In this instance the ship was never in danger, since we discovered the difficulty so quickly, and because our sonar equipment has been indicating the shoal water on both sides of Pearl Bank Passage, as it did in Hilutangan Channel; thus we would have known that we were approaching shoal water long before we got in trouble. Even so, the episode has a sobering effect.
1517 Cleared Pearl Bank Passage heading for Sibutu Passage and entry into Celebes Sea.
1856 Entered Sibutu Passage.
2036 Passed Sibutu Island abeam to starboard at about 7 miles.
2200 Passed into Celebes Sea; departed from waters of the Republic of the Philippines.
Sunday, 3 April 1960 1147 Entered Makassar Strait. Departed Celebes Sea.
1330 Sunday Service on schedule, led by Will Adams. Our attendance has increased somewhat—an encouraging sign. Will’s talk, “Have Made Passive Search, Hold No Contacts,” refers to the sonarman’s report made just before we bring the ship to periscope depth. He uses it to illustrate the point that life demands more than a passive search, and the lesson sinks home.
1422 Crossed equator for the third time this voyage at longitude 119°—05.1’ E. We are old hands now, and King Neptune just waves us by as we speed through his domain.
Monday, 4 April 1960 0613 Sighted a sailing vessel to westward. Joe Roberts’ eyes glisten as he evaluates the report. This is the kind of sailboat he has been hoping to photograph, a Makassar inter-island merchantman. As he passes nearby, Joe obtains what should prove to be excellent pictures.
0930 Completed photographing the Makassar merchantman. The vessel in many ways resembles a Chesapeake Bay schooner of a type I had seen many times from my room in Bancroft Hall at Annapolis. It is about 50 feet long, painted white, low in the water with a cargo resembling deck lumber. She has two masts with heavy booms and gaffs. There was also a rather heavy bowsprit and two good-sized jibs—a topsail was rigged between mast and gaff on both fore and main masts. At the stern of the ship was a rather strange outrigger affair, a sort of structure built well out from the stern to which the mainmast backstays are secured and from which the ship is steered. Two men could be seen aboard—one man standing aft on the outrigger, apparently steering the ship, and the other, evidently a deck hand, up forward. Neither one seemed to be aware of our presence, although during our photographic interlude they had passed rather closely and we were able to inspect them carefully.
Strangely, I seemed to recall having seen this schooner somewhere. It soon came to me: in an intelligence photograph taken in this very area during the war. It was indeed quite possible that this was the same sailing vessel, for some of them have been known to survive for a century or more. Steamers are a nondescript lot that wear out in a few years and change mightily in the process. But sailing ships seldom change, their rig seldom varies, until near the end. This is why old sailors can recognize without fail old sailing ships which they know well.
1700 Having come to periscope depth to get a fix on Balalo-hong Island Light, observed up ahead a great deal of splashing in the water; thought for a moment that we might have found the mythical sea serpent. It next appears to be a tide rip similar to one observed earlier today, but upon closer inspection it is evident that these are big fish and little fish, and that the little fish are having a hard time. Maneuvering to close and take pictures of the operation.
There are evidently at least three kinds of fish present. Nearest to us is a lazy group of porpoises swinging along and gamboling among themselves. Up ahead it is evident that the predatory fishes are probably porpoises also, and we cannot understand why the band close aboard is so unconcerned with the battle royal going on just ahead. Perhaps this is a different tribe. Try as we can to approach close enough to get a look at either group, however, we are unable to do so. Apparently they consider us an unwanted witness to whatever is going on. The lazy band of frisky porpoises avoids us by adroit maneuvers at the right time, while up ahead the fighting fish move steadily away and even the ones being eaten seem to co-operate in keeping us at a distance. It is a thrilling sight to see the sleek black bodies of the porpoises flashing around in the water. With their tremendously powerful tails working back and forth like pistons, they dash about at speeds reportedly between 20 and 30 knots. No telling how fast these lads are going, but they certainly seem to have a lot in reserve.
1749 Resumed base course and speed. Now transiting Flores Sea.
Tuesday, 5 April 1960 This morning, as we passed through the last shallow water areas before Lombok, a final try was made to fix our fathometer. Results were both success and failure—success on the theoretical plane, failure on the practical. Our second transducer, converted from a general announcing speaker, indeed produced a signal, and it did receive sounds transmitted through air or water. But like its predecessor, it could not penetrate the heavy steel of the ship’s hull.
We do, however, have one hole in the bottom of the ship—the garbage ejector. To use it, we first have to secure the fathometer head inside the garbage ejector, then shut the upper cap and open the lower door. Our first homemade transducer had been too large to fit into the garbage ejector, but our second attempt, constructed out of one of the ship’s regular announcing system speakers, fits into it neatly.
No luck at all, not even theoretical, attended this attempt. The speaker was put into the garbage ejector, connected up. All appeared well; but when the inner cap was secured, it dislodged the speaker, causing it to fall to the bottom of the garbage ejector where it became wedged sideways. For a time could neither fish it up nor get rid of it, and it looked as though we might have lost use of our garbage ejector and gained nothing. The situation was retrieved with expenditure of a great deal of effort, and the garbage ejector given a normal flushing, after which inspection showed that the modified speaker now rests somewhere in the Flores Sea.
0650 Approaching Lombok Strait to enter the Indian Ocean. Lombok Strait was one of the principal submerged highways for submarines based in Australia during the war. Situated between the islands of Bali and Lombok, it is one of the widest straits through the Malay Archipelago and is spectacular in that it has precipitous volcanic peaks on both sides. The water in the Strait is deep, but treacherous because of strong currents. During the war, there were reported cases of submarines spending hours at maximum sustained submerged speed only to surface at night and find that they had been going backwards. The Japanese knew that Lombok Strait was “Submarine Highway” and made efforts to close it. Generally, you could depend upon at least two patrol vessels being somewhere in the area and frequently there were more than that. Toward the end of the war, before the Japanese were pushed out of this area, they took to flying patrol planes back and forth also.
The last submarine sunk in the war, USS Bullhead, commanded by my Naval Academy and submarine school classmate and good friend E. R. (Skillet) Holt, Jr., was most likely destroyed here on 6 August, 1945. This was “Skillet’s” first patrol as skipper, after a number in lesser capacity. He had been ordered into the Java Sea, just north of Java, and was due to transit Lombok Strait and enter his assigned area on the 6th of August, 1945. On that day, in position 8°—20’ S, 115°—40’ E, a Japanese patrol plane attacked a submarine, claiming two direct hits. The report went on to say that for ten minutes or more air bubbled to the surface and the water was slick with oil.
1030 Our position is exactly 8°—20’ South, 115°—40’ East.
The last time I saw “Skillet” was when we both graduated from submarine school on 20 December, 1941. Our careers paralleled each other; we arrived at the submarine school and achieved our first commands at approximately the same time. We departed for our respective first command patrols within a few days of each other; both of us were due to report to our new stations on the 6th of August, and on that very day both patrols were, in effect, terminated by bombs. In my case it was the bomb on Hiroshima.
While transiting Lombok Strait, we sighted several ships of various types. One was a s
mall sailing ship similar to the one we had seen yesterday in Makassar Strait, except it had only a single mast. Later, at 0950, sighted 3 ships, apparently small Naval or Coast Guard craft, heading north up Lombok Strait.
In attempting to determine the course and speed of these last-sighted vessels we experienced considerable difficulty in fixing an accurate angle on the bow. Every time the periscope was raised for an observation, they seemed to be heading in a different direction. There was no indication of a search pattern or deliberately erratic steering, but no two of them ever got together on a course, and they were never seen heading in the same direction twice. Finally, after some time, they steadied out and proceeded past us up Lombok Strait on a steady course and speed. We forgot the problem until later.
During a period, relatively free from near contacts, the opportunity was seized to inspect Bali carefully. Bali is a spectacular volcanic mountain, now extinct. Viewed from Lombok Strait, it is perfectly symmetrical, in many ways similar to Mt. Fuji in Japan, but without a snow cap. According to the chart, however, Bali Peak is not quite as symmetrical as Fuji, for the northwestern side was blown off by an eruption a long time ago.
On the eastern side of Lombok Strait there is another mountain, even higher than Mt. Bali: Mt. Rindjani. Both shores could be seen clearly. A village was visible at the foot of Mt. Rindjani on Lombok, but none on Bali, which only had terraced hillsides up a goodly portion of the steep sides of the volcano.
Although there were also many bare spots, Bali was bright with green verdure and held promise of many lovely valleys tucked away here and there amid the crags and outcroppings worn by centuries of weather and covered [in most places] with a skin of fertile soil. One could well believe the many stories told of the delightful living conditions and handsome, friendly inhabitants. It looks like a good life.
1029 In connection with our hydrographic and oceanographic work, of which very little can be told in this report, we seized the opportunity while in Lombok Strait to obtain deep-water samples, measure the general density, and observe temperature and other characteristics of the water. One of the simplest ways of measuring density is by behavior of the ship herself, since she will be considerably lighter in denser water and heavier in less-dense water. Correlation with known constants can give us a very good measure of the actual water conditions. To this is added careful analysis of the sample itself.
Upon going deep in Lombok Strait there were two distinct layers where the temperature changed rather rapidly, and at maximum submergence Triton was some 20 tons lighter than at periscope depth. This was easily understood, for directly to the south were the cool, deep waters of the Indian Ocean, while to the north were the warmer, saltier and shallow waters of the Sunda Sea and Flores Sea.
The heavy currents reported to exist here at various depths we can also well believe, and we have measured them. The existence of these currents bears out theories regarding the meeting of the Indian Ocean and the Flores Sea, and the resulting water density changes.
1215 Sighted ship bearing 205° true, at 7000 yards. Once again, in tracking the vessel, it proved difficult at first to determine his angle on the bow because he was continually changing course. Finally, he straightened out as the others did earlier today, and came by us at a reasonable range, steady course and speed. The vessel was a small but beautifully maintained trawler type. Probably a fisherman, possibly a government vessel or even a small yacht.
1300 Through the periscope sighted ahead a ridge of water several feet high, apparently caused by the confluence of the waters sweeping down from the north through Lombok Strait and those of the Indian Ocean coming up from the south. About this time the Diving Officer [Jim Hay] was having difficulty maintaining periscope depth at ⅓ speed. ⅔ speed was ordered to give him a little more control. In spite of this, and with a slight up angle, the ship slowly drifted downward. We thought all the time this would shortly stop, when suddenly the depth gauges began to spin; depth increased to 125 feet in the space of 40 seconds. Standard speed was ordered to pull out of the involuntary dive, and we steadied out at 125 feet, shortly thereafter regaining periscope depth with an entirely new set of trim readings.
In reconstructing the incident, it would appear that a strong northerly current of less dense Indian Ocean water had been setting in to Lombok Strait for some time, but that a current from the north was also making up. This would account for the apparent ridge or “wall” of water which we had seen ahead, for the variations of the water density when we went deep not long before, and for the erratic courses of the ships we had been watching.
At the point where we experienced the sudden change in depth, it would appear that there must have been a swirling of water, perhaps a downward current, as the Indian Ocean current met the Lombok Strait current.
Nick Mabry, the Hydrographic Office representative for oceanography, confirms our hypothesis as being a probable one. It was as though we had hit a hole in the water which acted on us as a down draft would act on an aircraft. Under the circumstances, Triton’s size, tremendously strong hull and great power pretty well eliminated any danger, especially since we had tight control of the ship at all times; but the situation of a wartime submarine with a weaker hull and only battery power must have been less comfortable.
I had experienced changes in water density many times before, but never one of this magnitude, nor this suddenness. There had been wartime reports of British submarines in the Mediterranean having somewhat the same experience, and some of the hard-to-believe stories of the period laid heavy losses in “the Med” to this phenomenon.
1313 Sighted an outrigger canoe with a sail bearing 144° true. Approached and photographed same. It appeared to have a whole family aboard.
1400 With all contacts pretty well out of sight, periscope liberty was announced for those who might be interested. Approximately 75 crew members came into the conning tower to say a fond hello and sad farewell to Bah of the beauteous damsels. They will at least be able to say they have seen it.
1630 Entered the Indian Ocean. Next stop—Cape of Good Hope.
14
From the Log, Wednesday, 6 April 1960:
There is one bit of good news to report today. Using substitute materials exclusively and manufacturing all the special tools needed, Herbert Hardman has rewound the control-air-compressor motor. It became, in fact, a special project, dubbed “practical instructions for electricians.” Under Hardman’s tutelage, George Bloomingdale, Jessie Vail and Herbert Zeller, all Electrician’s Mates First Class, have really turned-to in their off-watch hours, and all four deserve much credit. It was a mean job, the motor being a 10 horsepower 3-phase type. Merely digging out all the ruined windings and cleaning up the stator took over a week. When assembled, the motor ran perfectly the first time it was tried.
During the past several weeks our urgent need for a fathometer has been somewhat allayed because of the very fine performance of the active ranging sonar equipment; so the complete lack of success of our intensive efforts to devise a new fathometer is philosophically accepted. At this point, my biggest regret is the disappointment the failure must be causing to Simpson, Docker and Blaede, who have put so many hours into the project. When we get back to New London, we’ll give their sound head a thorough evaluation, just for the experience of seeing it work.
2339 As we make this observation, our sense of well-being is shattered again: the active sonar is reported out of commission; cause not yet determined. It is the report I have been dreading most. We still have thousands of miles to travel through not-too-well-sounded waters. Without a fathometer, it is essential that we keep our active sonar in commission.
Thursday, 7 April 1960 0050 A thorough check of the active sonar has revealed that a tube has failed from long continuous usage. With a new tube installed, the equipment is functioning as well as ever, and Will Adams, Bob Bulmer and I are greatly relieved. Bob, having officially relieved Will as Navigator when we left Lombok behind, finally feels light hearted e
nough to accuse his mentor of having deliberately caused the sonar failure to take place at this precise moment. Will grins. “Of course I did,” he says. At which point I don’t know whether to believe these clowns or not.
Sunday, 10 April 1960 0000 Ventilation secured after a thorough sweep-out of the atmosphere of the ship. One of the requirements of the cruise is to conduct a sealed-ship test under controlled conditions for observation of certain phenomena. Our time with a sealed atmosphere will not approach that of Seawolf in 1958, mainly because of the expense of all that oxygen, nor does it need to, so far as this test is concerned. But since we are a brand-new ship, this is one of the things we need to accomplish merely to develop our own techniques and limiting factors.
Until now, except for short periods for testing of our equipment, it had been our practice to come to periscope depth every night for about an hour, and run up the ventilation pipe for a sweep-out of the bad air and replacement with fresh sea air. Life under these conditions had its rigorous aspects. Little by little, during the day, the oxygen content of our atmosphere was reduced as the 183 men on board Triton slowly consumed it. Toward the end of the day, it usually had become oppressively low.
We were not concerned about the accumulation of carbon dioxide, for one or more of the carbon-dioxide-removal apparatuses was run continuously and we had no difficulty in keeping the carbon-dioxide content under control. The average consumption of oxygen by active persons, however, is just under a cubic foot of oxygen per man per hour, and a very close correlation was immediately found to exist between our oxygen consumption and the days of the week. On Sundays, when there was very little going on beyond normal ship cruising routine, the oxygen consumption per man approximated seven-tenths of a cubic foot per hour. Friday was Field Day, with all hands up and turning to, and the average consumption this day was always about one cubic foot per hour. As a consequence, one of the disadvantages of our Friday Field Days was the labored breathing which afflicted all hands the last few hours prior to running up the snorkel pipe.
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