Splinter on the Tide

by Phillip Parotti

  “The lovely Chana,” he said proudly, “has promised to meet me outside the Brooklyn ferry with a coach and six whereupon she has offered to convey the two of us to a showing of Sullivan’s Travels.”

  “That sounds like Chana,” Solly rejoined. “Romantic comedy and all the folderol that goes with it. I warned you, Hamp, if you don’t watch it, that sister of mine will lead you right down to the water’s edge and into the drink.”

  “I can only hope,” Hamp said. “Let’s go, the coach and six will be taking up parking space, and we can’t have the locals upset, now, can we?”

  “The ‘local,’” Solly said, “will probably be drinking a cup of coffee or powdering her nose while a party of Marines tries to chat her up for a date.”

  Hamp, as though stung by an electric shock, disappeared at once.

  “Have fun,” Solly said. “I can sure see that I’m going to,” and with that he too climbed the ladder, leaving Ash laughing behind him.

  Moments later, Ash also climbed up onto the main deck and found Chief Stobb.

  “I’ll be sticking around tonight,” Ash said, “so if you’d like to go over, Chief, I’ll take the command duty myself.”

  “Thanks, Cap’n,” Chief Stobb said, “but if it’s all the same to you, I think I’ll stick around as well and catch up on some sleep. I’ve done New York a dozen times. If my wife was here, we would make a night of it, but with her in Buffalo with her mother and our girls in school, there’s not much on the beach for an ole brown-bagger like me. I’ve reached the age where a good steak and a bottle of beer beats the night life altogether.”

  Ash laughed. “Fine,” he said. “See Samarango, if you will, and tell him he’s got my permission to go ashore if he wants to, and if you plan to stick around this weekend, I might go take in a movie tomorrow night. If or when we finally get a long upkeep, I’ll try to let you off for a week or two so that you can make the trip up to Buffalo, depending upon where they bring us in for the work.”

  “I’d be much obliged,” said Chief Stobb. “Tin cans is different, of course, but with this wooden hull, I’m guessin’ that they’ll want to scrape us down before long, particularly after we put in all that time in the warm water down south.”

  Ash felt that he had come up suddenly short. “You’re probably right, Chief. I hate to say it, but I hadn’t even given our bottom a thought. You reckon we’ve got barnacles and grass growing down there already?”

  “I reckon we’ve got some, Sir,” the chief said. “I’ll put the wherry in the water and have a look myself. And it won’t hurt to put an arm down there and have a feel. I ’spect we’ve picked up somethin’, but what I don’t know is what kind of intentions DESLANT might have for maintaining this kind of hull. Guess we’ll find out soon enough.”

  “In COMDESLANT’s own good time?”

  “Exactly,” said the chief.

  “Amen,” said Ash.

  Throughout the remainder of the afternoon and into the night, working with the Navy’s premier tactical publications and his own sense of what would and wouldn’t work best with the ships that he suddenly found he had to direct, Ash struggled with new screening patterns that he was trying to invent. Laying out a circle, putting the 19 merchantmen at the center in a box with five ships across the front, two more ranks of five behind them, and a third rank of only four, he next divided the outer circle into 40-degree sectors as though slicing a pie. From the start, he intended to station the escorts he would be commanding at least 2,000 yards ahead of the main body. Then, giving them a patrol depth of at least 500 yards each in their particular slices of the pie, he would allow them to maneuver back and forth across their sectors at random speeds along the base course for whatever zig-zag he called. By arranging the pattern, Ash hoped to give the convoy frontal coverage and protection across at least 200 degrees running all the way back to the convoy’s flanks.

  The proverbial rat in the woodpile would strike at night. After considering the matter, Ash also devised an offensive move that might, he hoped, solve his problem. If, after night fell, he shifted the screen pattern to a four-ship front, extending each patrol sector by 10 degrees, he could dispatch one of the five chasers to the rear to patrol for U-boats running fast on the surface, so as to intercept their attempts to stalk and attack the convoy from behind. Standard bent-line screens–screens in which each escort had to maintain a fixed position–seemed to be losing a lot of ships in the mid-Atlantic. Ash had no idea what COMDESLANT might think of his plan, and he knew that in putting it into practice he’d be taking a risk. If something went wrong, it was entirely possible that he’d be inviting a court martial. If, on the other hand, the plan worked, it might strike someone at COMDESLANT as innovative. The important thing, as far as Ash was concerned, turned on the possibility that the chasers’ random movements might disrupt and confuse potential U-boat attacks, while carrying the added advantage of releasing watch officers from having to pay constant attention to station keeping rather than scanning the darkened horizon for U-boats before the enemy could close and attack.

  The following day, having prepared a smooth draft of his plan, replete with accompanying diagrams of the screen patterns he’d designed, Ash made his way to the Coast Guard’s administrative center, ingratiated himself with a lieutenant in one of the offices, and finally popped the question.

  “Sir,” Ash said, “I’m the designated commodore for some escorts that I’m leading out in a few days. I wonder if I might borrow the use of America’s most potent weapon in this war?”

  “Say again?” said the Coast Guard lieutenant, looking at Ash quizzically.

  “Your mimeograph machine,” Ash said.

  “Yeah, sure, go ahead,” the lieutenant said, chuckling to himself. “Should I charge you for the paper, or should I expect the Navy to reimburse us through channels?”

  “I already thought of that, Sir; I brought my own,” Ash grinned.

  “Have right at it,” the officer said. “We aim to please.”

  An hour later, Ash returned to the nest, invited the four captains of his forthcoming command onto Chaser 3, and held a pre-sailing conference, handing each a copy of the mimeographed plan that he’d so recently run-off for them. Patiently and clearly, Ash explained both his diagrams and his intentions, the four new captains readily absorbing what he told them. Ash knew from the start, because the men were green, very green, that he was taking advantage of them in a professional way. None of them had ever seen anything like the plan Ash handed them, but as a result–and much to Ash’s satisfaction–they never once questioned it and absorbed what he had to tell them with an adaptability that Ash found refreshing.

  “As always, we sortie first,” Ash said, “so we’ll form the screen as soon as we are out beyond Raritan Bay, and then, as the ships we’re to escort come out behind us, I’ll organize them into a compact rectangle of sorts by means of flag hoist and we’ll depart for Casco Bay. After we see them safely through the mine belts, I will release you to proceed into the bay independently, and thereafter, I suspect that you will receive new orders from COMDESLANT. Any questions?”

  For another hour, Ash and the four men surrounding the wardroom table talked minor details, having to do with everything ranging from weather observations to the test firing of their guns. Then, the party broke up, each of the men returning to his own ship, and at long last, Ash went ashore, showered in the Coast Guard facilities, donned his khaki uniform, and went back onto the beach, heading for the ferry. For better or worse, he intended to take a few hours off, go over to Brooklyn, have a meal, and take in a movie.

  In Brooklyn, Ash felt surprised to find as many uniformed servicemen on the streets as he had imagined to be walking around Manhattan. Sailors, Marines, and a plethora of Army uniforms seemed to turn up everywhere, and if he didn’t have to salute three or four times in each block, he quickly imagined himself to be drifting from his course and in danger of becoming lost in tree-lined residential neighborhoods. Finally, with
out expending too much sweat or becoming uncomfortable on this warm day, he made his way down to Bensonhurst, “Little Italy” Solly called it. There he found a trattoria that looked appealing, went in, and ordered risotto for a starter, to be followed by a plate of veal picatta, both of which, when he had finished them and sat back thoroughly satisfied, he polished off with a grappa and an espresso. Tipping the old waiter who had served him double for his troubles, Ash then emerged onto the street, found himself an air conditioned theater, stood in line with a number of other servicemen, several of whom had dates, bought his ticket, and sat down for a late afternoon showing of the Leslie Howard comedy “Pimpernel” Smith. Much amused, rested, and feeling relaxed, Ash made his way back to the ferry and to the ship before sundown, Watts whipping him up a mushroom omelet for his supper. Following that, he settled down to read until, not long before 2200, Solly and Hamp piled down the ladder on their last-minute return to duty.

  “So,” Ash said, looking up, “did the coach and six meet expectations?”

  “After I rescued the lovely Chana from a band of pirates–” Hamp began.

  “That would be three sailors, none of them over the age of 18,” Solly said swiftly.

  “And conducted her to her coach–”

  “Think 1935 yellow cab, with broken springs and a sour dwarf for a driver,” Solly said.

  “We motored to the ball and a night of pure enchantment,” Hamp said.

  “What he means,” Solly said acidly, “is that the two of them went to the Orpheum where it was dark, where it smells, where there is gum on the deck, and where the ushers all sound like refugees from Flatbush.”

  “You exaggerate,” Hamp said, straightening his tie with a look of pure satisfaction on his face.

  “What he seems to have liked most,” Solly said, “was the dark. I’ve been given to understand that they held hands. Neither one of them could tell me a thing about Sullivan’s Travels when I came in. Frankly, I suspect foul play.”

  “Nonsense,” Hamp said, “I behaved like a perfect gentleman, just like I said I would.”

  “Yes, I noticed,” Solly said. “When I got back, I found that he’d gobbled down six of the turnovers that I’d left sitting out on the kitchen table for breakfast the following morning, my oh-too-greedy sister obviously fattening him up for the kill”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hamp said quickly. “Your sister and I enjoyed a very amusing movie; I brought her home before 2200, and once we arrived back at the house, she offered me some light refreshment in the way of a cup of tea and a snack, and then we engaged in nothing more than some quiet conversation before you came in and we all retired for the night. And let’s not forget that in exchange for the snack, I treated her to dinner last night.”

  “Vichyssoise and cold lobster salad?” Ash suggested with a smile.

  “Ha,” Solly said, speaking directly to Hamp, “It seems pretty clear that our captain wasn’t born yesterday, even if you, my man, aren’t yet so much as out of your swaddling garments.” Then he turned back to Ash. “Vichyssoise, he should wish. That sister of mine dragged him all the way to Manhattan, as though we didn’t have a plethora of great restaurants in Brooklyn, made him pay a cover charge to get them into Le Joyeuse, and then stuck him for a full-blown lobster and a bottle of Pouilly Fuisse, not to mention what she stuck him for as the evening wore on”

  “The lovely Chana and I wished to dance,” Hamp said. “Thoroughly splendid’ doesn’t even begin to describe the evening. Personally, I would call it ‘enchanting.’”

  “Yes, you would,” Solly teased, “just like any prince who’d been touched by a wand and turned into a toad” Once more, he turned to Ash. “I warned him–you heard me–but he paid me no attention, and now he’s so broke that I even had to loan him the fare for the ferry in order to get him back here safely. How the two of them got home from Manhattan last night, without having to hitch a ride, is the big mystery of the evening”

  “I had some mad money tucked in my shoe,” Hamp said. “It came in handy. And the lovely Chana has already agreed to accompany me to the museum the next time we are in.”

  “What museum would that be?” Solly asked. “Tiffany’s?”

  “All right,” Ash laughed. “It seems clear to me that the two of you have recharged your batteries, so pull off your blouses, sit down here, and let me start filling you in on what I have in store for tomorrow.”

  “Perhaps” Hamp said, “Solly ought to say a word or two about this person named Keren who Chana seems to know.”

  “Perhaps not” Solly said quickly. “I visited her parents, that’s all–old friends of the family. Keren just happened to come in from work while we were having coffee. I’ve known her since she was a kid.”

  Hamp turned to Ash, smiled, and raised an eyebrow.

  15

  Chaser 3, the screening ships Ash had under his command, and the 19 vessels in their convoy emerged from Raritan Bay by 0800 the following morning, formed into a compact body with a heavy Greek refrigerator ship serving as formation guide, and started northeast up the coast at 12 knots, zig-zagging in accordance with one of the Navy’s many standard plans. Immediately, upon execution of the appropriate flag hoist, Ash started the escorts patrolling their prescribed sectors, and then Ash took Samarango in hand, instructing him about the new method of station keeping, something the bosun had never practiced before.

  “You see how it’s done, then?” Ash asked after giving his watch stander an hour’s close supervision.

  “Yes, Sir,” Samarango said. “Beats the hell out of having to shoot a bearing to the guide and read his range with a stadimeter every five minutes … if you don’t mind me saying, Captain. This is the kind of station keeping that I could almost stand to marry.”

  “Enjoy it while you can,” Ash said. “COMDESLANT might shoot me a rocket for having tried it.”

  They moved on then, the plot showing that they advanced slightly under 12 miles each hour owing to the zig-zag, but aside from a few fishermen looking for a catch and a destroyer coming down from Cape Cod with four empty oilers in convoy, they didn’t sight so much as a single vessel the entire day. And to everyone’s surprise, the seas remained utterly tranquil beneath a windless sky throughout a long morning and a longer afternoon. The sun finally set, glowing red and throwing a sheen over the water, at about 2015 that evening. As soon as Ash had shot evening stars, he reoriented his screen by means of flashing light, sending the most senior of the new chasers back behind the convoy where, he hoped, it might be able to intercept any U-boats that tried to sneak up and intrude on the convoy from astern. And before midnight, south of Nantucket–no more than 10 miles off the beach–to everyone’s surprise, if not shock, one did.

  As the action developed and as Ash later deduced, the U-boat’s skipper had made a mistake. Making good speed on the surface, coming up on the convoy’s port side from astern, the Nazi commander had apparently assumed that the convoy would not be as well protected as it turned out to be and that, on the inland side, it would be even less well protected than it would be to starboard where it might have expected an attack from the middle of the Atlantic. The U-boat commander also failed to imagine that the escort would have enough ships to patrol across the convoy’s rear. As a result, an alert lookout standing watch in the chaser’s crow’s nest had managed to spot the U-boat’s conning tower silhouetted against the glow coming off the distant shores of Nantucket, whereupon he had instantly sounded the alarm. The chaser’s commander had then gone straight to General Quarters and attacked, the first indication Ash received that something was amiss coming with the distant, delayed sound of the new chaser’s equally new 3”/50 going off, followed a few minutes later by the equally muffled sounds of depth charges being dropped, Ash catching the far away sounds of the depth charges even as sonar reported hearing them to the bridge.

  Acting swiftly, Ash ordered all of the escorts to General Quarters, reoriented the screen to encompass only
three ships, put on turns, and went tearing back down the convoy’s starboard side in order to join in the hunt. By the time he reached the attacking chaser, the U-boat commander had not only long since submerged, but he had also escaped, the chaser leading the attack having lost contact without regaining it fully 15 minutes before when he’d dropped his depth charges. The chaser’s captain believed that the frag ammunition he’d fired at the U-boat might have done some damage, but given the obscurity of the night, he couldn’t be certain. Together, the two ships then spent another half hour boxing the contact area in a fruitless search. Banking on his belief that the U-boat’s skipper wouldn’t try the same ploy again, Ash sent a BRAVO ZULU to his subordinate for having attacked and forced the U-boat down while also flashing him an order to fall in astern as the two sped back to rejoin the convoy.

  Allowing for variables, Ash found in the action a modest vindication of his tactics. Had he arranged his escorts in a standard bent-line screen, forward of the convoy, he felt certain that the U-boat would have gotten in among them and made a killing, perhaps sinking one or more of their ships. He’d been lucky, of course, and he knew it. The U-boat commander didn’t appear to have been very experienced. He hadn’t had time to scout the convoy owing to the brief period they’d been underway. Ash imagined that the German might have stumbled onto them, sighting them from somewhere south of Block Island, and made his approach astern without any foreknowledge about the size of the escort, and as a result, he’d overplayed his hand. Nevertheless, the man had also been smart enough to fold a bad hand, once he knew that he’d been dealt one, and in the offing, he’d managed to escape, probably using the same tactics that had defeated Ash in his own previous engagements.

  Even as Ash once more dispatched the accompanying chaser to patrol astern of the convoy and moved Chaser 3 up to rejoin the screen, he also reoriented their patrol sectors, throwing the starboard sectors further down their flank. If the offending U-boat tried to resurface and come up outboard for another attack, Ash intended to be prepared. Ash didn’t think the man would risk it, now that the convoy had been alerted, but with a hated enemy like a committed Nazi, one could never be certain, and it was his job to see that the German stayed away. At the same time, calling Polaski up to the bridge, Ash got out a message, alerting COMDESLANT that a U-boat had been sighted and attacked so as to warn whatever other ships happened to be at sea about a lurking danger in the area.