"… Mark!"
"Zero-five-eight!"
"Range-Mark!"
"Three-oh-five-oh!"
I spun the periscope in a complete circle before letting it dart back into its well, lingered for barely an instant on the other two ships. We were well clear of both, and neither, so far as I could see, had seen us.
"Angle on the how, port thirty."
Keith leaped at the handles of the TDC, commenced cranking them energetically with both hands.
Jim was hurriedly twisting the dials of his Is-Was. I Waited, shot the periscope up and down once more. "Zero-two- five… one-eight-five-oh!" said Rubinoffski.
"Port sixty… stand by forward," I barked.
Jim followed me up. "Stand by forward."
Quin picked up the phone. "Stand by forward."
"This is a shooting observation." I tried to make my voice dry and unemotional. "We will shoot three exercise torpedoes, set to pass beneath the target's keel. We are inside the screen.
Semmes will pass astern of us immediately after we shoot.
Falcon is on the far side and will be no trouble. Up scope!"
I had studiously avoided the use of the word "Fire." The handles of the periscope came into my palms. I went up with it, setting it on the target.
"Rubinoffski was watching the azimuth just as Keith had done for Jim several months earlier. The situation, in many respects, was very similar. A lot depended on Walrus being found ready.
"Mark!"
"Zero-one-two!"
"Set!"
This was Keith, indicating that the bearing from the periscope had been set into the TDC.
"Shoot!" I said.
Jim was watching the angle-solver part of the TDC where a red "F" was plainly to be seen.
"Fire!" he shouted.
Quin had turned around, was now facing the firing panel, an elongated metal box with a series of glass windows in its cover through three of which red lights glowed, and below the lights a group of switches. Beneath the firing panel was the firing key, a plunger topped with a round brass plate curved to fit the palm of one's hand. At the word "Fire" Quin reached up to the firing panel, turned the first of the line of switches with his left hand, pressed the firing key with his right.
"Fire One!" he said into the phone. He held the firing key down for a perceptible instant, then released it, flipped the first switch upright, and turned the second switch to the hori- zontal position. He waited another instant and then pressed the firing key once more.
"Fire Two!" he announced into the phone. "Fire Three!"
The same process was repeated.
We could feel three solid jolts as our three torpedoes went their way.
I motioned for the periscope, swung it around. Semmes was still clear. Three torpedo tracks diverging slightly were fanning out toward Vixen's bow. It looked as though they would pass ahead.
"Down scope!" I turned to Jim. "Have we fired the flare?"
"Yessir!" Tom Schultz shot the flare as soon as Quin fired the first torpedo.
Our instructions were to fire a submarine flare from the signal ejector in the control room at the instant of firing torpedoes. This would aid in marking the original point of release and assist in their recovery.
I kept Captain Blunt in his niche a little longer by motioning for the periscope again and taking another sweep around.
I had Rubinoffski stop a bit short of full extension and because of my bent-over position Blunt had to suck in his breath to allow my posterior to pass clear. I swung around twice an then fixed on the Vixen just in time to see our torpedo spread intersect her hull.
"A hit," I announced calmly, collecting myself in time to avoid shouting. "I think all three torpedoes passed under the target…. Range-Mark!"
"One-three-five-oh!" from Rubinoffski.
"That checks TDC!" from Keith.
I felt myself rudely shouldered aside. "Let me see, damn you!"
Captain Blunt had pushed his cap on the back of his head so that its bill would not get in the way of the periscope eye- piece. He planted himself firmly in front of it, stared through it.
"This is the first time I have ever seen this kind of an approach, but there he is all right. Did you pull this one out of your hat?" His eyes remained at the scope.
"It was nothing at all, Commodore," I said at his side. "I just did what you said a while ago, pretended we were patrolling off the coast of Japan."
Blunt gave forth with an unintelligible grunt.
"And of course," I went on, "I naturally took a good look at the chart of the Jap coast."
The Squadron Commander jerked away from the periscope, glaring.
I pulled Hugh Adams aside to show his track chart. "Here's the convoy's track and here's the coast," pointing to the line made up of Little Cull Island, the buoys, and the nets. "I knew they'd have to come around this way, so we just waited for them."
Blunt stomped over to the chart to get a closer look, and as he moved his cap fell off. Clumsily, I nearly stepped on it.
"Rich, you're a bastard," he said.
5
The operational readiness inspection by Captain Blunt was the last item prior to our departure for the Pacific Ocean and Pearl Harbor. Ahead of us lay the necessary chores of fueling ship, cramming her with provisions, taking a full load of torpedoes and spares aboard-and saying good-by to families and friends.
We had a week to get ready. Five days before our scheduled departure Jim came to me with a rather unusual request. He wanted three days leave.
I couldn't help showing a little surprise. "What's up, Jim?"
I asked. "This is a pretty busy time."
Jim looked uncomfortable. "I know it, sir, but this is one of those things…." His voice trailed off and an intuitive flash told me that it concerned Laura.
It was true that Walrus had been under a steady grind for the past several weeks. Jim had home the brunt of it and had done an excellent job.
"Jim," I said slowly, "I don't see how we can spare you just now-there is all the work you have been supervising…"
Jim was ready for that one. "I've got everything all set, sir.
Everybody has his instructions and all the officers know their own jobs better than I do anyway. Things can get along pretty well without me for the next few days."
This wasn't quite true because an Executive Officer's work is never done so long as his skipper has things on his mind. But since we were leaving to go to war and would be gone a long time, perhaps we could make a special arrangement for him.
"OK, old man," I agreed, "figure to be back a couple of days before our scheduled departure."
Jim's countenance brightened. "Thanks, skipper." He bounded away almost with his old lightheartedness.
I mentally made a note to take over the supervisory functions of Jim's job during his absence, but found this unnecessary.
They were indeed, as he had said, well organized. My own duties I found to be rather more complicated, however, mainly because of a series of briefing and study sessions which apparently all departing skippers had to undergo. The most impressive of these to me was the one given two days before we were to leave, in which the full extent of the damage at Pearl Harbor on December seventh was made known. The briefing was specified as 'Secret' and Captain Blunt warned me about it before taking me in to see the Admiral command- ing the Atlantic submarine force.
"ComSubLant" was standing in a room fitted with a long table and several chairs, obviously used mainly for conferences.
On the table was a stack of papers and charts. His name was Smathers and he had been a submariner of repute years before.
"Richardson," said Admiral Smathers, greeting me, "I sup- pose you've heard most of the details of the Jap attack at Pearl Harbor?"