U-Boat Scourge

by J Eugene Porter

  Schmidt came in looking groggy. Up until a few minutes ago he had been sleeping and serenading his non-com roommates. Now wide awake, he wondered what the commotion was all about. The commander looked at the middle-aged man and regretted they had to wake him.

  “Chief, I need to get a long message to Admiral Willson. Can you get this out through the teletype services here at the sub base?”

  Upon arriving at the base, Schmidt had checked out the communications and found them more than adequate. “Sir, there will be no problem sending anything out from the base. I have talked to the chief who runs the communications hut and he knows our priority status. Evidently, the base XO alerted them to do whatever we needed, whenever we needed it. How long is the message?”

  Jameson handed over the message Brand had typed. It ran three pages with headers and padding. The kid officer knew security, Schmidt thought to himself, and he is one hell of a typist. I would kill for someone to work for me with this quality of work. As he read through the message, he paused.

  Jameson asked, “Questions, Chief?”

  “Yes sir, do you want to send this in full code because of the nature of the text? It will take a bit longer to decode on their end, but if they are expecting it, they can tackle it quickly. I think if you were to place a call to whoever is holding the fort tonight in the admiral’s office, they could alert Main Navy’s communications center that this is coming.” Schmidt knowing the contents of the message wanted to ensure full security from any eyes not in the know.

  “Chief, that’s a good idea. I want this sent in code, even though we are stateside. You never know whose eyes are looking over someone’s shoulders. I will make a call. You go send the message.” Jameson looked over to Corporal Dillard who had been the door guard along with Sergeant McBride and said, “Dillard, wake up Sergeant Laird and get Dean as well. Then escort the chief to the communications center. Let no one in the room while Schmidt sends the message and waits for confirmation. Got it?”

  “Aye, aye sir. I will tell Sergeant McBride to hold the fort until I return. Shouldn’t take more than ten minutes, sir.”

  After the corporal left with Schmidt, the commander picked up a phone and asked to place a priority call. The switchboard was prepared to give the commander top priority for any call he wanted to make. The call was connected in only a couple of minutes, which Jameson thought was good for midnight.

  On the other end of the line, a fully awake lieutenant who had drawn night duty quickly picked up the phone, “Admiral Willson’s office, Lieutenant Ward speaking.”

  Jameson spoke quickly, “Lieutenant, this is Commander Jameson. Code Charlie Mike Wilco. Do you understand?”

  The lieutenant looked at his special communications list and saw the name and the authentication code and immediately responded, “Sir, I authenticate. How may I be of service to the commander, this evening, no, sorry sir, morning.”

  Jameson let out a small laugh as it was expected to keep the young communications officer awake in the middle of the night. “Lieutenant, there is a top-secret message being sent to Admiral Willson as we speak. It is coming via teletype from New London. Please ensure a decoded copy is available to the admiral as soon as he arrives in the morning. There is no need to wake him. It requests that once he reviews it, he is to confirm or deny the action requested. This can be sent via telephone to Capt. E. F. Cutts’ office at Sub Base New London. The contact information is included in the message. Any questions, Lieutenant?”

  The lieutenant wrote everything in a phone log. As he finished, he read back over it to ensure that he had it correctly. He then said, “Sir, I will have the communique flagged as soon as we hang up and ensure that it is hand delivered to this office. If the admiral is not in by the time my shift is up, I will stay to answer any questions that the admiral has. Is there anything else, sir?”

  Jameson was aware of the high level of integrity and security in the people serving in communications for Admiral King and did not have to worry about what would happen to the message. “No, that should be all, Lieutenant. Thank you for your dedication to duty, even at midnight.” With that, he hung up for he knew the communications lieutenant was already making a call to the secure communications room to expect a message for Admiral Willson. The communications lieutenant knew any message for Willson was actually for Admiral King and it would be unwise for one’s career to mess up anything going to the chief.

  Jameson looked at Brand and said, “James, get some sleep. We will reconvene at 0600 hours. If I know Admiral Willson, he’ll be responding to the message by 0700 hours. We need to get with Captain Cutts to set up the meeting.”

  Jameson was correct in his estimation of the time that Willson would see the message from New London. He figured Willson would read through it twice, make a few notes, then see Admiral King. King would be in the office early as well. Jameson thought King would approve Brand’s plan without hesitation. He was aware of the security concerns of this type of message, but was also concerned for the safety of his warriors. He had a deep bond and respect for the men of the “silent service” and now as the commander in chief of the U.S. Fleet, he was sending these men off to their possible deaths. Any information that could help one of them survive to fight again was well worth it.

  Jameson, Flannigan, and Brand were sitting in the officer’s mess when a commander, whom they knew as the base training officer, walked in holding a small piece of paper. He made a beeline for their table, and waved the two junior officers down without a word as they were about to stand. “Commander Jameson, my name is Brownlee, and I work for Captain Cutts.”

  Jameson extended his hand and Brownlee handed him the paper. “The captain wanted you to see this message from Admiral King and asked if you could come see him as soon as you finish with breakfast.”

  Jameson read the note which was very short and to the point.

  Commander Jameson c/o Captain Cutts

  New London Submarine Base

  Acknowledge receipt of your message dated February 23. In total agreement with your plan to brief active duty commanding officers and senior base staff who may be engaged in training of senior submarine officers.

  I await your full report. Inform Willson of your ETA to Washington.

  King

  Brownlee had not met Commander Jameson before now. All he knew was the limited information relayed by Captain Cutts. He had no idea what this man and his team were doing, except for rumors about them taking the Greenling out for most of the day and doing some sort of exercise involving a plane. As senior training officer for the base, he was dying to find out what the message from Admiral King was all about. He did not have long to wait.

  Jameson passed the message to Flannigan and Brand then addressed Brownlee, “Commander, how many submarines are currently at the base with full crews and designated commanding officers?”

  Brownlee thought quickly, glancing at the ceiling as he did a double count of all boats. “Commander, we have four boats in work up, two that have just been commissioned including the Greenling and five old S-boats used in training. Each of them has a full complement of officers for training both enlisted crews and officers.”

  “Commander Brownlee, I am going over to meet with Captain Cutts right now. I do not think there will be a problem in doing a full call of all current submarine skippers for both new and training boats. I would also want to have those officers, like yourself, who are involved in training skippers and executive officers to attend this meeting. If you can alert these people, I will find out if the captain can schedule this for 1100 hours. Will that work, Commander?”

  Brownlee looked very excited because he wanted to get his own boat again and head to sea, so if there was activity or information these officers wanted to share, he was all ears. “Sir, I believe all boats are in port or if not, I will make sure none leave until after your meeting. Tell the captain I will phone him with a count as soon as I make my calls.”

  With that, Brownlee stood an
d walked out of the mess room. Flannigan observed casually, “Commander, I think Commander Brownlee is primed for some action and would love to get into a boat and sail off into the sunset.”

  Brand added, “Sir, I hope what we have to offer will be of help to them. If we can assist people with ways to avoid damage, I think we have done a good job.”

  Jameson replied, “Okay, James, this is your show. Are you ready for it?”

  James thought briefly, then slowly exclaimed, “Sir, I will be able to get the information prepared before the meeting, and with your assistance, I think we can make it easy for them to digest. I hope it helps them. The guys on the Greenling were swell, and I want them to have the best possible chance at getting back safely.”

  At 1100 hours a conference room was set up with the required navy coffee mugs, a coffee urn, and two huge blackboards. A pencil and fresh paper tablet for each of the twenty-six participants were placed on the table. Eighteen were for the skippers and executive officers of the operational, or soon to be operational submarines. The rest for the senior staff officers at the base. Each officer was at least a lieutenant commander and all wore the dolphins of a submariner. Each one had been either a skipper of a boat or an executive officer; most had eight years of submarine duty. Captain Cutts ran through his mental checklist of who was supposed to be at the meeting, nodding to Jameson when the last officer came in. Flannigan signaled Sergeant McBride to secure the room.

  Captain Cutts began the meeting. “Gentlemen, you have been asked to come to this meeting because you are either a skipper or executive officer of one of the navy’s submarines or you train officers to become skippers. Either way, it is the principal job of every ship captain to ensure the safety of the ship in his command and the lives of the crew. It is also a time of war, and the mission of the submarine service is to take the war to the enemy. It is to sink their warships, their merchant marine and to perform other services as required by the high command.” He let the words sink in for a moment as he scanned the officers seated around the large table. “Today, we are going to have a presentation that deals with the fundamental first order of being a captain, saving your ship to fight another day. With that, I will turn the meeting over to Commander Jameson who reports to Admiral King.”

  Jameson stood, looked at the men seated around the table. “Captain Cutts, thank you for the introduction. Gentlemen, what you are about to be told is considered top secret, and any dissemination of this information to individuals without clearance is a court-martial offense. Only submarine commanders and those involved in the training of said officers are allowed access to this information. Are we clear?”

  A few “yes sirs” echoed around the room. Some of the officers looked at each other followed by a hard look at the commander who reported to the commander in chief of the U.S. Fleet. They knew whatever this man had to say was important. Most sat up even straighter in their seats and everyone began taking notes.

  “Yesterday, these two young officers seated by the wall were passengers on Mr. Burton’s fine new submarine the Greenling as they were engaged in a series of tests with a Navy R4D. These tests were set up to confirm some theories on anti-submarine warfare.” The officers acknowledged the marine lieutenant and young ensign and returned their attention to the commander. Most were now aware of the voyage yesterday of the Greenling, but few had gotten any details out of Lieutenant Commander Burton. The comment on anti-submarine warfare got their attention so each in their own way began to listen in earnest as the commander spoke.

  “We are at this base because we needed an operational submarine for our tests. As you probably know, the Germans are operating right off our coast. I cannot tell you a great amount of detail about these operations because of ongoing security concerns, but let us just say that the German U-boats are taking a heavy toll on our merchant ships. And more of them are on their way. Each of you needs to be aware of this because you are as much a target as some big fat tanker. We are looking at ways to kill the U-boat before they kill more of our men and sink more of our merchant fleet.” He looked around the table for emphasis. Seeing he had a group of people who were now hanging on his every word, he continued.

  “Several days ago, a PBY being flown off the coast of Carolina successfully attacked and sank a U-boat. This was accomplished by using some of the theories and attack plans developed by Ensign Brand.” Jameson motioned toward the wall. “First Lieutenant Flannigan,” again indicating toward the wall, “spotted the sub and helped maintain contact with the boat throughout the attack. I am telling you this in the strictest of confidence. No report has been announced concerning the sinking of the German sub and there will be none for some time. We cannot afford to let the enemy know of our successes or failures. Is that understood?”

  Again, a few “yes sirs,” rose from the seated submarine officers with a few longer looks at the young ensign and the marine lieutenant. Jameson seeing that he held their attention, plowed on to their greatest fear, attack by planes without warning.

  “Again, gentlemen, you are not to let anyone know about this attack or its success until it is announced by Washington. Even then, you will not acknowledge that you had advance information. Now, what did we learn from this attack and what did we do yesterday to enhance our ability to locate and destroy enemy submarines?” He scanned the seated officers and could tell they were now fully engaged in the meeting. “The other question is what do you need to know based upon this knowledge to keep your boat from being located and sunk.” Jameson let this harsh reality sink in some more before he announced, “Admiral King personally agreed to the request made by Ensign Brand to share some of his ideas on how to prepare for and defend yourself from aerial attacks. Mr. Brand, the floor is yours.”

  James walked up to the board and grabbed a piece of chalk. He wasn’t going to start writing but rather it gave him something to hold onto as he found his voice to talk to these officers. He looked at Lieutenant Commander Burton who smiled at him and raised his eyes in anticipation. This helped James focus. His mission was to help protect these men and their crews from harm.

  “Thank you, Commander. Captain Cutts, thank you for allowing us the time to develop our theories into plans. Hopefully some of these ideas will find their way into your standard methodologies for defense.” He turned to the board and wrote out an equation.

  d2 = h2 + 2Rh

  “This is, as you know, a shortcut calculation to determine how far the horizon is from a point of reference, which, in this case, is a conning tower on a submarine. So, if you are on the conning tower of a Gato class submarine you are perhaps fifteen feet above sea level, thus your line of sight to the horizon is, on a perfect day, perhaps four nautical miles. But what if you were an airplane and you were flying on that same day at five thousand feet. What is your line of sight? The answer would be seventy-five nautical miles. That is a lot of ocean to view, but it is possible to see the wake of a submarine from very far away and it points to your boat heading into danger. This is what happened to the U-boat sunk by that PBY.”

  He saw that some people had worked up the equation and knew it involved the Pythagorean Theorem to get D and using it to then find a right angle where R is the hypotenuse of the Earth’s radius. Most every man in the group was an accomplished navigator and could do a sun shot or a star shot with ease. Going back to high school days to figure out a specific line of sight calculation was easy, but they usually did not think too much about this fact. But now they were interested in the vast difference between a plane up high versus their own small world from the conning tower.

  James hit the board again, drawing concentric circles which he described as the danger zones for their subs. Each circle equaled a mile with a total of five circles being represented. In the middle of these circles, he made a big X.

  Turning to the officers, he began again. “Each circle is a mile, with a five-mile circle around the boat. Within the center circle, you should be safe from an aerial attack. But you can o
nly visually define a target on the surface at maybe a four-mile distance. A plane even at two thousand feet can scan forty-seven miles. Who has the advantage?” He paused, scanning the room. “The one who sees the other first has the advantage. If you are within this five-mile zone, you are in peril. If you are within the two-mile zone, your odds of being successfully hit increase tenfold. At one mile, if you are still on the surface or just beginning your dive, your chances are very poor indeed. Think about this,” he said as he started writing on the second board, “if you are on the surface, as we were in Greenling yesterday, you’re traveling at eighteen knots equating to 30.88 feet per second. The Greenling, like most Gato boats, takes fifty to seventy-five seconds to submerge fully and no longer showing her conning tower and periscope. The wake is gone and the boat is diving at no more than two feet per second. This sounds good, but the plane is traveling at two hundred miles per hour in a dive toward your boat and increasing speed. This equates to 293 feet per second. If the plane is a bomber type or a single-engine dive bomber the speed goes up to three hundred miles per hour or 440 feet per second.”

  Brand let those facts sink in for a few moments as he put his chalk in each circle denoting five, four, three, two and one. Turning to face the assembled officers he continued, “So, by now, I am sure you have done the math. If you were on the surface and an enemy plane dived toward you from less than one and a half miles away, he would be on top of you with your conning tower out of the water. You would be a sitting duck.” He looked around and saw a few men doing the same calculation. “Even at three miles, you would be in peril because he would continue on the path you were steering. You might be down fifty feet or less in the water but that would allow him to drop his eggs at intervals of thirty-five to fifty feet set for twenty-five to fifty feet and you would probably suffer damage. Only if you see him first, at three miles or more do you have a very good chance of no damage. Also, I want you to think about not only getting under quicker, say fifty seconds, but also performing a turn to port or starboard only after you have dropped below the surface. This way, you will have a better chance of being off his dead center drop point of any depth charge or bombs.”