Run Silent, Run Deep

by Edward L. Beach

  I pulled Hugh Adams aside to show his track chart. "Here's the convoy's track and here's the coast," pointing to the line made up of Little Cull Island, the buoys, and the nets. "I knew they'd have to come around this way, so we just waited for them."

  Blunt stomped over to the chart to get a closer look, and as he moved his cap fell off. Clumsily, I nearly stepped on it.

  "Rich, you're a bastard," he said.

  5

  The operational readiness inspection by Captain Blunt was the last item prior to our departure for the Pacific Ocean and Pearl Harbor. Ahead of us lay the necessary chores of fueling ship, cramming her with provisions, taking a full load of torpedoes and spares aboard-and saying good-by to families and friends.

  We had a week to get ready. Five days before our scheduled departure Jim came to me with a rather unusual request. He wanted three days leave.

  I couldn't help showing a little surprise. "What's up, Jim?"

  I asked. "This is a pretty busy time."

  Jim looked uncomfortable. "I know it, sir, but this is one of those things…." His voice trailed off and an intuitive flash told me that it concerned Laura.

  It was true that Walrus had been under a steady grind for the past several weeks. Jim had home the brunt of it and had done an excellent job.

  "Jim," I said slowly, "I don't see how we can spare you just now-there is all the work you have been supervising…"

  Jim was ready for that one. "I've got everything all set, sir.

  Everybody has his instructions and all the officers know their own jobs better than I do anyway. Things can get along pretty well without me for the next few days."

  This wasn't quite true because an Executive Officer's work is never done so long as his skipper has things on his mind. But since we were leaving to go to war and would be gone a long time, perhaps we could make a special arrangement for him.

  "OK, old man," I agreed, "figure to be back a couple of days before our scheduled departure."

  Jim's countenance brightened. "Thanks, skipper." He bounded away almost with his old lightheartedness.

  I mentally made a note to take over the supervisory functions of Jim's job during his absence, but found this unnecessary.

  They were indeed, as he had said, well organized. My own duties I found to be rather more complicated, however, mainly because of a series of briefing and study sessions which apparently all departing skippers had to undergo. The most impressive of these to me was the one given two days before we were to leave, in which the full extent of the damage at Pearl Harbor on December seventh was made known. The briefing was specified as 'Secret' and Captain Blunt warned me about it before taking me in to see the Admiral command- ing the Atlantic submarine force.

  "ComSubLant" was standing in a room fitted with a long table and several chairs, obviously used mainly for conferences.

  On the table was a stack of papers and charts. His name was Smathers and he had been a submariner of repute years before.

  "Richardson," said Admiral Smathers, greeting me, "I sup- pose you've heard most of the details of the Jap attack at Pearl Harbor?"

  "I've heard a lot of stories about it."

  "Well, that's the reason we've called you up here. We want you to know exactly the situation, not only in Pearl Harbor but also in the Philippines and in Malaya. This first pamphlet," he picked up a-loose-leaf bound portfolio of photographs-is a set of pictures taken immediately after the Pearl Harbor attack. And here," he picked up another pamphlet, "is a list of our forces in the Pacific and their general location. The rest of this will also be of interest. When you get through you will see why we've had to accelerate submarine construction so drastically-and why every boat we can fit out is going to the Pacific right away. Also you will appreciate why it has been imperative to keep word of the true conditions out there from getting back home or to the enemy. Come to my office if you have any questions." With that the Admiral shook hands again, strode to the door, and departed. Captain Blunt went with him.

  I spent three hours alone going through the papers with growing consternation. We all knew things were tough in the Pacific, but I had not known they were this bad. Fighting a naval war in both oceans at the same time automatically reduced our available forces to shoestring size when it came to operations, and the losses we had suffered right at the outset made the situation look downright desperate.

  The Admiral was wrong in one thing. There was another mimeographed pamphlet which was to me of even greater interest than the ones he had singled out. It listed our sub- marine forces to date and the losses we had sustained. I found the Octopus listed there, the Sea Lion at Cavite, the Shark, overdue in the Philippines, and the S-26, rammed and sunk by her own escorts off Panama. There were also two other losses I had not known about as yet, S-36, which had run aground in the Malay Archipelago, and Perch, overdue from patrol since March. In the section devoted to Dutch submarines the casualties were even higher.

  When I had finished reading every word and looking at every chart and every photograph, I silently reassembled all the papers, said good-by to the Admiral's aide, and thought- fully made my way back to the Walrus.

  She was lying at the berth in which all boats about to leave for the war zone were placed-the pier directly in front of the Submarine Base Commander's office, and she had it all to her- self. On either side of her, nested two to a pier, were other fleet boats, looking as much alike as so many peas in a pod, the only difference between them being that those built in the Navy Yard at Portsmouth, New Hampshire, had a slightly more angular silhouette than the Electric Boat Company version.

  Electric Boat's schedule, I understood, called for twenty- eight to be delivered by the end of the year. Portsmouth was building almost as many, and, out in California, Mare Island Navy Yard also had a greatly increased quota. Alongside these sleek, streamlined monsters the older boats occupying the other docks looked like antiquated toys. Somehow, there was a studied deadliness about the smooth black shapes of these new ocean cruisers. They were built for war and they looked it. All other considerations had been subordinated to the requirements of war under the sea.

  The bridge, set well forward of amidships because of the space taken by the two engine rooms and the four great engines in the after part, was slightly swept back and smoothly rounded, with glassed portholes in its forward covered section.

  In its center rose the towerlike periscope support structure built of heavy steel framing and plated over for a sleek appearance. In its after part was the "cigarette deck," deriving its name from the now-outmoded requirement that men come topside if they wanted a smoke.

  Directly beneath the bridge was the horizontal cylinder, eight feet in diameter and about fifteen feet long, which constituted the conning tower. When the ship was under way, access below decks could only be obtained by going from the bridge through the heavy bronze hatch and dawn a ladder in- to the conning tower, then climbing through another hatch and down another ladder into the control room.

  On the main deck abaft the bridge Walrus and all her sisters carried a three-inch antiaircraft gun with waterproofed mechanisms, designed for rapid fire. Gun action, which required an ammunition supply from below, constituted one of the few occasions when a main deck hatch would be opened while under way. Otherwise, the only hatch ever opened, the only one needing to be closed for a quick dive, was the bridge hatch.

  The boats on either side of Walrus bore numbers on their conning towers, and salt-streaked sides showed signs of their rugged training regimes. Our numbers had already been painted out along with the new paint job we had received, and the somber black exterior of the ship was now unrelieved by markings of any kind.

  A provisions truck was leaving the dock as I walked up. The pile of crated and canned foodstuffs it had left was already melting away under the attentions of the working party Kohler had detailed to help Russo get the food stored below.

  A feeling of tension ran through the ship. I could sense it; perhaps it
must always be thus when ships and men go to war. It is the realization of what is faced, the risks one is going to run, and it is the gnawing thought, felt in the pit of your stomach, that maybe this is it, maybe this is the last time you will see this particular place again.

  The other boats in various stages of incomplete readiness at the other docks, or those in from training periods under way, would not have quite the same atmosphere. But I had in- variably sensed when a ship was going to war and I sensed it now from Walrus as she lay there quietly moored to the dock. Her silent bulk seemed about to tremble at some secret fear, and as I stepped over the brow and returned the salute of the gangway watch I was struck by a sudden thought: "This ship will not survive the war."

  Jim got back the next morning. We were at breakfast in the wardroom when he came, aboard and sat down to join us. He had, some sort of news, I could tell, and Keith broke the ice for him. Keith had an amusing name for each of us.

  It was he who had dubbed Tom Schultz 'Father' or 'Dad.'

  Jim, he occasionally called "Cobber"-probably because of a secret yearning Jim had once expressed to go to Australia.

  So far as I could discern I had yet to be honored by his attention in this regard. But, of course, a skipper could never be sure.

  "Father, Oh, Father," said Keith in mock plea to Tom, "Cobber's home with us at last and going to help us with the war after all. Dost thee think thou couldst make our gallant Executive tell us where he's been? Keith pronounced the last word as though it were spelled b-e-a-n.

  Jim chuckled. "Hold, it, Sonny boy. If you'll give me a. chance, I'll tell you where I've bean." He drew a deep breath.

  "Two days ago Laura and I were married. She came back with me to New London and is at the Mohican Hotel right now."

  We all stared at him.

  I could not begin to explain the peculiar sensation the news evoked in me. Certainly I had no right to be interested in Laura for myself. There was just that odd yearning for an indefinable something that never could have been that she, or the mention of her, always brought out. I forced a congratulatory smile.

  "That's grand, Jim. We all hope you'll both be Very happy but what a shame you have so little time together!"

  Jim smiled ruefully. "Thanks," he said, "but it can't be helped. We might have had more time if certain things had worked out better, but we'll make out. Well even send all of you an announcement, after the war's over."

  The deep-seated resentment was still there all right.

  Two days later was Memorial Day, the day we were scheduled to leave New London en route to the Panama Canal.

  We were to get under way at 14 30, 2:30 P m. and the morning was filled with last-minute preparations which belied the status of that day as a holiday. We started cleaning up the ship at ten-thirty and at eleven-thirty piped down dinner for the crew. At one-thirty we would have open gangway for relatives and friends of our ship's, company. Certain critical pieces of equipment had been covered over with paper or canvas so that our visitors could be permitted to go below in order actually to see and feel the places where their sons and husbands would be fighting the enemy.

  At noon we had lunch in the wardroom. Tom brought his wife Cynthia; Dave Freeman his mother, a large matriarchal- looking woman who had journeyed up from Washington to see him off; and Jim, of course, was with Laura. It was a bit crowded with three extra people in the tiny eight-by-six- foot room, and the conversation ran in uneasy fits, with long lapses of silence.

  Cynthia Schultz was a sweet-faced, pleasant woman about Tom's age. In their life together, no doubt, they had had many separations for various lengths of time, but this was a special one and no one knew how long it would last or what the outcome would be. She sat very close to him during the whole meal and hardly touched her food.

  Mrs. Freeman, on the other hand, chatted gaily as though there was nothing whatsoever on her mind, or as if her son were not on the verge of entering the shooting war.

  Laura, sitting next to Jim on my right, was quiet, like Cynthia, and also ate very little. I could not help noticing the plain gold band on her finger, unaccompanied by any- thing resembling an engagement ring. She fingered it nervously with her thumb, until she noticed me watching.

  The three women brought home to me for the first time what war must mean to the thousands and millions of mothers, wives, and fiancees left behind. As we were waiting for dessert, even Mrs. Freeman fell silent, and I noticed her fumbling for Dave's hand under the table.

  Then lunch was over and it was time to make preparations for getting under way. I had not had an opportunity to speak to Laura except to extend the usual wishes for future happiness. Keith, Hugh, and I went topside to set things in motion, while Tom, Jim, and Dave took the opportunity to show their guests through the ship. A small crowd had gathered on the dock and I noticed many of our men there also bidding their last good-byes. Some of the women were unashamedly sobbing, and there were many long embraces. A hard lump rose in my throat as I watched.

  At 2:00 P.M., Hugh Adams, who had the duty, directed that all guests please leave the ship. A few minutes later the last few had struggled up from below and crossed the gang- way to the dock. Last were Mrs. Freeman, Laura, and Cynthia Schultz. We stood at the head of the gangway for a few moments speaking our formal good-byes.

  Mrs. Freeman reached out a gloved hand. "Captain," she said, "take good care of your ship, and bring my boy back safe." Her eyes gave her away. Though there was not the suspicion of a tremor in her voice, the grip she gave me carried much more than a casual feeling with it.

  Cynthia Schultz now pressed my hand in her turn, kissed Tom tenderly, murmured something I could not hear, and was gone.

  Laura was last. The perfunctory pressure of her hand and the deep misery in her eyes spoke volumes of feeling I would never be able to appreciate. How she must hate me! She turned to Jim, hid her face against him for a moment. He clasped her tightly to him, kissed her longingly. Her lips moved against his as she raised her face and leaned against him. The lump in my throat tightened till it hurt. I swallowed several times, finally turned away, struggling to retain my composure.

  I had never wanted anything belonging to anyone else until that moment.

  "Hugh," I said to Adams, "have the crew fall in at quarters."

  After muster on deck abaft the bridge, I delivered a short speech to the effect that once we had left New London be- hind us we would be on our own. The sea was populate with enemy submarines who would like nothing better than a U. S. submarine's scalp to hang on their belts. We had a long trip ahead of us, I told them, and constant alertness would be our only assurance of safety. I finished my speech simply with the words "Leave your quarters. Man your stations for getting under way," and walked forward.

  Just forward of the bridge, waiting for me to finish, stood Admiral Smathers and Captain Blunt. On the dock near the gangway were the skippers o If the two boats next in line be- hind Walrus, soon to leave for the Pacific themselves, and Stocker Kane and his wife, Harriet, unwillingly known as "Hurry," a pretty, sandy-haired girl, almost as tall as he, which didn't, after all, make her very tall. Behind them a throng of relatives and well-wishers stood watching, waiting for us to get under way.

  Admiral Smathers gripped my hand. "Good luck, Richardson, have a good trip. Watch out for German submarines."

  My old commanding officer gave me a firm clasp. "Good hunting, Rich, I'll be seeing you out there soon, I hope."

  The other two skippers reached across the gangway, shook hands, murmured their best, wishes. Stocker stood on the dock with "Hurry." He slipped his, arm around her, waist, hugged her to him.

  "Congratulations, old-timer! I wish I could be going with you, but I'll be only a few weeks behind."

  I hadn't heard about this, and looked at him with a question in my eyes.

  He went on to explain. "I got my orders day before yester- day to the Nerka at Mare Island. I'm flying there tomorrow.

  It will take you so long to go t
hrough the canal that I might be in Pearl Harbor nearly its soon as you."

  Stocker's wife hugged his arm to her. "Isn't that wonderful, Rich?" she said. "I'll be leaving too in just a few days. Ever since you got the Walrus, Stocker's been just itching for his chance."

  Deep in her eyes a shadow belied her cheery voice. Two people this much in love shouldn't have to face war, I thought.

  But of course it was no different for them than it was for everyone in Walrus' crew, except that our time was at hand.

  A main engine roared into life, throwing a cloud of water and smoke out of the exhaust port and under the dock opposite. Two or three people standing nearby hastily backed clear of the spray. Then an engine on the other side thundered Its defiance.

  I saluted gravely as Smathers and Blunt stepped over the gangway. As I did so two more engines simultaneously bellowed their sixteen-cylinder starting song.

  Hugh was now up on the bridge. "Single up," he shouted.

  Our four lines were swiftly reduced from three strands to one each as the bights were taken aboard. The skippers of the other two boats stepped up on the gangway, briefly reached out to shake hands with me. "Good hunting, Rich, good luck." They drew back.

  "Take in the gangway!" shouted Hugh.

  Stocker and the two other skippers, disdaining to wait for the regular dock crew, grasped the gangway themselves and dragged it away from the ship.

  I turned and mounted to the bridge.

  "The ship is ready to get under way, Captain," said Hugh.

  "Very well," acknowledging his salute. "Take her out on time." It was then within a minute of 2:30 P.M. As Hugh waited, I spoke quietly to Jim.

  "Have you had the ship searched for stowaways?"

  "Nobody I know would be wanting to make this trip with us, Captain. Anyway, I had Kohler go through the ship. We have no unauthorized people aboard, sir."

  I nodded. It was hardly conceivable that anyone would, want to stow away, but it had happened to a Mare Island boat several weeks ago.

  "Take in Two and Three!" Hugh was shouting to the men forward and aft of the bridge. "Stand by to answer bells," he said to the conning tower. A moment later, "Take in Four!"