As far as Tang is concerned, the fateful 24th of October begins quite normally, and it is not until after dark that the last big convoy is encountered. When contact is made, however, the radar goes wild with pips, and there is no doubt that this is really a big outfit. Dick O’Kane orders the customary tracking procedure prior to the attack and commences the approach to a firing position. Tang has eleven torpedoes left on board, and this looks like the perfect chance to get rid of all of them.
But the escort vessels apparently have become suspicious — perhaps news was sent to them of the fate which had overtaken another convoy in this same area yesterday — and commence the unusual tactic of running down the length of the group of ships on opposite course, firing bursts of gunfire. A moment later one of them starts signaling to the massed body of ships with a large searchlight — which simply makes it easier for Tang to pick out the targets. The near column of three huge ships shows up plainly. The leading two are transports, loaded with irregularly shaped deck gear — evidently landing equipment; the third is a large tanker, also heavily laden.
Tang’s crew are at battle stations surface torpedo, of course, and again she employs the familiar tactic of ghosting in, bows pointed at the nearest enemy ship to present the minimum silhouette, at slow speed until the best possible firing position is reached. Surprisingly, in spite of the evident alerted condition of the convoy, there is not the slightest attempt at evasion or zigzag by any of the ships. Maybe they think that the protection of the escort ships is sufficient. If so, they are soon disabused of this idea, for two torpedoes, fired at close range, hit into each of the three ships. Even as the explosions start to come in, Tang is swinging around to present her stem tubes at another tanker and cargo carrier moving up astern of the chaps just torpedoed. Steadying on course, the new setup is fed into the fire-control instruments, and the never-failing “Set below!” is sent up to the bridge.
In the meantime, pandemonium has been breaking loose. The abrupt transposition of three of the largest vessels of the convoy into three broken, gutted, sinking hulks has thrown the escorts into a tizzy for fair. They mill around, shooting in all directions, flashing their lights indiscriminately, and, in general, doing their best to add to the confusion already generated. The ships comprising the convoy are so closely packed that maneuvers on their part are virtually impossible, but they do what they can, shoot off their guns wildly also, and make large puffs of black smoke as they try to speed up.
Even as Dick O’Kane on the bridge starts to draw a bead for the stem tube shot, there are splashes all about; someone has spotted the submarine’s strange low hull, and has rightly diagnosed it as the cause of all the trouble. Unperturbed, Dick puts in the final shooting bearings, and three torpedoes are fired aft at the two new targets.
As the last fish is fired aft, a whole salvo lands alongside Tang, just as the skipper shouts, “All ahead flank!” It is undoubtedly high time that the sub got out of here. The four muttering diesels roar their song of defiance, and four puffs of gray-black smoke pour from the exhaust ports as the submarine’s screws bite into the water. O’Kane is intently looking aft at the melee he has brought about, when suddenly a large destroyer looms into sight astern of one of the stricken tankers. This, undoubtedly, is the source of that unpleasantly close salvo. And he surely has a bone in his teeth! So thinks Dick O’Kane, while he watches narrowly, in order to make the decision whether to continue running in hopes of giving this new chap the slip, or dive and take the inevitable beating.
At this moment the torpedoes just fired start hitting. One hits the transport and one hits the tanker, who is evidently laden with aviation gasoline, for he blows up instantly. The destroyer is at the moment coming around the stern of this very ship, and either catches the third torpedo or is set off by the explosion of the nearby tanker, for without warning he is blown sky-high himself. And, consequently free from pursuit, Tang races away again to reload her last two torpedoes, completely unscathed.
How many times must Dick O’Kane have wished that he had left well enough alone at this point, but that, of course, was never Tang’s style. There are two torpedoes left, and there are still ships afloat; so the two fish are thoroughly checked, and then loaded into the forward torpedo tubes. And how the Fates must have laughed as number twenty-four torpedo slips greasily and treacherously into number four tube!
Tang returns to the scene of the recent action, finds the transport which had been damaged during the last attack low in the water, stopped, but not sinking. Two destroyer escorts are patrolling around her, both to seaward. So Dick orders a wide circle, comes in from the land side slowly and quietly, gets all set, and fires torpedo number twenty-three, which runs straight for the doomed ship, a perfect coup de grâce. And then, to make sure of the crippled ship, torpedo number twenty-four is fired.
Instantly, this torpedo is observed to begin a circle to the left!
O’Kane screams down the hatch! “All ahead emergency!” Then, a moment later, as the ship commences to gather way, “Right full rudder!” There is only one thing to do — get out of the way of the oncoming torpedo. If its rudder has jammed, as appears to be the case, or if the gyro or steering engine has gone haywire, the deadly fish will certainly come back to the point from which it was fired.
Will we make it? The question is almost a prayer to those on the bridge. Down below it is known that something is wrong, but they are used to Dick O’Kane’s wild and unorthodox maneuvers. Still, this smacks of a real emergency. Then the word comes down via conning tower telephone:
“Torpedo running circular!”
The slightly phosphorescent wake can be seen, off to port, describing a perfect circle. It curves back toward Tang—it looks as if it might hit the bridge — there is nothing anyone can do except hope that it will veer off on another erratic phase. With eyes popping out of their sockets, the men on the bridge stare at the Frankenstein monster they have released coming back to claim them — now it looks as though it will hit aft — still it comes — maybe it will pass astern — here it is — here it is — hold your breath—
WHRANGG! A terrific blow strikes Tang in the after torpedo room! Instantly the three after compartments fill, and the ballast tanks in that section of the ship are completely destroyed. The stricken hull of the submarine sinks by the stem immediately, as though it had been held up at the bow and the stern and the stern support had suddenly been removed.
O’Kane gives his last order to the white face of the telephone talker in the conning tower hatch at his feet, staring up at his captain as though somehow he could do something which would prevent this monstrous thing from happening to them. “Shut the hatch!” But there is no time to carry out this order, which had been intended to help preserve as much of the watertight integrity of the ship as possible. Even as he utters the words, Dick sees the water of the far western Pacific pour into the swiftly submerging hatch, and he is swept off the bridge of his ship into the Straits of Formosa.
And, as he comes to the surface, sputtering and splashing in the choppy but warm salty water, he sees two things — a flash of fire in the distance, followed by the sound of torpedo number twenty-three striking home in the transport which had been his last target, and the gray bow of Tang sticking out of water, still buoyant, though the stern of the ship must be on the bottom. His first thought for his crew, O’Kane notes that the torpedo tubes are all under water and that an attempt to escape via that route — assuming that there must have been some men in the forward part of the ship who survived the fatal explosion — could not succeed, and would only result in flooding the forward torpedo room and preventing all chance of escape.