The Silent Service in World War II: The Story of the U.S. Navy Submarine Force in the Words of the Men Who Lived It by Michael Green & Edward Monroe-Jones

Author:Michael Green & Edward Monroe-Jones [Green, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: HISTORY / Military / World War II
Publisher: Casemate
Published: 2012-12-07T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 26

JULY 1944

PENNY PICKED ME

BY BILL GLEASON

Enlisted man Bill Gleason aboard Gurnard (SS-254) couldn’t resist the sad face of a mutt named Penny. Hiding the dog in a submarine was a full time job.

It was July 8, 1944 and the Gurnard (SS-254) was the outboard ship preparing to get underway. After morning quarters we stationed the maneuvering watch, for which I had no station. I remained topside by the gangway talking to my torpedoman buddy, Bill Parks when a little black dog ran across the gangway right to Parks and me. I picked up the little pooch and placed it back on the gangway, heading it back where it came from.

Turning away, ready to go below, I started down the forward torpedo room hatch. With my feet on the escape trunk ladder rungs, I heard the engines starting and peeked over the deck rim to see the smoke they made when starting. The OD was on the bridge barking orders. I took one last look at the Fremantle shore and there in front of me, eyeball to eyeball, the dog was trying to get on my shoulder. Quickly looking at the bridge, then aft, seeing that no one was looking, I picked it up and put it in my jacket and went below, hiding it so as not to give my secret away. It was a spontaneous reaction in response to the dog’s pleading eyes.

Up to my bunk we went, taking heed to prevent any unnecessary commotion. I didn’t want to draw attention to my newly acquired shipmate. The 1MC came on and the starboard sea detail was set. We were underway and I had no idea what problems my new little friend might bring. I was in the port watch section. This gave me four hours to orient my new pal to his or her new home. A name was to be had, food, water and toilet arrange ments figured out. The first three were comparatively easy, but the last presented a major problem. When one has a problem on a submarine it is best to share it with someone. This time I thought of Parks.

The dog I named Penny because, she, as I discovered, was just so much small change. She was sleeping when I left her to go forward to see Parks at his station at the torpedo tubes. I explained the best I could to him about my predicament. He was flabbergasted. We discussed the alternatives; there were none. Finally I convinced him to help me out. Bill was starboard watch, I was port. He would keep her in the forward torpedo room while I was on watch in the control room.

While we were talking, my eye caught Penny hopping through the water-tight door into forward battery, where she squatted and did her business. Both Parks and I gasped at her audacity, but she had the right instinct. If one has to go somewhere, where better than officers’ quarters? Luckily no officer had noticed her. Those in the forward room who saw Penny thought they had the after-affects from too much Fremantle booze.

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