“Chris, stand by the after bulkhead and watch everything. Put that photographic memory to use and record everything you see and hear.”
“Aye, sir.”
The OOD was looking forward with his binoculars at his eyes, “AGAR approaching and going into her turn about.”
“Acknowledged,” the Captain said. Then he went to the TBS radio, “CE, OB, If the IJN make a quick turn away, they will have launched fish. Maintain course, but back down for thirty seconds, that should remove you from their torpedo pattern; we’ll do the same, then we open fire.”
“Roger that.”
The two groups of destroyers were hurtling at one another at a combined speed of seventy knots, eighty and a half miles an hour. Then an excited lookout yelled, “They have broken off to our port.”
“All back two thirds.” The engineers frantically kept from lifting the safeties on the boilers. The backdown caused bows of both ships plunged into the sea, catching numerous men off guard. Three men were launched into bulkheads and fixtures, causing broken arms and one collar bone. The maneuver worked, and the torpedoes sped past the ships without any contact.
The Captain called out, “All ahead, flank, commence firing at will.”
The air, whistling through the guy wires and mast fittings now quaked with multiple, sharp cracks of five-inch guns firing fifty-four-pound shells almost point-blank at the enemy ships. They, in turn, fired back with their four-point-seven main armament.
The first volley from the Momi missed the HALLIS, but the second whistled in with one round hitting secondary control, killing everyone there, including Lieutenant Michael McGuire, the new XO.
“Damage report,” the Captain called out.
Following a brief inquiry on the sound powered phones, the talker said, “Sir, Secondary Conn has been hit, there are no survivors.”
Turning to the grim-faced Lanner, “Mr. Lanner, you are my new XO. Your first duty is to double-check Secondary Conn and report back to me.”
“Aye, sir.” Chris hurriedly left the bridge and headed aft. Seconds later, he came to the space that controlled the ship in the event the bridge was taken out. The Japanese shell decimated the cramped space,
There was no fire, but black soot, blood, and body parts were scattered on and through debris. With nothing larger than part of a leg or arm. There was no way to identify any of the occupants. The ship was shut up in condition one, with the crew sealed inside the confined space.
With a sad heart, Chris Lanner, made his way back to the bridge, thinking, I was an innocent Iowa farm boy, and now I’m the Executive Officer of a man-of-war in a deadly battle with the experienced and hardened Japanese Navy. The third-largest in the world.
Chris made his report to the Captain, who made some notes in his wheel-book. “I didn’t want to put you in such a heavily responsible position so soon. However, as you see, there is no choice. Do your best; that’s all anyone could ask of you.”
“Yes, sir, you have my full support and efforts.”
“Good enough for me. That blast put our radio, radar, and sound out of action. We’ll have to get our information from the AGAR.”
“Aye, sir, I’ll get with signal and work it out with them.”
“Very well.”
Meanwhile, the Fire Control was busy targeting enemy ships, and the gunfire hadn’t diminished. Two rounds from HALLIS’ five-inch forward guns slammed into the bridge of the Momi. When the smoked cleared, the upper half of the bridge was missing, the base now, nothing but a smoking hole.
The loss of the control center temporarily silenced its guns, giving a respite to the HALLIS. “Right five degrees, helm. OOD have all guns fire on that Momi; let’s finish her off.”
The OOD acknowledged and called Fire Control, and relayed the order. Immediately after unmasking the two stern five-inch batteries, they began a five-round volley from each of the guns.
Hits began tearing the Japanese ship apart — two rounds slammed into the bow at the waterline, starting flooding forward. At the same time, three rounds crashed into the fire room, destroying the boilers and killing the engineers. One round struck the forward twin torpedo tubes, starting a fierce fire. Men assaulted the fire with firehoses as the flames ate away at the warheads. The critical temperature spiked in three and a half minutes in spite of the spray of cool seawater — the first one detonated, followed immediately by its twin. The dual explosion sliced the bow off the ship in front of the demolished bridge. Those men still alive aft the bridge began to abandon the twisted and crippled sinking ship.
The Captain said, “At one time, there would be screaming and cheering throughout this ship at the destruction of the enemy. Now, we have a ship of hardened, combat sailors who are thankful they are not the ones sinking. In a way, it’s a testimony to boys becoming men that are professional naval sailors who can fight.
Looking for the AGAR, the Captain found the ship in heavy maneuvers with the other two destroyers. “All ahead flank, helm make three-one-zero. OOD, get Fire Control on the closest Japanese can; they may fire when they have a solution.”
The OOD immediately had the talker transmit the orders. Seconds later, the four main batteries began turning to the new target.
The mounts settled then fired. A four-barreled volley rocked the ship, the air quaked, and gun smoke exploded from the muzzles of the five-inch guns. The volley was long, landing on the far side of the Momi. Corrections were quickly made, and another volley was sent on its way. The armor-piercing rounds found their target; one dropped through the deck at the base of the forward four-point-seven mount and into the handling room before exploding. The shock and fire killed all of the crew instantly and set off a string of sympathetic explosions of four-point-seven ammunition.
The port side of the bow erupted in a ball of fire, and the blast shook the HALLIS, half a mile away. The forward mount of the destroyer flared up onto its starboard side. The remaining two mounts turned to address its attacker and began trading shell with the HALLIS.
Both missed with a pair of volleys due to their twisting and turning. Captain Norwood J. Tyson turned to yell an order to the helm when a defining roar froze everything in time for an instant; then, he knew nothing. The four-point-seven high explosive shell blew the bridge and overhead with the Fire Control mount off of the ship in a thousand of pieces of steel, glass, and men.
The ship faltered for a couple of seconds, then righted itself and sailed past the enemy destroyer. The entire crew of the fifty-two mount suffered multiple wounds, but no deaths.
“Mr. Lanner, you have the conn.” The talker said. Then the young sailor’s eyes dropped a tear. “The bridge was hit by enemy gunfire and destroyed; there are no survivors.”
Chris, standing in Main Control, shocked by the talker's report. ‘It can’t be true,’ he thought. His mind was reeling with the impact.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Lieutenant Christopher Lanner found himself propelled from the B and M Division Officer’s Lieutenant Junior Grade billet to the pinnacle of Commanding Officer in less than a year. To make it worse, they were on the short end of a deadly confrontation with three Japanese destroyers.
“Talker, do you have any contact with the bridge?”
“No, sir, the entire line is down.”
“I’m going to see what’s left of the bridge, get some people up there to run new commo down to here if they can’t repair it,” he told the Chief Engineer as he headed for the ladder.
The new Captain worked his way around the main deck debris, while shells were still flying between ships. He managed to get on the bridge level, only to find it was much like a cleaned out open bridge found on British ships. The Fire Control mount and what used to be the overhead of the bridge were blown over the side. Most of the fixtures, helm, annunciators, and items attached to bulkheads had also been torn away by the blast.
The Captain spotted a seaman wandering on the main deck and got his attention, “Come up to the bridge, sailor.”
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br /> Upon arrival, the youngster asked, “Where’s the Captain?”
With a grimace, Chris said, “I’m afraid he’s dead sailor, I’m in command for the time being. Where is your battle station?”
“I was a talker in mount fifty-two, but the shelling hurt everyone, and they’re in sickbay.”
“I want you to find Mr. Smith and have him report to the bridge.”
“Aye, sir.”
Then a petty officer climbed up the ladder and began inspecting the remnants of the JV circuit. He spliced a new coil of line onto the stub. He was surprised to find the circuit worked and told the Captain.
“See if you can put the gunnery circuit back together, that’s going to be important.” The petty officer began hunting for the other severed phone circuit. The Captain picked up the new sound powered set and called After Steering. “Shift steering, the bridge has been hit, and we have no control up here.” Then he shifted to Main Control, “Send a Fireman up to the bridge to man the JV until we arrange replacements.
Just then, Mr. Smith came up the ladder. “Where’s the Captain?”
“He and the XO are dead; I’m acting Captain for now. What’s the condition in Gunnery?”
“Mounts one, three, and four are good to go. Two were damaged when the bridge was taken out.”
“Check it out, if it still works put together a new crew. With Fire Control gone, all firing will be local. If you have a man, send him up here for the phones. I have a Fireman coming up now; we will need to replace him as soon as possible.
A couple of moments later, the messenger reappeared. “I need you to find the navigator or a quartermaster.”
He was gone again. Two minutes later, the Chief Quartermaster made it to the bridge.
“Hi Chief, look, we’ve lost the Captain and XO, and I’m in the chair for now. Where is the navigator?”
“He’s in sickbay; he lost an arm.”
“Any other Officers available for navigator?”
“Let me find out, sir, and I’ll get right back to you.”
“Sir, you sent for me?” Lieutenant JG Rosen asked as he entered the wrecked bridge.
“Yes, Al, see where you can set up a makeshift navigation station, and a watch bill to man it.”
“Aye, sir. Things are a bit of a mess, aren’t they?
The fireman appeared, and the Captain had him man the phones. “Call after Steering, right standard rudder, then Main Control, give us all ahead full.
Then a Bo’sun arrived. “Get with the petty officer over there; he’s working on restoring communications, when he can, get him to set up a 1MC connection.”
“Aye, sir.”
Another junior officer arrived to take over the OOD. “Mr. Zeskie, check with Mr. Smith, we’re going to need guns very soon.
A short time later, Mr. Smith returned, “Sir, are you going back into the melee?”
“The AGAR is fighting for her life; we’re going to help her. Fireman, to Aft Steering, center the rudder and all ahead flank, Get the word out, Standby for surface action to starboard, enemy destroyers.”
The engines spooled up, and the ship’s stern squatted as she raced to help her sister ship. Mr. Smith reported, “Captain, mount fifty-two is operational and manned.”
“Very well, have all guns acquire the closest enemy ship and open fire at will when in range. We need to get the pressure off AGAR.
The ship rapidly approached the circling enemy destroyers, like sharks getting ready to take the prey. Suddenly the guns began going off. The lack of protection provided by the enclosed bridge shocked everyone with the loud cracks of the main guns.
As usual, the first shells missed but set up the corrections for the next volley. A few seconds of quiet, then the next volley shattered it. The results were different this time. Two shells landed on the after mount on a Momi. The unarmored mount was turned into junk with a loud secondary explosion.
Another round missed, then the next struck at the base of the smaller after stack, putting the third Kampon boiler out of commission. That reduced the speed of the destroyer by about a third. The ship visually lost speed. Another volley, this one was concentrated on the bridge area, decimating it. One round was low and hit the torpedo nest in front of the bridge. The blast ripped open the deadly weapons exposing the explosive charges, one of which detonated, destroying the bow section of the destroyer. The Momi, with no directional control, pushed itself away from the encircled Gleaves. Captain Lanner looked for the Mutsuki, finding her a mile away, with the AGAR between them. Now looking at a two to one disadvantage, the commander of the damaged ship decided the better part of valor was to save his ship.
The AGAR had suffered considerable damage topside but was still a capable fighter. The two joined up as the rest of the task force appeared from over the horizon. AGAR inquired by signal light, ‘state damage and casualties.”
“Signal,” the Captain called. The sailor stepped over to the new Captain, “send to AGAR: Bridge blown away, sonar, radar, radio, fire control all destroyed. Fifty-two mount damaged, but operational. KIA: Captain Tyson, XO Lieutenant McGuire, Three operations officers, eight enlisted men. Wounded include Navigation Officer. We are capable of fighting, ready for orders.”
Three minutes later, the response said, ‘Sorry bout the Captain and XO, both good men. Your fighting skills have been verified in action, thanks for helping out. If you need help, let us know.’’
Captain Lanner had the signalman send, ‘we are putting together TBS ability, will keep you advised.’
Captain Gilmore replied, ‘copy that, I will inform the TFC.’
Captain Lanner explained to those that had questions on their faces. “Captain Gilmore is the senior officer now, and he is commanding this two-ship element. Bo’sun, call for the Master-at-Arms to the bridge.”
“Aye, sir.”
When the Chief Bo’sun Mate arrived, the Captain said, “Have the Captain’s cabin secure with security locks, then place the keys in a sealed container and locked in the ship’s safe.”
“Aye, sir, and may I say, condolences for the Captain and XO, and at the same time, we have, in our humble opinion, the best man for the job on the bridge now.”
“Thank you, Chief, I was unaware the ship was that knowledgeable about me.”
“Sir, the grapevine is not always accurate, but it is right on with this one.”
“Thanks for your support, Chief, I’ll try not to screw it up.”
Fifteen minutes later, the task force sailed past the two destroyers; it's signal flags telling them to resume positions within the formation. Then the TBS began, and Captain Lanner listened as the report by Captain Gilmore filled in the force commander. Captain Appleton picked up the TBS, “OB-FN?”
“OB,” the Captain answered. “How are you holding up?”
“Quite well, sir, we have arranged our officer corps to maintain a full chain of command. All weapons are available, and the crew’s morale is high, they want blood.”
“Good, do you have any problem holding your current billet?”
“None at all, sir, I was well trained by both XO McGuire and Captain Tyson.”
“Very well, a ship of that class requires at least a Lieutenant Commander. I have contacted your Division, and you have been approved for the temporary rank of Lieutenant Commander, effective immediately.”
“That was unexpected; thank you for your confidence, sir.”
“Information has reached me; you have proven your capability to handle your ship under difficult and combat conditions. Keep up the good work. “
“Aye, sir.”
“FN out.”
The OOD approached the stunned young officer. “Let me be the first to congratulate you, sir. The officers were talking, and they came to the same agreement the Chiefs did.”
“Thank you, do me a favor, if my head swells, poke a pin in it.”
The talker spread the information on the Captain over the sound-powered phone system, and in little tim
e the ship knew they had a new Lieutenant Commander in charge. The engineers hooped and hollered at the good news, Mr. Lanner was a well-respected officer. Another issue for discussion that was talked about by the crew was the rapid sequence of events that propelled the division officer to the Commanding Officer.
Night fell with no further contact with any enemy ships or aircraft. During the Eight O’clock Reports, the Captain told the ship's officers to make sure the men get as much sleep as possible. “That may be all the good sleep they’ll get for several days.” Then he told the OOD he would be in his bunk, and to call him if there were any questions and especially if there was any contact with a ship not from the task force. Otherwise, he left orders for the watchstanders to use any available time to create a new bridge environment in the open space they now used. He also left standing orders to wake him at zero-four-hundred.
The crew opted to sleep on the weather decks rather than in the ovens below decks. Chris was exhausted. He headed for his stateroom and laid out some clean clothes, then after a quick shower, he crashed out on his bunk. At first, he had trouble getting to sleep. After running the events of the past two weeks through his mind, he dozed off, later slipping into restful REM sleep.
Chris’s foggy mind kept hearing, “Captain, Captain, time to get up, sir, its zero-four-hundred.”
Fighting through the cobwebs of a deep sleep, Chris fought his way to consciousness, and grumbled, “Okay, I’m coming back to life. Anything going on?”
“No, sir, it has been a quiet night, and now it’s time you set to be woken up.”
“Thanks, I’ll be on the bridge in a few minutes.”
He crawled out of the sweat-soaked bunk, thinking, ‘So much for a clean shower.’ Dressing in clean working khakis, he left off the Lieutenant’s double bars. ‘I need to remember to pick up some gold oak leafs the next time I get to a ship’s store.’
After stopping by the wardroom, where he picked up a cup of coffee and grabbing a donut, he headed for the bridge. When he stepped onto the bridge, the first person to see him called out, “Captain on the bridge.”
Attack of the Greyhounds Page 13
