Submarine! (25 page)

But though this unorthodox maneuver has caught him somewhat by surprise, the Jap skipper is not napping, and unloads a full cargo of ash cans as the submarine passes beneath him. The deliberate attack he had planned is frustrated, but he makes with a mighty good one, nonetheless.

Sixteen depth charges this time. Because of her high speed,
Tang's
sound gear is unable to pick up the splash of the depth charges dropping in the water, and there is therefore no warning as to how many to expect. It is just WHAM WHAM WHAM WHAM WHAM WHAM WHAM WHAM WHAM WHAM WHAM WHAM WHAM WHAM WHAM WHAM! One prolonged, unpunctuated, smashing, shattering cataclysm! Nearly everyone in
Tang
is knocked off his feet by the fearful pounding! Deck plates are hurled about, the very frames ring, and the bulkheads and built-in fixtures resound in a hundred different keys.
Tang
shakes throughout her length, seems to whip convulsively in fishtailing fashion, every part of her jumping around weirdly and frighteningly. The unfortunate men handling vital equipment, such as the bow planes, stern planes, and steering, grip their large stainless-steel wheels with white knuckles and bloodless joints, for they have come alive in their hands as though electrified, transmitting a shivering vibration into the very marrow of their bones. In the maneuvering room, where the full power of the battery is being fed into the straining propellers, there is continual arcing and flashing in the control cubicle, the heart of the electric-propulsion equipment. If some of those huge switches should fly open, or if an unusually heavy arc were to fuse some errant piece of copper or steel into a dead short circuit, the whole place would go up in smoke. The battering and pounding are terrific, but the
electrician's mates, knowing their lives depend upon it, are holding the most crucial levers and switches in by hand—and lucky is the man who has asbestos gloves.

O'Kane and Frazee, having had perhaps more warning than the others, have hung on where they were, still on their feet. It seems to both that
Tang's
last moments must have come, for how can a simple steel shell, no matter how strongly and honestly built, withstand a succession of near bull's-eyes? But the unholy barrage finally stops, and a breathless quiet suddenly envelops the ship.

The Jap had been so thrown off balance by
Tang's
sudden maneuver that he was unable to regain contact, and searched fruitlessly in the wake left by her mad dash for deep water. Thirty-eight minutes after the torpedoes had been fired,
Tang
was back to periscope depth, to see her recent antagonist still searching and depth charging the area, planes circling overhead, and the other escort, which had never been involved in the action, cruising about slowly, picking up survivors. There was nothing else in sight.

Eleven days later
Tang
was back at Miki Saki, with unpleasant memories of the depth charge expert she had encountered there. But the hunting had been elsewhere, and now that the area might be presumed to have cooled off a bit, she was back to try her luck once again. Shortly after midnight the sleek submarine rounded Miki Saki and quietly poked her nose into Owase Wan, a small bay nearby, in quest of a ship. Since by this time it must have become plain to the Japs that they had incurred their worst losses at night, it was logical that at least some of their ships would anchor in a more or less sheltered anchorage to ride the night out, and thus accept the relatively lesser risk of a daylight submerged attack.
Tang's
idea was to knock off one of these sitting ducks.

Sure enough! Anchored right in the middle of Owase Wan, unmistakably pointed out by radar, was a ship, rather small, but certainly worth torpedoes.

O.K., chum.
Battle stations surface torpedo!
The call rings throughout the ship, brings all hands out of their bunks or
away from whatever else they might have been doing—it was not unusual for submariners to “turn night into day,” so far as their sleeping habits were concerned when on patrol, and this particularly was the case with
Tang
, who made most of her fame at night. All hands go to their stations, and a picked crew of gunners mounts to the bridge, there to make ready the twenty-millimeter guns in case it becomes necessary to shoot their way out of shallow water.

First the plotting parties track the ship, to make sure he is at anchor. Correct—speed zero. Then
Tang
noses in slowly cautiously. It is necessary to get a look at him, to line him up for a broadside shot, so Dick O'Kane takes his ship completely around the enemy, looking him over away from the dark land background. When finally revealed, his silhouette brings a thrill to the skipper. There is no mistaking that long, low shape. This is the gunboat which had given
Tang
that tooth-shaking barrage of depth charges on her last visit to this area!

Boys, we're going to get this bastard! He has it coming to him! Tang
twists on her heel, presents her stern to the enemy. One electric torpedo is set for an absolutely straight stern shot, aimed carefully, and fired. It leaves a phosphorescent wake in the water, by which its progress may be followed, but the wake stops after 100 yards of travel, and a loud rumble is heard over
Tang's
sound gear, indicating that it has suddenly dived to the bottom. One wasted.

Two minutes after the first one, a second electric torpedo is fired, also from the stern. Surely the Japs must be keeping a watch of some kind. But no sign, and the second phosphorescent wake heads straight for the target and passes exactly beneath him. Two wasted, and
how can he fail to notice what is going on?

Something wrong with the electric fish? Maybe he had better quit shooting them, check them over again. Besides, O'Kane wants to keep the three he has left aft for a full salvo against some other ship. So
Tang
circles, brings her bow around to bear. She is less than half a mile from the target now, but there is still no sign of life on board.

A steam torpedo is made ready in one of the bow tubes.
Tang
is carefully lined up, absolutely steady in the water, and the torpedo is fired.
Damn!
It takes a large jog to the left, then runs properly, and roars past the target, missing to the left by only a few feet. A steam torpedo puts out a most extensive and visible wake under normal circumstances, and the phosphorescence makes it even more visible. Besides, it is a much faster torpedo than the electric, and makes a high-pitched sewing-machine noise which can easily be heard at some distance. But still no reaction from the enemy.
Tang
has been in the harbor now for half an hour, shooting torpedoes from about nine hundred yards, and
still
he sleeps.

Another steam torpedo is made ready, and fired as before. At last, this one settles down right for his middle, draws its greenish-white pencil line unerringly into the belly of the enemy.

KERBLROOM! A pillar of fire shoots out of the amidships section of the stricken ship! Five hundred feet in the air it is topped by a regular Fourth-of-July fireworks, tongues of flames shooting out in odd directions—rockets, pinwheels, and several more explosions. Of the gunboat there is absolutely nothing left.

Every man of
Tang's
crew now feels much better about that gunboat. The score has been settled, and he won't be around to heckle any more hard-working submariners trying to do their jobs. Sage heads are wagged below decks over the inevitable coffee and acey-deucy games. Most indubitably he has been taught a lesson he will never forget.

Tang's
bag of two ships on her fourth patrol boosted her total to seventeen. Although you would have thought her outstanding performance rated a rest, that was not the way Dick O'Kane saw it. As a matter of fact, the normal refit time was cut short by four days in order to enable him to get back on the firing line. The coming Philippine campaign promised many action possibilities in the form of Japanese reinforcements sent to help the defenders, and
Tang
intended to be in on the fun. It was known that the favorite
route was inside of Formosa, where the Japs evidently hoped that United States submarines would not be able to enter or dare to patrol. Ceaseless coverage, flying both from Formosa and the mainland, plus strategically located and extensive mine fields, was intended to cut down the efficiency of such operations and to increase their hazard.

It is not recorded in history, but the story as known in the Submarine Force is to the effect that Dick O'Kane called his crew together shortly before getting under way, and informed them that he had volunteered
Tang
for the toughest assignment ComSubPac had to offer. He could not tell them where it was until the ship was underway, but he promised them all that there would be plenty of targets. Although the risks were to be many, the rewards would also be many, measured in terms of damage done to the enemy. It is a matter of pride in our service that not one man requested to be transferred out of that intrepid crew. Some, of course, had already been transferred or detached, for rotation of some personnel between patrols was one of the standard policies of the Submarine Force. The biggest loss was that of
Tang's
Executive Officer, Murray Frazee, who had received orders to command USS
Gar
, and was already on leave awaiting availability of his first command. Frank Springer, who had been the third officer, moved up to exec, and on September 24
Tang
departed from Pearl Harbor on what was to be her last and most glorious patrol.

On the night of October 10
Tang
moves into the Straits of Formosa. Dick's predictions and expectations begin to bear fruit, for in the early morning a ship is sighted.
Tang
tracks him, maneuvers ahead of him, and with dawn about to break, dives on his track. The ship comes on unsuspectingly, and is greeted with three torpedoes, fired in standard salvo fashion. The first two hit exactly as aimed, and the Jap blows up with a thoroughly satisfying explosion. The third would have hit also, had the enemy ship been there to receive it—as it is, it passes just slightly ahead of the suddenly stopped hulk, which is even then in the process of blowing sky-high.

One down, and Dick O'Kane has further evidence that if
the fish are working right—and it now seems they might be—one torpedo would have sufficed to dispose of this ship, and the other two were wasted. Well, maybe he'll put the matter to the test next time.

Next time does not long delay in coming, for another ship is sighted several hours after daybreak. O'Kane could attack immediately, but the water is shallow and air cover excellent; consequently he tracks the ship all day submerged. Only a combination of the slow speed of the prospective target and the fact that he follows the shore line religiously, evidently in the hope that by so doing he is avoiding attack, makes this possible, for ordinarily a submarine is a target of opportunity, and must do all its chasing and end-arounding at night on the surface, or else well out of sight of possible air cover. This time, however,
Tang
has no difficulty in keeping up with the enemy submerged, and after dark a long, dripping shadow silently surfaces 4000 yards astern of him.

With murmuring diesels, the gray wraith ghosts on past the unsuspecting freighter. There are two small patrol vessels up ahead of the oncoming ship, apparently maintaining a permanent anti-submarine barrier.
Tang
avoids these neatly, gets dead ahead of the enemy ship, then turns off the track and lies to in the wallowing seas, deck aft awash with spray and spume whipped across it by the wind. She has selected her position so as to be only 500 yards away as the target comes by astern. Three torpedoes are ready aft, but this time Dick O'Kane decides to try Morton's idea. Undoubtedly there will be many ships through this area before
Tang's
time here is over. This is a straight run-of-the-mine freighter; and anyway, if the torpedo does miss him,
Tang
will go on up ahead of him once more and try again.

But no further attacks prove necessary, for the one single torpedo fired does the trick, hitting the target exactly in the middle with a terrific explosion. Two down.

The next few days are uneventful, but in the early morning of the 20th a small task force, consisting of a cruiser and two destroyers, is sighted headed south at high speed. Even
though they cut down their speed made good by a radical zigzag plan,
Tang
barely is able to overtake them, racing along the surface using all available power. A normal attack from the usual position on the target's beam is manifestly impossible, since there is not a chance of getting there before dawn. The only possible shot is one up the tail, and
Tang
nearly breaks her neck getting into position. Since the target is running directly away at 19 knots, and zigzagging frequently, it is necessary to get very close—not more than six hundred yards astern of him—before shooting, in order to give the fish a chance to reach him before he is off on another zig.
Tang
manages to get in to 800 yards before the Jap realizes that his little task force has grown. He also notices that the newcomer has the annoying habit of wanting to climb right up on the cruiser's fantail, which would annoy any cruiser captain.

That, of course, is as far as
Tang
gets, for a searchlight suddenly outlines her in pitiless detail, and she barely manages to get under as the first salvo of eight-inch shells screams overhead.

Two days later another convoy is picked up on the radar, a few minutes after midnight. Its disposition is quickly made out to be roughly in the form of a cross, a single column of three tankers flanked by two freighters or transports, the whole group heavily guarded by anti-submarine vessels.