Around the World Submerged

by Edward Latimer Beach

  We had been fooled by a star millions of miles away! No wonder both the range and the bearing had seemed so nearly constant! I stood up from my half-crouching position and ran the periscope all the way up to the top.

  In a few moments, the confirmation came from Chief Quartermaster Marshall, below in the chart room. Our visitor of two nights in a row was a navigator’s friend, the red star Arcturus, which, according to the Nautical Almanac, should have the altitude and bearing of our supposed aircraft at that very moment. The green light which had apparently alternated with the red was no doubt simply a refraction effect on the damp surface of our periscope lens.

  My only comfort, as we laid aside our anxieties and went about the business of the night’s periscope depth routine, was that more than one submarine has dived for a rising star. During the war, three times in a row the ace submarine Tirante had dived when Venus came over the horizon—in one case, according to the excited lookout who saw it, accompanied by whirling propeller, machine-gun bullets, and the leering face of a Japanese pilot.

  Thursday, 31 March, 1960, from the Log:

  0545 As we cross the Philippine Trench, the bottom rises precipitously to the 100-fathom curve. Our echo-ranging sonar picks it out like a brick wall as we come up on it, and once again the gravity meter indicates a rapidly shoaling bottom.

  A glance at any chart of the ocean depths will show that one of the deepest spots in the Pacific Ocean is the so-called Philippine Trench, lying on a north-and-south axis just to the east of the Philippine archipelago. As Triton approached the Trench, I remember looking with interest at the repeater scope of our search sonar. We were in a sea of nothingness. The limits of the huge trench were well beyond the range of sonar, the bottom so far away as to be like a void.

  Our objective was Surigao Strait, and according to our chart the depth of water would reduce suddenly from thousands of fathoms to less than one hundred, if we were able to pick the spot accurately where the Strait entered the Philippine archipelago. If we missed the mark, the vertical wall of the Trench implacably stood in our path.

  Silently and at reduced speed, our great ship glided toward the barrier, probing for the relatively small notch at the top which would be our entry point. Our navigation was accurate; that we knew. We had learned to have considerable faith in it over the weeks since we had left New London. But even so, there might be some unexpected current, some unexplained drift of the ocean waters which would sweep us a little bit one way or the other and cause us to miss the tiny V-shaped notch in the top of the wall toward which we were bound. Faced with the massiveness of nature, the hundreds and thousands of cubic miles of material deposited here, almost as though by design to bar our way, even the powerful and mighty Triton, the supreme effort thus far of man’s competition with his environment, suddenly appeared insignificant.

  As we approached the barrier, my concern rose and little feelings of anxiety pricked at my subconscious. What if the channel we sought were not there? How could we retrieve the shattering catastrophe of striking the barrier, rather than passing over it?

  My brain always did have a tendency to be overimaginative, I thought, as I pushed the unbidden doubts to the back of my mind. We had slowed our headlong pace, were cautiously and carefully searching for the passage. It was there, and we would find it.

  Again, Will Adams’ navigation held true. The low spot in the massive wall ahead of us which was Surigao Strait showed up beautifully on the sonar, and correlation with our previously calibrated indications showed us a depth, at the entrance, of well over a hundred fathoms. Not much, surely, compared with the nearly six thousand-fathom depth only a mile or two to the east, but more than enough for us.

  At 0743 on the morning of March 31st, Triton entered Surigao Strait.

  From the Log:

  We have been taking water samples of the various bodies of water through which we have passed during this voyage. One of the things for which the water samples can be used is the Naval Academy’s annual Ring Dance. Part of the ceremony for the Ring Dance is to christen the class rings of the new senior midshipmen in the waters of the seven seas. As can be appreciated, getting an authentic sample of water from a remote spot of the world is sometimes difficult. We may, at least, help them out. Additionally, the class of 1945, less than a year ago, donated a small-boat navigational light to the Academy and named it the Triton Light, without realizing, apparently, that their light and our ship have something very much in common. So we shall also send USS Triton’s own unique tribute to the Triton Light.

  Here, in Surigao Strait, there is a special reason for collecting water, and a special sample of it is going to be sent to Admiral Jesse P. Oldendorf, USN (ret.). Admiral Oldendorf had command of a squadron of cruisers, destroyers, and elderly battleships, which, it will be remembered, “crossed the T” at the Battle of Surigao Strait. It was here that the repaired and regenerated California, Tennessee, West Virginia, Maryland, and Pennsylvania returned the wounds they had received at Pearl Harbor on the day the war began. It was probably the last time the “T” will be crossed in battle.

  “Whitey” Rubb [additional duty as water collector] assures me that there are indeed great streaks of rust to be found in the Surigao Strait water—and that, upon close inspection, it is indubitably identified as rust from old and long-sunk Japanese warship hulls. We think Admiral Oldendorf will appreciate a sample of this body of water, and though he may not have the precise instruments Whitey and I do for detection of the rust streaks, I am sure he can devise an adequate test of his own.

  At this point, with the opportunity before me to write a fuller history of Triton’s pilgrimage, it must be admitted that our tests for rust in the Surigao Strait water would hardly stand up against careful laboratory examination. As a matter of candid fact, they existed only in Whitey Rubb’s and my minds, for the entire episode was one of sentiment, not science.

  1105 Came to periscope depth for an observation and sighted a small fishing boat under sail on our port bow. We watched with interest as the fishing craft passed along our port side about a mile away and disappeared astern. No indication that anyone on board saw us, though we took a number of photographs with the consequent necessity of leaving the periscope up too long.

  1300 Have passed through Surigao Strait and entered Mindanao Sea. As we enter Mindanao Sea, we pick up a sonar contact bearing 345° true, which upon careful checking is classified as a medium-to-heavy single-crew ship.

  1307 Sonar contact in sight bearing 347° true—a moderate-size freighter, single stack, two masts. This is an opportunity we have been looking for. We have been drilling our approach party but have not had a moving ship to actually work with. As a matter of fact, even if we had, we would not have been able to play with any ship, until today, long enough to get much good out of the exercise. Now the situation is different. We are not in so much hurry, and here is a nice big ship heading our way.

  1308 Manned tracking stations. We need not approach the target very closely, and we shall be particularly careful to give no indication that we are present. Submerged submarines are always the burdened vessels in such cases. They must never annoy other ships, and they must never forget that no one can identify the nationality of a periscope at sea.

  1332 We have had an excellent drill. The ship has gone by at a good range, identified as a World War II Liberty ship in excellent condition. She is nicely painted with black hull, white stripe and white superstructure. No colors visible, and we were much too far to read the name. But she gave us a fine workout; and we are much the better for it.

  One unusual thing developed in that the ship’s actual course never did check with my observations. Through years of practice I knew my angles were not that far off, and as a matter of fact, when they were exactly 90°—which is easy to tell because the front and rear sides of the bridge line up exactly—they did not check at all with our plot of her track. We think we know the reason for this phenomenon, and at 1417, obtaining an accurate positi
on from bearings and ranges on land, our suspicions are confirmed. We have been subject to a rather strong current, apparently well over 2 knots. Our friend has been steering a course deliberately calculated to allow for the drift.

  Our track leads us down Surigao Strait, across the Mindanao Sea and around Bohol Island to the west and into Bohol Strait; thence northward to Mactan Island. This is not the same track followed by Magellan, who went east of Bohol Island to the Camotes Sea and thence southward to Cebu. That route is much too shallow for us. Mactan is a very small island, lying close to the much larger Cebu and terminating Bohol Strait. On the western side of Mactan is Cebu Harbor, with north and south approaches through the channel between Cebu and Mactan. To the east of Mactan lies deep and straight Hilutangan Channel, joining Bohol Strait and the Camotes Sea.

  The place we have come to see is Magellan Bay, on the north shore of Mactan Island. Having survived the most extreme privation, not to mention the mutinous acts of a disloyal fleet, Magellan had brought his three remaining ships through unknown and uncharted waters to the Far East. He had achieved his objective—of this there was confirmation in the chance encounter with a Malay trading vessel. The fabulous Spice Islands, at most, could be but a few more days’ sail away! Parr’s book, So Noble a Captain, well describes the exaltation and religious fervor which filled Magellan’s soul. He died in the shallows of the bay now bearing his name, having landed with only forty-eight men to bring Christianity to fifteen hundred hostile warriors by force of arms, trusting in a divine miracle the equal of the one which had brought him there in the first place.

  The Sailing Directions and the chart of the area show a spot on the north shore of Mactan, in Magellan Bay, which is marked “Magellan Monument.” To traverse these historic waters and sight this monument constitutes a high point in our cruise, already 19,700 miles long.

  Tonight we received our sixth babygram: a girl for Chief Engineman Clarence M. Hathaway, Jr.—the only man small enough to crawl outboard of our starboard propeller shaft—Inge Mae, born March twenty-fifth. Mother and child are well.

  13

  Friday, 1 April, 1960, from the Log:

  We have been slowly working our way up Bohol Strait toward Mactan Island all night long, occasionally coming to periscope depth where radar and periscope observations have assured us as to our safe navigation. We have likewise seen, or heard on sonar, numerous small fishing vessels and a few coastal-type freighters or passenger ships. All are brightly lighted.

  0428 Periscope depth. Sighted a small coastal freighter to the eastward about 4,000 yards away. Had held him previously on sonar.

  0430 Sighted Lauis Ledge Light on the southern shore of Mactan Island. Commenced maneuvering in the approaches to Hilutangan Channel to the eastward of Mactan.

  0608 Ejected hydrographic bottle number MT-71. Like the others, the paper inside is filled out in our code, except that on the back is written in English, “Hail, Noble Captain, It Is Done Again,” for which Dr. Parr can take most of the credit. It is, of course, the translation of the Latin inscription on the plaque Tom Thamm designed to commemorate our submerged circumnavigation. We hope we shall see it delivered to the starting point of Magellan’s epochal voyage.

  There is much sonar activity, ships on all bearings, all classified as small light vessels.

  0623 Sighted two small merchant ships at range of about 1 mile, steaming in close contact and apparently headed for Cebu. As we cautiously dunked the periscope, they passed within about 1,000 yards and proceeded on their way.

  0722 Heard the first of a series of explosions—seven in all during the forenoon—apparently coming from the vicinity of Mactan Island. There is no visual dust or smoke cloud to confirm the source of the explosions, but we assume it is blasting in connection with some harbor work.

  As we approach Hilutangan Channel, we are much interested in some of the fishing boats and other small craft which are all about. One of the first sighted is nothing more than a small raft with a sort of wooden tripod built on one end upon which branches of trees have been placed, apparently haphazardly. Usually these crude rafts have only a single passenger, who appears to be steering them. Our impression is that they are simply blown across the channel by the sail effect of the branches and twigs on the tripod [all were going east]. Possibly this is merely an easy way to get logs from one side of the channel across to the other.

  A number of other types of craft, many of them old and decrepit, are around also. As we approach Hilutangan Channel, the number of boats decreases. Most of them are concentrated in the approaches to Cebu, before we get there.

  0800 Entering Hilutangan Channel. Speed, 4 knots, at periscope depth. Tide and current tables indicate that we should receive a pretty strong set to the northward, in the direction we want to go. This indeed proves to be the case, since our speed over the ground is about 3 knots faster than our speed through the water.

  As we enter the Channel, we are much interested in the picture presented by our echo-ranging sonar. The sonar-repeater in the conning tower gives an actual picture of the shape of the Channel. The depth of water is in many places greater than a hundred fathoms and the shore is steep-to. As a result, the area of shallow water near the shore is very clearly outlined on the face of our conning tower repeater. With this kind of gear we could easily go deep and proceed at high speed. Not knowing, however, exactly what we will find at the other end, we shall go through at periscope depth; perhaps on the return trip we can transit the Channel at deep depth.

  During the passage through Hilutangan Channel, numerous small boat contacts are made. In one case a very decrepit boat with an outrigger on both sides and a large canvas awning, propelled by an ancient one-lung engine, came across our bow, distance a few hundred yards. It looks like a ferry, probably plying back and forth between Mactan and one of the islands on the eastern side of Hilutangan Channel. Numerous passengers can be seen, and none give the slightest evidence of seeing us. After all, who would expect a periscope here?

  One of the passengers is a rather attractive Filipino woman dressed in a faded pink print dress of some sort and holding, I thought quickly, a small child on her lap. Her face is placid and emotionless. She is looking in our general direction but thinking of something else. To her left stands the steersman of this strange craft, paying attention to his business. Most of the other passengers are faced ahead or toward Mactan, on the other side of the ferry.

  From here on, as we proceed up Hilutangan Channel there are increasing numbers of boats, most of them pleasure craft. In the distance, in the Camotes Sea far beyond Magellan Bay, more fishing boats may be seen. The pleasure boats, outrigger canoe types with a large and very colorful sail, I would judge to be anywhere from 12 to 20 feet long, narow of hull and mostly white or gray in color. They have a single mast with a cross arm on which a triangular-shaped sail is mounted with the point at the bottom. There are usually one or two occupants lolling around comfortably, perhaps fishing, although few fish poles or lines are in evidence. Most likely they are out enjoying themselves. Some sun helmets are in evidence on both men and women. The sails are most colorful, being decorated with half-circles, half-moons, triangles, diagonals, and so forth. None of the occupants appear to take the slightest notice of us, although at times our curiosity and the desire to get a good photograph cause us to leave the periscope up longer than I should have liked.

  To ensure that all craft are avoided by a safe distance, our periscope observations are frequent and carefully timed, so as not to be too long.

  Upon one occasion as I raised the periscope [invariably first looking ahead for fear of striking a log or a small boat], I caught a glimpse of a canoe drifting swiftly by. It had two occupants; a small and elderly woman with her back to us, and at the other end of the boat, facing me as I looked at him with my solitary eye, a rather portly gentleman, bare to the waist and heavily tanned, even for a Filipino. As I looked, he lifted his hand and waved at me in a manner almost as if he were saying to h
is companion, “Now as I was saying, that could almost be a periscope. It looks just like that, and it sticks up out of the water just like that thing over there.”—at which point I quickly lowered it.

  The portly gentleman did not appear particularly disturbed at our periscope and in fact probably did not recognize what it was, unless, indeed, he is a retired US Navy Steward.

  1057 With the help of a strong current, we have made a remarkably fast passage through Hilutangan Channel.

  1100 We are past the north end of Mactan Island and enter Magellan Bay. This Bay also has very deep water extending well inside the points of land which form its two extremities, though it is very shallow close inshore. [Magellan was killed here fighting in water up to his knees.]

  Not having our fathometer, we approach cautiously. But our sonar picture shows a bottom contour that corresponds closely to the chart, and we have complete confidence in it by this time. Triton is, however, a pretty big ship to take into this tiny Bay, and our navigation is rapid. There are, fortunately, several clearly defined landmarks as well as a couple of lighthouses upon which to take bearings. In the distance, over the end of Mactan Island, can be seen the buildings of Cebu marching up into the hillside, with the dome of the Provincial Capitol etched white against the verdant hillside. Near the waterfront several large modern structures can be described; one in particular, which would not be out of place in any modern setting, is three to five stories high and approximately three hundred feet long.

  Our foray into Magellan Bay is complicated somewhat by the discovery of three tall tree trunks sticking out of the water. Apparently they are ballasted to float vertically and are anchored to some sort of bottom structures, since they have no supporting wires of any kind. Maybe they delimit fishing areas. At all events, we carefully avoid them and the rock piles and anchor cabling they may mark.