Wahoo was on her own.
It wasn’t long before the first plan churning around in the restless brain of Wahoo’s new captain became evident to the crew, now that the need for secrecy had passed. Only recently had it become known that the Japanese for some time had been using a harbor known as Wewak as a major staging area. The location of this harbor was loosely determined to be somewhere on the northeast coast of New Guinea, but its position was known to our forces only by whole numbers of latitude and longitude. Morton planned to find Wewak, enter the harbor unsuspected, and raise as much fuss as possible.
The preparations he and his officers made for this little expedition were thoroughly characteristic of the man. The only available chart showing even in vague degree the location of Wewak was contained in a school atlas. Using a camera lens and the ship’s signal light, a homemade projector was rigged up for the construction of a large tracing, designed to exactly the same scale as the ship’s charts of that section of New Guinea. Much study of the Notices to Mariners and of other publications resulted in the accumulation of a considerable body of information which aided in the location of the correct spot. After several round-table discussions, the most likely area — between and behind several small islands off the coast of New Guinea — was selected. A large-scale chart was then made showing all pertinent information, and this chart was the one Mush Morton proposed to use for his entry and egress.
All this time Wahoo was proceeding at the best practicable speed toward the general area where Wewak was known to be. Obviously this new skipper was a bearcat, at least insofar as getting into action with the enemy was concerned.
Eight days out of Brisbane, Wahoo silently dived, at 0330, just a couple of miles north of the suspected anchorage. As dawn broke, her periscope made continuous and wary observations while her plotting party carefully noted down all landmarks and other data which might aid the attack or the subsequent exit.
If there were any lingering doubts that the new skipper meant to follow through with his daring plan, they must have been dispelled by this time, for he calmly ventured right into the anchorage area, deftly avoiding a patrol of two anti-submarine torpedo boats which had just got underway for their daily sweep. Nothing was seen here, however, except a tiny tug and barge which Mush did not consider worth bothering with.
Some tripod masts on the far end of one of the islands excited his interest, for they might belong to a ship, and a warship at that. An attempt to circumnavigate this island was frustrated by a low-lying reef connecting the island to the next in the chain and thus effectively keeping Wahoo from getting around to where the masts had been spotted.
It is difficult to describe the situation in which Morton had deliberately placed himself. He had entered, submerged, but in broad daylight, a suspected enemy harbor. He was in shallow water — a very bad place to be if your presence is detected. Moreover, there were enemy craft about, and in a position to do something about the submarine once its presence became known.
But far from worrying Morton, the fact that there were two Japanese patrol vessels active on anti-submarine sweeps in the area actually encouraged his belief that he had indeed found Wewak. So he spent the whole morning quietly cruising about the harbor area, nosing (submerged, of course) into all the suspected and possible anchorages, one after the other. By one o’clock he was quite disgusted, for he had seen nothing to show for his pains except a tug, two Chidori class patrol boats, and those unidentified tripod masts which he was unable to approach, and which, later observations showed, had disappeared.
But a few minutes after one, the situation changed. A ship was sighted, about five miles farther into the harbor, apparently at anchor. She was too far away to be clearly made out, because of the mirage-like effect of the glassy bay waters, which also forced Wahoo to expose only an inch or two of her periscope per observation for fear of being sighted.
Wahoo alters course, heads for the unknown ship. Two or three quick observations are taken, and the target is identified as a destroyer at anchor, with some smaller vessels alongside — apparently the tug and barge first sighted at dawn.
One of Mush Morton’s unorthodox ideas, later adopted to some degree in the submarine force, was to have his executive officer make the periscope observations, while he, the skipper, ran the approach and coordinated the information from sound, periscope, plotting parties, and torpedo director. Thus, so ran his argument, the skipper is not apt to be distracted by watching the target’s maneuvers, and can make better decisions. But you really have to have the courage of your convictions to carry out this stunt! And you also have to have an exec in whom you have complete confidence, and who can so work with his skipper that the two think and act together as one. Fortunately Morton has such a man in Dick O’Kane. They have thoroughly discussed and planned how everything should be done in case a chance comes their way — and here it is!
Battle stations submerged! The word is quietly passed through the ship. O’Kane and Morton have both been up in the conning tower of Wahoo for hours, looking over their quarry. Now O’Kane keeps the periscope, while Mush handles the rest of the attack details. The plan is to sneak up on the destroyer while he is still swinging around his hook, and to blast him right then and there. Wahoo will start shooting from about three thousand yards’ range. All is in readiness as the submarine creeps into position. Fully aware of the unprecedented risks they are taking, Wahoo’s crew tensely stand to their stations. The temperature inside the ship wavers around 100 degrees, for the air-conditioning plants have been shut down for some time to avoid unneccessary noise. As a concession to morale, however, and in the interests of having at least a bearable atmosphere inside the boat, the ventilation blowers and fans have been kept running — but now even these are stopped. A ship with all auxiliaries stopped can be eerily quiet indeed, and it is with this unnatural, deadly silence that Wahoo works into position for her attack.
“Up persicope! One more observation before we let him have it!” The voice is the skipper’s.
Rising slowly from his haunches as he follows the ’scope up, his face pressed against the rubber eyepiece, O’Kane sees only greenish-yellow muddy water for a moment until the tip of the instrument breaks clear of the surface. Then bright sunlight strikes the objective lens of the periscope and reflects in multicolored hues as the tiny rivulets of water drain swiftly off the glass. O’Kane’s voice rasps out:
“He’s underway! Coming this way! Angle on the bow, ten port!”
“Right full rudder! Port ahead full!” The skipper is almost instantaneous in the command. “Standby aft!” You have to be quick in this business, if you expect to be good, or if you simply hope to survive. Morton’s intentions are immediately obvious to everyone: swing around to the right, and let him have a salvo from the stem tubes as he goes by. Still no thought of avoiding action.