Run Silent, Run Deep - Страница 31

К оглавлению

"I didn't think of that," Hugh mumbled sheepishly, as he carefully put the blinker tube down again.

The outline of the other ship was becoming less distinct.

I was about to make mention of the fact when Jim spoke again.

"Looks to me that we are farther away than before, Captain."

I agreed. "Hugh, turn around and head for him. Use a little speed to get around and then slow down again."

Walrus was swinging to the left as Dave Freeman spoke up from the hatch below.

"Captain," he called. I came forward, bent over attentively.

"What did you find out?"

"Nothing, Sir. There isn't supposed to be any ship anywhere around here except us, and there's nothing in the skeds about one. I made up a message." He read from a paper in his hand, aiming a tiny red flashlight beam at it.

"URGENT FOR COMSUBPAC X, SMALL VESSEL SIGHTED NORTHWEST OAHU ONE THREE ZERO MILES X, COURSE THREE ZERO ZERO X, SPEED ONE TWO."

"How did you dope that out?"

"Rubinoffski said it would be a good guess, about the same as ours was.

That seemed reasonable. "Go on," I said.

"REQUEST CONFIRMATION NO FRIENDLY VESSELS THIS VICINITY X WALRUS SENDS X URGENT. FOR COMSUBPAC X."

"Good. How long will it take you to code that and send it out?"

"I woke up Keith to help, Captain. He's setting up the code now. We'll have it ready in about fifteen minutes and maybe have it off in fifteen minutes after that."

"That's a long time to wait, Dave. Do it as fast as you can."

Freeman dashed below. I stood up, again scanning the sea and horizon dead ahead. The indistinct outline of the other ship was a little closer now, still broadside, without any sip of having detected us.

"Jim," I said, "this may well be a Jap sub. We'll track it until we get an answer to our message. Then if it is, we'll go in and shoot him!"

"Why not get closer and see? If it is a Jap we can let him have it right away."

"We can't take a chance on its being friendly, Jim. If it's one of our own, a PC boat for instance, he might open fire on us."

Jim was not convinced. I had never seen him like this. The anticipation of combat had made a different person of him. He was all eagerness: "We've got the, drop on him. We can go in," he began, but I shook my head, and his face fell. He swallowed his disappointment with a strange look, quickly masked.

"Aye aye, sir. Do you want to go to battle stations now?"

It seemed a bit premature, but it was best to be safe.

"Yes," I said. "We had better."

The possibility of combat had started a nervous tingling in my backbone, too.

"I'll have to go below to sound the general alarm, sir. Shall I stay at my station in the, conning tower?"

"Yes, Jim, go ahead. I've got the picture up here."

Jim departed and in seconds the sound of the general alarm could be heard. This was the first time it had been sounded in earnest and the response in Walrus was electric. Within thirty seconds Jim's voice rang out on the ship's announcing system.

"The ship is at battle stations, Captain," he said. The blast of his voice on the bridge loud-speaker startled me. I was al- most afraid it would reach across the intervening two or three miles of water and alert the enemy, if such indeed he was.

By this time the other ship had drawn a little to the right.

We changed our course to the right accordingly. In a few minutes there came a call from the conning tower: "Radar contact, hearing three-five-zero."

"Range?" I called down the hatch.

"Three-five-double-oh," came the prompt answer." A small pip, sir."

"Jim," I called, "start tracking the target!"

The SJ radar was mounted at the top of a shaft secure to the forward part of the periscope supports, extending down into the upper part of the conning tower. It was thus right be- hind the Officer of the Deck's normal station, and it was possible to tell something about how the radar was working merely by reaching behind or leaning back against it. It had almost become instinctive to put my hand on it, when a bearing and range were being-taken, to satisfy myself that Jim in the conning tower was indeed getting the information needed for co- ordination of the approach party. It was apparent that he was.

In a few minutes Jim called up from below.

"Target course two-nine-zero. Speed ten. Recommend our course two-seven-zero, speed — fifteen, to close in."

"We can't close until we get the answer to our message, Jim.

Give me a course and speed just to stay in contact."

"Two-nine-zero. Speed ten!" There was a note of harshness in his voice, the barest suggestion of disaffection, as though his mask had slipped for an instant and been immediately replaced. Something I couldn't fathom had shown through.

The nights off Hawaii are beautiful. It rains frequently, but between the rains one has clear, star-studded skies and friendly seas. This was such a night. It was warm, humid, and dark, and Walrus rolled easily in the long ocean swells. As we in- creased speed our bow dipped into the successive seas and we felt a slight breeze on our faces. Back aft four clouds of vapor drifted gently away in the breeze and spatterings of water from the exhaust fell on the dock. Such a night was more fit for cruising in a sailboat or dancing on the deck of an ocean liner than for sudden death. I was struck by the similarity-in reverse-with the situation the German had caught us in, halfway from New London to the Panama Canal. Except that he knew beyond question we were an enemy, while here we were not so sure.

The two vessels, pursuer and pursued, ran steadily to the northwest. We, waiting for the all-important answer from Pearl Harbor; they unconscious of their danger. Finally, after nearly an hour, it came. Dave read it to me from the conning tower.

"URGENT FOR WALRUS X, NO FRIENDLY VESSELS YOUR VICINITY X, TAKE IMMEDIATE ACTION X, COMSUBPAC SENDS X."

Now that the moment for attack had come I felt myself a little weak in the knees as I gave the necessary orders.

"All ahead full! Come left to two-six-zero! Stand by forward!"

The song of our engines back aft lifted in frequency. Their power roar came clearly to our cars. The breeze of our passage, increasing in intensity, began plucking at our hair, searching the gaps in our shirts. It felt wet and clammy. I was sweating, and an alien unwelcome thought had intruded: Could there be a rebuke, implied or intended, in the message from Com- SubPac?

Walrus swung to the left, steadied on the new course, and the enemy vessel began to grow rapidly larger. I placed my binoculars into the bracket on top of the Target Bearing Transmitter, or TBT, a waterproof instrument by which target bearings could be transmitted to the TDC in the conning- tower.

"Stand by forward," I repeated. Late or not, if we sank the enemy sub-for such it must be-any disapproval of our cautious attitude up to this point. would be forgotten.

Back came Jim's voice: "Standing by forward, Sir. Outer doors are open!"

"we will shoot a salvo of three," I said into the speaker at my side. "What's the range now?"

"Range two-five-double-oh!… Torpedo run three thousand!"

It was then that I realized we had made a serious error. In our anxiety to determine whether this was an enemy ship, and avoid being detected in the meantime, we had neglected to get into a proper firing position. One of the very first rules of submarine approaches, a cardinal principle, something I had known, had had drilled into me for years. When being approached from astern, the target's speed lengthens the distance a torpedo has to travel, and the submarine must consequently fire from closer range than it might otherwise choose.

Likewise, a longer-than-usual range is possible if the torpedo is fired from well forward of the target's beam, but it is harder to hit by consequence of the sharp angle. The best position, considering the angle of hitting with the torpedo, or "torpedo track angle," is such that the torpedo intersects the target at ninety degrees. In the situation Walrus was in, to get a decent torpedo run of approximately fifteen hundred yards we would have to shoot from a range of about one thousand yards, and the torpedo track angle would be obtuse, in from astern after a stern chase, the least desirable situation of all.

My mind went through the calculations again. Barring a radical course change to the right, hardly to be expected, there was no hope for improving our firing position. If we turned away now for another attempt a little later, we would only expose our broadside to the enemy and almost certainly cause him to see us. No; we had already cast the die. Poorly situated though we were, we had to go through with the attack on the lines already begun. We were essentially bows on to him, too close to turn, so close that our detection sooner or later was a certainty. AR we could do was to shoot soon enough, get our torpedoes on their way before the Jap lookouts spotted the tell- tale, bow wave and bows-on silhouette on their starboard quarter.

"What's the range now?"

"Two-two-double-oh. Torpedo run two-five-double-oh."

Perhaps we could compromise a little, shoot from fifteen hundred yards and accept a torpedo run of two thousand. This would be better than getting so close, one thousand yards, as to be in danger of being spotted.

Another minute. "Range!" I called.

"Two-oh-double-oh," came the answer.

I had been watching the other ship through my binoculars.