Final Patrol (24 page)

He kept them submerged and quickly angled for an attack. He watched through the periscope as the ships moved into prime shooting range, then selected one large and one smaller tanker as his first targets. From the forward tubes, he fired two torpedoes each at the two vessels.

Still peering through the scope, he saw both torpedoes strike the larger tanker, the vicious blasts clearly visible at two points along the ship's side. Then he whooped loudly when two detonations wracked the smaller vessel as well.

“All four fish hit their targets!” he shouted, and the men around him in the cramped conning tower cheered. “The smaller one is going down. Can't tell on the other one. There's too much smoke for me to see.”

But there was no time to wait for the smoke to clear so they could count their kills. There were more fish in this barrel.

Sturr quickly angled to shoot at a small freighter and what appeared to be a troop transport. He was so close to the second ship that he could see Japanese soldiers in their khaki uniforms, leaning over the stern railing, watching the destruction that had been set off behind them when the
Becuna
's torpedoes struck the other ships in the convoy.

The skipper was surprised that none of the escorts had made a move to pursue their attackers, and no one on the deck of the transport seemed to be looking their way. They were certainly close enough that their periscope would be visible, and the trail of their four torpedoes led right back to where it poked out of the sea. He could only assume the water was so full of debris and oil from the damaged vessels that they were lost in the mess.

No matter, he had a good, clear shot and promptly sent three torpedoes toward the troop ship. Then he dispatched one more toward the freighter. He stuck around long enough to see two fish hit the transport and, as they went deeper and scurried away, heard the lone torpedo explode as it blasted the freighter.

Seven torpedoes, four Japanese ships sent to the bottom! The news preceded them into port. They were bona fide heroes when they pulled into Fremantle, Australia, to end the spectacularly successful patrol eight days later.

But again, as good as the attack had been, it was not quite as successful as Sturr and his
Becuna
crew thought. The first ship they hit, the larger tanker
San Luis Maru
, was moderately damaged but was still able to steam on to port for repairs. Unbeknownst to Sturr at the time, the
Hawkbill
later encountered the smaller wounded tanker, which had not sunk and was trying to make it back to port, and finished it off with four torpedoes. Since it was impossible to tell whose attack had been the fatal one, the two submarines each received half credit for the kill.

Postwar sources were never able to confirm the damage to the troop transport, nor even its presence in that part of the world at the time of the attack. Thus, no credit was given for that sinking at all.

The final vessel hit, the freighter, was considered damaged but not destroyed.

So, when the dust settled, instead of five ships sunk in two brilliant attacks while out on her very first war patrol, the
Becuna
was instead credited with one-half kill and five ships damaged.

There was a disheartening sighting, a frustrating near miss, on her second patrol, too. Like several of her sisters before her, she encountered the legendary super-battleship
Yamato
in the South China Sea. The massive warship and her sister, the
Musashi
, were the largest battleships ever built, coming in at over seventy thousand tons fully loaded. A year before, the
Yamato
had been torpedoed and heavily damaged by the USS
Skate
(SS-305).

(It is interesting to note that there was supposed to have been a third super-battleship sister, the
Shinano
. The Japanese learned valuable lessons from major defeats, however, and realized the need for a super-aircraft carrier instead. During the
Shinano
's construction, she morphed into a carrier as a replacement for a battleship. But on the gigantic vessel's maiden voyage, shortly after emerging from Tokyo Bay, the supposedly unsinkable warship was torpedoed and sent to the bottom by the submarine USS
Archerfish
(SS-311) and her skipper, Joe Enright. The
Archerfish
was on her fifth war run at the time and, with that one sinking, tallied the most successful submarine patrol by tonnage of World War II. The Japanese navy kept the sinking of the
Shinano
a secret until after the war was over, due to the blow it would have dealt to morale.)

Now, after repairs to the damage from the
Skate
's attack, the
Yamato
was once again on the move. During the stint in the Yokosuka navy yard, she also received new antiaircraft guns. Since her encounter with the
Skate
, she had most recently taken part in the Battle of the Philippine Sea in June 1944 and the Battle of Leyte Gulf in October of that year.

Her legend continued to grow. She seemed unstoppable. Every submariner wanted a piece of her.

Several U.S. submarines had run upon the monster since the
Skate
's near kill, but the mammoth vessel's speed and maneuverability had been too much for them to overcome. Also, the very best escort vessels crewed with the IJN's best sailors always accompanied her, so taking her down would not be easy, and even trying would possibly prove to be suicidal.

Now, here was a relative newcomer, the
Becuna
, out on her second war patrol. With uncommon good luck, it appeared the behemoth was going to sail right over the top of them!

Captain Sturr quickly went to battle stations and made ready to fire at the
Yamato
every torpedo he had aboard. But just as he began singing out the range and coordinates of the beast, getting the data entered into the torpedo tubes, she made a sudden, unexpected U-turn.

The
Yamato
and her escorts showed the
Becuna
their sterns and were out of sight over the horizon in only a few minutes.

No need to give chase. Unless the flotilla decided to cooperate and stop or turn back their way, there was not a chance of ever catching them. It was a lost cause. The
Becuna
had joined the long list of boats that had gotten tantalizingly close to one of the war's major kills. Several other submarines had similar close encounters with the legendary vessel, but few were even able to fire a torpedo.

Commander Hank Sturr could not help but notice how quiet his crew was for the next several hours. There was none of the usual banter or horseplay. Their disappointment at not even getting off a shot at the massive target was all over their faces. It dominated their demeanor as they went quietly about their jobs.

They were not the first, nor would they be the last, but that was small consolation.

It ultimately took a barrage of naval carrier-based aircraft to send the
Yamato
to the bottom of the ocean. That came the next spring, in April 1945, two hundred miles north of Okinawa. A similar air attack had claimed her sister, the
Musashi
, the previous fall. But glad as they were that the big sisters were dispatched to the deep, it still galled most submariners that the flyboys had done them in, not their torpedoes.

The
Becuna
got her only confirmed torpedo kill on her third patrol. It was a tanker in very shallow waters off Cape Pandaran in the South China Sea. For her trouble, she also got a seventy-depth-charge attack that rattled everyone's dental fillings and stunned their hearing for hours afterward. Despite the thunder, she eventually managed to slip back out into deeper water before any serious damage was done.

Despite the lack of credit, the
Becuna
crew knew what they had accomplished out there. Official kills or not, they had done their part to hasten the end of the costliest war in history. They did receive recognition—two combat insignias for the first and third patrols and a Presidential Unit Citation. Also, the crew members were awarded a Silver Star, two Bronze Stars, and several letters of commendation with ribbons.

She was another plunging boat who did what she was supposed to do.

 

 

 

After the war,
the
Becuna
became a “guppy.” She went back to her birthplace at Electric Boat Company in Connecticut to get the unique GUPPY (Greater Underwater Propulsion Project) modification. Diesel-powered submarines could not operate their big engines while submerged. They required air to run and vent out smoke. They were also noisy, which made it easy for an enemy vessel on the surface to locate them. While beneath the surface of the ocean, they had to rely solely on battery power, which was limited, to send juice to the electric motors that turned the screws and made them go.

The GUPPY system was simply a snorkel that allowed the boat to go just beneath the surface. From there, a pipe was extended above the water far enough to vent smoke and take in air for the engines. It was a rudimentary solution to a complicated problem, but it did work. There were drawbacks, though. Sometimes, if the boat slipped just deep enough for the top of the snorkel to go underwater and close, the engines could suck so hard seeking air on which to run that sailors throughout the boat would suffer from painful popped ears. It took only moments for the sub to fill with thick, choking diesel smoke.

The
Becuna
got other modifications while she was at Electric Boat that greatly altered her appearance when compared with the other fleet boats. She became clearly more streamlined and the area around her periscope and shears was enclosed, giving her more speed as she cut through the water while submerged. With the makeover complete and using two of her diesel engines while underwater, thanks to the GUPPY system, the
Becuna
could now achieve much more swiftness than was ever possible on battery power alone.

For the rest of her long, active life, she served mostly as an antisubmarine warfare vessel, working with the British, Canadian, and U.S. navies out of Mediterranean, northern European, and Canadian ports. She also served a rather chilly term working in Arctic ice pack exercises in the Cabot Strait. There she was assisting many of the same people who had pioneered under-ice submarine operations aboard the first nuclear-powered vessel, the USS
Nautilus
(SSN-571), only a few years before. The Cold War had gotten even colder by that time, and the ability of American vessels to operate in the Soviet Union's backyard, moving beneath and through the polar ice pack, was crucial in maintaining superiority in the stare-down.

“Becky” finally retired after twenty-five years of almost continuous duty, going to the reserve fleet in November 1969. She was officially struck from the naval register in August 1973.

Shortly after being discharged from the service, the
Becuna
was turned over to the Olympia Association. She was slated to join as a museum boat the historic cruiser USS
Olympia
(C-6) in Philadelphia, which was already floating in the Delaware River there. The
Olympia
is the oldest steel-hulled warship still afloat and a true hero of the Spanish-American War and World War I. She served as Admiral George Dewey's flagship during the Battle of Manila Bay in May 1898, an engagement that secured the Philippines for the United States and helped not only to assure the outcome of the Spanish-American War but also to establish the United States as a major Pacific naval power. Her last mission was the return of the body of the unknown soldier of World War I for burial in Arlington National Cemetery.

Both the
Olympia
and the
Becuna
are now part of the Independence Seaport Museum at Penn's Landing in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Other exhibits include an interactive display of shipbuilding and “Diver of the Deep,” which explores man's fascination with diving beneath the surface of the sea.

The National Parks Service acknowledges that the submarine is in decent shape for something of her age. “USS
Becuna
is in good condition and aside from the addition of the snorkel and exterior changes, retains much of her World War II integrity,” the Parks Service's Web site states.

The USS
Becuna
is a National Historic Landmark and is on the National Register of Historic Places.

Courtesy of the U.S. Navy

 

Launched:
February 25, 1945

Named for:
a blue parrot fish found in the West Indies and Chesapeake Bay

Where:
Electric Boat Company, Groton, Connecticut

Sponsor:
Miss Mary Jane Jacobs

Commissioned:
June 28, 1945