CHAPTER FIFTEEN
FIND THE CONVOY!
March and Larry stood over the navigation table and looked at charts.
“We’re just about here now,” March said, pointing to a spot not fareast of the Philippines.
“What’s that?” Larry asked, putting his finger tip on a tiny dot nearby.
“A tiny atoll,” March said. “Couple of hundred yards long, that’s all.”
“Let’s pull into the lee of it and surface,” Larry said. “There won’tbe any Japs on something that small. We can charge the batteries upfull, get plenty of fresh air, and plan our campaign from here on in.”
“Right,” March agreed. “We’ll reach it in about an hour. We’ve goneabout two hours since the patrol plane left us.”
So it was that Scoot Bailey, lying at the edge of the beach not farfrom his wrecked plane, which he had covered with boughs so it wouldnot be seen by Jap patrols, heard a rushing of water a little way fromshore and saw a huge black hull appear from the deep, not a hundredfeet out!
He scrambled behind a bush quickly and peered out cautiously, though itwas so dark that no one on the sub could possibly have seen him.
“A sub!” he exclaimed. “But the question is—Jap or American?”
He tried to find a marking that would tell him the answer to hisquestion, but it was too dark to see anything. Then he made out figuresof men on the bridge, two men looking around. One said something to theother, but so low that he could not make out the language. One of themen took up a lookout position.
“If it’s a Jap,” Scoot muttered to himself, “I’d hate to let it getaway from me. I’m probably not in any danger. It must just be up tocharge batteries. They wouldn’t come ashore here for anything—nothingto come for, unless some of the men just want to plant their feet onsolid ground for a change. Even then I can hide.”
He thought hard. “Seems as if there ought to be something I could do,though one grounded flier against a sub is kind of tough odds.”
He was so busy trying to think what he could do to sink a Jap submarinesingle-handed that he convinced himself that it _was_ Japanese.
“The machine guns in my plane!” he exclaimed suddenly. “They probablystill work if I can get at them. The plane’s heading the wrong way or Icould just shoot them as is. But maybe I can get one or two out.”
Then he wondered if fifty-caliber machine-gun bullets could possiblysink a submarine.
“Probably not,” he told himself. “But they could pick off quite a fewofficers and men. And then if the rest decided to come and get me, I’dget quite a few more on their way in.”
Suddenly the Diesels on the submarine roared into life, and quicklysettled down to a steady purr.
“Charging batteries is right,” Scoot told himself. “That’s just enoughsound to keep them from hearing me try to get a gun out of my plane. Ofcourse, they’ve probably got their own machine gun unlimbered up there.Usually do when they’re surfaced like this. But—well, I’ll see what Ican do.”
Scoot crawled over to his plane and started to work. Taking off theengine cowling seemed to him to make a terrific noise and he stopped tolisten, wondering if he had been heard. The sound from the Dieselsseemed very low. And then he heard something—something that made hisheart leap.
“Car—reee me back to old Virginnneee!” sang a high tenor voice. Thelookout was indulging in his favorite sport. Scoot leaped out on theshore.
“Yippeeee!” he shouted at the top of his lungs.
On the bridge of the submarine, March whirled around at the sound ofthe strange cry from the tiny island. Without a word one of theenlisted men had leaped to the machine gun and now he poured a round ofshots at the shore. Then there was silence for a moment. From behind apalm tree came a voice.
“Say—have a heart!” Scoot cried. “I’m an American!”
“How do we know?” demanded March over the sound of the Diesels. Hewould like to have shut them off so he could hear better, but he wantedto keep them running for a quick getaway in case there was any sort ofJap force on that tiny atoll. The sound of the American voice soundedgenuine, but you could never be sure. Too many Japs who had lived inAmerica went back home to fight in Jap armies. They spoke Englishfairly well, some of them, and they had used it to trick trustingAmericans too many times.
By this time Larry Gray had scrambled up on the bridge beside March whoquickly explained what had happened. Stan and Mac joined them,wondering at the sound of machine-gun fire.
“I’m an American flier!” Scoot shouted back. “Crashed here thisafternoon.”
“Turn on the searchlight!” Larry ordered, and in a moment the powerfulbeam found the lone figure on the rocky beach.
“Only one man,” March said. “And it sure looks like a Navy uniform,slightly mussed up. He must be okay, Skipper.”
“Can’t ever be sure,” Larry said. “There may be a pack of Japs backbehind those trees. It may be a swiped uniform, anyway.”
“But he looks white and tall,” March said.
“Yes, he does,” Larry agreed. “But if he’s an American—wait, he’scalling.”
“I know you can’t take any chances on a trap,” the voice came to themover the water. “You tell me what to do and I’ll do it—to the letter.”
“All right,” Larry called back. “We’re sure you must be American, allright, but we won’t take a chance. Take your clothes off and swim outto us. We’ll keep the light on you and you’re covered at every minutewith a machine gun.”
On shore Scoot gulped at the idea of the machine gun pointing at himevery minute. But he agreed, knowing that in a similar situation hewould be just as cautious about any possible Jap trick. He quicklystripped to his underwear, leaving his clothes on the rocks at hisfeet. Then, arms in the air so the men on the sub would see that hecarried nothing, he waded into the water, always in the bright spot ofthe searchlight. When the water came up to his chest he bent forwardand started swimming, being careful to raise both arms well out of thewater at each stroke. But he had to keep his head down and his eyesaverted because of the bright glare of the light.
Soon his hand struck the steel side of the hull and helping armsreached down to pull him up on the deck. Two enlisted men and McFeewere there, looking him over carefully.
“He’s okay, Skipper!” Mac called up to the bridge. “Not a thing on himand he’s as American as Uncle Sam.” Then to Scoot, “How are you,fellow? Glad we found you. Come on up.”
He led the dripping Scoot to the ladder leading up to the bridge. As heclimbed over the edge, Scoot saw a familiar face—and almost fell overbackward to the deck again!
“March!” he yelled at the top of his lungs.
“Scoot Bailey!” March cried, rushing forward. He threw his arms aroundthe shivering and wet flier and pounded him on the back. “Scoot, myboy! It’s really you! How on earth—”
But Scoot was shouting and talking, too, laughing and dazed by the manythings that had happened to him in the last few hours.
McFee and the enlisted men looked on in amazement at the scene, butLarry Gray was smiling. He remembered the name of Scoot Bailey from themany things March had told him about his closest friend. And he hadseen enough strange things happen in the war not to be too startled atanything that happened out in the middle of the ocean.
In a few minutes they had gone below and Scoot was wrapped in a blanketwhile two men put out in a collapsible boat to bring his clothes fromthe island. Scoot sat with the others in the tiny ready-room and dranka cup of hot coffee, while they talked and asked questions and answeredthem.
_March Pounded Scoot on the Back_]
Soon everyone was brought up to date on the most important things thathad been happening. McFee and Stan, who had joined them, knew who Scootwas and how he came to be there. Outside, word went scurrying aroundamong the men that they’d picked up a Navy flier, that it had turnedout to be the exec’s oldest and best friend. Ever
ybody felt happy.
“With a stroke of luck like that,” Pete Kalinsky said, “maybe we canfind that Jap convoy now.”
March told Scoot about their search for the convoy, their encounterwith the Jap patrol plane that very afternoon, and how the Americanplane had chased him away. Scoot was serious right away.
“Two-motored Aichi flying boat?” he asked.
“Yes, why?” March asked.
“I took care of him for you,” Scoot said with a smile. “He _will_ tryto depth-charge my friend, will he? Well, he won’t do _that_ any more.”
Scoot told them about his leaky oil line, his encounter with the Japplane, shooting it down, and then making the tiny island in a glide.
“And then I came along and picked you up,” March laughed, “with only afew hours’ wait.”
“Remember—a long time ago,” Scoot said, “you told me you’d probablyhave to come along in your sub and save me from a bunch of Japs?”
“Sure I remember!” March cried. “Didn’t know I was such a good prophet.”
“You didn’t save me from any Japs,” Scoot snorted. “Just from boredomspending the rest of the war on that island. But let me tell youanother thing—you don’t know how close you came to getting killed.”
“What do you mean?” Larry asked.
“I mean you ought to pin a medal on whoever it is in your crew thatsings ‘Carry me Back to old Virginny,’” Scoot said. “Up to that time Ihad decided you were Japs and I was getting a machine gun out of myplane.”
“You mean you were going to attack us single-handed?” demanded StanBigelow.
“Sure—I didn’t have anybody else to help me, so it had to besingle-handed,” Scoot said. “I didn’t think I could sink the sub, but Ithought I could wait till a lot of officers and men were on deck andpick off most of them.”
“Now, that’s the spirit I like,” Larry said. “Glad to have you along onthis trip with us.”
“Oh—” Scoot looked startled. “I hadn’t thought of that. I suppose Ihave to go along with you.”
March laughed. “Of course, you do. We’re not a bus service. We’re outlooking for a Jap convoy and we can’t very well take time to run youback to your base or carrier before going on.”
“Well, so I’m a submariner after all,” Scoot said. “Nice looking boat,I must say. Can I look her over?”
“Sure, from stem to stern,” Larry agreed. “But not until you’ve eatensomething. I imagine that island didn’t provide you with much of adinner. The cook is fixing up something for you.”
So Scoot got into his clothes and ate a delicious meal over which heexclaimed mightily.
“Say, there’s something to pigboat service, anyway,” he said. “Ithought we ate pretty well on the _Bunker Hill_ but this is fit for aking.”
“Submarine men _are_ kings,” March said, and for once Scoot would notargue on their favorite subject of the past.
Soon they went to bed, except for those on watch, and at dawn the nextmorning proceeded on their way, submerged. Scoot was fascinated at thediving operation and looked with some awe on March as he carried outthe complicated maneuver. It was only then that he learned that Marchhad become second in command of _Kamongo_. March then led his friend ona tour of the submarine, explaining the workings of all the complicatedmachinery, introducing him to the crew, who welcomed him warmly.
“Not bad, not bad,” Scoot said. “I begin to see why you like all thisso much. Nice small crowd here, all getting along well together. And Idon’t mind the idea of being under water at all, the way I thought Iwould.”
Scoot and March and Larry sat down in the wardroom to go over theirplans.
“You see,” Larry explained, “I have a hunch the Japs are following acourse with this convoy entirely different from any they’ve followedbefore. They are aware that we know they’ll reinforce Truk as fast aspossible. So we’re looking for them to take a direct route. But theChinese reported that there was something strange about the route. Whatis it? It’s that it is so indirect.”
“Sounds reasonable,” Scoot agreed.
“Well, they don’t want to take forever getting there, however,” Larrywent on, “so they’re not being too indirect. I wouldn’t be a bitsurprised if they went down the western side of the Philippines, as ifheading for Indo-China or Burma or the Dutch East Indies. Then theymight cut through east above Mindanao, the lower of the big islands inthe Philippines. After that they’d make a fast dash straight east forTruk.”
“Why wouldn’t we catch them easily there?” March asked.
“We might,” Larry explained. “But for some time they’d be underprotection of land-based planes from the Philippines. Then, too, we’dbe anxious to scout them out as early as possible, so our subs would befarther north, looking along the more direct routes. They’d have achance of getting through without a scratch, but anyway they’d not havefar to go after we _did_ sight them.”
“What do you want to do now?” Scoot asked.
“I’m heading west toward the Philippines trying to test my theory,”Larry said. “But I can’t make much speed, having to run submerged inthe daytime. I’m afraid they may be out in the clear before I can getthere, but I’m keeping my fingers crossed.”
All day long they ran submerged, keeping a constant lookout. They saw aJap patrol plane and dived out of sight before he got near them. Butthere was no sight of the convoy. Darkness began to creep over theocean and they were getting ready to surface when Larry, at theperiscope, saw a Jap seaplane.
“Over to the right,” he said. “Doesn’t see us. He’s too low. We won’tneed to dive unless he pulls up higher again. No—he’s coming down onthe water. Must be something there.”
March took a look and thought he saw a small island near the Jap plane.
“Getting too dark to see clearly,” he said. “Shall we go over and havea look, Skipper?”
“Yes, let’s do,” Larry said. “I’m curious about a seaplane here. That’sthe kind that’s got pontoons and is usually catapulted from abattleship or cruiser. You wouldn’t expect them out here. They can’t dolong cruising.”
March gave the order to change course, and they stayed under the wateras they neared the island.
“Hope there’s still enough light by the time we get close enough tohave a good look,” Larry said as he peered through the periscope. “Goodthing it isn’t overcast today or we couldn’t see a thing. And Iwouldn’t want to hang around until morning just for a look at whatmight turn out to be nothing.”
In another few minutes they were close enough to see, and Larryreported to the others that a small boat was just putting off from theseaplane which was anchored to a buoy in the little harbor. Scoot tooka look.
“Boy, those periscopes are wonders,” he exclaimed. “Sharp as can be.Sure, I know the ship. And there’s two naval fliers in the dinghy withtwo Jap soldiers rowing them to shore. A whole flock of soldiers onshore. Wonder what it’s all about.”
As March and the others had a look, Larry told them all what he thoughtthis latest event meant.
“Seaplanes come from battleships or cruisers usually,” he said. “Ithink this plane might well be from some of the warships protecting theconvoy headed for Truk. The Japs have got lookout posts on a lot ofthese little islands here—probably plenty more than usual right now.They aren’t trusting to radio, even in code, any more than we are. Andthey’re having a seaplane or two go out ahead of the convoy to pick upreports from their garrisons on the various islands. This is theplane’s last stop for the night. In the morning he’ll go back to hisship and make his report as to how many American patrol planes or subshave been seen in the area by these outposts.”
The others thought this over and agreed that it was a likelyhypothesis. Then Scoot asked for another look at the periscope, and theothers sensed that there was some excitement in his attitude. When heturned away from the ’scope he said to Larry. “Can I talk to you aboutan idea I’ve got?”
“Sure, come into
the wardroom,” Larry said with an eager smile. “Comealong, March.”
They sat down around the little table.
“Now what is it?” Larry asked.
“Here’s the idea,” Scoot said. “I know that plane—all about it. Theymade us study those things, though I couldn’t see the point of it atthe time. It usually has two men in it. Two men went ashore. So theplane’s unattended. I’m going to swipe it!”
“Swipe it!” Larry and March exclaimed together.
“Sure!” Scoot said. “If you can surface enough to let me out—later whenit’s good and dark—I’ll swim to it, get in, cut the anchor, and be offbefore those Nips know what’s going on.”
“Then what will you do?” Larry demanded.
“I’m in a Jap seaplane,” Scoot said. “Outposts won’t pay any attentionto me, because I’m right where a Jap seaplane ought to be flying along,going back to its battleship in the morning. Nobody will question me byradio because they’re keeping radio silence.”
“All this is assuming that my hypothesis is correct,” Larry said.
“I think it is,” Scoot said. “At least it’s what a hypothesis is—a goodbasis on which to work until it’s disproved. So let’s go ahead. Youwant to find this convoy faster than your sub can get you there. Inthat plane I can find it in a hurry—if it’s there.”
“You certainly can,” Larry agreed, beginning to get excited aboutScoot’s idea. “But when you’ve found it—what then?”
“Well—I get word to you somehow,” Scoot said. “Now, let’s see—”
“I’ve got an idea,” March said. “Scoot sights the convoy, gets a lineon its size and direction, then turns around and heads right backagain. He knows our exact course. He’ll come down on that course at aspot we designate. We’ll surface and pick him up there. That eliminatesall radio communication—even if that Jap plane has a radio and Scootcan get it on our wave-length and use it. And if he did we’d have to betraveling on the surface to get his message any distance away, and we’dbetter not do that too much.”
“Sounds okay,” Larry said. “But what happens on that Jap convoy whenthey see their seaplane approach, look around, and then head backagain? Won’t they think that’s mighty funny?”
“Sure they will,” Scoot said. “And I can’t quite guess what they’ll doabout it. Maybe nothing, just put it down as another Jap pilot gonewacky. Anyway, they won’t feel there’s any danger. But they might sendanother plane up to have a look and see what’s wrong. I’d just hope tobe on my way by that time and out of his reach. Anyway, that’s one ofthe chances we take. While I’m flying there I can get the Jap radio inshape, so that I could radio a message to you if I saw I was going tobe shot down. You could surface for a short while about the time thatmight be happening, so you’d get any message.”
“Well,” Larry said, “there are a lot of _if’s_ in this wholeproposition, but for some reason I like it.”
“What’s the gamble?” Scoot demanded.
“You,” Larry said. “Your life.”
“And that’s mighty little chance for the U.S. Navy to take if it meansfinding this convoy early enough to wipe it out before it reaches Truk.If the idea doesn’t work, then we’ve just been wrong and missed ourconvoy. Maybe you pick me up safe and sound as planned and maybe not.That’s all.”
“What do you think, March?” Larry asked.
“Well—” March hesitated. “Well—I think it’s worth a shot, if Scootthinks he can get that plane away.”
“That’s the easiest part of it,” Scoot said. “Remember what a goodswimmer I am. I swam to get to the sub and now I’ll swim away from it.”
Larry Gray thought for a while before making up his mind. It was hisresponsibility, this decision, and he had to weigh it carefully.Finally he spoke.
“All right, we’ll try it,” he said, and Scoot allowed himself a mildwhoop of pleasure. “Here’s the plan, to get it clear. We surface inabout six hours, when everybody except a sentry or two will be asleep.Scoot is ready to go and he swims to the plane. We stay up just longenough to see that he gets away, then we dive and set out on our coursewhich Scoot knows. He flies toward the passage above Mindinao, where Ithink the convoy might be. If he doesn’t sight it within two hoursflying he turns around and flies back, landing on the sea at a spotagreed on in advance. If the weather’s bad, that’ll be tough, ofcourse. We surface for a while, riding the vents and ready tocrash-dive. So we can pick up Scoot if he’s even near the designatedspot.”
Larry paused for a moment and the others remained silent.
“If Scoot sights the convoy, he can tell fast how many ships, whatspeed, what direction. He heads back for that spot on the ocean asplanned and we pick him up. If the Japs send up a plane or planes toget him, and if they attack him, he’ll try to parachute out with hislife belt, or get his plane down whole or something so he can be pickedup on our course. Anyway, if attacked, he may radio us about the convoyfirst if he’s been able to get the plane’s radio going.”
“What do we do,” March asked, “if Scoot does find the convoy?”
“Then we radio,” Larry said. “The Japs may hear us, but we can’t helpthat. But we’ll go on in to the attack alone. We’ll try to get underand come up in the middle of the convoy so as to scatter it in time forthe other subs and the planes that will be coming after they get ourradio message.”
“All clear,” March said. “Now let’s set our course and select our spotfor picking up Scoot.”
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March Anson and Scoot Bailey of the U.S. Navy Page 16
