Dust on the Sea (14 page)

“We'll keep you advised as well as we can, of course, via ‘Ultra' messages. As you know, we're able to get certain extremely valuable information from a special group at Fort Shafter”—Small's eyes for a second flicked directly at Richardson—“and anything pertaining to the Kwantung Army or Manchuria in general will be sent to you immediately. Washington has directed that a coordinated submarine group be kept in the Yellow Sea. You are to try to cut off any traffic between Manchuria and the home islands of Japan. Generally speaking, there's quite a lot. We suspect most of it is moving close inshore. You can hurt them severely by sinking the ships carrying supplies and replacement cadres to or from Japan. Most important of all, however, are the organized divisions of that army in Manchuria. If we get wind of any movement involving them, you'll be expected to make a maximum effort to stop it. Carry out normal area coverage until you hear from us. But be ready to take decisive action if and when you do.”

The large eyes in Admiral Small's heavy face fastened on each of his listeners in turn. His voice took on an even more somber tone. “Until and unless you hear from me differently, you will carry out a regular patrol. From that moment, however, this wolfpack becomes a special mission force. I do not have to tell you how important it is that these reinforcements, if the Japs attempt to send them, do not arrive. We don't yet know when they'll be sent, or if they will be, but to stop them, gentlemen, will immediately become the primary mission of this wolfpack. If they go, they must go by sea. They will hurt us
badly if they reach Iwo Jima or Okinawa. It is up to you to see that they do not.”

ComSubPac had finished his speech. “There are a couple of more items,” said Caldwell. “First, we have been expecting to see more air activity in the Yellow Sea than has been the case. Perhaps the Japs are running low on aircraft, or perhaps they are conserving them for some other purpose. The low level of air activity may continue for you, or it may increase dramatically. In any case, be prepared for anything.

“Second point, watch the sampans. Some of them are not fishing boats at all, but specially built, big new patrol boats. They have sonar gear aboard, and they carry depth charges. Their main purpose is to detect and report submarines to the main ASW forces. They're built of wood and look like fishermen, but they're a lot bigger. So don't let that fool you. They have a pretty good size gun, about thirty-seven millimeter, and it's as good as our forties. Your operation order says to grab any good opportunity to knock them out with your guns. But be sure you catch them by surprise, because they can hurt you pretty badly with that gun. Their radio will alert the whole area that you're around, too, unless you're lucky enough to knock it out right at the beginning. So don't take one on until the area is already pretty well aware of your presence.

“Third thing, they don't have anybody as good as old Bungo in the Yellow Sea” (the bald mention of the name startled Richardson; he hoped his face did not betray him), “but they've got a pretty efficient antisub outfit. Several of our boats have had a bad time from them. They very nearly got the
Seahorse
, you know. That was after Cutter was detached. She was so badly damaged we've had to take her off the firing line, probably permanently. We think the wooden patrol boats and ASW tincans are all part of the same organization. The tincans are fairly small, about a thousand tons, but they're good sea boats with good sonar sets, plenty of depth charges and well trained crews. They're diesel powered, so they have good cruising range. They usually operate in groups of three; so if you run into one of them there's likely two more around somewhere, and they're not good news at all. Some time ago the Jap Navy began building a new and better antisub destroyer, or frigate as they call it. The first one was named the
Mikura
, and we think these boats in the Yellow Sea are probably
Mikura
-class tincans. They have a four-inch gun. Watch yourselves if you tangle with one.”

There was not much more to the briefing. A few questions, a final exhortation by Admiral Small. When it was over, Richardson felt Whitey Everett's eyes upon him. Everett's face was unnaturally set,
even for him. His cultivated austere appearance of competence was belied by the worried manner in which he shifted his eyes from one participant in the briefing to another. To Rich, the unexpected reference to Bungo Pete had been sudden and unsettling. He wanted only to go away, began to excuse himself, and then realized he could not. This would be Whitey's first patrol in command. He wanted reassurance about the
Mikuras
, wanted to suggest means of mutual support against them.

It was the last night in port. Preparations for going to sea were complete. Nothing more needed to be done, except see Joan one last time. He could still make some time for Whitey. He would be late, but Joan would understand.

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4
  
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I
t was with a sense of calm, even peace, that Richardson gave the orders for getting
Eel
underway the next afternoon. Actually he had little to do with it. Keith had already handled all the arrangements. Al Dugan, the engineer, would have the honor of being Officer of the Deck and giving the commands which would take
Eel
to sea once more.

By custom, submarines departing on patrol got underway in the midafternoon. If more than one left the same day, the most senior departed last. This, of course, was
Eel. Whitefish
and
Chicolar
, at adjacent piers, had backed clear a few minutes before, and
Whitefish
had already rounded Ten-Ten Dock on her way out the Pearl Harbor entrance channel.
Eel
was the third of the three submarines to get underway, befitting her status as flagship for Blunt's Bruisers, the wolfpack code name.

Admiral Small was the last to say good-bye. He shook hands with Richardson, then Blunt. “Good luck and good hunting,” he said. A warm smile for Rich, a meaningful one for Blunt. He stepped quickly ashore.

From the bridge, Al Dugan: “Take in the brow!”

Four sailors, who had stepped into position alongside of it—again the ceremonial brow was in use—seized its rails in unison. In one coordinated movement they yanked it clear of
Eel
's forecastle.

The mooring lines had already been singled up, reduced to a single strand from each of the four cleats on
Eel
's deck to corresponding cleats on the pier. “Take in all lines!” said Al. “Rudder amidships! All back one-third!”

Eel
's engines, idling quietly with a small spatter of water from their mufflers, took on a slightly deeper note when her controllermen in the maneuvering room put the motors in reverse and began to draw power from her generators. Slowly she moved backward. When clear of the pier, Dugan ordered the rudder full right.
Eel
's stern began to curve to starboard as she entered the harbor waters.

Richardson stood alongside Blunt on the cigarette deck. At just the right moment Dugan shifted the starboard propeller from “back one-third” to “ahead two-thirds,” and a moment later the rudder from
“right full” to “left full.” Now well in the channel,
Eel
began to twist on her heel, continuing to cast to port. Her backward motion slowly ceased. She began to gain headway.

The crowd on the dock had not yet begun to dissipate. The band was playing “Sink 'Em All.” How many times had he heard it? Originally it had been “Bless 'Em All.” Some submariner had written new words for it.

Under Buck Williams' rapid direction, order was appearing on deck. All topside gear not necessary to the patrol had already been removed, and now the remainder was swiftly stowed. As
Eel
rounded Hospital Point in her turn, and caught sight once again of
Whitefish
and
Chicolar
in column ahead, the last man went down below and the last hatch on deck was dogged shut.

Williams appeared on the bridge. “Main deck secured, anchor secured for sea, sir,” he said to Dugan, with a nod to Keith. He stepped a few feet aft. “Main deck secured, topside secured, Captain,” he said to Rich. He gave an unnecessary salute, probably for Blunt's benefit.

Gravely, Rich returned the salute. “Very well,” he said.

Williams returned to the fore part of the bridge to where Al Dugan had assumed his watch station behind the windscreen. “There are no unauthorized personnel topside, Al. The captain, wolfpack commander, and executive officer are on the bridge. . . .”

“I know about the bridge, Buck,” said Dugan in a tone of friendly sarcasm. “But thanks anyway.”

“Oh, go to hell, Al.” Williams grinned. “Permission to go below, sir.”

Dugan grunted assent and Buck disappeared down the hatch into the conning tower. This hatch, the main induction, and the engine exhaust valves were now the only openings not tightly closed.

In a few minutes Rich would hear from below decks, “Ship is rigged for dive!” From that moment he, or any Officer of the Deck, had but to give the order to submerge to have it happen. All main vents would instantly spring open; the main engines would shut down; the main induction and engine exhaust valves would be closed; the motors, which had been getting their power from the generators on the ends of the diesel engines, would begin drawing current from the battery. Bow planes would rig out, and the ship would plunge precipitantly beneath the surface of the sea.

Richardson's feeling of well-being persisted as
Eel
passed the channel entrance buoys. It was here the Kona wave had nearly swamped the ship. Here was where he might have been swept overboard. He might have been able to swim to shore, or he might have drowned. It would have been a test. He might even have welcomed it at the time. . . .

Eel
felt taut beneath him. Clean. Fresh-smelling. She had been repainted. The two TBTs in their new locations on either side of the bridge had proved their increased convenience during the week-long exercises just completed. In place of the after TBT there was now located a twin twenty-millimeter machine gun mount. The guns themselves, not sufficiently corrosion-resistant to stand submergence, were stowed in cylindrical tanks installed vertically under the bridge deck. They could be brought up and made ready in less than a minute.

On either end of the bridge was a forty-millimeter automatic gun. These were too heavy to manhandle for stowage and hence had been permanently mounted. Cadmium plating protected their unpainted surfaces. Ranged about them were various strategically located racks to hold extra ammunition.

On the main deck there were now two stubby, five-inch guns, one forward and one aft of the bridge. Near them, built into each end of
Eel
's bridge structure, were two large cylindrical tanks with hatchlike closures. Each held twelve shots of ready five-inch ammunition, and a rough bore-sight tool of Buck Williams' invention. Submergence or depth charging might ruin the delicate alignment of the pointer and trainer telescopes, Buck had warned. This could easily be checked by fitting his new tool, which contained a small telescope with cross-hairs, into the open breech, then check-sighting the guns on designated marks on deck forward and aft.

On the forecastle, also at Williams' suggestion, the forward torpedo room hatch now carried emplacements welded on either side to accommodate a fifty-caliber machine gun. The gun would be served by two men standing on a plank placed across rungs inside the opened hatch. The forward hatch trunk was ideal for this “foxhole” function, as Buck had enthusiastically explained, because it was fitted with a lower hatch which could be shut to preserve watertight integrity while the gun was engaged. If the ship were forced to submerge suddenly, its crew had only to shut the upper hatch to be safe inside. And if they couldn't make it, the lower hatch would at least protect the rest of the ship from flooding.

Six fifty-caliber mounts had been installed on the bridge also, three on each side, with stowages for the three demountable guns arranged nearby. From the center area of the bridge, protected by its armored siding, a very respectable fusillade could be maintained in case of necessity. Repeated drills had been held for all guns. All-in-all,
Eel
could fire a great arsenal of weapons if it came to surface gun action.

Under Keith's supervision, the bridge lookout platforms now had an
upturned edging, or rim, that the men could feel with their toes. This would give them a feeling of security when the ship began rolling in a seaway, and in consequence they would keep a more effective watch. To facilitate quick descent from the lookout stations, sections of pipe had been installed in the manner of firemen's poles. The guard rails within which they stood had been made smaller and raised several inches so that they could also function as arm rests while binoculars were held at eye level. Reduction of arm fatigue and of concern for holding on as the ship rolled, Keith had argued, was the answer to the lookout weariness which had worried them.

Below decks little visible change had been accomplished, except that the top of the shower in the forward torpedo room had been restored to its proper dimensions. Richardson had thought of offering his own stateroom to Captain Blunt in deference to his rank, but after discussion with Keith had not done so. “You're still captain of this ship,” Keith had said. “You'll need all those dials, call buttons and squawk boxes, and he won't. When the OOD needs you, he'll need you very much, and we've got to have you right at the other end!” It was this last argument that convinced him.