When we surfaced that night we found a brilliant moon flooding the sea. We dared not be silhouetted against it. We went out to sea and recharged batteries. Beginning at dawn, Captain Warder made periscope observations. Our intercom system was open. We waited tensely. At the 7:30 a.m. observation came Captain Warder’s voice saying sharply:
“Here they are! Ummmm. Four cruisers in a line. Bombarding formation. I believe they’re going to shell the island. Stand by to mark these bearings down, Casler. First cruiser, mark…”
Rudy Gervais, at the helm, spoke up: “One seven two, sir,” he said, giving the Wolf’s course, reading clockwise from true north.
Captain Warder: “Three four two,” giving the course of the first cruiser.
Ensign Casler, thus having the cruiser’s course and the Wolf’s course, could determine the angle between and use this to compute our approach.
“Second cruiser, mark,” came Captain Warder’s voice. “Three three nine… Third cruiser, mark… three four seven… Fourth cruiser, mark… three five two.”
Casler meanwhile had been taking down not only the figures but the time each mark had been made. The Wolf now knew the courses of the four Jap cruisers in relation to our own course.
“Well, now,” said Captain Warder, still at the periscope, “put this down. These are light cruisers, probably with six-inch guns. They carry planes. Two turrets forward. Turret aft. Catapults. I believe torpedo tubes. Typical Jap bow. Raked stern. Fire control tower is typical Japanese. Pagoda style. Got all that, Casler?”
“I have it all down, sir.”
“All right…. Lovely day for our side…. I’ve got a good chop up here…. Beautiful for periscope work. Here’s an approximate range: 12,000 yards. Angle on the bow, I’d say about eighty starboard. Speed, about thirteen knots. Casler, let’s see what we can do with that. Down periscope.”
A moment later: “I think I’ll have another look at those babies. Up periscope.” A pause of perhaps forty seconds. “Well, the transports are heading for Flying Fish Cove. Apparently the island has been abandoned. At least, they’re not firing. I’d certainly like to get in an attack on those transports, but we’re too far out. But these destroyers aren’t too far off. Here’s a bearing on that nearest one. Mark.”
Rudy’s voice: “One seven two, sir.”
Captain: “Two eight four.” This cruiser was just off our port beam. “Down periscope. Sound, do you have any of those propellers down there?”
I was on the alert. “I have that last cruiser you mentioned, Captain.”
The Skipper set the Wolf’s course to intercept the four cruisers. During the next hour he took frequent bearings on the Jap men-of-war. Finally, “Up periscope.” Then, “Mark!” His voice was several notes higher. He sounded like a hound near the rabbit. “Cruiser Natori class. Angle on the bow, five starboard. Range, 3,000. Seems to be making medium speed. Down periscope.”
“Zero zero three, Captain,” announced Casler. The cruiser was coming toward us almost head-on—only three degrees away from a collision course.
Suddenly, “Battle stations!” the aaaap!… aaaap! blared through the boat. The crew moved swiftly and silently into place.
“Battle stations are manned, sir,” reported Lieutenant Holden, diving officer.
“Good!” said Captain Warder. “Up periscope… This ship is patrolling. His planes are still on the deck. Down periscope. Range, 2,300. Left full rudder. Ahead two-thirds. Come to course three four zero.”
We were all tense now. I gave the Skipper bearings every few minutes. We were using every device we had to get into position for the kill. “Up periscope,” came the Captain’s voice. “Ah!” he said. “I see a command pennant. The admiral of this little organization is aboard this baby. Down periscope.” He added, “Tell the forward room to make ready the tubes.”
“Forward room. Make ready the tubes,” came from the Captain’s talker. Then: “Captain, forward room has the word, sir.”
“Very well.” Captain Warder turned to Mercer. “This fellow doesn’t know we’re here,” he said. “He’s not zigging. If he keeps coming… Sound, have you got him?”
I had him. “Bearing three five two, Captain.”
“Yes, that’s about where he should be,” commented the Skipper. “Stay on him, Eckberg… Now, let’s take another look. Wait a minute… Willie, are you all set down there? How does it look?”
Lieutenant Deragon replied: “Everything checking so far, Captain.”
“Very well. Open the outer doors.”
Moments passed. The word came echoing back: “Outer doors open, sir.”
“Up periscope,” ordered Captain Warder. “Now, the usual method of firing, Willie. All set?”
“All set, Captain.” Lieutenant Deragon’s voice was steady.
“All set, Henry?”
“All set, Captain.” Henry Bringelman, at the firing controls, spoke as calmly as though he were giving the weather report.
“Okay,” said the Captain. He put his eye to the periscope. “Here he is. Stand by… stand by… Fire one!”
I caught the sound of the fish as she went. My ears clicked with the sudden increase in air pressure.
“One fired, sir!”—this from Bringelman, below.
“Stand by, two… stand by… Fire two!”
And almost like an echo, Bringelman’s deep voice: “Torpedoes fired, sir.”
I heard the high-pitched whines. “The fish are running, Captain,” I sang out.
“That’s fine, Eckberg. They’re hot, eh?”
“Yes, sir. Straight and hot.”
A second’s pause. “Number three hit,” came the Skipper’s voice. “She’s slowing down. Her propellers are still turning over. There go the steam jets!… There’s panic on her! Men running all over the ship! Dammit, I’d sure like to see one of those babies sink just once! Oh, oh, here they come. Take her down!” His voice faded. “Let’s get out of the conning tower,” he said. “Eckberg, you’re going to have four sets of screws coming at you. They’re coming here like a bat out of hell.” He raced down the ladder into the control room to take his place on the chair outside my shack. The conning tower was sealed off. We had only a few minutes to wait. I picked up the screws. They were coming up the starboard side very fast.
Now the depth charges came. They were coming viciously, one every ten or fifteen seconds, beautifully spaced. They came nearer and nearer our starboard side, and it seemed impossible that one wouldn’t get us. I thought we were lost. The ship shuddered and rocked. The radio shack was again filled with a blizzard of flying paint and cork. Locker doors swung open and clanged shut again. I managed to hold to my stool this time, and turned just in time to see the cans of dynamite tumbling across the deck. I stuck out my foot and held them under it. The breath was almost knocked out of me, but I gave the Skipper every bearing I could. I shouted at the top of my voice. Captain Warder wasn’t seated now, he was standing, clinging and swinging with the heaving of the Wolf. Every time I shouted bearings, he shouted back, “Good! Good! Good! That’s fine! Keep it up!”
His eyes were glued to the depth gauge. We were bouncing up and down like a rubber ball. The first screws died out of my phones; another set came in. Oh, God, I thought, now it begins all over again! One destroyer had completed his run of depth charges, and a second was coming up the portside to repeat the depth charging on that side. They were out to get us. I stole a swift glance at Paul. He was holding on for dear life, but he had a pencil in his hand and a pad before him, and he was a tally sheet on the charges. Four vertical lines, and then one through, for every five… Intermittently, all through that day, the Wolf was depth charged. The explosions churned the sea about us. Every man was alert at his station. There was no sleep. And somehow we escaped unhurt.