It was the last night in port. Preparations for going to sea were complete. Nothing more needed to be done, except see Joan one last time. He could still make some time for Whitey. He would be late, but Joan would understand.
-4-
It was with a sense of calm, even peace, that Richardson gave the orders for getting Eel underway the next afternoon. Actually he had little to do with it. Keith had already handled all the arrangements. Al Dugan, the engineer, would have the honor of being Officer of the Deck and giving the commands which would take Eel to sea once more.
By custom, submarines departing on patrol got underway in the midafternoon. If more than one left the same day, the most senior departed last. This, of course, was Eel. Whitefish and Chicolar, at adjacent piers, had backed clear a few minutes before, and Whitefish had already rounded Ten-Ten Dock on her way out the Pearl Harbor entrance channel. Eel was the third of the three submarines to get underway, befitting her status as flagship for Blunt’s Bruisers, the wolfpack code name.
Admiral Small was the last to say good-bye. He shook hands with Richardson, then Blunt. “Good luck and good hunting,” he said. A warm smile for Rich, a meaningful one for Blunt. He stepped quickly ashore.
From the bridge, Al Dugan: “Take in the brow!”
Four sailors, who had stepped into position alongside of it — again the ceremonial brow was in use — seized its rails in unison. In one coordinated movement they yanked it clear of Eel’s forecastle.
The mooring lines had already been singled up, reduced to a single strand from each of the four cleats on Eel’s deck to corresponding cleats on the pier. “Take in all lines!” said Al. “Rudder amidships! All back one-third!”
Eel’s engines, idling quietly with a small spatter of water from their mufflers, took on a slightly deeper note when her controllermen in the maneuvering room put the motors in reverse and began to draw power from her generators. Slowly she moved backward. When clear of the pier, Dugan ordered the rudder full right. Eel’s stern began to curve to starboard as she entered the harbor waters.
Richardson stood alongside Blunt on the cigarette deck. At just the right moment Dugan shifted the starboard propeller from “back one-third” to “ahead two-thirds,” and a moment later the rudder from “right full” to “left full.” Now well in the channel, Eel began to twist on her heel, continuing to cast to port. Her backward motion slowly ceased. She began to gain headway.
The crowd on the dock had not yet begun to dissipate. The band was playing “Sink ’Em All.” How many times had he heard it? Originally it had been “Bless ’Em All.” Some submariner had written new words for it.
Under Buck Williams’ rapid direction, order was appearing on deck. All topside gear not necessary to the patrol had already been removed, and now the remainder was swiftly stowed. As Eel rounded Hospital Point in her turn, and caught sight once again of Whitefish and Chicolar in column ahead, the last man went down below and the last hatch on deck was dogged shut.
Williams appeared on the bridge. “Main deck secured, anchor secured for sea, sir,” he said to Dugan, with a nod to Keith. He stepped a few feet aft. “Main deck secured, topside secured, Captain,” he said to Rich. He gave an unnecessary salute, probably for Blunt’s benefit.
Gravely, Rich returned the salute. “Very well,” he said.
Williams returned to the fore part of the bridge to where Al Dugan had assumed his watch station behind the windscreen. “There are no unauthorized personnel topside, Al. The captain, wolfpack commander, and executive officer are on the bridge.…”
“I know about the bridge, Buck,” said Dugan in a tone of friendly sarcasm. “But thanks anyway.”
“Oh, go to hell, Al.” Williams grinned. “Permission to go below, sir.”
Dugan grunted assent and Buck disappeared down the hatch into the conning tower. This hatch, the main induction, and the engine exhaust valves were now the only openings not tightly closed.
In a few minutes Rich would hear from below decks, “Ship is rigged for dive!” From that moment he, or any Officer of the Deck, had but to give the order to submerge to have it happen. All main vents would instantly spring open; the main engines would shut down; the main induction and engine exhaust valves would be closed; the motors, which had been getting their power from the generators on the ends of the diesel engines, would begin drawing current from the battery. Bow planes would rig out, and the ship would plunge precipitantly beneath the surface of the sea.
Richardson’s feeling of well-being persisted as Eel passed the channel entrance buoys. It was here the Kona wave had nearly swamped the ship. Here was where he might have been swept overboard. He might have been able to swim to shore, or he might have drowned. It would have been a test. He might even have welcomed it at the time.…
Eel felt taut beneath him. Clean. Fresh-smelling. She had been repainted. The two TBTs in their new locations on either side of the bridge had proved their increased convenience during the week-long exercises just completed. In place of the after TBT there was now located a twin twenty-millimeter machine gun mount. The guns themselves, not sufficiently corrosion-resistant to stand submergence, were stowed in cylindrical tanks installed vertically under the bridge deck. They could be brought up and made ready in less than a minute.
On either end of the bridge was a forty-millimeter automatic gun. These were too heavy to manhandle for stowage and hence had been permanently mounted. Cadmium plating protected their unpainted surfaces. Ranged about them were various strategically located racks to hold extra ammunition.
On the main deck there were now two stubby, five-inch guns, one forward and one aft of the bridge. Near them, built into each end of Eel’s bridge structure, were two large cylindrical tanks with hatchlike closures. Each held twelve shots of ready five-inch ammunition, and a rough bore-sight tool of Buck Williams’ invention. Submergence or depth charging might ruin the delicate alignment of the pointer and trainer telescopes, Buck had warned. This could easily be checked by fitting his new tool, which contained a small telescope with cross-hairs, into the open breech, then check-sighting the guns on designated marks on deck forward and aft.
On the forecastle, also at Williams’ suggestion, the forward torpedo room hatch now carried emplacements welded on either side to accommodate a fifty-caliber machine gun. The gun would be served by two men standing on a plank placed across rungs inside the opened hatch. The forward hatch trunk was ideal for this “foxhole” function, as Buck had enthusiastically explained, because it was fitted with a lower hatch which could be shut to preserve watertight integrity while the gun was engaged. If the ship were forced to submerge suddenly, its crew had only to shut the upper hatch to be safe inside. And if they couldn’t make it, the lower hatch would at least protect the rest of the ship from flooding.