Run Silent, Run Deep

by Edward L. Beach

  So saying, Russo pulled the shaking Lobo to his feet, still gripping the supposedly injured arm. "Listen, I told ya before, PORT corner, not STAROARD! Don't ya know which is PORT and which is STARBOARD on a ship?"

  By this time all the charred "flesh" had been knocked off Lobo's arm. Russo indicated the switchboard, looked at the electrician, who nodded. He reached behind the panel and pulled forth the remains of a can with, a blue paper wrapper labeled 'KLIM.' The edges were seared and melted; the con- tents, once a white powder, had bubbled up with the flame into large black globules. Covering and sticking to Smith's arm, this was what had given us the impression of charred flesh.

  "I thought you was going to qualify in submarines, Lobo,"

  Russo said roughly. "You get everybody mad at you and you'll be mess-cooking all your life, you'll never. qualify. Now you pull all this powdered milk out of here and stick it where I told you to and then you go get a rag and clean up the back of this here auxiliary power panel."

  Larto grinned and nodded, and Lobo began to reach with trepidation toward the power panel. Tom Schultz, who had meanwhile arrived, and Jim were by this time grinning at each other, and Kohler and Larto broke into guffaws.

  "Go wan, Lobo," said Kohler, "it won't bite you."

  "Look out, Lobo," offered Quin, "it might burn off your other arm or maybe your head this time.

  Lobo looked appealingly at me. After his experience he was obviously in deathly fear of the power panel. He had piled up cans of dried milk behind it until one of them had made contact with a copper bus bar. The resulting flash of fire had scared the wits out of him, not to mention the reaction at seeing his arm apparently burned off to the shoulder. I couldn't help chuckling a little despite his discomfort and terror.

  "Go ahead," I told him, "there's no more juice on the board.

  Larto's cut it off."

  Larto grinned a large, even-toothed smile, nodded to the frightened Lobo.

  "She's all right now, Lobo. I'll just sit and watch it while you clean it up so you don't make no more mistakes."

  That ended the incident and the crowd gradually drifted away, but for the next two hours-we were aware of a running fire of sarcastic comment from Larto as he grimly supervised poor Lobo Smith's labors behind the once spotless electrical distribution board.

  The next morning I presented myself in the Admiral's office.

  "Come in, Richardson," said the Admiral. He led me into a room where a curtain had been pulled back to disclose a wall map of the Pacific. Various areas were outlined around the coast of Japan and elsewhere. Thumbtacked in some of them were paper submarine silhouettes, each bearing the name of a vessel. "Here's your area, Richardson," he said, indicating a spot off the eastern coast of Japan. "This is AREA SEVEN. you have one good harbor entrance here, — Bungo Suido, leading into the Inland Sea of Japan between the islands of Kyushu, Honshu, and Shikoku. There will be a lot of coastwise traffic and perhaps some ocean traffic in and out of the Bungo. Here is your Operation Order." He handed me a freshly made-up pamphlet. "Take a look at it now and take a good look at this chart. Maybe you'll want to study it a while and then we can talk further. You may not discuss it with anyone else until you're under way, not even your Exec."

  And so a few hours later I stood on Walrus forecastle as preparations for getting under way were being completed.

  The Admiral, as evidently was his custom, had come down to see us off and there was a small group of officers and enlisted men on the dock in addition to the line-handling crew and the band that we'd first seen on our arrival.

  "You'll go via Midway Island," the Admiral had said.

  "We've put a little mail aboard you for them. When you get to your area take it easy at first and explore the place. We've only had four other submarines bring us reports from there, and we want to get the lay of the land. Note particularly the traffic routes, what kind of ships seem to be using the Bungo Suido, whether there are any patterns of behavior, that is, whether they travel by night or day, morning or evening, zig- zagging, in convoy, or whatever. We would like you to try that night surface technique also."

  Then the Admiral became grave. "The last boat to come back from your area went close inshore after a few days and was badly depth-charged. He thinks the Japs knew he was there the whole time. Anyway, he didn't have much luck and brought all his torpedoes back. Remember, Richardson, you have a submarine here. Don't let them detect you. Your mission is to inflict as much damage as you can on the enemy, not to get spotted or attacked yourself."

  The band was playing as the Admiral said his good-byes.

  "Oh, by the way," he said, as he turned to go back ashore, "a couple of old friends of yours are due in here soon. Captain Blunt is coming in to be my Chief of Staff and the Nerka will be here in two weeks from Mare Island. Aren't you a friend of her skipper, Kane?"

  "Yes, sir," I said. This indeed was news. Stocker Kane, I might not see, because he would be gone on patrol long before Walrus was due back in Pearl Harbor. Blunt, however, would be there to welcome us back from our first patrol. "I'll be look- ing forward to seeing them, Admiral," I said. "Give them my best." I answered his salute to the colors as he walked across the gangway. Reaching the other side, he turned.

  "Good hunting, Richardson," he called. "It's open season on monkeys."

  Some wag had cooked up what he called a hunting license on monkeys and a copy of it was on my desk below.

  The gangway was pulled ashore. I waved to Jim on the bridge and could hear the deeper note as our diesels com- menced to deliver power. Slowly we backed away from the dock and I waved one last time to the Admiral and his staff.

  The band continued playing until we were out of sight.

  7

  Our first night out gave us fair warning that this trip would not be a repetition of our voyage from Balboa to Pearl.

  I had just written the night orders and had gone below for a couple of hours' sleep, after which I would relieve Jim of the 'on-call duty,' is we termed our agreement to alternate wakefulness. On my bunk fully clothed, not having even bothered to remove my shoes, I could feel my- self slipping rapidly into slumber when there came a faraway call.

  "Captain to the bridge!" I jerked into alertness, still not sure I had heard it. Running footsteps came from the control room and Lobo Smith, standing messenger watch, thrust his disheveled head past the curtain which I had drawn across the entrance to my room.

  "Captain, wake up!" he shouted. "Captain to the bridge!"

  "I jumped out of my bunk, thrust past Smith, dashed down the passageway into the control room, up the ladder, and was on the bridge within seconds.

  "What is it?"

  Jim was already there, standing beside Hugh Adams.

  "There's a ship out there, Captain," Hugh said, pointing to our port beam.

  It was a sticky, black night. I could barely see Jim and Hugh's shadowy forms. My binoculars revealed nothing.

  "What kind of a ship, Hugh?"

  "Can't tell, sir, low to the water-fairly small, I think, not too far away!"

  "I saw him too for a minute, sir," said Jim. "That's about right, I think."

  "Could you tell which way he was going?" I asked.

  "No, sir," both answered at once. "Looked like nearly broad- side to," Jim added.

  I leaned toward the hatch. "Conning tower," I called, "tell Mr. Freeman to come to the foot of the hatch."

  "I don't remember anything in our Operation Order about any friendly ships in this area," I muttered. "We were sup- posed to be informed."

  "Do you think it might be a Jap?" Jim broke in.

  "No telling." I picked up my binoculars, searched the port beam again. There was nothing to be seen.

  "Hugh, has the SJ radar picked him up?"

  "No, sir," Adams answered. "I had it searching over there but no luck."

  "Radar's either not working or he's too far away," I mused, still trying to see the other ship.

  "Can you still see him?" I ask
ed.

  "Not right now," Jim began.

  "There he is," Hugh broke in. "Broad on the beam!"

  Well, there's no point in giving him our broadside to look at. Put our stern to him, Hugh," I ordered.

  Walrus swung steadily to the right until our stern was pointed in the direction of the other ship.

  Dave Freeman was at the foot of the hatch to the conning tower. "Did you want me, sir?'

  "Yes, Dave. Break out our Operation Order and also go through your latest dispatches. See ff there is anything m there about a friendly ship northwest of Oahu. We are a little more than a hundred miles away, I guess. If you don't find anything, draft a message to ComSubPac saying that we have contacted an unidentified ship gut here. Get Rubinoffski to give you our position coordinates."

  "Aye, aye, sir!" He disappeared.

  My eyes were getting slightly more accustomed to the dark- ness and I could see the horizon. Jim and Hugh on the bridge were more distinct now, but still I could not see the other ship.

  Jim spoke. "Skipper, maybe we are running away from him.

  If it's a Jap, it would be a sub wouldn't it? Couldn't it be one still on patrol after the Battle of Midway?"

  "Could be," I said. "It would be a pretty long patrol though." Then to Adams: "Hugh, cut in the other two engines, and slow down to one-third speed. We don't want to get too far away from him, but I want all the engines ready."

  Adams leaned toward the conning tower hatch without responding.

  "Answer bells on four main engines," he ordered. "All ahead one third."

  We had been proceeding on only two engines, the other two lying idle. Within seconds of Hugh's command there came a sound of machinery revolving as air was admitted to turn over one of the engines, then a klunk as the hydraulically operated exhaust valve was opened. The triumphant belch of our third diesel engine added its note to those of the other two. A second later the process was repeated, and four engines settled down to a quiet idling rumble.

  About this time I caught my first glimpse of the other vessel.

  A low-lying ship, broadside to us, barely distinguishable against the horizon and perhaps half as far away, three miles.

  "He hasn't seen us, sir," Jim muttered. "He'd have turned one way or the other."

  This seemed plausible.

  "I'll bet this is a Jap submarine. He'd sure be a feather in our cap, wouldn't he, skipper!"

  "He would be, if he turned out to be a Jap," I said. "If only we could be sure."

  Hugh picked up the ship's blinker tube which was part of our night bridge equipment, peered over Jim's shoulder to read the chalked recognition signal marked on the black surface of the bridge windshield "T V U," he said. "Shall I make it, Captain?"

  Hugh aimed the blinker tube at the other ship.

  "God, no!" Jim almost shouted, "If it's a Jap that will alert him!"

  "That's right, Hugh," I said. "We should not try the recognition signal on him unless ready to shoot torpedoes instantly if he doesn't come back with the right answer. That's the way to handle it."

  "I didn't think of that," Hugh mumbled sheepishly, as he carefully put the blinker tube down again.

  The outline of the other ship was becoming less distinct.

  I was about to make mention of the fact when Jim spoke again.

  "Looks to me that we are farther away than before, Captain."

  I agreed. "Hugh, turn around and head for him. Use a little speed to get around and then slow down again."

  Walrus was swinging to the left as Dave Freeman spoke up from the hatch below.

  "Captain," he called. I came forward, bent over attentively.

  "What did you find out?"

  "Nothing, Sir. There isn't supposed to be any ship anywhere around here except us, and there's nothing in the skeds about one. I made up a message." He read from a paper in his hand, aiming a tiny red flashlight beam at it.

  "URGENT FOR COMSUBPAC X, SMALL VESSEL SIGHTED NORTHWEST OAHU ONE THREE ZERO MILES X, COURSE THREE ZERO ZERO X, SPEED ONE TWO."

  "How did you dope that out?"

  "Rubinoffski said it would be a good guess, about the same as ours was.

  That seemed reasonable. "Go on," I said.

  "REQUEST CONFIRMATION NO FRIENDLY VESSELS THIS VICINITY X WALRUS SENDS X URGENT. FOR COMSUBPAC X."

  "Good. How long will it take you to code that and send it out?"

  "I woke up Keith to help, Captain. He's setting up the code now. We'll have it ready in about fifteen minutes and maybe have it off in fifteen minutes after that."

  "That's a long time to wait, Dave. Do it as fast as you can."

  Freeman dashed below. I stood up, again scanning the sea and horizon dead ahead. The indistinct outline of the other ship was a little closer now, still broadside, without any sip of having detected us.

  "Jim," I said, "this may well be a Jap sub. We'll track it until we get an answer to our message. Then if it is, we'll go in and shoot him!"

  "Why not get closer and see? If it is a Jap we can let him have it right away."

  "We can't take a chance on its being friendly, Jim. If it's one of our own, a PC boat for instance, he might open fire on us."

  Jim was not convinced. I had never seen him like this. The anticipation of combat had made a different person of him. He was all eagerness: "We've got the, drop on him. We can go in," he began, but I shook my head, and his face fell. He swallowed his disappointment with a strange look, quickly masked.

  "Aye aye, sir. Do you want to go to battle stations now?"

  It seemed a bit premature, but it was best to be safe.

  "Yes," I said. "We had better."

  The possibility of combat had started a nervous tingling in my backbone, too.

  "I'll have to go below to sound the general alarm, sir. Shall I stay at my station in the, conning tower?"

  "Yes, Jim, go ahead. I've got the picture up here."

  Jim departed and in seconds the sound of the general alarm could be heard. This was the first time it had been sounded in earnest and the response in Walrus was electric. Within thirty seconds Jim's voice rang out on the ship's announcing system.

  "The ship is at battle stations, Captain," he said. The blast of his voice on the bridge loud-speaker startled me. I was al- most afraid it would reach across the intervening two or three miles of water and alert the enemy, if such indeed he was.

  By this time the other ship had drawn a little to the right.

  We changed our course to the right accordingly. In a few minutes there came a call from the conning tower: "Radar contact, hearing three-five-zero."

  "Range?" I called down the hatch.

  "Three-five-double-oh," came the prompt answer." A small pip, sir."

  "Jim," I called, "start tracking the target!"

  The SJ radar was mounted at the top of a shaft secure to the forward part of the periscope supports, extending down into the upper part of the conning tower. It was thus right be- hind the Officer of the Deck's normal station, and it was possible to tell something about how the radar was working merely by reaching behind or leaning back against it. It had almost become instinctive to put my hand on it, when a bearing and range were being-taken, to satisfy myself that Jim in the conning tower was indeed getting the information needed for co- ordination of the approach party. It was apparent that he was.

  In a few minutes Jim called up from below.

  "Target course two-nine-zero. Speed ten. Recommend our course two-seven-zero, speed — fifteen, to close in."

  "We can't close until we get the answer to our message, Jim.

  Give me a course and speed just to stay in contact."

  "Two-nine-zero. Speed ten!" There was a note of harshness in his voice, the barest suggestion of disaffection, as though his mask had slipped for an instant and been immediately replaced. Something I couldn't fathom had shown through.

  The nights off Hawaii are beautiful. It rains frequently, but between the rains one has clear, star-studded skies and
friendly seas. This was such a night. It was warm, humid, and dark, and Walrus rolled easily in the long ocean swells. As we in- creased speed our bow dipped into the successive seas and we felt a slight breeze on our faces. Back aft four clouds of vapor drifted gently away in the breeze and spatterings of water from the exhaust fell on the dock. Such a night was more fit for cruising in a sailboat or dancing on the deck of an ocean liner than for sudden death. I was struck by the similarity-in reverse-with the situation the German had caught us in, halfway from New London to the Panama Canal. Except that he knew beyond question we were an enemy, while here we were not so sure.

  The two vessels, pursuer and pursued, ran steadily to the northwest. We, waiting for the all-important answer from Pearl Harbor; they unconscious of their danger. Finally, after nearly an hour, it came. Dave read it to me from the conning tower.

  "URGENT FOR WALRUS X, NO FRIENDLY VESSELS YOUR VICINITY X, TAKE IMMEDIATE ACTION X, COMSUBPAC SENDS X."

  Now that the moment for attack had come I felt myself a little weak in the knees as I gave the necessary orders.

  "All ahead full! Come left to two-six-zero! Stand by forward!"

  The song of our engines back aft lifted in frequency. Their power roar came clearly to our cars. The breeze of our passage, increasing in intensity, began plucking at our hair, searching the gaps in our shirts. It felt wet and clammy. I was sweating, and an alien unwelcome thought had intruded: Could there be a rebuke, implied or intended, in the message from Com- SubPac?

  Walrus swung to the left, steadied on the new course, and the enemy vessel began to grow rapidly larger. I placed my binoculars into the bracket on top of the Target Bearing Transmitter, or TBT, a waterproof instrument by which target bearings could be transmitted to the TDC in the conning- tower.

  "Stand by forward," I repeated. Late or not, if we sank the enemy sub-for such it must be-any disapproval of our cautious attitude up to this point. would be forgotten.

  Back came Jim's voice: "Standing by forward, Sir. Outer doors are open!"

  "we will shoot a salvo of three," I said into the speaker at my side. "What's the range now?"