Submarine! (44 page)

There! A hole at last! Slightly to the right. “Right full rudder!” I ordered, speaking as calmly as I could and deliberately pitching my voice low.

Ever so slowly the opening drifted to the left, until centered directly in front of our bow. I ordered the rudder amidships. Seconds passed. We commenced to pass directly between two mines, equidistant from each. The mines disappeared from the indicator, but we could still hear the chimes. They were abeam now—now abreast the after torpedo room. “We're clear!” somebody said. But I continued to watch the FM equipment indicator, for just before the mines passed clear, a veritable nest of them had shown up, dead ahead, accompanied by an incessant cacophony of jangling chimes.

No hole at all this time! Cold sweat on my forehead. Too late to change course—it had already been too late when we picked up this latest group. Nothing to do but remain at slowest creeping speed and hope to see a hole as we get closer. A trapped, panicky feeling rises just beneath consciousness, but I manage to keep it there. It's up to me, only me! A small hole develops, to the right again—and cockeyed—but it's the best there is.

“Starboard back emergency! Port ahead emergency! Right full rudder!” That's all we can do. I haven't taken my eyes from the screen, and so I see us swing into the hole. We just seem to get into it The mines draw up alongside, pass aft, ringing incessantly, along the hull. I open my mouth to give the order to put the rudder amidships again and equalize the screws, when the telephone talker interrupts rapidly:

“Mine cable scraping port-side after battery!”

Disturbing the cable might set off the mine floating on the end of it. Or even if it doesn't actually snag as the ship moves ahead, the cable might readily drag the mine down on us. Either way means disaster.

Instantly I tell the helmsman, “Shift everything!” He's heard the report, too, and responds with amazing celerity. We had drilled for just this situation. Without further ado, the helmsman switches the starboard annunciator from back emergency to ahead emergency; the port one from ahead emergency to back emergency and nearly rips the steering wheel from the bulkhead as he swings it to left full.

As I watch him go industriously through the routine, an incongruous thought intrudes: “Bet even old Wilson wouldn't have got it all done any quicker!”

Back aft, the electrician's mates are also on the phone circuit, and the order to shift everything has been relayed to them via the talker. The shift in direction of the twist is nothing short of remarkable, and the cable stops scraping outside.

At 2000 we surfaced, safe and sound, in the Sea of Japan, and began running at full speed for our assigned patrol area.

August 14

1640 Sighted swamped lifeboat with man and woman clinging to it. They both appeared young; the woman quite pretty with her many-colored scarf around her head. The wolves could be heard howling throughout the boat. Decided to take them aboard. Came alongside three times, flooded down, bow planes rigged out, trying first to coax them aboard, and that failing, to frighten them aboard by a few shots well overhead. Both methods failed; each time we maneuvered close aboard they paddled away on a floating thwart; it was believed that girl had seen wolves before.

During the procedure the entire boarding party, both first and second waves, were on deck with guns and equipment. After the third attempt, it was decided that enough was enough, and the Gunnery Officer, Lt.
W. A. BOWMAN
and
LECLAIR, R.J
. Slc (225 pounds of very solid gun-striker), stripped to skivvies and with long knives clenched in their teeth (like John Silver) went over the side after them.

This ended all argument. The young lady was towed alongside with her hands clasped in front of her face, praying in Japanese; the man followed suit, struggling somewhat.

It was decided to strip and search both prisoners on deck, and in deference to maidenly modesty a shapely mattress cover with arm and leg holes was provided. This was quite unnecessary, as without a scarf and a pair of pants, the beautiful she turned out to be a young he. The
other prisoner was suffering from a deep scalp wound closely resembling an old bullet crease. Both men were bathed, given medical attention and dry clothing.

Before this could be completed, sighted a raft ahead with four more customers. These were more willing to come aboard under their own power, with the exception of a serious young man who first tried to swim away, then deciding this was no good, floated on his back and gazed up at the riflemen as he waited to be shot.
LECLAIR
went over the side and brought him aboard in a manner that left little doubt in his mind that we wanted him alive.

We had been running at full power ever since breaking out of the Tsushima area, and remaining on the surface all day in order to increase distance. Picking these characters out of the drink within a half hour's flight from land delayed us, and was a risky operation as well. A submarine has no business being on the surface during wartime, unless it is ready for instant submergence. When Bowman and LeClair went over the side, they must have realized that we might have been forced to leave them up there, although of course we'd have stuck around and picked them up later. Nevertheless, I breathed much easier when everyone was once more safely below and we had resumed running at full speed for the Jap coast.

Nary a ship had we seen, except an old waterlogged and abandoned wooden landing craft. The radio, which we kept tuned in, continuously reported the progress of the peace feelers going on. It was obvious that this was to be the last patrol, the only question being—would it last long enough for
Piper
to get a few licks in at the enemy?

Rescuing our six prisoners had cost us several hours, and though we raced through the night, we were not able to get close enough to the coast by daylight next morning to patrol for any coastal shipping. We tried to run in on the surface, but twice planes forced us to dive, and the second time we stayed down. However, we kept our radar antenna mast out, since it could be used as a rather poor radio antenna, and thus it was that at seven minutes after one that afternoon we heard that Japan had surrendered, and the war was over.

A wild cheer rang through the boat. We had known it was coming, and had been following the signs, but now it had come. The fighting was over. We had made it. I could well understand and appreciate the joy felt by everybody on the ship.

My own feelings I could not understand so well. Instead of wild exultation, a fit of the deepest despondency descended upon me. I tried to join in the happiness of my officers and crew, but after a while I left them. I went to my stateroom and drew the curtain. I didn't bother to turn on the light—just sat there on the bunk, not stirring. During the next several hours I was aware that the curtains fluttered once or twice, as though someone had started to call me and then had thought better of it, or had been stopped by someone else.

Eventually it was time to surface. After we had brought
Piper
up, I told the officer of the deck that I was going out on the main deck for a while. This, of course, was never permitted without good reason, and never without the Captain's express permission. But I was the Captain, and I kept my reasons to myself.

The night was clear and cloudless, with just a hint of the moon soon to rise. The air was warm, seemingly devoid of the oppressive mustiness I had so often noticed. The sea was nearly calm. It was a night of peace. I wearily paced the deck, around and around from bow to stern, and back to the bow again. The same old thoughts were still running through my mind. After this, what? Why
Trigger
, and not
Piper
, or
Tirante?
Why Penrod Schneider, Johnnie Shepherd, Stinky, and Willy Kornahrens? What about Johnnie Moore, the man who had ordered me to submarine school against my will, back in September of 1941? He had gone down as skipper of
Grayback
, after a series of outstanding patrols.

What about Penrod's wife, Sammy, who had christened
Dorado
as she was launched? And Al Bontier, who had had the bad luck to run his new
Razorback
aground off New London, as a result of which he was transferred off the ship and to Pearl, where they gave him the recently overhauled
Seawolf?
And what about the skipper of that destroyer escort
who to his dying day must reproach himself for not having tried harder to identify the submarine which desperately signaled him as he ordered the fatal hedgehogs thrown?

What was the difference between Dave Connole, cut short after bringing
Trigger
back into the pay-off column once more, and Jack Lewis, who caught pneumonia on our first run up in the Aleutians three years ago—what indeed was the difference, except that one of them was dead?

As I turned about the deck, always it came back to the same thing. We had won the war. It was over—finished—and somehow I had had the incredible luck to be spared. But what little divided those of us who were alive to see this day from those who were not? Just a few feet over the side, the long, cool, clean, silent water was the answer. It could claim many secrets—had claimed them for thousands and tens of thousands of years—one of them might as well have been me—could still be me . . .

I shrank from the abyss of lunacy yawning in front of me. The revulsion from four years of tension, and ultimate rejection of the subconscious idea that I might not make it after all, had plumbed its depth. Stinky and Johnnie Shepherd had not taken my place in the
Trigger;
it had simply been their bad luck, and my good.

A call from the bridge, with a sort of wild, half chuckle to it: “Captain, Captain. Here's a message for you!” I walked swiftly forward.

Jerry Reeves was standing there, holding a piece of paper in his hand. “You old bastard, sir!” he said. “Why didn't you tell anybody?”

The message said:
FOR
PIPER
X
MESSAGE
TO
COMMANDING OFFICER FROM MRS. BEACH SAYS DAUGHTER BORN AUGUST TENTH X BOTH WELL X CONGRATULATIONS X COMSUBPAC SENDS

The war had come to an end, and life, for some of us, was beginning.

Son of a well-known naval officer,
Edward L. Beach Jr
. graduated from the Naval Academy in 1939. During World War II Captain Beach participated in the Battle of Midway, and his submarines conducted twelve combat patrols that sank or damaged forty-five ships. A highly decorated officer, Beach received the Navy Cross and the Silver Star. After a number of postwar assignments, Captain Beach served as naval attaché to President Dwight Eisenhower from 1953 to 1957. In February 1960 Beach began his record-breaking voyage in the nuclear submarine USS
Triton
, which circumnavigated the earth submerged in sixty-one days. During her nearly thirty-one thousand mile journey,
Triton
set a speed and endurance record that stands today. In May President Eisenhower presented Beach with the Legion of Merit. Captain Beach retired from the Navy in 1966. In addition to a brilliant naval career, Beach wrote novels, memoirs, and naval histories, works that earned him numerous literary awards. Among his books is the bestselling
Run Silent, Run Deep
. In honor of both Edward L. Beach and his father, Edward Sr., the home of the U.S. Naval Institute in Annapolis, Maryland, was named Beach Hall. Edward Jr. died in December 2002.

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