The order to go below unfinished, Richardson turned to Keith with a brief, quizzical smile. It was a shaky smile, he instantly realized, and then one final point came home. This, after all, was exactly as it had been during that final fight with Nakame. For it had been Leone, in the conning tower, who had loyally supported his every move and had backed him up at the radar and the periscope; Scott, whose perfect steering in that crucial encounter, well knowing what he was doing, had enabled him to hit the lifeboats; Dugan, with his inspired handling of Eel’s semisubmergence in the sudden tiny typhoon which had enveloped them, who had enabled him to get the attack off perfectly. Williams, who had set up the torpedoes and fired them at his order. All of them, who had shared everything then, and had shared everything since.
Although he relived the episode in his mind many times afterward, Richardson was never able to explain to himself or anyone on board the Eel that day just how it was that he made all the unfamiliar maneuvers exactly correctly. Through some intuitive sense he made all the calculations, added all the factors, did everything exactly right.
As Eel approached the bobbing life raft on which lay the putrefying form of Moonface, the man he had once hated more than anyone else in the world, he called down to Dugan, “Stand by bow buoyancy! Stand by forward group blow!” He gave a couple of tiny course corrections to Cornelli. Eel’s speed was set at two knots, sixty-seven yards per minute. Scott, with a stopwatch, was counting the seconds aloud. Buck Williams had set up the TDC with a target speed of zero. From a range of 1,000 yards on, Rogers on the radar gave him continuous information as to precisely the distance to the life raft.
At the critical moment, when Scott called, “Mark!” he shouted the expected orders down the hatch to Al Dugan.
“Blow bow buoyancy! Blow forward group! Full rise on bow planes!”
He stood looking through the periscope at the raft and the bloated body on it, now sweeping rapidly toward him. If the raft struck the periscope, it might damage it. He must be quick to lower it in time, if he missed.
The conning tower deck tilted sharply upward under his feet. He could feel the lifting strain of the forward tanks as Dugan lavishly expended high pressure air. The periscope seemed to lean back as it rose swiftly out of the water. Suddenly he was looking down from a great height. He had to shift to low power and tilt the periscope exit pupil lens down to its bottom limit of depression to keep the raft in sight.
Rising from the depths, Eel’s bow struck the under side of the raft, splintered the timbers which held it together, knocked apart the metal drums on which it was built. Impaled on the submarine’s bow, it rose out of the water and tipped to starboard. The startled sea birds went flying. The raft slid crazily aft along the top of Eel’s steel bow buoyancy tank until some underportion of it caught against a cleat welded on the tank’s surface. There it hung momentarily. It tilted even farther, still hooked, tipped more to starboard. Finally, as the carrion sea creatures flapped and shrieked their displeasure, the decaying flesh of what had been Moonface became dislodged from its position on the slatted boards to which it had stuck, rolled over once as it slid off the raft — a stiffened arm waved thanks and farewell — and fell into the sea.
The body drifted nearer, passed within the inner circle of periscope view. He gave Dugan orders to vent the air from the tanks, return Eel to her normal submerged condition. Swiftly he spun the periscope around, saw Moonface floating aft.
It was all Richardson could do for him. The corpse might float for a few hours, but it would soon disintegrate and disappear, one at last with the sea. At least, Moonface would have a sailor’s grave. The Japanese Navy, far better served by officers of the stripe of Tateo Nakame, need never know of the disgrace Moonface had brought upon it.
Nor, for that matter (and the unbidden thought almost brought a smile to Richardson’s face), was there any longer a chance that another Japanese patrol boat, coming upon the raft, might cause embarassing questions to be asked of Moonface’s crew, wherever they might now be.
Extract from A. H. Small, Vice Admiral, USN, Commander Submarine Force, Pacific Fleet, Third Endorsement to Eel Report of Second War Patrol
1. The second war patrol of the EEL was conducted as a member of a coordinated submarine attack group in the Yellow and East China seas under the overall command of Captain Joseph K. Blunt, until Captain Blunt’s death in action during the final engagement of the patrol. The commanding officer of the EEL during this patrol, as for her first patrol, was Commander Edward G. Richardson, USN.
2. This is, without question, one of the outstanding patrols of the war, marked by cool calculation, daring, and skill. It was marred only by materiel troubles and the unfortunate loss of life from enemy gunfire. The force commander joins the officers and crew of EEL in deep personal regret at the loss of their shipmates. Particularly noteworthy was the manner in which EEL, though out of torpedoes, cooperated with the remaining submarine in the group to bring the enemy ships to action. The commanding officer is congratulated for his persistence in repeatedly forcing the extremely valuable troop transports contacted off Tsingtao to reverse course, thus subjecting themselves to further attack. To this inspired and aggressive performance in carrying out the operational orders of the wolfpack commander is due the sinking of two of three heavily loaded troop transports headed for the home islands of Japan. The loss of these prime troops must have been a severe blow to the enemy war effort, and it is only regretted that one of the ships made good her escape.
3. The death of Captain Blunt has been made the subject of a special medical report. While the injury suffered during a heavy depth charge attack and the subsequent strain of a viciously fought surface gun action were contributory causes, the primary cause of his death has been established as a deep, fast-growing right parietal tumor of the brain which was not detected prior to departure. Commander Submarine Force, Pacific Fleet, wishes publicly to express his personal sorrow that the services of so outstanding a submarine officer should thus have been lost to the navy, and to extend his offical condolences to Captain Blunt’s shipmates and the commanding officer of the EEL.
4. EEL’s commanding officer, officers, and crew are deserving of the highest praise upon the completion of a second most aggressive, smartly conducted, and outstandingly successful patrol, and for extensive damage to the enemy in confined waters close to a hostile shoreline.
A. H. Small
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Edward Beach was graduated from the United States Naval Academy in 1939. He saw duty aboard three submarines during World War II, and from 1953 to 1957 he served as Naval Aide to President Eisenhower. In 1960 he commanded the nuclear-powered USS Triton in her underwater circumnavigation of the earth, and from this voyage came his book Around the World Submerged. Prior to that he wrote two books, Submarine! and the novel Run Silent, Run Deep, the latter a best-seller and major book-club selection that was made into a popular motion picture. He retired from active service in the Navy in 1966 and is currently employed by the United States Senate.