The Galloping Ghost (18 page)

“Great!” said the skipper. “Can't wait to get started.”

It took another week for a relief crew to repair minor problems aboard the
Barb
. Meanwhile, Fluckey and his men relaxed in Waikiki. The order of the day was swimming and surfboarding, or hanging out at the Outrigger Canoe Club, the beachfront nightclub near the Royal Hawaiian. The hotel, leased by the Navy for aviators and submariners, was cordoned off by barbed wire and shore patrol guards. Inside, drinking, partying, and gambling were inevitable. “There was no night in my room I didn't hear dice banging on the floorboards up and down the hall there,” said McNitt. “And every once in a while somebody would fall out a window and land in the bushes down below. So it was kind of a crazy place as it was. But it was necessary. You had to get your mind off the war.” Indeed, the mortality rate among submariners had risen to the highest of any branch of the service. The
Barb
crew understood that all too well, having been the only sub in its wolf pack to return from the Okhotsk Sea.

The
Barb
's crew was among the youngest in the undersea fleet. The captain was only thirty, McNitt was twenty-eight, and most of the crewmen
were twenty-two or under. During liberty, the skipper did what he could to be one of the guys yet retain control. When crewmen decided to have an afternoon party in a field near the hotel, the skipper thought a few females would liven up things. He visited the Navy laundry and got the manager to invite women who worked there. So many came forward that Fluckey needed a bus but couldn't get one. What he did obtain was a flatbed truck. “As I remember,” said McNitt, “this truck came up with all these girls shrieking and singing and everything and hanging over the edge of the truck and jumped out, and the party was on. My job was to make sure we got everybody back all right, and it turned out fine.”

The captain was willing to bend the rules if it helped build morale. For instance, when one of his junior lieutenants insisted it was impossible to get a woman to the second floor of the hotel because of security, Fluckey bet it could be done. A nurse, engaged to an Army lieutenant stationed in the South Pacific, had gotten to know the submariners and agreed to participate. “So Gene and I engaged the shore patrol and the guy at the desk in conversation,” said McNitt. “While we asked them for directions to town, the rest of them got Martha Hendrickson up the backstairs and into the room. But we hadn't been there more than a couple of minutes when there was a hammering on the door and the shore patrol was there.”

The skipper was more successful in procuring twenty-four cases of beer from a supply officer for the upcoming war patrol. Few
Barb
veterans liked the regulation Schenley “Black Death” whiskey. What they did like, especially the younger ones, was beer. Despite a rule against having it aboard a Navy sub, Fluckey was determined to reward his crew for successful attacks. “We loaded the cases of beer in a jeep over at the officers' club [in Pearl Harbor], where we'd made arrangements to get them,” said Fluckey's partner in crime, his exec. “We stowed them in the officers' shower; filled it right up to the overhead.”

The
Barb
got under way for its ninth war patrol on 4 August 1944 in league with the USS
Queenfish
(SS-393) and the USS
Tunny
(SS-282). All three practiced coordinated mock attacks on an accompanying destroyer until the ship turned back two days out. Aboard the
Barb
was Capt. Edwin R. Swinburne, Lockwood's flag secretary, who would serve as wolf pack commander. Realizing the potential for strenuous action, the admiral reasoned it would be unfair for Fluckey to again coordinate the boats. Swinburne, ten years older than Fluckey, had never made a war patrol, though he was a veteran of the service. Lockwood and Cdr. Richard Voge, architect of the undersea offensive, coined the term “Ed's Eradicators” for the wolf pack. Lockwood posted Swinburne in the
Barb
because both of the other skippers—Charles Elliot Loughlin in the
Queenfish
and George Pierce in the
Tunny
—were new
to their commands. Fluckey knew Swinburne was a stickler for rules and probably would put the kibosh on the beer stash. The skipper asked his officers to keep it a secret to give him time to think of something; it was too late to offload the beer.

En route to Midway cross-training continued. Every man had to know another man's job in case of an emergency. The value of that showed itself during a practice dive.

“We were trying to see if we could increase our diving speed, and we were diving with almost a thirty-degree down angle,” explained McNitt, noting the normal dive is ten degrees. “With the bow planes on full dive, the relay burned out, leaving the bow planes on full dive and no way to bring them back other than shifting to manual and cranking them up. There wasn't time to do that.” The diving officer ordered “Blow main ballast!” as the boat rushed downward. A petty officer on the main ballast blow manifold needed to open the main ballast blow valve to rapidly force seawater out of the ballast tanks with compressed air to get the buoyancy needed to surface. However, the petty officer slipped on the steep deck and tumbled to the lower end of the compartment. The ship's third-class baker reacted instinctively from his cross-training. “Russell Elliman jumped out of the galley, where he was watching this, realized what had happened, dove through the watertight door, grabbed the main ballast blow manifold handle as he went by, and blew main ballast,” continued McNitt. “It caught the boat at about 350 feet.”

It was a close call; the cook had saved the boat.

Fluckey and Swinburne meshed well. The commander was perfectly willing to leave operations of the
Barb
to the skipper. In fact, he studied Fluckey's leadership traits, impressed by how he listened to any and all suggestions that anybody on the boat anted up. Said McNitt, “He was quick to make up his mind but if he saw a better way of doing it, he'd jump on it. He was cheerful, fun loving. Serious when it came to serious things on the boat but always looking for a way of putting a little bit of amusement or fun into the day.”

So far Swinburne hadn't discovered the beer in the officers' shower. The boat was crammed with food and provisions. It wasn't unusual for the shower to be stowing provisions early in the patrol. Normally no one took showers until four weeks or more had passed and the smell of diesel fuel and body odor became pronounced. Even when the men did shower, it was quick—about a minute—due to limited fresh water aboard.

During an overnight layover in Midway, Captain Swinburne called a meeting of the sub captains to go over details of the upcoming mission. The plan was to stearn due west 3,600 miles to the Luzon Strait. There
Ed's Eradicators would be joined by the
Growler
(SS-215), the
Pampanito
(SS-383), and the
Sealion II
(SS-315)—“Ben's Busters.” Senior skipper Ben Oakley in the
Growler
was wolf pack commander. The objective was to harass and sink Japanese convoys plowing the ninety-mile-wide passage between the Philippine island of Luzon and Formosa (Taiwan) on the eastern edge of the South China Sea. The strait was known in the Navy as Convoy College for the great numbers of ships passing through and the difficult test posed to sub captains in sinking them.

Prior to departure for Midway Commo. “Shorty” Edwards hosted a luncheon for the wolf pack officers. Fluckey still was seeking some way of legitimizing his cargo of beer. He casually brought up the fact that younger crewmen in
Barb
did not like whiskey. Edmonds remarked that new regulations allowed ships to carry a half-case of beer per man. Fluckey quickly went to a phone within earshot of Swinburne and made an exaggerated request to officers in the
Barb
to order some beer and take it aboard. They could store it in the officers' shower.

The submarines embarked on the morning of 10 August. Fluckey was confident since the
Barb
was armed with twenty-four electric torpedoes. The new Mark 18s were powerful and left no wake. No longer would the boat's position be revealed by the bubbly trail of a steam-driven Mark 14.

The boats formed a scouting line at twenty-mile intervals and proceeded at twelve knots for two weeks in an uneventful Pacific crossing. Arriving in the area of the Philippines, the two wolf packs spread out across the strait to engage a very wary, sophisticated enemy. Convoys were well guarded by destroyers, torpedo boats, and mine-layers. Numerous midget submarines and radar-equipped bombers operated from many islands near the strait.

For seven days no targets were encountered. Finally on 30 August an ULTRA reported that a convoy of nine ships escorted by five destroyers had embarked from Formosa en route to Manila. All six subs rushed to intercept in the Bashi Channel fifty miles south of Formosa. In the predawn of 31 August the
Queenfish
was the first to make contact and torpedoed a 4,700-ton tanker that exploded in a fireball, illuminating the night sky. The
Barb,
diving to avoid aircraft, came to periscope depth. Fluckey couldn't believe his eyes. Three columns approached: a freighter and tanker in the starboard column; a large freighter, a tanker, and a smaller tanker in the center; and, on the port side, a much larger tanker, a smaller oiler, and another tanker or a freighter. Enemy destroyers prowled the peripheries while planes crisscrossed overhead. The captain called down on the intercom so all could hear. “Jackson, put four cases of beer in the cooler.” It would become the skipper's signature affirmation in expressing confidence and easing tension.

Fluckey thought a single salvo might wipe out the entire center column and the lead tanker in the port column. The
Growler,
however, had taken aim at one of the destroyers and fired two torpedoes, one of which passed above the
Barb
. The convoy zigged radically to the east, foiling the
Barb
's opportunity. Still, the captain's primary target—the largest of the freighters in the center column—lumbered into range, overlapped by a medium-sized tanker. Fluckey prepared to attack, his mind racing and changing tactics in a flash amid a cacophony of telemetry and verbal feedback from the fire control party. He fired three stern torpedoes from a thousand yards. Two ripped apart the freighter. The third struck the tanker.

The
Barb
went deep to escape a flurry of depth charges and aerial bombs. Back at periscope depth, both Fluckey and Commander Swinburne took turns viewing the sinking freighter. Meanwhile the
Sealion
inflicted damage on a freighter and a tanker, forcing the convoy back to Formosa.

Throughout the day Japanese bombers sought the submarines, dropping numerous explosives. Several detonations were close but astern as the submerged
Barb
tried to keep pace with the retreating convoy. Losing position, the sub turned west to investigate a smoke plume seen from the periscope as the sun set. A small armed transport led by two patrol boats soon sailed into view. Fluckey closed, not realizing the ship was a decoy in a submarine-killer group. The danger to the
Barb
was pronounced because its day-long submergence had drained most of the power from its batteries. Still, the boat was in position to sink the ship. Fluckey wanted to try. As the
Barb
maneuvered astern of the target, a bird landed on the periscope, plopping its tail feathers over the view port. “This proved extremely confusing for the approach officer in the final stages,” Fluckey noted in the ship's log. “He banged on the scope, shook it, hooted and hollered at the blasted bird, swung the scope around quickly and raised and lowered it desperately. The bird clung on tenaciously, hovering over the scope while it was ducked, then hopping back on when it was raised. As a last resort both scopes were raised for observations, one a few seconds ahead of the other as a feint, while the approach officer followed the other scope up. This completely baffled the bird and he was noted peering venomously down the other periscope.”

Fluckey, laughing, had a camera brought up and took a photo of the “feathered fiend.” Then, in a flash, the
Barb
launched four torpedoes from its bow tubes, breaking the decoy ship in half as the bird flew off. The two escorts turned and charged, dropping fifty-eight depth changes as the submarine descended to three hundred feet with a left full rudder and escaped.

The boat surfaced five miles away under an inky, moonless sky. The boat's diesels roared to life, powering a getaway at seventeen knots.
Barb
crewmen were glad to be out in the open seas. By Fluckey's count, the sub had endured two hundred bombs and depth charges over a twenty-four-hour period.

Around midnight Fluckey reestablished contact with the
Tunny
and the
Queenfish
. The subs assumed a new patrol area off the northwest coast of Luzon. Through the night and into the next day the
Barb
dived and popped back up as antisubmarine aircraft hounded it with surface radar. As dusk fell on 1 September Fluckey and Lt. Max Duncan, one of two new officers assigned to the
Barb,
were on the bridge studying the sea for any sign of periscopes or mines while lookouts higher up in the periscope shears watched for approaching planes and ships. Duncan was the first to notice a silver bomber roaring in low toward the sub. “Plane astern!” he shouted. “Clear the bridge! Dive! Dive!”

The plane roared past without dropping any bombs. Through the periscope, Fluckey saw it head straight for the
Tunny
. At the last minute the sub dove. But it was too late. A bomb exploded near the tail, lifting the stern as the
Tunny
was going under. The plane circled, dropping more explosives plus flares to illuminate the area. Swinburne directed Fluckey to send a sonar message to the
Tunny
telling Skipper Pierce to stay deep. There was no reply. Two hours later the
Barb
surfaced on a dark sea. Again Fluckey tried to contact the
Tunny
. No answer.