Hellcats (11 page)

Edge had little time to savor his work. An aircraft contact on SD radar forced the
Bonefish
down. Passing a hundred feet, the sonar watch reported a distant explosion—one of the torpedoes that had missed the tanker had probably exploded when it hit the beach or sea bottom at the end of its run. Edge hoped to hear breaking-up noises from a sinking tanker. Instead, as the explosion faded away, sonar reported only distant screw noises and long-range depth charging.

Edge was deeply disappointed by his failure to sink the tanker, not just for himself but also for his crew. He was painfully aware that all of those tension-filled hours of tracking, plotting, and sweating had resulted in damage to only one ship. He could have blamed his failure on erratic torpedo performance that continued to curse the
Bonefish.
But Edge being Edge, he was as tough on himself as he was on the enemy. He vowed to make amends the next time he had a Japanese ship in his sights.

 

 

The next day the
Bonefish
ran through a large area of floating wreckage—oil drums, lifeboats, splintered lumber, life rings—possibly from one of the ships she'd torpedoed earlier or from another victim of a U.S. submarine that had been in the area before the
Bonefish
's arrival. The coast of Mindanao had become a graveyard for Japanese
marus
.

Patrol at an end and headed home via the Lombok Strait east of Bali, the
Bonefish
exchanged recognition signals and information with the northbound submarine USS
Flier
(SS-250). The
Bonefish
was likely the last submarine to make contact with the doomed ship. On August 13 the
Flier
struck a Japanese mine while transiting the Balabac Strait south of Palawan and sank in less than a minute. With help from Philippine guerrillas eight
Flier
survivors, including her skipper, were rescued by the USS
Redfin
(SS-272).

 

 

Admiral Christie noted in his
endorsements to the patrol report Edge submitted after his return to Fremantle that the new skipper had conducted the patrol in an aggressive and thorough manner. He concurred with Edge's assessment of sinkings and damage: one freighter and one oiler sunk, another oiler damaged. He noted too that Edge's report was well written and filled with operational details on Japanese antisubmarine tactics and convoy routines that would be useful to other skippers assigned to patrol the same area.

Edge's narrative provided Admiral Christie with an exceptionally clear and accurate picture of the action that had unfolded day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute aboard the
Bonefish
. Christie surely found the report, with Edge's colorful personal observations inserted into the narrative, as lively and exciting as a fast-paced short story. For his outstanding performance, Edge received the Bronze Star, the
Bonefish
her fourth unit commendation.

 

 

In an undated letter written
during the long, arduous days of patrolling in enemy waters, Lawrence told Sarah in words carefully chosen to avoid censorship that he'd just concluded his first patrol as skipper of the
Bonefish
. He also dropped a hint that before too long the
Bonefish
might return to the States for an overhaul. He also explained his reasons for fighting in a war that seemed it would never end.

Lawrence concluded with news he'd heard that the war in Europe might be over by early 1945. And he took as a sure sign that the Navy's drastic reduction of its submarine building program meant victory in the Pacific wasn't too far off either. It also meant that Lawrence would probably not receive a new-construction submarine of his own to command, which every combat skipper hoped to achieve. Yet as he always did, Lawrence delighted in the bounty of his life instead of dwelling on his misfortunes.

I
t had been a bitter and bloody fight in the Pacific. American forces had suffered terrible casualties in their island-hopping campaign against the Japanese. Starting in March 1942, the Japanese had completed their capture of Java. In May the last Philippine bastion, Corregidor, fell, and with it the remnants of organized U.S. and Filipino resistance. The Japanese army seemed invincible. Yet their defeat at the Battle of Midway in June 1942 marked a turning point in the war. For Japan, the loss of four aircraft carriers (the U.S. lost one carrier), with their planes and pilots, marked the beginning of the end. Yet even as the Japanese fell back across the Pacific in the face of ever more powerful American advances, Japanese soldiers chose to fight to the death rather than surrender. And though America and her allies had taken the initiative, it was clear that the Pacific war was not going to end suddenly, and that it was going to consume more and more lives on both sides. Worse yet, an invasion of the home islands, a dreaded possibility, would likely require five million soldiers, sailors, marines, and airmen, and incur perhaps a half million casualties.
^d
Even though facing defeat, the Japanese still had the capacity to inflict heavy losses on an invading army. At risk, too, were the thousands of Allied prisoners of war and civilian detainees. Therefore, any military operation that might speed Japan's collapse and lessen the need for an invasion would receive serious consideration and likely gain approval from Admirals Nimitz and King. They had already approved a naval blockade of the home islands and air strikes on industrial targets across Japan. But no one knew if they would be effective, or, if they were, how long it would take for their effect to end the war.

 

 

Looking back after the war
Lockwood realized that the operation he'd envisioned for a submarine raid targeted against Japan had had its genesis during the visit he made to the laboratories of UCDWR at San Diego, California, in April 1943, where he'd had his first glimpse of FM sonar. Given his enormous responsibilities and all the issues relating to submarine combat operations vying for his attention, the idea that FM sonar might provide the means to penetrate the minefields guarding the Sea of Japan had taken a while to germinate. When it did it reignited Lockwood's determination to once again make that sea a theater of operation for his subs.

Sometime after the
Wahoo
's loss in October 1943, an intelligence report arrived at ComSubPac challenging Lockwood's belief that the
Wahoo
had been sunk by a mine in the Sea of Japan. Lockwood had clung to that idea absent an official announcement by the Japanese that their antisubmarine forces had sunk the
Wahoo
. To Lockwood the lack of an announcement by the Japanese indicated that, unknown to them, the
Wahoo
had struck one of their mines. Support for this idea came from submarines operating around Japan, whose skippers reported an increase in the number of floating mines that had broken loose of their moorings and gone adrift, sometimes into traffic lanes used by the Japanese themselves. The dangers they posed to submarines as well as surface ships were all too real, as evidenced by the sinking of the
Flier
.

The intelligence report Lockwood received indicated that Japanese antisubmarine forces had attacked and sunk a submarine in La Pérouse Strait on October 11, 1943.
^e
Why the Japanese hadn't made an official announcement to that effect was a real mystery, given their penchant for exaggerating reports of attacks on U.S. subs. There was no denying that the submarine in question was the
Wahoo
. Lockwood mulled over what he knew for sure. The
Wahoo
had gone in there twice. Other subs had too and had gotten out. Only the
Wahoo
had been sunk, and apparently not by a mine. If a mine hadn't sunk her, did that mean the Sea of Japan wasn't impregnable after all? Did it mean that the minefields guarding the sea weren't as formidable as Lockwood and Voge had thought? Could they be penetrated—somehow—without incurring the loss of men and ships?

Lockwood realized that UCDWR had unintentionally created the tool that would make it possible to attempt a mission that he believed would keep his submarines in the fight. The war was evolving into a naval air campaign just as the submarine war of attrition against Japanese shipping was slackening for lack of targets. His force was on the brink of going out of business. Lockwood's mission would sink the Japanese empire once and for all, and in the bargain avenge Morton and the
Wahoo
.

A big-picture man, Lockwood envisioned a mission that had three main objectives: One, penetrate the minefields guarding the Sea of Japan to prove that submarines could do it. Two, show the Japanese that they were virtually isolated and defenseless against submarine incursions. Three, cut off the imports of rice, coal, and iron ore from East Asia that Japan needed for survival. Lockwood's submarines would accomplish these objectives by sinking every last ship still afloat in the Sea of Japan. Another important goal coming into focus as a result of America's sometimes difficult collaboration with the Russians, though not articulated by Lockwood, was to demonstrate to the leaders of the Soviet Union that the United States Navy's powerful submarine force would have a role to play in the implementation of America's strategic objectives in the postwar world.

 

 

In early 1944, after several
follow-up visits to UCDWR's labs to see what progress had been made on FM sonar, Lockwood came away convinced that the new device had the potential to become the secret weapon the sub force needed to wipe out the remains of Japan's merchant marine. He was more determined than ever to get the sonar units into full-scale production and to get one installed in a submarine for trials as soon as possible.

Lockwood outlined for Admiral Nimitz what he'd learned about FM sonar. Impressed by what he heard, Nimitz approved Lockwood's request to have the first available sonar unit installed aboard a submarine. His approval also allowed Lockwood to set in motion an almost continuous rotation of civilian scientists and instructors between UCDWR in California and the sub base at Pearl Harbor and, later, at Guam. At both California and Pearl Harbor, the scientists would supervise the installation and repair of FM sonar units in subs, and the training of the submarine personnel who would operate them. This cooperative effort would give the scientists an opportunity to experience the hot, humid, and rugged environment of a submarine, where the sonar equipment would have to operate without malfunctioning. It would also provide an opportunity for the submariners undergoing training to become acquainted with the difficulties inherent in the development and manufacture of extraordinarily complex and temperamental equipment, as well as its operation and maintenance. From the beginning, and despite all the problems imposed by rush schedules, stress, short tempers, and nagging production bottlenecks, the collaboration between scientists and submariners turned into a successful partnership that continued beyond the end of the war. Lockwood couldn't have been more pleased, then, when the first working FM sonar unit showed up in Pearl Harbor in June 1944 installed aboard the USS
Spadefish
(SS-411).

 

 

The
Spadefish
was a new-construction
boat out of the government building yards at Mare Island, California. Her skipper was a veteran ship sinker, the mustachioed Commander Gordon W. Underwood. After her fitting out, shakedown, and crew training at Mare Island, shipfitters installed a handcrafted FM sonar chassis, sonar head, and associated accessories in her forward torpedo room. After installation the
Spadefish
moved south to San Diego, where UCDWR technicians installed and tested the FM sonar unit's electronics package. Lockwood, anxious to know how the work was progressing, received regular updates on the installation and also on the effort by technicians to rid the
Spadefish
's unit of the bugs that kept it from performing as it should. Though these problems were eventually solved, they foreshadowed what was to come.