Reluctant Warriors (12 page)

Despite shooting an American officer, the German wasn't as crazy as he seemed. His
information proved to be important, leading to a PT boat
scouting mission less than
a week later on January 10, 1944. The mission confirmed his claim that the best entrance
to the atoll was between Nissan and tiny Barahun Island to its north. On February
15, a force of 5,800 New Zealanders coasted right through the opening and landed
in the giant lagoon. In weeks, an airfield on Nissan was bombing Rabaul, the last
step in securing the Solomon Islands, and putting a nail in the coffin of Japanese
control over the Bismarck Archipelago.

Harry thought a lot about Nissan Island after the war. He wondered what he'd shot
in the tall grass on the blackened night. Taking up their new position when the Japanese
attacked, he'd never had time to go back and see what it was. He guessed it was probably
a tapir.

Unexpectedly, at the oddest times, in church or in a store, the smell of the place
would come back into his nostrils. He would think of little Minton hearing the phone
ring, of the German's lies, of the big cannon, and Osborne with the Browning rifle.
He never could remember if they'd left the machine gun.

Mostly, though, he would think on his swims through the Cauldron. He wondered why
the German picked
that
place for them to land. Harry guessed that the old man had
never been through it himself. Miraculously, he had lived through four passages of
the turbulent water with only a few bruises to show for it. He knew he must have
looked pretty funny being hauled out of there backwards by that winch, but it had
sure worked great! The Duke had saved his life.

As the years went by, Harry concluded that a certain vitality never came back into
his body after those swims. But he had to smile and, sometimes, even chuckle over
it. It was a good trade, a little energy for the lives of men he loved then, and
still loved.

Goby

For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast,
And breathed in the face of the foe as he pass'ed.
And the eyes of the sleepers wax'd deadly and chill,
And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still!

—
Lord Byron,
Sennacherib

Pearl Harbor, Hawaii, on the submarine
Bluefin
, May 1, 1944

H
alf an hour after docking, the men had left the boat. Vice Admiral Charles Lockwood,
Commander Submarines Pacific, sat down in the wardroom with the sub's commander,
Lieutenant Commander “Red” Phelps.

“Red, I want you to take command of something new we've come up with, a wolf pack
like the Germans have been using against us. It hasn't worked for them. Our boys
in the Atlantic, especially the Brits, are sinking U-boats at a furious rate, maybe
a couple dozen a month. At this rate, the Germans are through at sea. Of course,”
Lockwood shrugged, “we hope it will turn out better for us. It's top secret, but
no real secret, that we've lost thirty boats ourselves thus far. But I think this
will work for us.”

The old man looked about
Bluefin
's interior and smiled. He was marveling at the difference
between it and his first command, the A-2, thirty years before. Phelps was content
not to interrupt.

“Couldn't stand one of these anymore, even with air conditioning,” Lockwood went
on thoughtfully. “But I think about it every day.” He looked
at the sub's commander
again. “What I say to you is top secret, and this time no one is to know, not even
your wife.”

“There is no one else aboard, sir.”

“Good. By the way, your wife is on the dock, so I don't want to keep you too long.
I'm going to give you four subs,
Bluefin, Terrapin, Cornet,
and
Goby
. I think you
know the men: Medlin, Tony Horton, and Billy Estes. Good men.”

“Yes, sir. Ah, sir? Can I have a name for my group?”

“My people are ahead of you for a change. Your command is already billed as ‘Red's
Raiders.'”

Phelps chuckled.

Lockwood continued. “Red, this is my baby and I want it to get off the ground. As
we get closer in to Japan, I think there's good logic in forming such groups for
mutual support so far away from our bases, and also for pounding their convoys. Soon,
the carrier groups will start to plaster the Marianas. The Marines will hit the beach
as soon as possible after that.

“There's talk of us taking over several of the islands in that group, instead of
the usual ‘Island Hopping' strategy of just one. The word I get, which is supposed
to be all hush-hush, but is really pretty much known to everybody, even the newspaper
guys, is that the Army Air Corps has a new Boeing super bomber, much bigger than
either the B-17 or B-24.”

Phelps nodded.

“They've picked out Tinian. The Air Corps plans to fly all the way from Tinian with
the new bomber, blow Japan from here to tomorrow, and fly all the way back in one
flight. End the war in six months!” Lockwood nodded approvingly.

“That must be something like 2,200 miles round trip, sir!” Phelps said, surprised.

“Yeah, more like 2,600. My people tell me it's 1,289 miles from the northern tip
of Tinian to Mount Fuji.

“Red, we want you to take your command and bottle up the Marianas like a drum. Concentrate
on the northern islands, the ones closest to Japan. From north to south, that's Saipan,
Tinian, and then Guam. Four boats,
three islands. By the way, the confirmation of
your promotion to commander came in from Washington a week ago. Congratulations!”

They shook hands.

“Thank you, sir!”

“Also, you won't be the only such Wolf Pack. I'm giving one to Jimmy Blanchard. He'll
have his
Albacore
, plus
Finback, Bang,
and
Stingray
. They'll be quite a ways south
of you and some west. He'll intercept any fleet the Japanese send in to deal with
Marc Mitscher's fast carriers. There could be a major fleet action coming up.

“I'll leave the disposition to you for your Raiders. It must be obvious that the
Marianas are next on our hit parade. The Japanese will try to bring in whatever they
can to reinforce the group, and perhaps sneak key people out too. I want you to sink
anything that comes in, if they get by Blanchard, or anything that tries to come
out.”

The admiral stood up. He looked about the sub again and shook his head. “You know,
I don't usually come on board with orders. Of course, formal orders will follow.
But this is big, as important as anything we've done.” He looked keenly at Phelps.
“I had to see your face. I'll give you Bobby Ahern, whom I think you know.”

“Yes, sir. He was in the class behind mine.”

“Of course, you'll be able to get whatever you want. Everyone knows that Ahern speaks
for me. He'll expedite this because I want you at sea in ten days with the whole
outfit. The eight boats will leave over a forty-eight hour period, so as to not attract
undue attention. Only you and Jimmy Blanchard are to know now. The rest will find
out at sea that they are to form into these groups. All eight must be on station
by the twentieth.

“I'm sorry about the short leave. It won't sit well with the crews, but that can't
be helped. The timetable for the invasion has been set by the Joint Chiefs and we
can't change that. The hurry is that you and Jimmy will have to be in there and out
before Marc Mitscher and his carrier boys roar in. My guess is that they will move
in on 15 June, or a little sooner. Those hot shot pilots of his couldn't tell one
of our fleet boats from the Empire State Building, and I won't allow any slipups.
So, I want you and Jimmy to clear out on 12 June
and no later. That gives you only
three weeks on station. I would've given you more target time, but I just found out
about this yesterday and we've been up all night with it. After it's over, you'll
be released to different areas for the balance of your patrols. You okay with all
of this?”

Phelps nodded. “Yes, sir!”

The admiral turned to go. Then he thought better of it and sat back down. “I'm going
to have to take Harry Connors from you.”

Phelps smiled thinly. “Well, I knew that one was coming. So, he's coming back?”

“My people tell me he's on the train now. His ankle is fine.”

“That's a relief. That was the craziest thing, that trailing wave. If he hadn't thought
fast and popped that hatch shut with his foot, we wouldn't be here. Tons of water
would have gone right down the hatch, sent us straight to the bottom. He saved this
command.”

“He saved that whole mission to Nissan Island too,” the Admiral added. “I read your
report myself. It read like a novel!” The Admiral smiled. “I know you think a lot
of Harry, that he's up to having his own boat.”

“Admiral, he was ready the day we fished him out of the Sulu Sea when
Mojarra
went
down. Great guy to work with.” An idea came into Phelps' head. “Sir, ah, since he
is coming back, I would like something.”

The admiral gave Phelps his full attention, his brow furrowed. “Name it, Red, and
you have it!”

“Well, since Harry is coming off an ankle break, he might not be quite up to snuff.
Let me have him for one more patrol. Breaking in a new sub is a tough business; maybe
he's not quite up to it just now. Besides, I could use him as the commander of
Bluefin
,
so I can coordinate the four boats.”

Lockwood thought for a moment, knowing that his carefully laid plans were about to
go up in smoke. He mused. “This is just between the two of us.”

Phelps nodded.

“I had a new boat for him coming out of the Mare Island yard in San Francisco. But,
okay. You rate it, so you have it.”

“Thank you, sir. If you're going to let me have him, would you promote him to lieutenant
commander?”

“You always were pushy, Red,” Lockwood laughed. “But that's what I like about you.
You've never asked me for anything that wasn't good for the service. Sure, the order
will be cut today. And, Red, I'm going to take Rudy Farrell soon enough. He'll make
someone a good exec.”

“I feared that too, sir. He's the best navigator I ever saw, the best! I just hope
you don't take both at the same time.”

Lockwood didn't answer the question, but said, “You still have Rocky Fordyce and
young Danforth. We have quality replacements coming out now. But, as you know, the
new boats are coming out quickly and each crew will be one-third veterans transferred
from boats like yours. You have a good bunch and I must take them.”

“Thanks for letting me have them this long.”

The older man stepped out of the wardroom into the hallway, turned back and said,
“You take care of yourself, Red.”

“Thank you, sir.”

At sea ten miles west of Garapan, capital of Saipan in the Marianas Islands, May
23, 1944

The radar had been down for repairs for only thirty minutes when a large Japanese
freighter loomed out of the mist at about 0200. Only radical maneuvering from Harry
Connors averted catastrophe. As the two ships passed only two hundred feet apart,
Harry exulted over the prospects of the chase, of another “kill.”

“Captain to the bridge!” echoed throughout the boat. Within two minutes, Phelps came
up through the hatch.

“We got a convoy, Red,” Harry said.

“What was that radical maneuvering about?”

“A freighter almost rammed us.”

“They see us?”

“I don't think so.”

“Well, that's no surprise. I can't see anything myself. Where'd it go?”

“Off to the west.”

In fewer than five minutes the two veterans and close friends assumed their usual
positions, with Harry moving down to the conning tower one deck below and Phelps
remaining on the bridge. The big boat swung into action, as it had so many times
before.

As the radar came back on, it showed an enemy convoy of six ships. Talking back and
forth by intercom, the two men decided that the ship that had almost rammed them
would make the best target. With the night completely black, it proved impossible
to glimpse the ship, let alone see the angle on the bow.

Radar revealed the target's direction, and the sound man calculated the speed from
counting the propeller's revolutions. He fed the information into the Tactical Data
Computer, checking and reinserting the results several times, as
Bluefin
maneuvered
into a good firing position.

They fired two torpedoes. Everyone in the crew cheered wildly as they saw two explosions
some 1,500 yards off. Soon the sound man reported that the ship was breaking up.
Unusually, after the flashes of the explosions, no fire followed, and the freighter
sank unseen.

In another minute Phelps was on the intercom again. “All right, Harry, let's get
a setup on the other ships.”

The scope revealed the convoy proceeding north by west.

“Red, they're fleeing Garapan, getting outta town,” Harry voiced up to his boss.

“Yeah! The radar still good?”

“Yup.”

“Okay, Harry, I want you and Rudy to work up the best course for interception, an
‘end around' or whatever you think. What we got, two plus hours before daylight?”

“Yeah. Okay, Red.”

Harry called Ferrell to come up from the Control Room to the conning
tower with his
map. It took them only a few minutes to come up with a solution.

Harry clicked on the speaker to the bridge. “Red, they've definitely sped up, maybe
eight and a half knots now. We recommend 270.”

“Okay.”

Harry called out the new order. “Come to new course, 270.”

In a few moments the 311-foot long Fleet boat began to take on the new heading.

“I didn't think you would mind if we ran up to flank speed,” Harry added.

“Sure,
sure, it's your boat,” Phelps said impatiently. “The mist is lifting. How do you
see it?”

“Red, it's uphill,” Harry said. “The closest one to us looks like a patrol boat.
She's swinging around her chicks at a pretty good clip. She's probably a destroyer,
or at least a Chidori gunboat.”

“Ah, crap.”

Harry continued. “If we go around to the other flank, it'll take maybe thirty hours
before we can get in front of them. The only thing to do is to stay on this flank
and get far enough out from the destroyer to do the ‘end around.' It'll take twenty
hours at their speed and direction and put us in front of them by about 2300.”

“Okay, assume whatever heading and speed you think appropriate. I want
Cornet
and
Terrapin
in on this. Isn't
Goby
too far?”