This is where the long, monotonous labor of patrol starts to bear fruit. Plotting and tracking the target is no simple matter. Every minute a range and bearing; every minute the singsong “Standby, standby, mark!” Every minute plotting parties plot the ship’s course and its position at the instant of the “mark”; then, from that point, they draw range and bearing, and thus locate the position of the enemy ship at the same instant. Your own ship twists and turns in the dual effort to gain firing position and to keep range to the target so that he will not sight her, or get radar contact on her, but keep close enough so that her radar will have no difficulty in keeping contact on his much larger bulk. After a few minutes of chase, the target’s course is determined to be roughly 210. The target’s speed is 20 knots; he is zigzagging, and by the size and strength of his radar pip is mighty big and mighty important. Radar also indicates four smaller vessels: one ahead, one on either beam, and one astern.
Joe Enright is climbing all over his ship like a monkey. First up to the bridge to be sure all is under control, then down to Plot to get an idea of what it is doing. Next, a quick look at the radar scope for a personal evaluation of what the operators have on there; then a quick look at the TDC; then back to the bridge. Then the whole thing over again.
The well-drilled crew are responding beautifully and solving the problem like clockwork, but all the information collected by his attack party must be transmitted to the Captain. It must be weighed in his mind; he must collect all the tiny details, any one of which might suddenly assume tremendous proportions. In no type of vessel is the Commanding Officer so personally responsible for the actual handling of his ship as in a submarine.
What is the state of moon and sea? It is better to attack with the moon silhouetting the targets instead of the submarine. But torpedoes run better if fired down the hollow of the waves rather than across them. The two considerations must be evaluated; the best decision reached. Not content with the mere reports of progress from junior officers and crewmen working below, the Captain has to be personally sure that they are not making mistakes. In his climbing up and down from control room to conning tower to bridge, it is necessary that he protect his night vision, as it would not do to have him partially blinded on the bridge when the crucial moment comes. Therefore, all below-deck control compartments are blacked out. No lights are allowed except the dim red glow of plotting party lights and the orange and green lights of the radar. All is silent in the control party, except the hushed reports which are continually going back and forth.
Archerfish is logging only 18 knots. This will not be sufficient. The call goes down from the bridge: “Maneuvering, make all the speed you can! All ahead flank!”
Watching their dials carefully, the electrician’s mates in the maneuvering room slowly increase the rheostat settings, and the thrashing propellers increase their speed another 20 r.p.m. The pitometer log registers now a little more than 18½ knots.
Again word from the bridge, “Control, give her a five-minute blow! Blow safety! Blow negative!” The scream and grind of the low-pressure air-blowing pump fill the interior of the ship. This low-pressure pump is used in the latter stages of surfacing when a large volume of air is required to complete emptying the ballast tanks of water. In this case, the intention is to blow out what residual amounts of water night remain or have leaked back in, in order to speed up the ship. Negative tank and safety tank are always kept full of water in order to carry out their designed purposes. Negative tank is so built that when it is full, the submarine properly compensated, and the ballast tanks flooded, the sub has negative buoyancy and will sink. Thus she dives faster. Safety tank, on the other hand, is used to give the ship quick, positive buoyancy, if she should need it. Altogether, these two tanks carry approximately thirty-six tons of sea water. Emptying them, while it decreases the safety factor with which the ship ordinarily operates, also decreases the amount of weight she had to drag around with her and hence increases her speed.
But in spite of these measures, Archerfish’s speed quivers around 19 knots or possibly a shade more. Still not enough. A third time from the bridge comes the order: “Maneuvering, give her all you’ve got! To hell with the volts and amps! Watch your motor temperatures, but give me more speed!” Shaking their heads — this is foreign to their training and upbringing — the electrician’s mates carefully manipulate their rheostats once more. By means of the engine remote-control governor linkage, the r.p.m. of the four huge main diesel engines have already been increased to the maximum, and they are racing just as fast as they possibly can. Doubtfully the generators are loaded a bit more, and the amperes flowing to the four straining motors increase a trifle. The propellers increase their speed by another five or six r.p.m. Archerfish has done all she can, and the pitometer log dial now indicates 19½ knots.
At about this point, approximately one hour after the initial contact, the patrol report states, “Saw the target for the first time, an aircraft carrier! From here on it was a mad race to reach a firing position.”
It is every submarine skipper’s dream to find himself in hot pursuit of such a target. The jackpot — an aircraft carrier! The biggest game of all! Archerfish, the huntress. Can she bring this monster down in his own environment?
The skipper is all over the ship again, and visits the control stations at frequent intervals. He calls for Lieutenant Rom Cousins, the engineer officer, sends him back into the engineering spaces with instructions to squeeze out every possible extra turn on the laboring screws. He sends Dave Bunting to be sure that all last-minute adjustments are made on his torpedoes. There might even be time to pull and check all fish. When you stick your neck in the mouth of the dragon in hopes of getting a shot at him, you want that shot to be good.
The Communication Officer comes in for his share of attention. Joe Enright jots down a message on a piece of paper and hands it to him. Gordon Crosby disappears into the radio room, codes the message, and then stands watch on the radioman as he transmits: “NPM V W3TU—K… NPM V W3TU — K… Radio Pearl from Archerfish, I have an urgent message.… Radio Pearl from Archerfish, I have an urgent message.”
Straining their ears, the radiomen listen to the welter of dots and dashes filling the ether. Radio Pearl is busy; a lot of ships are calling it, and it is receiving a steady stream of messages. Archerfish must wait her turn. The answer from NPM says, Archerfish from Radio Pearl, Wait.
But this won’t do. “NPM V W3TU 000 K.… Radio Pearl from Archerfish, this message is really urgent!” There must be some means whereby a ship with an excessively important message can demand and receive immediate attention. Only in this way can any semblance of communication and traffic discipline be maintained.
Radio Pearl comes back immediately with a procedure sign to Archerfish. “Go ahead, we are ready.”
FROM ARCHERFISH TO COMSUBPAC AND ALL SUBMARINES IN EMPIRE AREAS AM PURSUING LARGE AIRCRAFT CARRIER FOUR DESTROYERS POSITION LAT 3230 N LONG 13745 E, BASE COURSE 240, SPEED 20.
NPM answers simply and very specifically, “R,” which means “Received, I assume responsibility, will forward this message to proper authority.”
By this time it is early morning at Pearl Harbor, but Admiral Lockwood has left orders with the duty officer to call him no matter where he may be, upon receipt of such a message. He hurries down to the office with his Operations Officer. It isn’t often that one of his submarines latches on to a prize of this kind. Together, with the large wall chart of the Japanese Empire before them, they lay plans to insure the destruction of Archerfish’s target. In less than an hour messages pour forth from Radio Pearl. The position, course, and speed of Shinano are given. All submarines which might be in a position to intercept her are ordered to proceed to various strategic points and there to lie in wait. Then a further message to Archerfish: KEEP AFTER HIM JOE YOUR PICTURE IS ON THE PIANO. The levity in this dispatch is not misplaced. Uncle Charlie knows his boys, and his boys know him.