Submarine! (26 page)

Tankers are the biggest prizes, outside of actual warships, and
Tang
is delighted at the prospect of getting three of them. The night is dark, and the submarine is able to track from dead ahead until, seizing a favorable opportunity, she stops, allowing the enemy ships to overtake her. As they do so,
Tang
turns and sets herself up for the three tankers with all torpedoes ready, six forward and four aft.

On they come, oblivious. The relatively tiny submarine is lying in their path in such a position that the column of three ships will pass across her bow, while the single flanking vessel will cross her stern. Then, when the range to the nearest Jap ship is about three hundred yards,
Tang
commences firing.

Two torpedoes into the first one, one into the second, two
into the third. One saved in reserve forward for an emergency. The range is so close that the first two fish hit the leading tanker before the last two are fired, and he goes up in a roaring
whoosh
of flame, lighting up the whole scene as though it were broad daylight It is too late, of course, for any of the doomed ships to maneuver to save themselves, for the torpedoes are in the water within the space of seconds, and the range is so short that all maneuvers would be useless anyway. As
Tang
watches the destruction she has wrought, all three tankers burst into furious blaze—an unprecedented, unparalleled holocaust!

But in the meantime the freighter is passing astern, and Dick O'Kane must get set to let him have one or two fish. It takes only a few seconds until finally the word, “Set below!” is received on the bridge, but much has happened in the interim. The freighter alters course, having sighted the submarine's low-lying form in the glare of the explosions and flames of the tankers. He obviously intends to ram. Also, the large freighter-transport on the far flank of the convoy has changed course and is heading straight for the submarine with the probable intention of ramming. The situation is desperate. No time to dive, for she would only be hit an even deadlier blow while on the way down. No time to fire torpedoes—they would only miss anyway. One thing to do—avoid on the surface, and trust to your superior maneuverability to get yourself out of this mess.

“Standby to ram! Collision quarters!
All ahead emergency!
Right full rudder!” The commands crack from O'Kane's lips.
Tang
gathers way, curves to the right, across the bow of the oncoming transport. The latter alters his course to his left, in order to ram the submarine amidships. At precisely the right instant Dick O'Kane shouts the crucial command—
“Left full rudder!”
and swings his stern out from in front of the onrushing enemy with feet to spare. As he does so, there is the sharp rat-a-tat of machine-gun fire from the huge vessel towering above her, and
Tang's
skipper sends everyone below to avoid danger of injury, remaining on the bridge alone in order to handle the ship.

Again the situation changes with catastrophic suddenness. The transport has had to continue his swing, in order to avoid the freighter which had also attempted to ram. A good chance for a shot! Four torpedoes previously made ready aft for the freighter are still ready. “New setup!” the TBT goes into action once more, and the new fire control information is set into the TDC. “Standby aft!”

Tang's
fire control party sets up the new targets in jig time. “Set below!” comes up to the skipper.

“Fire!” The order comes down instantly. Four torpedoes, spaced ten seconds apart, lurch out of the stern torpedo tubes and head for the careening transport. Suddenly, it becomes obvious that he has not been able to avoid the freighter, and with a rending, groaning crash of tortured and distorted steel the two huge hulks rip into each other—at precisely the instant the four torpedoes fired a moment before begin to hit!

A quarter of a mile away the double-barreled crash is tremendous. And the results are equally spectacular. A fantastic surrealistic V, broad and shallow, composed of two smoking, steaming ships, pitching back and forth in the roiled water of their own devastation, men leaping over the sides, bits of debris falling in the water from the explosions, and a huge pall of smoke from the three burning oil tankers covering it all, wafted like a blanket by the stiff north wind.

As
Tang
races away from the area, it is noticed with astonishment that the total elapsed time of the engagement, in which a whole convoy consisting of five ships has been wiped off the face of the earth, is only ten minutes.

As far as
Tang
is concerned, the fateful 24th of October begins quite normally, and it is not until after dark that the last big convoy is encountered. When contact is made, however, the radar goes wild with pips, and there is no doubt that this is really a big outfit. Dick O'Kane orders the customary tracking procedure prior to the attack and commences the approach to a firing position.
Tang
has eleven torpedoes left on board, and this looks like the perfect chance to get rid of all of them.

But the escort vessels apparently have become suspicious
—perhaps news was sent to them of the fate which had overtaken another convoy in this same area yesterday—and commence the unusual tactic of running down the length of the group of ships on opposite course, firing bursts of gunfire. A moment later one of them starts signaling to the massed body of ships with a large searchlight—which simply makes it easier for
Tang
to pick out the targets. The near column of three huge ships shows up plainly. The leading two are transports, loaded with irregularly shaped deck gear—evidently landing equipment; the third is a large tanker, also heavily laden.

Tang's
crew are at battle stations surface torpedo, of course, and again she employs the familiar tactic of ghosting in, bows pointed at the nearest enemy ship to present the minimum silhouette, at slow speed until the best possible firing position is reached. Surprisingly, in spite of the evident alerted condition of the convoy, there is not the slightest attempt at evasion or zigzag by any of the ships. Maybe they think that the protection of the escort ships is sufficient. If so, they are soon disabused of this idea, for two torpedoes, fired at close range, hit into each of the three ships. Even as the explosions start to come in,
Tang
is swinging around to present her stem tubes at another tanker and cargo carrier moving up astern of the chaps just torpedoed. Steadying on course, the new setup is fed into the fire-control instruments, and the never-failing “Set below!” is sent up to the bridge.

In the meantime, pandemonium has been breaking loose. The abrupt transposition of three of the largest vessels of the convoy into three broken, gutted, sinking hulks has thrown the escorts into a tizzy for fair. They mill around, shooting in all directions, flashing their lights indiscriminately, and, in general, doing their best to add to the confusion already generated. The ships comprising the convoy are so closely packed that maneuvers on their part are virtually impossible, but they do what they can, shoot off their guns wildly also, and make large puffs of black smoke as they try to speed up.

Even as Dick O'Kane on the bridge starts to draw a bead
for the stem tube shot, there are splashes all about; someone has spotted the submarine's strange low hull, and has rightly diagnosed it as the cause of all the trouble. Unperturbed, Dick puts in the final shooting bearings, and three torpedoes are fired aft at the two new targets.

As the last fish is fired aft, a whole salvo lands alongside
Tang
, just as the skipper shouts, “All ahead flank!” It is undoubtedly high time that the sub got out of here. The four muttering diesels roar their song of defiance, and four puffs of gray-black smoke pour from the exhaust ports as the submarine's screws bite into the water. O'Kane is intently looking aft at the melee he has brought about, when suddenly a large destroyer looms into sight astern of one of the stricken tankers. This, undoubtedly, is the source of that unpleasantly close salvo. And he surely has a bone in his teeth! So thinks Dick O'Kane, while he watches narrowly, in order to make the decision whether to continue running in hopes of giving this new chap the slip, or dive and take the inevitable beating.

At this moment the torpedoes just fired start hitting. One hits the transport and one hits the tanker, who is evidently laden with aviation gasoline, for he blows up instantly. The destroyer is at the moment coming around the stern of this very ship, and either catches the third torpedo or is set off by the explosion of the nearby tanker, for without warning he is blown sky-high himself. And, consequently free from pursuit,
Tang
races away again to reload her last two torpedoes, completely unscathed.

How many times must Dick O'Kane have wished that he had left well enough alone at this point, but that, of course, was never
Tang's
style. There are two torpedoes left, and there are still ships afloat; so the two fish are thoroughly checked, and then loaded into the forward torpedo tubes. And how the Fates must have laughed as number twenty-four torpedo slips greasily and treacherously into number four tube!

Tang
returns to the scene of the recent action, finds the transport which had been damaged during the last attack low
in the water, stopped, but not sinking. Two destroyer escorts are patrolling around her, both to seaward. So Dick orders a wide circle, comes in from the land side slowly and quietly, gets all set, and fires torpedo number twenty-three, which runs straight for the doomed ship, a perfect
coup de grâce
. And then, to make sure of the crippled ship, torpedo number twenty-four is fired.

Instantly, this torpedo is observed to begin a circle to the left!

O'Kane screams down the hatch!
“All ahead emergency!”
Then, a moment later, as the ship commences to gather way,
“Right full rudder!”
There is only one thing to do—get out of the way of the oncoming torpedo. If its rudder has jammed, as appears to be the case, or if the gyro or steering engine has gone haywire, the deadly fish will certainly come back to the point from which it was fired.

Will we make it?
The question is almost a prayer to those on the bridge. Down below it is known that something is wrong, but they are used to Dick O'Kane's wild and unorthodox maneuvers. Still, this smacks of a real emergency. Then the word comes down via conning tower telephone:

“Torpedo running circular!”

The slightly phosphorescent wake can be seen, off to port, describing a perfect circle. It curves back toward
Tang
—it looks as if it might hit the bridge—there is nothing anyone can do except hope that it will veer off on another erratic phase. With eyes popping out of their sockets, the men on the bridge stare at the Frankenstein monster they have released coming back to claim them—now it looks as though it will hit aft—still it comes—maybe it will pass astern—here it is—here it is—hold your breath——

WHRANGG! A terrific blow strikes
Tang
in the after torpedo room! Instantly the three after compartments fill, and the ballast tanks in that section of the ship are completely destroyed. The stricken hull of the submarine sinks by the stem immediately, as though it had been held up at the bow and the stern and the stern support had suddenly been removed.

O'Kane gives his last order to the white face of the telephone talker in the conning tower hatch at his feet, staring up at his captain as though somehow he could do something which would prevent this monstrous thing from happening to them.
“Shut the hatch!”
But there is no time to carry out this order, which had been intended to help preserve as much of the watertight integrity of the ship as possible. Even as he utters the words, Dick sees the water of the far western Pacific pour into the swiftly submerging hatch, and he is swept off the bridge of his ship into the Straits of Formosa.

And, as he comes to the surface, sputtering and splashing in the choppy but warm salty water, he sees two things—a flash of fire in the distance, followed by the sound of torpedo number twenty-three striking home in the transport which had been his last target, and the gray bow of
Tang
sticking out of water, still buoyant, though the stern of the ship must be on the bottom. His first thought for his crew, O'Kane notes that the torpedo tubes are all under water and that an attempt to escape via that route—assuming that there must have been some men in the forward part of the ship who survived the fatal explosion—could not succeed, and would only result in flooding the forward torpedo room and preventing all chance of escape.

He looks around in the water and counts heads. There are eight in the water with him, like himself swept off the bridge when that part of the ship went under. Only one thing to do now. His heart like lead within him, Dick O'Kane keeps himself afloat, using the minimum possible effort. The instinct of self-preservation dies hard, even though there may not seem to be much left to live for. Every now and then the Captain glances back to the bow of his ship, still exposed above the surface. After about five minutes the head of a man appears in the water alongside, and Lieutenant Larry Savadkin swims over and joins the pitiful party of survivors. He had gone down with the ship, inside the conning tower. Finding a tiny pocket where air had been entrapped, he had pressed his mouth into it, taken what breaths he could, and then moved to the still-open hatch, where he found another
air pocket. Still another one was under the bridge overhang, and, stopping there for several moments, he had finally ducked out and swum to the surface.