as he should, who is not sufficiently aggressive against the enemy.

  “Now that we have passed that barrier, I want to commend you, Mike, Olsen, for the cleanliness of the Eelfish. “ He nodded his head toward Bob Lee. “And you, sir, for the excellence of the torpedoes you brought back and your conduct during that casualty in the After Room. That’s what we want to hear about next; will you tell us, in full detail, Mike, what went on back there?”

  Brannon wet his lips and nodded. He carefully went through each step of the casualty, from the accidental firing of the torpedo in Number Seven tube to the disarming of the exploder and the removal of the fulminate of mercury cartridge.

  “You must have had a helluva time keeping a decent trim with the After Room flooding and under depth-charge attack,” Captain Rivers said.