Startled at first, Chris remembered to respond with “Carry on.” He felt his cheeks get red and was thankful it was pitch black on the bridge. He noted the watches had completed cleaning up the wreckage and did what they could to make the space more operational as a bridge. Nothing could change the unfamiliar condition of no overhead except for the stars.
The OOD caught him looking at the bright Southern Cross. “Sir, we have come up with a plan to anchor an oil tarp from a frame welded to the forward bulkhead. It will allow plenty of air passage yet protect the watchstanders from the effects of long hours in the direct sun and rainstorms.”
“The welding will take place after sunrise, to avoid violating the darken ship policy.”
“Good job, use what resources we have, I have no idea when we’ll get yard time. But look at like this, the Brits have had open bridges since the sailing days.”
“That wouldn’t be too bad out here, but I wouldn’t want it in the north Atlantic.”
“No, neither would I.”
The Captain took the clipboard-holding all the messages that were received while he was off the bridge and went into a closed-off passageway. He went through the messages, marking off each one with his initials after reading them. Then he returned to the bridge.
“Sir, I know it’s plenty dark out here, but we had a new Captain’s chair set up on the starboard side.”
“That’s mighty thoughtful of all of you. It’s something I didn’t consider. I’m impressed with your thoughtfulness; thanks again.”
“Our pleasure, sir, the Bo’sun chimed in.”
Captain Lanner went to the chair; it looked suspiciously like a modified wardroom chair that was bolted to a raised platform, also bolted to the deck.
“We plan on having it welded to the deck as soon as its light, sir.”
“Chris shook his head and muttered, “You’re gonna spoil me” He pulled himself into the chair and opened his wheel-book. Under a small penlight, he scanned the list of officers then made notations. He moved Lieutenant Leroy Smith to the XO’s billet, Lieutenant JG Orman Bennett, to First Lieutenant/Gunnery Officer. With the Operations Officer killed, he moved Lieutenant JG Robert Brown into that slot, and Lieutenant JG Charles Flagg to take over the sonar and radar slot, even though they were inoperable. The remaining crew needed him. Satisfied with his choices, he had them called to the bridge one at a time. He first ran the list by his new XO, who agreed with it.
It was going on zero-five-hundred, and the east was growing light. “OOD, send the ship to General Quarters, submarine alert.”
“Aye, sir.”
Three minutes later, the ship’s crew reported manned and ready. Although the ship was denied radar and sonar, they could still give gunfire and depth charge support to other ships.
The seas remained quiet as the task force moved closer to Borneo’s northwestern side. The task force dropped to ten knots to give the sound people a better look at the area about the task force. The radar units reached out forty miles, searching the surface and the air for any contacts.
At zero-seven-seventeen, the cruisers taller mast allowed them to spot several surface returns, but no numbers were available yet. Everyone waited as the distance between the two groups of ships decreased with each minute.
The AARON called everyone on the TBS; “There are what appear to be two cargo, a troop, and possibly an oiler. They are being escorted by two light cruisers and eight destroyers. Section two, move near the coastline and use your camouflage painting to its maximum effectiveness. Section one will move seaward as a decoy allowing you to ambush them. Watch out for those torpedoes, and if possible, take out any cruiser within your range. Good luck to you all. AARON out.”
Captain Lanner addressed the crew over the newly rebuilt 1MC system; “This is the Captain, we are part of the second section, because of our camouflage paint scheme. We will be operating as close to the shoreline as possible. There are potential problems with this plan. We could run aground, be unable to move to deeper water, lose power, or become trapped. Our job is to ambush enemy ships as they pass. Section one will come charging in from seaward, driving them to us. That’s when we strike with all our weapons.”
“Check all of our systems, and make sure the main batteries are ready with AP and HE rounds. Our primary target will be any cruiser within range. Mounts fifty-three and fifty-four will target the bridge as the cruiser passes. Mounts fifty-one and fifty-two will target the engineering sections with AP rounds. A stroke of luck will allow us to take her out of the fight with the first salvo. The worst counter fire is going to be their torpedoes. Have our lookouts augmented with every person on deck. Enlisted, Chiefs, and Officers, everyone. Good shooting, and may God protect this crew and ship. Captain out.”
“Sir,” the OOD interjected, “the second section is peeling off to the west. Our section, according to the pre-sortie planning, will consist of; XANDER, AGAR, us, Neville, and KENDLE. XANDERS is going to back into some cover next to Pulau Beruit Island. The destroyers are to hug the shoreline to make the most of their camouflage.”
“Very well, Navigator, get us close, and please not ashore.”
“Aye, sir.”
The five ships cautiously moved closer to the massive island, its foliage and mountains providing the needed backdrop for the ships. Captain Lanner watched intensely as the ship neared the shoreline. A Boatswain was taking sounding of the water beneath the ship as they slowly approached the reef that stands out from the island up to three hundred feet. When the Captain felt they were close enough, he had the ship maintain sufficient speed to guide her near the reef. Now they waited, keeping a close ear on the TBS frequency for any reports of the enemy's approach.
The stillness of the air was almost stifling with eighty percent humidity and ninety-two degrees. The Captain said, “OOD remind me to write awards for the work the crew did on the bridge, especially installing the overhead protection.”
“Yes, sir. They did a fine job of it. It’s been cooler with this arrangement than when the overhead was there. It’s so hot with us standing still; it’s a wonder the ship continues to be tolerable under the equatorial heat.
“Sir,” called out the signal seaman, Radio reports enemy ships twenty miles northeast of us. It looks like they may be headed our way, possible fifteen miles out, single line formation.”
“Very well, Talker: To all stations, the enemy is in a one-line formation,
“The XO reported to the Captain, “The ship was ready to attack.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The jury-rigged TBS came alive, “Section two, Able-Charlie. MB out,” the cruiser Xander sent.
“OOD, have the radio messenger reset the TBS to the alternative frequency. It will be nice when we have our bulkhead mounted TBS back.”
“Aye, sir, to be sure.”
The signal messenger returned with a flimsy for the Captain. After initializing it, he read the contents twice. Then he motioned the OOD to step over. He handed the OOD the message.
OB, FN.
The enemy force is at fifteen miles distance. It consists of at least two Nagara, or Kuma light cruisers, and eight of destroyers of mixed classes.
We will attack at maximum distance, then backtrack. Hopefully, the enemy force will pursue, then the ball will be in your court.
BA sends.
The OOD called the messenger. “Write this down and take it to the temporary operations center. Armament for Kuma and Nagara class light cruisers.”
The messenger wrote it down and headed out. After locating the box containing the Japanese ship identification books, the duty Operations Officer had the information written down for the bridge. The messenger rushed back to the bridge, giving it to the OOD.
The OOD turned to the Captain; he’s studying the message. ‘The destroyers would have a mix of four-point-seven and five-inch main battery. He wasn’t sure about the cruisers.’
“Sir, here’s the information you requested.”
&nb
sp; The Captain scanned the armament on the cruisers. He was surprised to find both ships had the same caliber and general arrangements. He called for the Gunnery Officer, Lieutenant JG Orman Bennett. It only took a few moments for the junior officer to answer his Commanding Officer’s summons.
“Permission to enter the bridge?” the Lieutenant asked.
“Granted.” The OOD responded.
He went to the Captain, “You sent for me, sir?” as he glanced around at the devastated bridge.
“Yes, how is your main and secondary batteries?”
“All guns are in commission, sir; we’re fully combat-ready. The men are looking forward to tangling with the enemy.”
“We all are, it’s payback time. Very well, get your mounts and secondaries ready for surface action.”
“Aye, sir.”
“And tell them I have full confidence in them and know every one of them will do their best.”
“Thank you, sir; I know they will appreciate your confidence.” He saluted and left the bridge.
The Captain took a deep breath as he looked out the makeshift windscreen at the forward mounts. He looked at the shrapnel damage to the fifty-two mount, then said to the OOD, “I’m going to make a quick visit to the wardroom and check on the men. If anything develops, call me on the 1MC.”
The OOD acknowledged the order and began planning his action based on the current conditions.
The Captain knocked on the wardroom door in case it was in a sterile condition. A Corpsman answered and invited him in. He then called out, “Attention on deck.”
“As you were.” The Captain quickly said in a subdued voice. “We’re suspending that announcement while in the combat area.
“Aye, sir, sorry.”
“That’s alright; habits are hard to break. What is the wounded count, and how are they doing?”
“Let me get the Doctor, sir; he has those answers.”
Seconds later, the Doctor came from behind a sheet dividing the wardroom. “Captain, how may I help you?”
“I stopped by to see how you were doing. I also wanted to let you know we’re getting ready to engage the enemy again.”
“As you know, we’re missing several men, we have five men in the deep freezer, and twelve wounded. Most from flash burns in the forward mount, three with shrapnel, the rest from blunt force trauma from being thrown about.”
“I’ve reassigned men to fill the leadership positions; right now, we're hanging on with a shortage of officers. If we avoid any further losses, we’ll be in good shape. I’ll do my best to keep you out of work.”
Grinning, the doctor said, “I would appreciate that.”
If you help, let me know, and I’ll see how fast I can get it to you.”
“Thank you, Captain, stay safe up there; we can’t afford to lose you.”
“Now, on that, I will do my very best.”
Captain Lanner headed for the bridge, arriving just as the cruiser called to alert all the ships for imminent contact with hostile forces.
“Captain,” the OOD began, “the all stations have reported ready for action, engineering is ready to answer all bells, superheat is up to eight-hundred-fifty-degrees.”
“Very well. I have the conn.”
“Captain has the conn,” the OOD called out loudly, ensuring everyone was aware of who would be issuing orders that would control the ship.
“OOD, how’s after steering holding up?”
“I talked with the Chief Engineer; he has them being relieved every two hours, with four watch teams of two men each.”
“Very well.”
“Remind the lookouts to watch for movements of enemy ships in line suddenly turning away after an apparent charge. It’s indicative of a torpedo attack.”
“Yes, sir, talker contact all lookouts, pass on the Captain’s orders.
“Aye, sir.” Seconds later, the eighteen-year-old sailor replied, “Sir, all lookouts acknowledge.”
“Very well,” said the OOD, he turned toward the Captain, who simply nodded.
The mid-morning air rumbled with multiple, rapid cannon fire seven miles to the west. “Here we go,” mumbled the junior officer.
No sooner said, and the TBS lit up, “FN to all units, IJN moving to skirt the shoreline.”
“Talker, tell Engineering to expect multiple bells, and extreme maneuvers, then ship wide, standby for extreme maneuvers. Helm, standby.”
The Captain grabbed the TBS, “OB CE, Able-Charlie.”
“Gone.”
The two destroyer captains had set up a signal for a side conversation that wouldn’t interfere with the task force control.
“What’s the radar picture look like?”
“Section A has the open waters to the west and south blocked, forcing them toward us. Our paint job and lack of rapid movement have worked in our favor, but they’re gonna see us soon.”
“I hear ya, thanks, and take care.”
“You too. Out.” Both commanders switched back to the task force channel.
Again the TBS lit up, “FN to all; they’re lining up for a torpedo launch, as soon as they launch those torpedoes, turn into the launch bearing.”
The Captain stepped onto the bridge wing, where a compass repeater was mounted. He looked through the aiming device, and his eye dropped to the compass. Three-zero-five degrees. “Helm, when I give the order, make your course three-zero-five, smartly.”
“Aye, sir.” The helmsman passed the word to after steering watch.
With his binoculars to his eyes, he watched as the enemy ships move into their torpedo attack configuration. The larger lead ship, possibly a light cruiser, make a slight turn, then what looked like a black cigar, followed by a puff of condensation exploded from the tube as it launched a torpedo.
“LEFT STANDARD RUDDER, PORT ENGINE ASTERN ONE THIRD, STARBOARD ENGINE AHEAD FULL,” yelled the Captain.
The sleek destroyer heeled to starboard as she altered her course from destruction. With her move, quickly followed by the other ships of the ‘B’ section, gave them a second chance to live.
Seeing their prey turn swiftly aside, the Captain of the Kuma class light cruiser immediately gave the order to opened fire with her five-point-five inch main battery.
“RIGHT FULL RUDDER, ALL AHEAD FLANK,” the Captain ordered again. Twenty seconds later, he resumed their original course of three-zero-five, sufficient to avoid the incoming rounds. Have the Gunnery Officer concentrate on that cruiser.”
The destroyers two forward mounts began pumping out her fifty-four-pound, five-inch rounds. Without the availability of the Fire Control Director or radar, the accuracy relied on the eyes of the gun crews. The first two rounds fell short.
The six-inch, hundred-and-twelve pound shells of the AARON found a Kamikaze class destroyer, showering her with several shells that took her out of the fight.
Captain Hayata Kuramoto of the damaged Japanese destroyer hurried to the site of the closest impact to the bridge. A smoking six-inch shell punched through the base of the forward stack and destroyed the boiler's economizer tubes. With the boilers steam system opened, the forward boiler room was incapable of holding steam pressure, and the ship was limping on the second pair of boilers in the after boiler room.
He ran forward to find the forward four-point-seven gun mount destroyed. After returning the bridge, his OOD reported the number two torpedo launcher blown off the ship.
The Japanese cruiser dropped three of her five-and-a-half-inch shells into the NEVILLE, one penetrating an engine room, taking her out. Only two men survived the shell explosion and steam erupting into that spacer. Neither was expected to survive the night. Another shell destroyed two offices on the main deck, and the third demolished an after gun antiaircraft mount, killing the entire crew.
On the HALLIS Captain Lanner called out, “OOD have gunnery line up a torpedo attack on the cruiser, we’ll come about for a starboard attack. Right full rudder, all ahead standard.”
The talker p
assed the turning orders to after steering. The ship heeled to port as the rudder bit into the water.
“Aye, sir,” he gave orders to the talker, who relayed them to the new Gunnery Officer, Lieutenant JG Bennett.
Once the turn was complete, the Captain grabbed the makeshift 1MC, “all hands, we’re going to make a torpedo run on the cruiser, I want all guns firing on that ship with a maximum effort. I have no doubt we’re going to get hurt, but that ship must be stopped. Torpedo Officer, you may fire when you have a solution, control is local. Talker, repeat that over the gunnery circuit.”
He looked around at the men on the bridge. The younger men had wide eyes, those with time in the Navy showed determination to deal a serious blow to the enemy force.
“Helm center the rudder, all ahead flank, maximum speed.” The rooster tail developed as the bow wave crept toward the stern with speed increasing. The ship began skipping over the smooth sea, her speed reached thirty-seven knots, and slowly increased to thirty-seven-point-five.
With the now open bridge, the wind whistled around the men; the wind sounds becoming drowned out by the shrill scream of the forced air blower turbines and fan blades in the stacks behind the bridge. The two-thousand-ton ship was hurtling across the water at a little over forty-three-miles an hour, gaining on the cruiser, the forward guns began firing as fast as the crews could reload.
Over forty rounds of five-inch munitions screamed at over two thousand feet per second toward the cruiser within a minute. The paint on the gun barrels blistered from the heat. The men in the mounts shined in the lights in their sweat, which was running off them in small streams, their lungs crying for fresh, cool air.
“Talker, we should be about four miles from the target, open fire with the forty-millimeter cannons.” An instant later, the air was filled with the loud “POM-POM” of the larger automatic antiaircraft guns. The rounds were surprisingly effective against top-side personnel as the two-pound shells exploded across the decks.
On the AGAR, Captain Gilmore watched in horror as his friend drove his ship into worst of harm’s way. ‘What’s he thinking, taking on a cruiser by himself?’ “Helm, come to two-five-zero sharply, all ahead flank. Talker, all guns train on that cruiser when in range open fire with main battery and the forties. The Gleaves heeled to port as she came around. Then the TBS lit up with FN yelling about the two destroyers breaking the formation. “Ignore it,” snarled Gilmore.
Attack of the Greyhounds Page 14
