"I've heard a lot of stories about it."
"Well, that's the reason we've called you up here. We want you to know exactly the situation, not only in Pearl Harbor but also in the Philippines and in Malaya. This first pamphlet," he picked up a-loose-leaf bound portfolio of photographs-is a set of pictures taken immediately after the Pearl Harbor attack. And here," he picked up another pamphlet, "is a list of our forces in the Pacific and their general location. The rest of this will also be of interest. When you get through you will see why we've had to accelerate submarine construction so drastically-and why every boat we can fit out is going to the Pacific right away. Also you will appreciate why it has been imperative to keep word of the true conditions out there from getting back home or to the enemy. Come to my office if you have any questions." With that the Admiral shook hands again, strode to the door, and departed. Captain Blunt went with him.
I spent three hours alone going through the papers with growing consternation. We all knew things were tough in the Pacific, but I had not known they were this bad. Fighting a naval war in both oceans at the same time automatically reduced our available forces to shoestring size when it came to operations, and the losses we had suffered right at the outset made the situation look downright desperate.
The Admiral was wrong in one thing. There was another mimeographed pamphlet which was to me of even greater interest than the ones he had singled out. It listed our sub- marine forces to date and the losses we had sustained. I found the Octopus listed there, the Sea Lion at Cavite, the Shark, overdue in the Philippines, and the S-26, rammed and sunk by her own escorts off Panama. There were also two other losses I had not known about as yet, S-36, which had run aground in the Malay Archipelago, and Perch, overdue from patrol since March. In the section devoted to Dutch submarines the casualties were even higher.
When I had finished reading every word and looking at every chart and every photograph, I silently reassembled all the papers, said good-by to the Admiral's aide, and thought- fully made my way back to the Walrus.
She was lying at the berth in which all boats about to leave for the war zone were placed-the pier directly in front of the Submarine Base Commander's office, and she had it all to her- self. On either side of her, nested two to a pier, were other fleet boats, looking as much alike as so many peas in a pod, the only difference between them being that those built in the Navy Yard at Portsmouth, New Hampshire, had a slightly more angular silhouette than the Electric Boat Company version.
Electric Boat's schedule, I understood, called for twenty- eight to be delivered by the end of the year. Portsmouth was building almost as many, and, out in California, Mare Island Navy Yard also had a greatly increased quota. Alongside these sleek, streamlined monsters the older boats occupying the other docks looked like antiquated toys. Somehow, there was a studied deadliness about the smooth black shapes of these new ocean cruisers. They were built for war and they looked it. All other considerations had been subordinated to the requirements of war under the sea.
The bridge, set well forward of amidships because of the space taken by the two engine rooms and the four great engines in the after part, was slightly swept back and smoothly rounded, with glassed portholes in its forward covered section.
In its center rose the towerlike periscope support structure built of heavy steel framing and plated over for a sleek appearance. In its after part was the "cigarette deck," deriving its name from the now-outmoded requirement that men come topside if they wanted a smoke.
Directly beneath the bridge was the horizontal cylinder, eight feet in diameter and about fifteen feet long, which constituted the conning tower. When the ship was under way, access below decks could only be obtained by going from the bridge through the heavy bronze hatch and dawn a ladder in- to the conning tower, then climbing through another hatch and down another ladder into the control room.
On the main deck abaft the bridge Walrus and all her sisters carried a three-inch antiaircraft gun with waterproofed mechanisms, designed for rapid fire. Gun action, which required an ammunition supply from below, constituted one of the few occasions when a main deck hatch would be opened while under way. Otherwise, the only hatch ever opened, the only one needing to be closed for a quick dive, was the bridge hatch.
The boats on either side of Walrus bore numbers on their conning towers, and salt-streaked sides showed signs of their rugged training regimes. Our numbers had already been painted out along with the new paint job we had received, and the somber black exterior of the ship was now unrelieved by markings of any kind.
A provisions truck was leaving the dock as I walked up. The pile of crated and canned foodstuffs it had left was already melting away under the attentions of the working party Kohler had detailed to help Russo get the food stored below.
A feeling of tension ran through the ship. I could sense it; perhaps it must always be thus when ships and men go to war. It is the realization of what is faced, the risks one is going to run, and it is the gnawing thought, felt in the pit of your stomach, that maybe this is it, maybe this is the last time you will see this particular place again.
The other boats in various stages of incomplete readiness at the other docks, or those in from training periods under way, would not have quite the same atmosphere. But I had in- variably sensed when a ship was going to war and I sensed it now from Walrus as she lay there quietly moored to the dock. Her silent bulk seemed about to tremble at some secret fear, and as I stepped over the brow and returned the salute of the gangway watch I was struck by a sudden thought: "This ship will not survive the war."
Jim got back the next morning. We were at breakfast in the wardroom when he came, aboard and sat down to join us. He had, some sort of news, I could tell, and Keith broke the ice for him. Keith had an amusing name for each of us.
It was he who had dubbed Tom Schultz 'Father' or 'Dad.'
Jim, he occasionally called "Cobber"-probably because of a secret yearning Jim had once expressed to go to Australia.
So far as I could discern I had yet to be honored by his attention in this regard. But, of course, a skipper could never be sure.
"Father, Oh, Father," said Keith in mock plea to Tom, "Cobber's home with us at last and going to help us with the war after all. Dost thee think thou couldst make our gallant Executive tell us where he's been? Keith pronounced the last word as though it were spelled b-e-a-n.
Jim chuckled. "Hold, it, Sonny boy. If you'll give me a. chance, I'll tell you where I've bean." He drew a deep breath.
"Two days ago Laura and I were married. She came back with me to New London and is at the Mohican Hotel right now."
We all stared at him.
I could not begin to explain the peculiar sensation the news evoked in me. Certainly I had no right to be interested in Laura for myself. There was just that odd yearning for an indefinable something that never could have been that she, or the mention of her, always brought out. I forced a congratulatory smile.
"That's grand, Jim. We all hope you'll both be Very happy but what a shame you have so little time together!"
Jim smiled ruefully. "Thanks," he said, "but it can't be helped. We might have had more time if certain things had worked out better, but we'll make out. Well even send all of you an announcement, after the war's over."
The deep-seated resentment was still there all right.
Two days later was Memorial Day, the day we were scheduled to leave New London en route to the Panama Canal.
We were to get under way at 14 30, 2:30 P m. and the morning was filled with last-minute preparations which belied the status of that day as a holiday. We started cleaning up the ship at ten-thirty and at eleven-thirty piped down dinner for the crew. At one-thirty we would have open gangway for relatives and friends of our ship's, company. Certain critical pieces of equipment had been covered over with paper or canvas so that our visitors could be permitted to go below in order actually to see and feel the places where their sons and husbands would be fighting the enemy.