Final Patrol (25 page)

Claim to fame:
Born too late to actively participate in World War II, she was later modified radically to serve the expanded needs of the modern submarine force and had a long and valuable tenure during the Cold War. At one point, she was sawed in half to prepare for special—and highly secret—duty.

T
he
Balao
-class U.S. Navy submarine was considered to be an engineering marvel for its time. With its deep-diving capability and dual means of propulsion, it was a truly powerful warship, perfectly matched to its stealthy role in the war as it was being fought in the Pacific.

The USS
Clamagore
became an even more amazing vessel after VJ Day, one of a limited number of World War II survivors to undergo a profound makeover to make her even more useful in her second life than she had an opportunity to be in her first.

Like several of her sister boats, the
Clamagore
had high hopes during her construction and shakedown. She and her crew felt the urgency, even if the tide of the war had already turned. They knew the dangers of facing a caged, desperate enemy and were ready to go do their part to contribute to victory against Japan.

They simply arrived at the war too late to do any good.

Commissioned in June 1945, just a bit over a month before the atomic bomb was dropped on Hiroshima, she was on her way to do her duty when word of peace was radioed to all the submarines at sea. The
Clamagore
had made her way as far as Panama and was conducting get-ready exercises there when the order to cease hostilities went out to all units. No one aboard the new vessel was disappointed.

She headed back to Key West, which became an important submarine base in the early days of the Cold War. The deep, clear waters of the Caribbean and Gulf of Mexico were perfect for the kinds of exercises necessary to prepare for the next kind of naval warfare we would most likely face.

The
Clamagore
was designated flagship of Submarine Squadron Four based at the far southern tip of the United States. She carried the flag for fourteen years.

Then word came that there was a need for a new type of submarine to assist in other types of training and operations. The navy already had a number of nuclear-powered submarines in its fleet by the end of the 1950s. Still, we needed some of the old diesel boats—after modification—for specialized duty, much of which was highly classified. The
Clamagore
was chosen to be one of nine boats to have the most radical of the new cosmetic surgery.

First she went up the East Coast to the Philadelphia Navy Yard for conversion to GUPPY. Her modification was designated GUPPY II, similar to that described in the chapter on the USS
Becuna
. After that modification, she became flagship for the commander of the Task Fleet and the commander of Submarine Force, Atlantic. All the time, she was out of port, making trips all over the Caribbean, as well as longer voyages to England, Argentina, Newfoundland, and other exotic locales.

In 1960, she served as part of the U.S. Sixth Fleet in the Mediterranean and participated in Operation Springboard in the Caribbean with a number of vessels from South American navies. During that little adventure, the
Clamagore
steamed around Cape Horn, the southern tip of South America.

Then in May 1962, the
Clamagore
checked into the Charleston Naval Shipyard for her second major makeover. This one was a doozy! As part of becoming a GUPPY III conversion, the submarine was literally sawed in half, received a transplant, and was welded back together again.

One of the problems with using the 312-foot-long World War II diesel boats was the limited amount of space available for sophisticated new electronic equipment that was coming online in the late '50s and early '60s. They were well equipped in so many other ways, but they simply did not have the room for all they needed to carry.

The navy took a long, hard look at the boats that had already undergone the GUPPY II conversion. In the process, they considered the general condition of the vessel and then selected a few they figured could survive the next major modification the maritime engineers had in mind for them.

The
Clamagore
was one of the boats chosen.

The first job was to literally cut the submarine in half in the general area forward of the control room. A new fifteen-foot section of hull, weighing fifty-five tons, was added at that spot to make room for more sonar equipment, berthing space, and storerooms. Next the conning tower was modified, adding five feet of tower to accommodate the new fire-control system (“fire control” pertains to firing torpedoes, not controlling a fire aboard the boat) and other gear. The sail itself was changed to what was termed the “northern sail,” putting the bridge much higher above the water, allowing it to be manned in rough weather.

The changes erased once and for all the distinctive sail of the older diesel boats. The
Clamagore
now resembled the new nuclear submarines far more than her World War II sisters. Of the nine boats so modified, the
Clamagore
is the only one that is on public display today.

On July 2, 1962, the newly rebuilt submarine had her second christening. The navy decided to do an entire ceremony, carrying out the rebirth theme of the GUPPY III conversion boats. This time a sixteen-year-old named Ann Beshany broke the champagne bottle against her bow and sent her on her way. The young lady was the daughter of Captain P. A. Beshany, Commander, Submarine Squadron Four.

As planned, the changes to the old boat extended her term of duty considerably. At a time when many of her contemporaries were being struck from the register of active vessels and sent off to the scrap heap, the
Clamagore
was playing a vital role in naval exercises around the world. She and her former World War II GUPPY mates made up much of the navy's submarine force through the mid-1960s, when the newly built nuclear boats assumed, once and for all, most of the responsibility for submerged patrols of the world's oceans.

And that is when the
Clamagore
's usefulness finally ended. She may not have had the chance to strike a blow against the Japanese in World War II, but for three decades she did all she was asked to do in defense of her country.

 

 

 

After thirty years of service,
the
Clamagore
was retired in June 1975. Her fate was not in doubt for long. She was acquired by Patriots Point Maritime Museum in Charleston, South Carolina, not far from where she underwent her radical redesign, and went on display there shortly afterward.

Other vessels in the park include the aircraft carrier USS
Yorktown
(CV-10), known as “the Fighting Lady” and one of the best-known ships of World War II; the destroyer USS
Laffey
(DD-724); and the Coast Guard cutter
Ingham
(WHEC-35). The park also features a Congressional Medal of Honor museum and a relatively new memorial to Cold War submarines. That memorial is dedicated to submariners, their families, and the men and women—both civilian and military—who supported the sub force during that period of America's history. Many of those people were based at Charleston.

The city's connection with submarine history is not limited to the
Clamagore
and Patriots Point. The historic Confederate submarine CSS
Hunley
, the first sub to sink an enemy vessel, is also located in Charleston. The submarine was recovered from the nearby Atlantic Ocean in August 2000 through the efforts and fund-raising of several groups along with best-selling author Clive Cussler. Archaeologists are currently examining the vessel in an attempt to learn more about her design, her eight-man crew, and exactly what caused her to sink just a short time after her successful attack on a Union ship in Charleston Harbor in February 1864.

Weekend tours of the recovery lab, including views of the
Hunley
, are offered at the Warren Lasch Conservation Center at 1250 Supply Street at the former Charleston Naval Base.

Courtesy of Rob Mackie and
www.steelnavy.com

 

Launched:
July 12, 1943

Named for:
one of the family of butterfishes found in the Gulf of California and Mexican coastal waters

Where:
Portsmouth Naval Shipyard, New Hampshire

Sponsor:
Mrs. James Wolfender

Commissioned:
November 6, 1943

 

Claim to fame:
She helped rescue six dozen British and Australian prisoners of war after the submarine unknowingly stalked the Japanese troop carrier on which they were being transported and sank another vessel loaded with POWs. She has also had an interesting—and controversial—history since coming to San Francisco, including a starring role in a major motion picture.

A
s you tour the USS
Pampanito
at Fisherman's Wharf in San Francisco, do not be surprised if you hear the distant, ghostly whistling of “The Colonel Bogey March,” the oddly happy theme from the heartrending war movie
The Bridge on the River Kwai
. The submarine and her World War II crew are forever and tragically linked with the men who lived the events that are so graphically depicted in that motion picture.

The
Pampanito
's route from birth to her first war patrol was a relatively quick one. Exactly one year to the day after her keel was laid down at the new building basin at Portsmouth Naval Shipyard in New Hampshire, she departed Pearl Harbor on her first of six World War II patrols.

On the first run, skipper Paul Summers and his crew had to deal with mechanical problems and almost lost the boat in a four-day stalking of an enemy convoy. During that engagement, they were certain they had dealt a mortal blow to a huge tanker but ultimately did not receive credit for the sinking.

What they did get for their trouble was a series of massive depth chargings that almost sent them to the bottom before they had even gotten started in this war. The first thunderous attacks, which came even before the
Pampanito
had fired her first torpedo, did moderate damage to the new boat. Summers and his crew managed to get their boat to the surface as soon as their attackers gave up, did some temporary repairs, and then went to flank speed in order to resume the chase.

On April 10, 1944, just after launching the two torpedoes that hit the tanker, one of the enemy escort vessels chased the
Pampanito
deep with another vicious series of depth charges. This sort of thing was getting old quick!

Later, Captain Summers wrote in his deck log a rather blasé account of what had to have been high drama beneath the surface of the sea:

The roar of water rushing into the
Pampanito
's superstructure was drawing the Japanese destroyers like honey draws flies. Though the boat was still nominally under control, they were in real danger of sinking if they could not get the flooding under control. If the destroyer escorts stayed above them, dropping TNT on their heads, and if they were not able to check the inrushing water, they would have only two choices, neither of which was a good one.