“But now we know better,” Spruance said. “The Japs have a torpedo they fire from surface vessels. It’s called the ‘Long Lance’ and with good reason. It has a range of more than ten miles compared with the Mark 14’s two and a quarter, and leaves no wake, which means it’s oxygen-powered. I might add that it has a helluva lot greater hitting power than ours as well.”
“It also works,” Lockwood snapped, which earned him a glare from Winters. “There’s a smaller version for their subs that is also better than the Mark 14.”
Spruance gestured for peace. “We know we have a problem. What Admiral King, Admiral Nimitz, and I want is a solution, or at least the beginning of a solution. Gentlemen, there are very few submarine targets in the Atlantic; therefore the bulk of our torpedo targets will be here in the Pacific. This is our problem, and we must move to solve it.”
Spruance reprised the situation as he understood it. Torpedoes were being fired at Japanese shipping, but many of them were either malfunctioning or missing. No one was entirely certain which. He then invited Captain Winters to describe the torpedo.
Winters had the no-nonsense look of an engineer, and he also seemed put out that the worth of the Mark 14 torpedo was being questioned. “We built the best torpedo in the world,” he said firmly.
“At least until the Japs showed up with theirs,” Lockwood interjected.
Less subjectively, Winters went on to describe the Mark 14. It had a magnetic trigger that was designed to explode when it was affected by the earth’s magnetic field as a ship passed overhead. The torpedoes were to be set at depths that would ensure this would occur. When it worked, the explosion would break a ship’s keel and sink her more efficiently than a contact torpedo.
The Mark 14 could also be used as an impact torpedo. It had a sophisticated detonator that was supposed to explode the torpedo when it hit an enemy’s hull.
Problem was, as Admiral Lockwood growled, it didn’t work out that way. He turned the floor over to Lieutenant Fargo, who described the Monkfish’s attack on the Japanese destroyer.
“Our new commanding officer, Commander Griddle, was an experienced submariner. The targeting was good, but not one of our four torpedoes hit. As directed, they were all set to run under a target, and we believe they did. But not one exploded.”
Winters shook his head in disbelief. “First of all, four is far too many for one target. You just cannot fire torpedoes so wastefully. Second, you must have done something wrong. I would like to talk to Mr. Griddle.”
“He’s in a San Francisco hospital,” Fargo said stiffly. “He lost one eye during the depth charge attack that took place right after we missed, and may lose the other. As to what we did, I double-checked everything that Commander Griddle ordered, and while he was doing it. I even saw the destroyer through the periscope and confirmed range, course, and targeting plot. There were no mistakes. The torpedoes were set to detonate at the proper depth and they didn’t do it.”
“And this is just one incident out of many,” Lockwood said. “There are reports like this coming from all over the place.”
“I can only add,” Winters said, “that the torpedoes should be exploding. We’ve checked the ones remaining on the Monkfish, and there’s nothing wrong with them. Is it possible, Admiral Lockwood, either that your officers are not following regulations in the heat of battle or they don’t know enough about engineering?”
Fargo bristled. “Sir, we followed all directions. I would also add that, as a Naval Academy graduate, I have a damned solid knowledge of engineering.”
Lockwood leaned forward and glowered at Winters. “Look, I know everyone at BuOrd thinks my boys are a bunch of undisciplined, raggedy-assed pirates, but that’s not so! They’re brave, yes, even reckless, but they’re not stupid. Every one of them wants to make a kill and get his ass home in one piece.”
Jamie turned to see how the woman was taking the dialogue. She looked up at him, and he saw sadness in her eyes.
“We’re getting nowhere,” Spruance said with a touch of exasperation.
Now, Jamie thought. “Sir, may I ask a question of Captain Winters?”
“Of course.”
“Captain Winters, I was late for this meeting because of a phone call I got from a friend. He too worked on the Mark 14 and said something that disturbed me. Sir, was the Mark 14 ever live-fired with a warhead at a target?”
Winters nodded. “I know where you’re coming from, son. The Mark 14 was thoroughly tested.”
Jamie persisted. “With respect, sir, that isn’t what I asked. Was a live torpedo ever fired at a target ship, and, if so, what were the results?”
“I don’t want to bore you with the scientific details, but rest assured that the Mark 14 was thoroughly tested.”
Spruance stepped in, his curiosity piqued by Winters’s evasion. “Captain, answer the young man’s question. Yes or no?”
“To the best of my knowledge, perhaps once. Perhaps not at all.”
There were gasps of surprise, and Jamie thought that Lockwood’s jaw was going to hit the table as it dropped.
“Why not?” Spruance asked.
“Admiral, the Mark 14 is a very sophisticated and complex weapon. That translates into expensive. Each one of them costs ten thousand dollars, which is why I’m upset that four were fired at one small target. It’s unnecessary. To further answer your question, test firing was done with dummy warheads at targets in large pools. That way the torpedo could be recovered and used again. The torpedoes passed under dummy hulls and would have exploded had they contained warheads.”
“Sweet Jesus,” Lockwood said in disbelief. “You mean that no one ever saw one of these bastards explode on a target?”
“If you put it that way, that’s true. However, it was the opinion of BuOrd that test firing would be both expensive and redundant. The torpedo works.”
“Except when it doesn’t,” Lieutenant Fargo said with ill-concealed disbelief.
Spruance called for silence. “All right, here’s what we’re going to do. We’ll hold live-fire testing here and now.”
“I protest,” said Winters.
“Noted. Now, we have the Monkfish in port and she has a dozen Mark 14s left. Captain Winters, you will again confirm that the torpedoes are in working order and you will oversee their being fired at targets.”
Winters nodded sullenly.
“Lieutenant Priest, your job is to organize the shoot. Find a couple of relics we can tow out to sea and fire at, along with ships and planes for observation. I don’t think it’ll be necessary to fire all twelve of Lieutenant Fargo’s expensive torpedoes. Four strikes me as sufficient.”
“I’d like to fire a couple more to test the impact trigger,” Lockwood requested. “Remember, it doesn’t work too well either. Personally, I think it’s just too damned fragile.”
It looked like Winters was about to object, but then he thought better of it. His expression said he would get his day in court and was confident he’d be vindicated.
Spruance adjourned the meeting. As the group left the room, Jamie mentally began to organize his task. He was pondering when he felt a light tug on his sleeve. It was the stenographer. She was shorter than Jamie, thin, maybe an inch over five feet, and in her early twenties. “Hi. Sir, I’m Sue Dunnigan, and Admiral Spruance thought I might be able to help you with the clerical work on your project.”
“Great,” Jamie said with a grin that surprised him.
The process of informing California that he’d found Nevermore, also known as Commander Joe Rochefort, was elegant and simple. As directed, at eight in the evening Hawaii time, Jake radioed a single letter of the alphabet. It was A, which meant that Rochefort had been found and was well. Other letters meant different things. B would have meant that Jake and his soldiers were still looking, and C that they hadn’t a clue as to where Nevermore was. Still other letters would have indicated that Rochefort was injured and whether he could travel, while the letter X said he was dead.