Hellcats

by Peter Sasgen

  “Well, Hydeman,” Lockwood drawled during one of their frequent meetings, “what’re y’all going to call this little group of yours?”

  Hydeman thought a moment. “How about ‘Hydeman’s Hellcats’?”

  And so “Hydeman’s Hellcats” became the official name attached to the Japan Sea Patrol Group. It was an apt name for the raiders. After all, a hellcat exists solely to torment others, in this case the Japanese, who, like the Americans at Pearl Harbor, were about to be caught by surprise. For purposes of further identification, Hydeman gave each of the three task groups its own name.

  HYDEMAN’S HEPCATS

  Sea Dog—Hydeman in overall command

  Crevalle—Steinmetz

  Spadefish—Germershausen

  PIERCE’S POLECATS

  Tunny—Pierce in command

  Skate—Lynch

  Bonefish—Edge

  RISSER’S BOBCATS

  Flying Fish—Risser in command

  Bowfin—Tyree

  Tinosa—Latham

  That settled, Hydeman and Sieglaff pored over the mission’s operational details, Hydeman offering valuable opinions and ideas on how to improve it. Hydeman then met with the other Hellcat skippers to discuss any concerns they had. The first group of three subs, Hydeman’s Hepcats, were scheduled to sail on May 27. They’d be followed by the second and third groups on May 28 and 29, respectively. After the meeting Hydeman reported to Lockwood that his Hellcats were itching to go. To make certain that the mission got off to the proper start, Lockwood had arranged to lay on a lavish luncheon for the departing skippers and, to liven it up, invited as many Red Cross girls and nurses from the Navy base at Guam to attend as could be spared. Lockwood was indeed a big-picture man.

  Between letters to Sarah, Lawrence kept his parents informed about his work, but only as much as he knew the censors would permit.

  [O]ur period at rest camp is practically over again, and it won’t be so long before we’re on our way again. Yes, perhaps the submarines’ part in the war is fast becoming much reduced. If this is actually going to be my last patrol, as I’ve been led to believe, I don’t think I will be at all sorry. I’m getting a bit anxious to get back to some sort of radio or electronics job before I forget all I ever knew of it. I’ve even given some thought to trying to get into surface ships again, eventually, before I become too senior to get a good job in them. That, however, is looking a bit farther into the future than I need worry about now. First, I must at least get this next patrol over with successfully! And it will probably be a long one, at that, instead of short as was this one just completed.

  . . . You asked whether we in subs have to go pretty close to Japan now. The answer is mostly yes, but actually they have been doing that almost since the war began, those assigned to that part of the Pacific, that is. Nowadays, there’s not much left of the ocean for our exclusive use except the waters close to Japan, and even they are often shared with our planes these days. Guess by the time I get a different job in the war, I’ll have covered a fairly good portion of the western Pacific. Still wish I could see some of the places to which we pass so close at times!

  Your comments on F.D.R.’s death were much the same as those attributed to most of the people in the country by Time, whose issue covering the week of his death I read only last night. Guess we all feel similarly about it—and about Truman.

  I’ll write again soon. Meanwhile, worlds of love to each of you.

  Affectionately,

  Lawrence5

  The Operation Barney briefing began as scheduled for the skippers and their communications officers aboard the Holland. Security was tight. Blackout restrictions required that all of the ship’s portholes and watertight doors remained secured. It was a sweltering night and the Holland lacked air-conditioning. Voge, his khakis blackened with sweat, started off screening a film produced by UCDWR in San Diego under the direction of Harnwell and Henderson. The black-and-white film showed every phase of FMS operation, training, and maintenance. Close-ups of juicy green pears on a sonar screen and a sound track of tolling hell’s bells completed the picture.

  Voge then launched into a full review of Operation Barney, starting with its conceptual framework, moving on to the details of the Sea of Japan’s hydrography and geography. He ended the review with an ominous warning: Stay out of waters mined by B-29s along the northwest coast of Honshu. Voge explained that the magnetically actuated bottom mines dropped by B-29s might not show up on FM sonar. These U.S.mined waters were marked in red on the maps that had been provided for the conference. More information about them would be included in the skippers’ op orders.

  Voge reminded them, “If you get into such bad trouble that you can’t make it out of the Sea of Japan, head for Vladivostok. There you’ll have the status of a man-of-war of a belligerent nation entering a neutral port. Maybe you can effect repairs and get out in time. At the worst you’ll be interned for the duration.”6 He told them that if this should happen, they were to contact the U.S. consul in Vladivostok to claim sanctuary. They were warned not to enter Soviet territorial waters except in an emergency. The Russians patrolled these waters, which were probably mined, to prevent incursions by foreign ships.

  After Voge completed his presentation, Barney Sieglaff took over. He had prepared the tactical plan that divided the Hellcats into three groups of three subs. He had also prepared the departure schedule of the three task groups from Guam, the timing of each group’s entry through the Tsushima Strait into the Sea of Japan, their individual area assignments, the date and timing of the Hellcats’ initial attacks, and the date and timing of their departure through La Pérouse Strait. He’d also developed the wolf-pack-style codes for use by the Hellcats en route and during the operation itself.

  Sieglaff gave the skippers a detailed description of the minefields located in the southern approaches to Tsushima, based primarily on the data gathered by the Spadefish, Seahorse, and Crevalle. Sieglaff then explained what ComSubPac knew about the actual minefields the raiders would encounter in the Tsushima Strait, based on intelligence gleaned from sources including prisoners, spies, decrypts, etc. The sources confirmed that three, possibly four strings had been sown across the western channel. A thousand-yard gap separated each string, with fifty yards separating each mine from its neighbor. The mines themselves were said to be sown at depths of twelve feet, forty-two feet, and seventy-five feet. According to Sieglaff, as far as ComSubPac could determine, no changes or additions had been made in the layout of the minefields since they had first been sown in late 1941, other than to replace breakaways caused by storms and the deterioration of anchor cables.

  After departing Guam on their appointed days, the Hellcats would proceed independently in three groups at normal two-engine cruising speed. Sieglaff reviewed the codes that had been adapted from wolf pack operations for use by the Hellcats to communicate with ComSubPac and with one another during their voyage and during the raid. Sieglaff’s codes had been developed to meet the need for a rapid exchange of information, and consisted of hundreds of stock phrases, each represented by a two-number code group for geographic locations or operational procedures. For example, “No. 24” meant, “Am heading for internment at Vladivostok.” In addition, each sub had its own call numbers and letter groups to speed ship-to-ship communications and coordinate attacks. The Bonefish was 67V606.

  As for the actual mine-penetration part of the mission, Sieglaff didn’t mince words. “Inoperative FM sonar gear will not be considered sufficient cause to delay the transit of any ship. In case gear is not operative, the submarine will make transit at 200 feet or greater depth.” In other words, go in naked like the death-defying Ray Bass in the Plunger when he ran through La Pérouse submerged back in ’43. Sieglaff’s words surely must have raised eyebrows aboard the Holland, for this went against Lockwood’s dictum that going in under mines was a sure way to lose submarines.

  Sieglaff had devised three governing days for the Sea of Japan raid: Fo
x Day, Mike Day, and Sonar Day. Sieglaff had nominated Fox Day, June 4, for Hydeman’s Hepcats’ submerged transit through the western channel of the Tsushima Strait. Pierce’s Polecats and Risser’s Bobcats would make their transits on Fox Day plus one and Fox Day plus two, respectively. The nine submarines would begin attacking targets at sunset on Mike Day, June 9. The Hellcats then had fourteen days allotted to sink as many ships as they could, after which they would exit the Sea of Japan through La Pérouse Strait on Sonar Day, June 24.

  Sieglaff stressed the importance of the subs remaining undetected in the Sea of Japan until Mike Day, when all the Hellcats would be in position. He warned them not to jump the gun by attacking too soon, no matter how tempting it might be, as attacking too early could jeopardize the mission by drawing Japanese antisubmarine forces to an individual sub. As it was, torpedo attacks erupting across the Sea of Japan would send enemy ships running for cover. Attacking too early would only make them run faster and make them harder to find. The only exception to this rule would be if an enemy man-of-war, say a heavy cruiser or carrier, were to show up before sunset on Mike Day. Sieglaff added that any submarine that expended all its torpedoes early should proceed to a position near La Pérouse Strait to await the arrival of the other Hellcats.

  Sieglaff then addressed Sonar Day, June 24, the day of departure through La Pérouse. He had devised two exit plans, which he named “Sonar Xray” and “Sonar Yoke.” Depending on conditions, the density of antisubmarine patrols, and the like, the Hellcats were to make their exit run either during the day submerged (Sonar Xray), or at night on the surface (Sonar Yoke). In the event that intelligence revealed increased antisubmarine activity in and around La Pérouse Strait, ComSubPac would radio a warning to Hydeman along with a recommendation as to which plan he should employ. Sieglaff stressed that the final decision would be left up to Hydeman. If he chose to use a submerged exit run, the Hellcats would go through La Pérouse in two parallel columns at three knots, picking up a knot or two of extra speed from the outflowing Kuroshio Current.

  In regard to mines, there was little in the way of fresh intelligence to indicate that, like Tsushima, changes had been made to the fields presently in place or to the layout of the safe channel used by the Russians. Sieglaff stressed that if a submerged exit became necessary, any subs with inoperative FMS gear would have to try to make the run-through at a depth below the deepest-sown mines—whatever that was—and good luck.

  If Hydeman decided to make a surface dash—Sonar Yoke—he was to keep in mind that there were shore-based enemy radar stations on Rebun Island west of Kyushu and at the naval station at Wakkanai Ko near the tip of Kyushu itself. Sieglaff warned that according to intelligence, the stations were fully capable of detecting ships and even low-lying submarines. If Hydeman chose the surface option, Sieglaff recommended making the dash through the safe channel at flank speed, all nine subs closed up in a single column, gun crews standing by to slug it out with Japanese patrol boats if necessary. Lockwood, as he had during the Japan Sea incursion of 1943, had arranged for a diversionary bombardment by submarine of an island near the Tsushima Strait to draw antisubmarine forces away from La Pérouse. In any event, after clearing the strait the Hellcats were to make tracks to Pearl Harbor, where Lockwood and his crew would be waiting to greet them.

  Sieglaff and Voge answered a few questions from the skippers about the mission, then handed out copies of ComSubPac’s top secret Operation Order No. 112-45, predated May 26, 1945.7 Annex “A” of the op ord contained all of the information in Sieglaff’s presentation for study and review. With that, Sieglaff wrapped up the conference.

  Lockwood had remained silent during the presentations. Now he rose to address the Hellcats and give them his personal “blessing.” The conference just ended, he said, had brought their plans to a climax. It was “the day we have lived for.” He praised their professionalism, determination, and deep-down courage, adding that with their spirit, Operation Barney could not fail. Finally, he asked one favor of them: He had been a submariner since 1914 and had never fired a torpedo in anger. He asked that they fire plenty of them for him in the Sea of Japan, as he would give a “right hind leg to go with them on their mission.” Then it was “God bless you and good hunting!”

  After the meeting Lockwood returned to his stateroom to read a report he’d received earlier that day from SORG. It was a response to the Operation Barney prospectus that had been forwarded to SORG by Dick Voge for an evaluation. Late arriving, SORG’s report was not what Lockwood had hoped for. SORG warned that Operation Barney entailed great hazards and that ComSubPac should expect heavy losses of men and ships. For SORG, the mission didn’t appear to be justified by the probable damage, light damage at that, that the Hellcats could inflict on the Japanese. Those observations troubled Lockwood, but not nearly as much as SORG’s comment that unless the strategic situation demanded its execution, Operation Barney should not be launched (emphasis in original).8

  Lockwood trusted the judgment of the men who had made this evaluation. They were men he knew and respected, officer and civilian alike. They had vast experience in submarine tactics and operations and knew what worked and what didn’t. They were fully cognizant of the losses so far sustained by the sub force and had worked hard to find ways to eliminate the gross dangers sub crews faced on patrols by helping develop tactics that would accomplish SubPac’s goals while minimizing risks. SORG’s board understood that war patrolling was not risk-free. But Operation Barney was more than just another war patrol and SORG knew it. Understandably, Lockwood was reluctant to disregard the advice and counsel SORG had offered. Sure, there was no way to know how many ships were still afloat in the Sea of Japan—intelligence estimates of their numbers varied wildly. And there was no way to know how many of them the Hellcats could sink. Yet whatever the number, it would weaken Japanese morale. There would be no way they could ignore the fact that their island fortress had been penetrated by submarines capable of destroying the emperor’s lifeline to the Far East. As for the risks entailed in under-running minefields, there was no question that there was a good chance one or more of the subs might be lost. Losing subs was a risk Lockwood had to take. If it happened he’d take full responsibility and accept the consequences, just as he had for each of the subs lost so far in the war.

  Despite FM sonar’s shortcomings and the risks posed by Operation Barney, Lockwood decided that he had to put SORG’s conclusions aside. “Wars are not won that way,” he said, meaning wars were not won by fearing to take risks when so much was on the line. That belief strengthened Lockwood’s resolve as he contemplated the unknown. That and a voice calling to him: the voice of Mush Morton expressing thanks that Lockwood hadn’t wavered in his hunger to exact revenge on the Japanese for the death of the Wahoo.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Running the Gauntlet

  The Hellcats trained for their mission day and night right up to the date of departure. The exhausting schedule gave Edge very little time for letter writing. The only opportunity he had was late at night when the blackout on Guam and its strict enforcement forced him under a blanket with a flashlight. Somehow Lawrence found time to compose one last letter, which he dropped into the Pacific fleet mailbag on May 25, two days before shoving off on Operation Barney.

  When it came time for the big send-off on May 27, Lockwood spared no effort to put his skippers in a relaxed mood. He had the Holland’s Filipino mess boys lay on a lavish luncheon buffet in one of the tender’s spacious staterooms. As promised, a bevy of good-looking Red Cross girls and Navy nurses joined the party.

  Lockwood felt that Operation Barney called for a send-off that would ease the strain and self-consciousness of bidding farewell and good shooting to the young Hellcat skippers. It also eased Lockwood’s own mind, too, as the Hellcats prepared to depart. Notwithstanding his belief that SORG’s estimate of losses was exaggerated, if not wrong, he still suffered deep misgivings and anxiety about the wisdom of sending men into the te
eth of Japanese minefields with little to guide them but a fancy electronic device that wasn’t always reliable.

  Inevitably the clock ticked down; the party broke up. At three p.m., the traditional hour of departure on war patrols, Earl Hydeman indicated that he was ready to go. Diesels rumbling impatiently, the Sea Dog, Crevalle , and Spadefish, now moored alongside the Holland, cast off their lines and, with Lockwood and his people watching and waving good-bye, backed clear of the tender. Escorted by a destroyer, Hydeman’s Hepcats departed Guam for empire waters.

  Lockwood bade good luck and good hunting to Pierce’s Polecats and Risser’s Bobcats on May 28 and 29, respectively. As each group departed, he felt the familiar tug of apprehension and no small measure of doubt. But this was it; they had all departed, and Lockwood, stuck on the beach, could only wait impatiently for the first reports of action from the front lines to arrive after Mike Day, June 9, when the Hellcats were slated to begin their attacks.

  Under way, the men aboard the nine Hellcat subs got about their business. The enlisted rates already knew what they were in for and needed only to have it confirmed by their COs, who a day out from Guam sketched in the broad outlines of the mission for their crews, filling in the details only as needed for the men to do their jobs.

  Like all sub sailors, the Hellcat sailors were a cocky and profane lot—fatalistic, too: They were more than willing to look death in the eye so long as there was a reasonable chance they’d survive the encounter. At this stage most of them believed that their chances of surviving Operation Barney were better than even; otherwise they’d have transferred en masse to submarines that were not toying around with mines. As the Hellcat subs bore westward to the Tsushima Strait, the men’s cockiness and profane outbursts began tapering off. Training exercises and emergency drills conducted at all hours of the day—flooding, fire, collision, chlorine gas—kept the men busy and primed to perform their duties with lightning speed and sure-handedness. There were no amateurs aboard submarines. The men of the Hellcats were for the most part veterans with war patrol experience who knew what to expect from one another and the Japanese—except for the part about the minefields in the straits.