U-Boat Scourge

by J Eugene Porter

  Willson went back to his desk and asked his aide, Lieutenant Morse, to get with the Bureau of Personnel, BUPERS, locate this sailor and report back to him immediately. The aide, knowing his boss had just come from the chief’s office knew not to ask questions. Morse went to his desk outside the office of the chief of staff and looked up the phone number for BUPERS, Vice Admiral Randal Jacobs. He wanted to talk to Jacob’s aide, an old friend of his from Annapolis, Frank Timmons, to see if he could find the person in question.

  He dialed the number and luckily, his friend Frank picked up.

  “Lieutenant Timmons, may I be of assistance?”

  Morse quickly commented, “Sounds like you’re still a plebe, Frank. Are you late for a date or a meal like usual?”

  Timmons laughed and said, “Morse, you were never a good midshipman. No wonder they have you stealing things for an admiral instead of getting sick on a ship. What can I do for the aide to the chief of staff?”

  “Well,” Morse said quickly, “can you get some information on a recruit named James Brand? Seems that Admiral King wants him bad.”

  “Whatever the admiral wishes, it will be our happy mission in BUPERS to comply,” Timmons commented with a level of false solemnity. “I’m sure this person is on the top of everyone’s list of who is important today in the U.S. Navy.” Timmons did a fake yawn to help his old friend get a belly laugh.

  “Timmons, you’re a crazy man, thanks for the kind thoughts and I’m sure the head of the navy will rest assured that all is well in the fleet today because of your zeal in doing his bidding. But, to be honest, old friend, I think there is a major push on this case, and I’m to report immediately back to my boss. So can you get some fire going with all those clerks to find a personnel jacket on this guy and let me know where he is, what he is, and how soon we can get him here?”

  “Sounds serious and if it’s that important, let me get off this call and start the wheels of bureaucracy moving. What is your extension?” Timmons now sounded like the efficient officer he was.

  “I am at 6-8-4 and if I am not here, ask for Chief Riley who is the keeper of the admiral’s calendar and all around top dog around here.” Morse sounded relieved knowing things would move fast but then asked, “How long might this search take?”

  Timmons was apologetic, “God only knows. Records are all over the place, and if this guy is new since Pearl Harbor, I don’t know how long it will take. Lots of people with lots of records floating around and not one has been centralized. Do you know what he is doing?”

  Morse looked at his note from the admiral and said, “Looks like he is a new seaman recruit so I guess that would probably be San Diego or some other of the new training centers. But Timmons,” Morse said earnestly, “make some calls and see if you can jog someone’s memory on this fast. I don’t want to tell Admiral King that we don’t know where this guy is. Okay?”

  Timmons, sensing the tension in the voice of his old classmate said, “Understood. I will get some people calling all of the recruit depots and get back to you as soon as I get on his trail.”

  “Thanks, Timmons. I appreciate the help. When I get command of my new destroyer, I will see if I can get you for my exec.”

  Morse started to laugh at the vision of a distraught Timmons playing second fiddle to him but before the picture in his mind got clearer. Timmons responded by saying, “Being a member of BUPERS, it will be my pleasure to make sure your first command is a slow-moving oiler or perhaps a tug, and I will be on the destroyer as you pass out the gas to my ship. Remember what they said at the academy, never piss off the guys in personnel.”

  4

  19 January 1942

  Navy Recruit Training Depot

  San Diego, California

  • British North Borneo is surrendered to the Japanese at Sandakan.

  • General Auchinleck issues operations instructions to commander, British Troops in Egypt (BTE) and commander, Eighth Army, restating that objective in Libya is Tripoli and outlining plan for defensive stand in the event the Libyan offensive cannot be continued.

  The day was getting off to a cool almost cold start. Up since 4:30 a.m., James and the rest of the recruits, called scum by their petty officer instructor, felt comfortable as he enjoyed the warmth of the San Diego area compared to New York City or for that matter, Flagstaff. The squad had run for a good hour, and many of the recruits were having a difficult time breathing. When Chief Dugard called a halt to the ragtag group, many simply collapsed to the ground. This was not a good thing to do with Dugard who was on his normal war path. He yelled at most of them and singled out his favorite target for punishment, Recruit Pine.

  “You, Pine, who told you to hit the deck? What gives you the right to be tired? Who do you think you are, some damn admiral?” With no reply, Dugard attacked with his foot, kicking the young eighteen year old who was all of five-foot-four and weighing maybe 120 pounds when he volunteered, but now weighed at most 105 pounds. He had done this before, putting Pine in the depot hospital for two days. Because of this and numerous other bruises and contusions, the young recruit was not healing at all. Dugard was a malevolent sadist who enjoyed picking on the young recruits in his charge.

  “Mr. Cline,” he called to his assistant, Petty Officer Second Class James T. Cline, “do you see this little boy on the ground? Do you feel sorry for him? See if he can get up on his two feet!”

  Cline went over to the recruit who was spitting blood from his mouth and frothy saliva as well.

  “Pine, get your lazy ass off the ground, or the chief will kick you all the way to Tokyo. Do you hear me, Pine, get up!”

  Pine was in great pain and could not even reply to Cline. Dugard came back and kicked him again and waited for a reaction. When he didn’t get one, he did it again. Pine writhed in pain and began a low moaning that everyone could hear.

  James could not take it anymore and yelled at Dugard. “Stop it, you are going to kill him!”

  Dugard turned quickly and strutted toward the tall recruit he knew was not a push over, but that didn’t stop Dugard. “What did you say, you piece of shit?” He swung and hit James in the gut and made him double over. “What a pansy you are,” he yelled and then began another swing at James’ head.

  James knew that he had lost his cool and now his temper, but could not restrain himself. His mentor at Cal Tech, Dr. Isuro Tomaguchi, had taught him how to defend himself and to control his emotions which were part of the teachings of the martial art known as karate. Izzy, as Dr. Tomaguchi called himself, had taken a very young teenager, who was large but not too well coordinated, and had educated him on not only the martial arts of his native Okinawa but the language and philosophy of Japan. James had found great peace in meditation and tried not to use force, but used words to disarm his opponent. Izzy had taught him to use force as a last resort to reason, but when forced, he must fight to win. Now he was faced with no option but to use his skills.

  This sadist had been attacking people and especially Recruit Pine since they began training the week of Christmas. Dugard was often hungover, and on those days Cline did the drills and seemed to be at least human in his approach to the recruits. But Dugard was a low life. Barely staying in the navy for the past sixteen years by keeping his head down and doing as little as possible. He had spent time on large ships only, preferring life on a battleship to any land-side duty station, but he had been in a lot of trouble and had been demoted on many occasions. So, the Navy Recruit Depot training was acceptable compared to getting on a small ship where he would have to do some actual work.

  Now Dugard had some real power over people who could not complain or strike back. He enjoyed this ability to hit people, watching them cower in fear. No one would hit a petty officer for any reason, and he held a lot of stuff over the head of his assistant Cline who would not make complaints against him. He hoped some low life would take a punch at him so he could make a mess out of their face and then get them court-martialed. He hoped one of the smal
ler recruits would take a swing at him because then it would be easy with little chance of injury to himself. He had been in many brawls in bars and whorehouses during his sea duties, and knew how to fight dirty. But he had never encountered anyone like Recruit Brand.

  The swing that Dugard tried to land was parried as simply as one would bat a fly and was followed by a quick chop to Dugard’s prominent Adam’s apple. He fell to the ground clutching his throat but quickly recovered.

  “Lucky punch you shit head. Now you are going to die!” Dugard lunged for James who with lightning speed cut out the chief’s legs causing him to sprawl to the ground. At this point, Cline tried to intervene, knowing he had to support his horrible leader, but only because Dugard held his future in the palm of his hands. Cline tried to grab Recruit Brand from behind, but James sensed his presence, swung around, leveled a fast jab to his solar plexus then one to his shoulder, dislocating it. Cline went down hard, yelling in pain. Dugard got up and charged the recruit. Again, James avoided the force of the man’s fist, grabbed the arm it was attached to and twisted until it broke. Then with his leg, James smashed into the petty officer’s groin and finally crashed his body to the ground knocking the air out of his lungs. Dugard lost consciousness. At that point, another petty officer and at least two officers charged the scene. James quietly stepped back into formation and helped young Pine to his feet, knowing his naval career was probably over.

  But Brand was lucky. One of the officers witnessing the one-sided conflict was Lt. (jg) Hiram Feldman, a navy doctor trying to find out what Dugard was doing to his recruits. He did not believe the reports he received every time a recruit entered the hospital. As the new doctor on the floor, he got all the recruit cases and none of the officer and regular navy personnel who had less serious problems. Feldman knew that no other petty officer had as many serious injuries among recruits as Dugard. He also logged smaller cases from this sadistic trainer, which were four times any other person on the base. No one ever brought charges, but an epidemic of falling in the shower caused the doctor to question this particular unit. He had witnessed the same thing in New York City as an intern doing rounds in the police jail on Ryker’s Island. He knew which jailer was a sadist or a homosexual or both, and had found out he needed a lot of evidence to make the authorities take notice.

  Today, Feldman had taken the early morning sick call, then decided to check out what Dugard was doing to his recruits. Using his best medical methodology, he had recorded several minor events, and had been trying to develop the entire picture so he could take it to the chief medical officer and then to the base commander. But he needed proof, and now he had it. He had witnessed the brutality of Dugard’s runs, which were double what other petty officers did every day, and saw him kick the young recruit on the ground. He was close enough to know the young, tall recruit yelled at Dugard to stop and saw the petty officer turn his wrath on him. He had seen the first hit Dugard landed and wondered why that punch had not knocked the recruit to the ground or at least staggered him. The recruit seemed to stand into the hit, then brace for another attack when he decided to defend himself with the most complex fighting moves the young doctor had ever seen.

  Dr. Feldman was the last officer to arrive at the scene, and several petty officers had surrounded the young recruit who had waylaid their compatriot, but the recruit did not take a defensive stand. A superior officer yelled over to the petty officers to march the recruit over to the brig and await further orders. The recruit saluted the officer and marched off with two petty officers who gave him a big lead. The doctor went to the aide of the recruit first, then to Dugard and Cline. Both required stitches and the setting of bones. Both yelled in agony as another officer asked what had happened. The recruits said nothing, fearful of the consequences. The remaining petty officers also said nothing, knowing full well their fellow instructor was a sadist who caused huge problems for everyone.

  The young doctor quickly spoke, “I saw the whole thing, and everything will be in my report on Dugard and what has transpired to this point. The recruit acted in self-defense, and these two deserved everything they got.”

  A second officer, also a lieutenant junior grade, shook his head in an affirmative manner, knowing Dugard was a problem, but knew under navy rules known as “Rocks and Shoals,” not every action of self-defense was legal or appropriate. He had only seen the petty officer go down not what transpired prior, so he had only part of the story.

  As the ambulance crew put the petty officers and the injured recruit in the van, Dr. Feldman knew he had a difficult case to prove and needed a lot of help which he would not get on the base. He was a new reserve officer, and as such, did not understand the importance of command and discipline. He remembered his experience at the city jail in New York and the problems he had making that case. He hoped he could find someone willing to come to the aid of the young recruit.

  Dr. Feldman did not have to wait long for the assistance he was looking for, and when it arrived, it amazed everyone on the base.

  5

  22 January 1942

  North Island Naval Aviation Base

  San Diego, California

  • Luzon, Philippines--Japanese reinforcements land in Subic Bay area, Philippines

  • Allied forces evacuate Lae and Salamaua, New Guinea.

  Admiral James J. Bridges had spent some sixteen hours in a Coronado flying boat which departed Pearl Harbor yesterday, or so the calendar said. He felt like he had been in a plane for two days with the constant drumming of the engines and the buffeting of the air on the long passage to California. He had spent the past two weeks at Pearl on assignment for Secretary of the Navy Frank Knox to further evaluate the reasons for the losses sustained on December 7. The Secretary had been dispatched within three days of the disaster at Pearl by President Roosevelt, and his initial report was damning of not only navy leadership but also the army who handled air defenses for the island.

  Upon his return, Knox met with the new chief of the United States Fleet, Admiral King, who had replaced Admiral Stark, now designated chief of Naval Operations. After the meeting, he decided to send a seasoned investigator to Pearl to determine if there were additional grounds for prosecution of all individuals who were associated with the disaster. Admiral King recommended Admiral Bridges for this thankless task.

  Bridges had graduated from Annapolis with the class of 1909 and had served meritoriously in WWI and had received the Navy Cross for actions with a German U-boat which resulted in serious injuries to the young lieutenant commander. These injuries ended any hope for a sea career because of muscle and leg damage sustained in the attack on the U-boat. Nevertheless, the navy saw a model officer in the young hero who also possessed a brilliant mind and an uncanny ability to remember the most obscure details. He was encouraged in 1918 by the young Assistant Secretary of the Navy Franklin Roosevelt, to attend law school on the navy’s dime, which he did, knowing a sea career was no long possible. He graduated second in his class at Columbia Law and began his climb to the top legal job in the navy, flag rank, and leader of the Judge Advocate General organization of the U.S. Navy. He retired in 1939 but like other flag officers, was held in reserve. When he received a call from Admiral Stark in early 1941 to assist in the challenges with the Lend-Lease program and the U.S. Atlantic Neutrality Zone, he jumped at the chance to serve again.

  When war broke out, Admiral Bridges was seconded to Admiral Stark’s staff to consider all the legal issues arising with the war and then was sent to Pearl Harbor to begin the investigation of the leadership, and any other such matters that he deemed should be examined. His briefcase was full of interview notes and his young aide, Lt. Paul Haslett, had boxes of papers, reports, and depositions to sort through to make the report not only coherent but factual.

  After a long shower, Admiral Bridges put on his uniform, which had just returned from the base cleaners. He was looking forward to a nice dinner and sleeping in a real bed for at least twelve hours when his
aide knocked on his door.

  “Come,” said the admiral, knowing no one else on the base would dare interrupt his time after he left orders with the base commander what his wishes were. No one ever tried to cross a JAG admiral for fear of ruining a career.

  “Admiral, sorry to interrupt you, but I received a signal from Admiral King that requires your immediate attention.” Haslett waited for permission to talk, and the admiral gave him a come-on signal with his hand.

  “Sir, the signal says that you are to meet with a Commander Jameson who should arrive in San Diego at 1200 hours. He will provide you with your orders. It comes from the chief of staff and requests your immediate attention. That is all it says, but it is listed Top Secret.”

  The admiral took the flimsy as they were called and read it knowing his young aide never added or deleted the facts. “Humph, what is all this about and this secret stuff? I wonder what King is up to these days. Okay, Haslett, when the commander gets here, show him in and stand by. Until then, see if you can get me a steak, eggs, and some decent bread. Get one for yourself and join me so we can talk about our report.”

  “Aye, aye sir.” The lieutenant left as quietly as he had entered. The admiral smiled at the efficiency of his aide who had joined him only three months ago. The aide was a top lawyer at one of the biggest New York City law firms, making more in a month than a rear admiral made in a year. The young man had stayed in the Naval Reserve from his Harvard undergraduate days, and this made him a trusted aide who could handle some of the issues the admiral was investigating.

  At 1230 hours, a marine orderly, assigned by the base commander to support the visiting admiral, knocked on the door and was greeted with a “Come” by the booming voice on the other side of the door. The corporal entered, came to attention and stated a Commander Jameson and a marine lieutenant were reporting to the admiral as ordered. The admiral waved his hand, and the corporal did a smart about face and held the door open while a navy commander and marine first lieutenant came in and snapped to attention.