The Commodore (18 page)

“You're saying that, proportionately, the destroyer's gunnery contribution was only one-quarter of the total weight of our metal on target.”

“Yes, sir, and thus it didn't much matter if we only shot for ninety-second intervals. By maneuvering, we knew we could stay alive, even when
Kako
started in on us, by wide course changes and even slowing down, at one point, to fifteen knots. When we're in a cruiser formation our important contribution is a salvo of torpedoes. Our five-inch fire is window dressing compared to the cruisers' six- or eight-inch fire.”

The admiral was silent for a moment. Then he changed the subject to talk about logistics, fuel and ammo supplies, and asked for updated reports on equipment problems. He also wanted each ship to provide its track charts from the previous night's work. He said that they didn't have any information on what the Japs might do next, but that they were expecting an update shortly. Then he stood up and concluded the meeting.

Sluff was talking to the CO of
Providence
when the admiral's aide came back into the wardroom. He approached and told Sluff that the admiral would like to see him for a minute up in the flag cabin.

“Yes, sir?” Sluff said, once seated.

“When you were throwing numbers around down there, had you rehearsed that?”

“Um, no, sir. I was kind of computing as I went along.”

The admiral nodded. “That's pretty impressive. Look: There's something about what you were saying, this business of shooting for ninety seconds and then going dark, that's bothering me.”

“Yes, sir?”

“I don't know, dammit,” the admiral said with a wry grin. “I understand the tactical logic, but…”

“It's undestroyer-like, maybe?”

The admiral nodded again. “Something like that, I suppose. I guess I'm used to the proposition that once the shooting starts, we all shoot back until we're either chased away or we've sunk 'em all.”

“I understand, Admiral, and if they'd put up star shells or turned on their searchlights, then continuous shooting would have been the only response. But last night, if
Kako,
for instance, had opened up a searchlight, looking for us, the Japs knew she'd have become the focus for every American gun out there, like our cruisers were at the first Savo fight. I don't think they grasp that
we
don't need star shells or searchlights to ‘see' them for gunnery purposes. The only way they could see us was by our muzzle flashes; you and the cruisers were literally over the horizon.”

“Because we opened fire at twenty-two thousand yards,” the admiral said.

“Yes, sir, and the local horizon for us, anyway, is twenty-four thousand yards. Your gunfire probably looked like heat lightning. Ours looked like muzzle flashes, which is why I think the heavy cruiser opened on us, or in our general direction, anyway, rather than on you.”

“Interesting,” the admiral said, leaning back in his desk chair. “I need to think about this,” he said, finally.

“Yes, sir, I know it sounds like heresy to stop shooting, but it must be damned confusing to the Japs to have us blink on, then blink off and reappear somewhere else.”

“It's the use of radar that's brand new, to me, anyway,” the admiral said. “I'd seen it before, of course, but this new Sugar George set changes the whole ballgame. Look: Let me give you some advice. Be careful with innovative tactics. Discuss that sort of thing with your boss, preferably before the shooting starts.”

Sluff just looked at him. The admiral grinned again.

“Yes, okay, that wasn't possible last night, was it? But try: I'm willing to listen if you think there's a hole in my plans. I want your ideas. These Japs aren't little bucktoothed monkeys we see in the propaganda posters: they're really good, and their ships are really good. If anything's going to save us, it will be technology, so I want to exploit that.”

“Taken to its logical conclusion, Admiral,” Sluff said. “The idea of a freewheeling destroyer squadron or division might mean that the destroyers become the main bang, with cruisers in support once our torpedoes have gone in.”

“I recognize that, young man. I may not love it, but I do recognize that possibility. By the way, do you have an SOP for your division?”

“Um, no, sir, I didn't think I'd still be a unit commander. I view myself as a stand-in. I've been expecting a four-striper to be inbound to put the ‘captain' back in ComDesDiv Two-Twelve.”

The admiral grunted. “Actually,” he said, “what's inbound are two more destroyers who will chop to DesDiv Two-Twelve sometime in the morning.” He eyed Sluff's surprised face. “Commodore.”

Sluff was at a loss for words.

“Check with my ops boss, Commander Reese, before you leave. Get a copy of our cruiser division standard operating procedures, use that as a guide, and write one up for your ships. It's really helpful when new ships show up.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” Sluff said, getting up. “Thanks for that.”

“I'll put the word out when we find out what's next,” the admiral said. “If the coast watchers don't report Japs in motion, I'll send you out to make a destroyer sweep of Savo and the bottom of the Slot. Be a good way to see if your brand-new SOP works.”

As in, Commodore, get one written up this afternoon, Sluff realized.

 

FIFTEEN

Purvis Bay

As Sluff and Commander Hopkins rode back toward the
Evans,
Hopkins wanted to know what the admiral had wanted. Sluff told him that he'd wanted to discuss tactics.

Hopkins snorted. “You should have seen how those four-stripers were looking at you when you went through that business about avoiding torpedoes.”

“Like they were seeing some plebe being awfully ratey?”

“
Just
like that,” Hopkins said. “As in, who the hell does this upstart think he is, telling Caw Tyree how to run a surface action.”

“You might be surprised to learn that the admiral agreed with me,” Sluff said. “He's trying to figure out how to formalize that tactic. By the way, we get two more ships tomorrow, and I have some homework to do—a divisional SOP”

“Damn, Sluff, you're gonna turn into a real commodore yet. Sir.”

Sluff laughed. “You did good last night, Brian. Caught every signal, maneuvered like an expert. Didn't break down, even though I know you're holding some parts of that plant together with marline. Just so you know, I've got a list of matériel problems of my own in
J. B. King,
like any other tin can. I'm still learning how to divide my time between my two hats: CO
J. B. King
and ComDesDiv Two-Twelve.”

“That's going to get harder, I suspect,” Hopkins said. “You're going to have to load up Bob Frey even more.”

“Well, I know,” Sluff said, as the launch came alongside the
Evans
's pipe ladder. “Okay, I'll be in touch. When the new ships show up, I'll be calling a confab over in
King.
”

Hopkins stood up in the rocking launch as the coxswain gunned the engine back and forth to hold steady alongside the
Evans.
Then he put his gold-braided cap back on, saluted, and climbed out of the boat.

“Coxswain,” Sluff called, “make the
J. B. King.
”

The rest of the day was spent at anchorage, with all four ships doing maintenance, writing up reports, trading repair parts and other supplies among the task group, rebuilding freshwater reserves, and, where possible, getting some sleep. Sluff called in Bob Frey and handed over the cruiser division SOP.

“Get with the appropriate department heads, see if you can gen something up between now and sundown. Keep it simple and short—for now, anyway. Readiness—ammo, fuel, water. Communications. Maneuvering rules. GQ policy, dawn and dusk. Like that.”

“Yes, sir, we'll get right on it.”

“Bob, I know you've got many other things to do, so get the department heads to help, really help with this. Call me when you have an outline and I'll help flesh it out, but I think we're going hunting tonight, and it'd be good to try it out. Especially with new ships arriving.”

The daily air raid had failed to materialize, causing some unease in the task group, so Sluff made sure both
King
and
Evans
had at least two mounts ready to go to work on a moment's notice. He assigned
King
to maintain an air-search radar watch over the Tulagi area. He was pretty sure the cruisers were doing the same thing, but, if they weren't, he wanted someone looking at all times. Then he realized that this was the sort of thing that ought to go into the new SOP.

At 1630, two new Fletcher-class destroyers hove over the horizon and established visual communications with
Providence.
A half hour later, as they nosed into the anchorage, they both sent AJ signals by flashing light as they reported for duty to ComDesDiv 212. Sluff's division was now officially a four-pack. He called a COs-plus-one conference for 1800 aboard
King
and then went to meet with the exec and the department heads to look at their first draft of the SOP.

The two new ships were USS
Malone
and USS
Stayers,
fresh out of new construction by way of three months of training with LantFleet and a staff in-brief at Nouméa. Their skippers were both out of the class of 1928, two years behind Sluff. Each brought his navigation officer, as did Brian Hopkins, CO
Evans.
Introductions were made all around, and then each of the new COs handed in a readiness-for-sea report and a list of his equipment problems. Both of the ships were refueling from a barge as the meeting opened. Sluff sat at the head of the table and began by saying: This is what we did last night.

He told them about the engagement up the Slot, the initial reports of enemy losses, and the tactical plan that had been devised mostly on the fly.

“DesDiv Two-Twelve came out here as a four-ship division, lost two and the commodore right away in the first fight, which is how I ended up as commodore. Unlike a real squad dog, I have no staff, so my exec and department heads are also double-hatted. We're coming up with a division SOP by plagiarizing CruDiv Six SOP as much as we can. The original commodore, Captain Latham, had one but it had little relevance to how things go out here, with ‘here' being called Ironbottom Sound for reasons known sadly to all of us.

“Basically, I want your ships ready to go out and fight on about thirty minutes' notice unless I tell you to stand down, which still means two gun mounts, the director, and two boilers ready to go into action. You refuel and rearm when you come in, and then, and only then, relax a little now that you're back in port. We use flashing light and keep radio silence until the shooting starts, and then
I
am in control of TBS. I'll try to let you know in advance when we'll need four boilers, but you should assume if the group is going out against a
known
threat, we'll need four boilers.

“I've been talking to the admiral about letting the destroyers go in first with our torpedoes before anyone starts shooting guns. We did that last night and had some success. But let me warn you: The Japs are far more experienced at night surface actions than we are, and they have a weapon that is truly a ship-killer,
and
both their cruisers and destroyers carry it,
and
they can reload.
And
did I mention that their fish work damn near every time?”

He paused to take a breath. “Now, there's a ‘but,' and it's a huge ‘but.' We have radar, and that can even things up a lot, in my opinion. No more of these opposing formations blundering into each other in the dark. Last night the cruisers opened fire at eleven miles instead of two miles like at the first Savo. They didn't start shooting until our fish had started blowing ships up. I suspect it confused the hell out of the Japs. They knew there were American destroyers within five miles of them, but then six-inch started landing on them from over the visible horizon. This is not to say that they're not up there tonight in Rabaul analyzing what happened, which means, next time, we'll have to innovate again. It's that kind of war out here. You will see that the one thing my SOP does not talk about is tactics. In my opinion, that will be a work in progress until we're anchored in Tokyo Bay.”

He looked around the table. “Okay—there endeth the lesson. Go back to your ships and get ready to go out sometime tonight. No specific threat, but the admiral wants his destroyers out there on the prowl in case the coast watchers have missed something. Welcome to the South Pacific.”

After the meeting, Sluff had Old Mose bring him dinner in his cabin, after which he lay down for a few minutes. An hour later someone was knocking on the cabin door, and then the exec came in.

“Commodore,” he began. Sluff groaned theatrically.

“The division has been directed to conduct a radar sweep of Ironbottom Sound commencing at twenty-two hundred. No specific threat or coast-watcher reports.”

“The cruisers staying in?”

“Yes, sir. Apparently they need their beauty sleep.”

Sluff grinned. “Okay, good, this will give us a chance to shake out the new guys, see how they do. And, listen: Silence on the coast-watcher nets can mean everything from the Japs taking a rope yarn Sunday to an undetected battleship formation coming to tear up Cactus. We'll up anchor at twenty-one thirty.”

“Twenty-one thirty, aye,” Bob said. “Operational speed?”

“Twenty-seven knots until midnight. Then I want four boilers available.”

Bob grinned. “You think they're coming, don't you.”

“Actually,” Sluff said, “I do.”

By midnight they were in a column formation, thousand-yard intervals, and headed north up into the Slot. All four ships had been brought to general quarters. It was a typical Solomons night: a low overcast, scattered rainsqualls, humid to the point of fogged-up binoculars, darker than the familiar well digger's ass, and hot. The radar picture was extremely good, as the microwave signals were ducted along the surface by the wet blanket of clouds above. Down below in the four main holes, the engineering plant was almost unbearably hot with all four boilers on the line. Sluff had the formation steaming at twenty-five knots, if nothing else but to generate some relative wind to cool the topside GQ stations, where everyone was encased in kapok life jackets, steel helmets, and, for the gunners, flash-proof gauntlets and hoods. General quarters, my ass, Sluff thought. Sauna quarters was more like it. It felt like his helmet was sweating.