Dust on the Sea (15 page)

The matter had never been discussed with the wolfpack commander. Perhaps it should have been, thought Richardson uneasily, when, to everyone's surprise. Blunt insisted on taking the least desirable bunk, that on the wardroom transom, even though there was a spare bunk in one of the staterooms. It was not until determined protest had been made, pointing out that this would greatly reduce the usefulness of the wardroom for early breakfasts and late coffee, as well as its myriad other functions, that he permitted himself to be assigned one of the three bunks in Keith's room, across the passageway from Rich.

During the refit the biggest job, involving the most anxiety, had been the overhaul of the hydraulic system. It had been taken apart completely and thoroughly inspected. Nothing specific had been found wrong except slight scoring on the inner walls of the accumulator. When put back together, the entire system had been pronounced perfect. All during the training period it had functioned as predicted, its cycling time restored to the original specifications. It would cause no further trouble, the relief crew skipper had said. Al Dugan, when asked privately, expressed the same opinion, but Richardson, looking back later on their brief conversation, could recall a fleeting impression that Dugan had less than full confidence in his own words.

The other major improvement was the installation of one of the new radar periscopes. Unfortunately, its top was considerably larger than that of the original night periscope which it replaced; inclusion of radar had necessitated a four-foot reduction in effective length, and removal
of the optical range-finder. To obtain a radar range, which was the only kind it could get, the now club-headed instrument had to be raised several feet higher out of water than had been necessary with the old optical periscopes.

But the radar periscope did give very precise ranges, and Richardson had practiced assiduously with it, along with Rogers, the teen-aged operator who came aboard with it from the Fleet Radar School. Fortunately, the attack periscope was still the old type with a very thin, tapered head, almost invisible if adroitly used. For the latter stages of a submerged attack, Richardson had resolved, he would revert to the optical system to gain the advantages of deeper submergence and a less visible periscope.

In sum, a truly extraordinary amount of work had been done on
Eel
during the refit period. Her new paint job topside and all her new equipment had virtually made her a new submarine. Satisfaction filled her skipper, tempered by the realization that with Blunt aboard he would not be entirely her master. Something else was nagging the back of his mind also, something unstated, unarticulated. The controversy over Blunt's bunk had been a minor thing. But was it indicative of something, a state of mind maybe? Surely it was not worthy of further thought. Blunt probably had not intended to appear disappointed. Probably Richardson had misread him. Best put all this behind, lay it to the pressures and problems of Pearl Harbor.

He would concentrate on the thought that a certain degree of relaxation would be his during the patrol to come, for the big decisions to attack or not to attack, to risk his life and that of his crew, or not to do so, would be made by someone else. And as his own responsibility decreased, his freedom of mind to think through the dilemmas of the past two months would be correspondingly greater. He should be able to follow Blunt's lead implicitly, as he had before in the
Octopus
. Once Blunt had shaken off the miasma of Pearl Harbor, he would be his old self again. The weight of Richardson's responsibility would be confined only to the efficient operation of the
Eel
as a submarine.

Even as he rehearsed the thought, however, it occurred to him that on the other hand perhaps the worst thing would be to have nothing to occupy his mind as he lay sleepless in his bunk, studying the shadowed metal walls surrounding him. This had been his trouble on the way back from the last patrol. It had become progressively worse the farther
Eel
voyaged from the battle zone.

As night came on, he almost dreaded the prospect of once again lying there sleepless, the memory of Pearl Harbor's activity—and Joan—fading, while all the familiar objects and sounds associated with that difficult trip home were free to reassert their depressing dominance.

The three submarines, proceeding on parallel but well separated tracks, did not sight each other until they rendezvoused for refueling at Midway Island.

Next morning they set forth again, running separately and in radio silence. Blunt had decided there had been adequate exercise in convoy techniques and there need be no drills en route to the patrol area. All submarines were to run as fast as they could consistent with safety and conservation of fuel, remaining on the surface at all times except for morning dives to get a trim or—after entry into enemy waters—when submerging to avoid detection.

The days passed with monotony as the three submarines approached the far western Pacific. With increasing urgency Richardson began to make the point that some coordinated drills were essential to maintain the unity of the newly created wolfpack. There need be little loss of time, virtually no additional expenditure of fuel. The three members of Blunt's Bruisers had had no joint operating experience except for the short time together at Pearl. To his surprise, his arguments had no noticeable effect. Blunt listened, but with scant attention, saying only that rest was necessary for everyone before entering enemy controlled waters. Then everything would fall into place.

The second cup of coffee after dinner in
Eel
's tiny wardroom became the occasion for a daily discussion. Near-pleading by Richardson, stubborn refusal by his superior. Twice Richardson privately cautioned Leone not to try to help. Emotion was creeping into the disputation; it would be the wrong thing to do.

With the first landfall on Japanese-held islands due in four days, Richardson changed debate tactics, concentrated on the needs of
Eel
herself. Every skipper had the right and duty to satisfy himself as to the state of training of his crew. This was his responsibility, not that of the wolfpack commander. The skippers of
Chicolar
and
Whitefish
, traveling out of sight, were making such decisions for themselves.
Eel
's crew must not be allowed to go stale. It was purely a matter for each individual ship. He would carry out a full day's drill, lasting from before dawn until long after sunset. Convoy exercises were not involved. Blunt need pay no attention, could remain in the wardroom.

It was obligatory, however, to inform Blunt that he had determined to devote a day to drilling
Eel
's crew. Acquiescence was surprisingly reluctant, even for this unassailable position.

It had never been a part of his old skipper's previous character to oppose training or drills of any kind. Quite the reverse. There was something under cover, some syndrome of fatigue in him, which Richardson must think about and try to alleviate. The voyage across
the Pacific had been more of a strain than Richardson remembered from previous patrols, but as the day's work began, with Buck Williams on the TDC, Keith Leone as assistant approach officer, Stafford on the sonar, and Quin, the yeoman, wearing the battle telephone headset, he began to renew the confidence he had felt the last days in Pearl. Larry Lasche was assigned to the automatic plotting table in the after part of the conning tower, opposite the TDC—unfortunately with his back to Buck, with whom he was to coordinate, but this could not be helped. Young Rogers, fresh out of high school and an electronic hobbyist since childhood, was on the radar console. In the forward end of the conning tower, Scott was on the helm as before, with Oregon, senior quartermaster, on one side keeping the log, and Quin on the other.

Immediately beneath the hatch leading to the control room, on the port side of the control room, was the ship's diving station, where at battle stations Al Dugan held sway, assisted by Chief Starberg at the hydraulic manifold a few feet to his right. Sargent, number two in the auxiliary gang under Starberg, operated the air manifold across the compartment, on the starboard side of the control room. Communication with Dugan was through the open hatch or by telephone—or by the ship's general announcing system.

As the day's drills progressed, Richardson could feel the sinews of control tighten, their cohesiveness renew itself. The sharp edge of readiness, so painstakingly instilled, had been whetted.

During night surface approaches, the fundamental difference in stations was that Dugan and Richardson, along with a specially selected set of lookouts, moved to the bridge. Should it be necessary to dive, Richardson would drop into the conning tower, while Al Dugan and the lookouts, descending an additional level, would simply shift to the submerged condition at the diving station.

For surface gun action, day or night, however, the procedure was very different. Certain deck hatches would have to be open. A large number of men would be on deck to serve the two five-inch guns, plus extra men on the bridge for the automatic weapons. Immediate diving would not be possible. In an emergency it would be necessary to sacrifice guns and ammunition left topside. Exercising the guns with
Eel
already near to possible enemy air patrols would be unnecessarily hazardous. Richardson decided against it. The guns, so seldom used anyway, would have to go with whatever residual readiness remained from the training already received.

Deep in Richardson's mind, underlying the strenuous activities of the day, were Admiral Small's words about the impending operation against Iwo Jima and Okinawa. It was of maximum importance to the U.S.
cause to prevent any possible Kwantung Army reinforcement of the troops already in these two islands. The day's workout was just what
Eel
's crew needed to get them fully geared up for what might lie ahead.

Two weeks after leaving Pearl Harbor, having transited at night through the Nampo Shoto south of Iwo Jima, the three submarines separately passed north of Okinawa, timing their transit of the Ryukyu chain again for the dark hours. After a short detour to avoid a reputed mine field, they headed up on a northwesterly course into the operating area. During the entire voyage, neither ship nor plane had been seen.

That night, after the debris of the evening meal had been cleared away, Richardson deliberately brought the conversation around to the business at hand.

“Commodore,” he said, “Keith and I have been studying our area and reading up on the dope ComSubPac put in the operation order.” Keith produced a rolled up chart which he spread out on the table. “The two main Japanese focal points for shipping to and from China are Shanghai and Tsingtao. There is a little traffic, too, out of Tientsin, up here in the Gulf of Pohai. These three ports are pretty far apart.”

“Yes, I know,” said Blunt, stuffing tobacco from a pouch into his pipe.

“So it looks to us that the smart thing for the Japanese to do, considering the submarine danger, is to stay as close inshore as possible. These island chains shown here along the coast of Korea, west side and south side, practically provide an inland passage for them. There's a beautiful one here on the west coast, the Maikotsu Suido. The track charts of subs previously in the Yellow Sea show that our boats have seldom gone after them there.

“Any ships departing Tsingtao for Japan will most likely hug the coast of the Shantung Peninsula on a northeasterly course until they get to the narrowest part of the Yellow Sea. They'll run across at full speed, up here near the tip of the peninsula, and then head south along the Korean coast and through the Maikotsu Suido. The shortest route is of course straight across to the southwest tip of Korea and then into the Shimonoseki Strait and the Inland Sea, but from their point of view it's also the most foolish. The smart thing for all ships, including those from Shanghai, is to run up the coast of China and cross at the narrowest possible place. Once they know we're in the area, they might run even farther north, into the Gulf of Pohai.”

Keith nodded his agreement.

Richardson dropped his voice. “Almost surely, Tsingtao will be the departure point for Kwantung Army divisions deploying to the war
zone. That's the place we should watch most closely. But we don't want to be too obviously blockading it, because that would alert the enemy and increase the escort forces they'll provide.”

Blunt, using his thumb to pack the tobacco into his pipe, said nothing. After a moment's pause, Rich continued.

“So, what we should do is blockade Tsingtao from a distance. We should send one boat into the Maikotsu Suido right away. It will be the ideal place to start. The other two, patrolling outside to the north and south, will be in position to take care of any ships diverting outside. If we hear anything from ComSubPac, all of us will be able to reach Tsingtao very——”

“Maybe so,” interrupted Blunt, lighting his pipe and puffing. “But we haven't had any submarines in the Yellow Sea at all for a while. I think the Japs are probably running straight across, where there'll be more sea room. Anyway, that's where I want to start, where we can surface patrol for maximum coverage. Set up the regular patrol line, oriented north and south. We should be in position by morning. Something will turn up in a couple of days.”

Abruptly he heaved himself up from the settee, drained his coffee cup, and walked out of the wardroom.

Richardson found Keith looking at him with a puzzled expression. “What was that about?” he said. “He didn't even listen. What's this business about sea room? Is he ticked off about something?”