CHAPTER SIXTEEN
INLAND SEA OF JAPAN
Sun Kida is being eagerly assisted by two of her granddaughters as they clear away the remains of dinner from their twelve foot long, koa wood dining table. Other grandchildren have found their way into the backyard while two of her children, Ken, Jr. and Lea are busy cleaning the kitchen and loading the dishwasher. Ken and Gary are the only remaining diners at the table and are enjoying Sun’s homemade cherry-flavored iced tea.
“Gary are you still interested in learning about the remainder of my first life?” Ken smiles wryly as he slowly strokes his beard, “Or perhaps you might prefer to wait until another time?” The expression on Gary’s face twists from enjoyment of the tea to outright alarm.
“No, no! Let’s continue. Please grandfather!”
“Good, then let us retire to my study where we can close the doors and not be disturbed.” Ken motions towards the nearby pitcher of iced tea.
“You take the pitcher and I will bring my glass.”
Ken slowly rises and walks the short distance to his den, enters through the French doors and proceeds make himself comfortable in his favorite over-stuffed leather reading chair. Ken almost resembles a large doll as the size of the chair overwhelms his slender frame.
Ken’s mementos and awards are centered on the wall to the left side of the entry, while shelves crammed with books of every possible topic fill the other walls. Directly overhead is a large, five-bladed ceiling fan featuring four frosted cut-glass light fixtures. Recessed ceiling lighting lines the entire room.
In a few moments Gary enters and places the pitcher, along with his glass, on a small table to Ken’s left. He quickly retreats to the doors and pulls them closed before taking a seat across from Ken. He patiently waits for his grandfather to speak.
Gary watches him as he closes his eyes, begins to unconsciously stroke his beard and allows his mind to drift through the fog of decades past. Suddenly, as if someone turned on a fan, the fog clears and Ken is, once again, IJN Lieutenant, junior grade, Masaharu Yokoyama and is reliving the summer of 1941. He finds himself at a secret Imperial Japanese Navy training base tucked away within the Inland Sea of Japan and is standing on the aft deck of the IJN Chiyoda.
“What followed that first day aboard the Chiyoda was an extended period of technical training, sometimes going aboard our respective midget submarines, but mostly in classrooms.” Ken’s voice tapers off as he begins to relive the experience.
The IJN Chiyoda, constructed as a seaplane tender, has been modified to better suit our training. The stern has been reconstructed and resembles an over-size pair of French doors which will allow the aft deck, upon which will sit one of our midget submarines, to be lowered into the ocean, providing a swift launch for each little vessel. Captain Harada likens the procedure to ‘a wasp laying eggs’ and it will prove to be safe, fast and efficient; much better than employing cranes to hoist the very heavy little submarines into and out of the water.
The Chiyoda can only launch a single, two-man midget submarine at a time and each midget submarine requires a commander, which is my role. Each midget sub also has an engineer and Sadamu Kamita has been assigned to me. Following many months of training we have grown to be good friends and are very excited at the prospect of finally starting sea trials.
All the crews are gathered on the aft deck to observe the first crew climb the conning tower’s ladder and proceed to enter their midget sub. Once the hatch closes behind them there can be no more communication, the reason being the radios have not yet arrived; nor is there a phone communication link with the ship. It is a true trial and error process and certainly fraught with unknown perils.
I find myself unconsciously holding my breath as the stern opens for the first time and the midget sub slips into the gently rolling waves. It bobbles from side to side, as if a toy, before slowly leveling off. In less than a minute it begins to deliberately slip below the surface, under its own power.
We instinctively run to the railing in an attempt to catch a glimpse of the sub. For a time only the bluish/green waves of the ocean are visible when suddenly, maybe two hundred yards distance, a periscope pops through the surface and we let out a boisterous cheer.
In the distance our practice target ship plows ahead at about fourteen knots, simulating a real-life situation. The practice torpedoes mounted to each midget sub weigh about one thousand pounds each, simulating the weight of our ‘Long-Lance’ torpedoes and will float once the propellant is expended, allowing them to be recovered and used again. There are shortages of so many things throughout Japan and torpedoes are in especially short supply; for that reason we never use live torpedoes in any of the practice runs. In retrospect, had we used live torpedoes we may well have discovered a flaw in the firing mechanism which did, in fact, exist. However, the flaw was not discovered; thus we unknowingly trained with an imperfect weapon.
I look through my binoculars to seek evidence of the submerged midget sub, but not until the first torpedo is released does she prove easy to locate. Simultaneously with firing the torpedo, the submarine’s stern breaches the surface and the rapidly spinning propellers send feverishly swirling fountains of salt water high into the air, clearly visible to the sailors aboard the target ship. They, and any nearby destroyer, would most certainly be able to pinpoint the source of the torpedo. Moments later the second torpedo’s wake is visible and again the submarine breaches the water, only more so. Unfortunately, both practice shots miss the target.
Kamita appears dejected, but I am more concerned with the propeller’s large spray pattern than whether the first practice shots struck their target as I am keenly aware that had it been an actual battle, enemy destroyers would have quickly been upon them with their deadly depth-charges bringing certain death.
When the first submarine is retrieved, I believe we make a tactical mistake by not taking the time to de-brief the crew before launching the next midget submarine. In my opinion we could learn more quickly if we knew what measures the prior crew took in preparing to fire before proceeding ourselves, especially as we are next in line.
It is difficult to convey my feeling of utter helplessness as my boat slips from the ramp and immediately begins to list heavily to starboard. We are barely into our maiden voyage and are in danger of rolling upside down! This is not an aircraft where we would be strapped into our seats; it is a submarine and there are no safety restraints. I order Kamita to transfer ballast to port, but he is already doing so. He is proving to be a self-starter and not prone to sitting on his hands while awaiting orders.
Ken suddenly coughs several times, bringing him back to the present day. He takes a long drink from his iced tea. “Sorry, but suddenly my throat went dry.”
Gary tops off Ken’s glass and refills his own. He really can’t think of anything to say as he stares at his grandfather and tries to imagine him as a young lieutenant in the Imperial Japanese Navy. He almost says aloud: “My God, the Imperial Japanese Navy,” but catches himself. He’s unconsciously shaking his head as he simply can’t formulate such a picture. He makes a mental note to learn about the Japanese midget subs because their history has suddenly become important to him.
Ken resettles himself, closes his eyes, and continues. Gary notices it’s as if his grandfather is no longer in the room and is mentally and physically returning to 1941.
Once we level off I set our speed at five knots, proceed to periscope depth and begin maneuvering into firing position. I need to be aware of the battery reserves as our speed, especially when submerged, impacts our potential cruising range. While we are capable of submerged speeds up to twenty knots, proceeding at high speeds seriously reduces our useable battery life. Conversely, at low speeds we can confidently travel at least one hundred miles before running out of charge. Truly our little boat is a technological marvel!
I manage to maneuver us into an excellent angle for the attack and am faced with firing torpedoes for the first time in my life. I have
only a technical concept of what to expect, but find comfort in knowing the crew before me survived.
I hold my breath as I give Kamita the order: ‘Fire one!’ Suddenly it is as if we have been struck by a tsunami. The boat lurches backwards and up, then forwards and down. Both of us helplessly fly about the cabin as our little submarine ferociously reacts to the violent expulsion of a one thousand pound torpedo. To complicate matters we discover one of the valves is not fully closed and it springs an unsettling leak, which is a lesson best learned in practice.
Kamita quickly tightens the valve, but the issue of firing the second torpedo remains to be addressed. I do two things differently; I lower the periscope in the belief it will make the boat more stable, and I order Kamita to hold on tightly.
We fire the second torpedo and while the first shot veered wide right, the second shot veers wide left. In fact, of the ten torpedoes fired by our five submarines on the initial day of sea trials, not even one strikes the target. Despite the failures none of us are discouraged.
We are considered an elite service, thus we eat as if Royalty and enjoy exceptional accommodations. Following dinner we all meet in the Officer’s ward room where the excitement level is high as the thrill of our experiences that day remain fresh in our consciousness. We are drinking sake with several of the officers from the Chiyoda when Captain Harada calls for everyone’s attention.
“Good evening, Gentlemen.” Captain Harada raises a cup of warm sake in his right hand.
“I toast to all of you for a very entertaining and enlightening initial day of training in your tubes.” Harada waves his right hand in the direction of Kamita who is sporting a large bandage across the middle of the forehead.
“I see you are all still alive, though some the worse for wear.” Harada allows himself a brief a brief laugh before downing his sake. Kamita, only slightly embarrassed, smiles broadly at the attention Harada has brought upon him.
“We have compiled a synopsis of everyone’s mission briefs from today’s exercise and you will find them on the rear table.” Harada motions to a table at the back of the room with a large stack of reports neatly set upon it. He picks up a fresh cup of sake before continuing.
“Study the reports and tomorrow morning we will review them together. Later, you will attend to your boats and access any damage. I remind you, we have a full staff of experts here, many of whom actually designed or partook in the building of your boats and they are at your complete disposal. Take advantage of their experience and call upon them, no matter how miniscule you might believe an issue to be.”
Harada raises his cup, an indication for everyone else to do the same.
“To the Emperor!” Harada enthusiastically exclaims.
The men stand and repeat his toast before swigging down their sake.
“Sleep well tonight, gentlemen.”
Ken blinks hard, pauses and looks directly at Gary. “A number of years ago I attempted to determine what became of Captain Harada.” Ken pauses as he fights back a tear. “I learned he had been promoted to vice-admiral and placed in charge of our midget submarine base at Cebu, which is in the Philippines. Unfortunately, I could find no mention of his name by the Allies after their conquest of Cebu, so I assume he died there, probably on land. He was a good officer and a good man. That said, it is time for me to continue.” He closes his eyes, gently strokes his beard and settles more deeply into his over-stuffed chair.
Time moves quickly and soon it is early October, 1941. Most of us are achieving a high degree of competency and of the five commanders, three of us always hit the target with our first torpedo. Two of the other commanders are still experiencing great difficulties, but we sit down as a group each night and talk through various issues. The accuracy of the second torpedo strike continues to plague all of us.
On this particular day we are the last to be launched. By now we have our boat so well balanced that once we are free of our mother ship, we begin maneuvering almost immediately. Though we do not yet know it, this will prove to be the last day we fail to put both torpedoes onto the target.
The firing solution for the second torpedo is simple and yet complex. Once we release the first torpedo our boat will breach the water as if it is a whale. By the time we can level off and gain suitable control to re-acquire our target, it has continued on its course and traveled well beyond its original position, consistently leaving our second shot in her wake. Therefore, quickly firing both torpedoes is essential, but has proven to be stubbornly difficult.
Ken raises his right hand with his fist closed, save for his middle three fingers. Pointing his hand at Gary, he opens stares him directly in the eyes.
“There are three reasons it is essential to quickly fire both torpedoes. First, we are in the optimum firing position. Second, the longer we delay firing, the further our target sails. And the third reason is the risk of discovery. Discovery is a vexing issue for no matter how Kamita and I align the ballast, each time we fire a torpedo our stern breaches the surface which results in a series of towering waterfalls that are easily spotted by the enemy. The longer we find it necessary to linger in the area so we may deliver our weapons the more likely it is a destroyer will locate us and depth charge our small boat into oblivion.”
“We also have an issue with the periscope. It is only ten feet high which forces us to be too close to the surface when we fire. There is nothing we can do about it at this point. If only it were a few feet longer our stern would likely remain below the surface and not give away our position. Gary, you do not want to experience being depth charged as there are no words I can use to adequately describe what it is like.” Ken seems to catch himself going off on a tangent.
“Please forgive me as I fear I have digressed yet again. Where was I? Oh yes, I recall now.” Ken closes his eyes and resumes his story as if he was looking into the past as an observer.
Following dinner most of us are in the officer’s lounge. It is about eight in the evening and we are still enjoying excellent weather so several portholes are open. I remember it to be a Thursday. We have one day of training to complete before we embark on a full forty eight hours of freedom, the entire weekend to do as we please.
Kamita and I notice Shigemi Foruno and Shigenori Yokoyama, his engineer, are sitting and chatting. We each pick up two cups of sake and approach them for I have decided we need to have a discussion. Shigenori Yokoyama is easily the most experienced torpedo man in the group and I desire to gain access to his experience.
“You two look deep in thought. Do you mind if we intrude?” I ask. Foruno and Yokoyama immediately recognize us, smile and stand to greet us.
“Aye! You are most welcome, especially if you are bringing us sake!” Foruno exclaims.
Kamita and I hand each of them a full cup as we all take seats around a small table.
“So tell me, Masaharu, how have your trials been coming?” Foruno asks.
“Not to my complete satisfaction,” I reply.
“Do not feel badly for we are not experiencing the best results either. Let us share our issues and determine what we might be able to conclude.” Foruno sits back, his arms on his thighs as he prepares to listen.
“We are experiencing great difficulty successfully targeting the second torpedo. If we wait for the boat to cease rocking after we launch the first torpedo then we find there is no time remaining for us to re-acquire the target. And if we fire the second shot too quickly, it goes wildly off course.” The frustration in my voice is obvious.
We grow silent as we each consider the problem.
“If it helps you feel better, we are having the same issue and I have been working with torpedoes for years,” says Shigenori Yokoyama, who proceeds to offer his thoughts.
“We have experimented with changing the ballast and have moved some ballast forward thinking the loss of the torpedo’s weight would have less effect. We have also tried increasing the ballast, both port and starboard, at the sacrifice of range, but nothing has pro
duced a satisfactory result. If only we had radios and could communicate our efforts during the maneuvers!” Shigenori slowly shakes his head back and forth.
“Personally, I believe our boats are too light for the weight of the torpedoes. Perhaps if there could be room for additional battery trays to add additional weight, not to mention greater operational range,” Foruno’s furrowed forehead conveys his deep concern.
I stand and walk over to pick up a small tray with four cups of sake. Returning to the table, I distribute them, receiving thanks from each man.
“Let’s try this idea tomorrow,” Shigenori Yokoyama’s voice sounds encouraging.
“First, each crew will take a signal lantern with them. Second, and this is the difficult aspect, when we release the first shot,” he glances at Kamita, “this will be hard, but after the first shot, hold tight with your left hand and put your right hand on the firing switch for torpedo two. The boat will dip backwards, then forwards very quickly. The third time the bow starts to swing up, and timing here is critical, fire the second torpedo, on the upswing! If you fire too soon or too late it will either drive itself too deep to recover or it will break the surface as if a flying fish and likely veer off course. I do believe this is worth trying.”
“So why the signal lanterns?” Kamita asks.
“Aye!” Foruno shouts, “I understand your concept. Once we fire our torpedoes we will surface and signal to the Chiyoda the actions we took to accomplish whatever result was realized. Then the following boat can make adjustments!”
“Excellent idea!” I exclaim. “We shall take this to Captain Harada and seek his endorsement; a toast to our success.”
“Kamita, bring us a final round of sake before we seek an audience with the Captain!”
Chameleons, a Novel Based Upon Actual Events Page 12