A Tale of Two Subs by Jonathan J. McCullough

Author:Jonathan J. McCullough [MCCULLOUGH, JONATHAN J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: HIS000000
ISBN: 9780446537070
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 2008-05-13T04:00:00+00:00

A week later, Sculpin received a radio message that required decryption. It seemed to be an unbelievable bit of straight dope about the noontime position of a Japanese supply ship on its way from Rabaul to Kavieng, a port on the island of New Ireland. Although Chappell could only guess how anyone could know about the convoy’s position in time with such precision, he set a course to put them on the path of the unsuspecting ships and in the early hours before dawn on October 14, the lookouts saw another large transport, then a smaller transport, and finally a destroyer leading them all.

The weather conditions had been patchy, with overcast and occasional rainsqualls. Since they’d only just spotted the target, and dawn was coming, Chappell decided to set up fast and make a surface attack rather than submerge. They quickly made observations and sent the speed and bearings down to the control room, where the TDC operator punched them up. When the moment came, they fired all four bow torpedoes and started to pull away. Chappell watched in disgust as all four torpedo tracks went ahead of the transport’s bow. They’d set up the attack too quickly, he’d gotten the speed wrong, and now the destroyer was running around pell-mell, dropping depth charges left and right. The mere sound of the depth charges was as impressive on the surface as it was while taking them down below, but it didn’t appear that the destroyer had seen the Sculpin, and for some reason it didn’t follow the torpedo tracks back to the sub. When the torpedoes reached the end of their runs, they exploded, and Chappell thought this may have confused the destroyer’s skipper further. Another rainsquall came on, soaking the deck watch, at the same time providing ample cover for the small silhouette of the Sculpin to peel away into the gray morning rain showers pelting the sea. Chappell felt bad that he’d gotten the speed wrong—it seemed to be a recurring problem—and he would write later with his characteristic humor not often found in war patrol reports that “like a relative in jail this attack makes a painful subject for discussion.”

Given that they often went days without seeing hide nor hair of the enemy, the crew was probably relieved that they would have a productive patrol when they spotted more ships a little after four that very afternoon. Unfortunately they were still submerged due to daylight and weren’t able to close to less than seven miles. But a couple of hours later, near twilight, they spotted more smoke on the horizon, crawling east. Chappell moved the Sculpin in a general direction intended to intercept, impatient for dusk and its protective cloak of darkness to set in, and a little after seven that evening they blew the klaxon three times to surface. The Sculpin’s diesels roared to life while the blower’s noisy air compressors rattled away to store air in the tanks for the next dive. Chappell plotted the

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