by Ward Wagher
He briefly pondered how he would phrase the wording on the Fitness Reports to advance the careers of the officers and sailors under his command.
“I know that I did not endear myself to you in the process, nor did I attempt to do so. If you choose to think of me as a pompous windbag and a martinet, I do not care so long as we get the job done. The adjutant is preparing the sailing orders, but to summarize, since the canal is closed, we will sail at first light tomorrow for Norfolk.”
“So much for giving the Japs a black eye,” someone muttered.
“Indeed,” Magruder said. “I suspect the Navy is working on the logistics to send the flotilla around Cape Horn.”
“Oh… Jolly!” someone else said sotto voce.
The captain looked up sharply. “I know some of you are thinking he’s not the one who has to go around the horn in winter. And that is true. But, let me ask you: does anyone know of any better way to get badly needed warships to San Diego, now that we can’t get them across the isthmus?”
“We do not have the range for that,” someone said.
“Right,” Magruder replied. “I think it’s clear you will be part of a task force and you will be tanking along the way. There is no way I can sugar coat this. By the time you get to Diego, you will be heartily sick of those boats.”
He looked around the room. “Any other business? I thought not. Very well, you have today to settle things out and make sure your stores are topped off. Dismissed.”
With a scraping of chairs, the team began leaving the room. The soft conversation between the men was audible, but not really intelligible. Captain Magruder looked down at his notes and decided the job was complete. After the subs left the harbor the next morning, he would board the American flagged freighter Marlboro for the voyage to Norfolk. The freighter was a critical part of the operations. It carried a cargo of German torpedoes as well as spare parts and consumables for the U-Boats. It was as important to the war effort as the submarines themselves.
Magruder walked over to the window and looked out across the harbor. Marlboro was moored in the middle of the harbor with the twenty U-Boats clustered around it. He thought the scene resembled a hen with her chicks. He felt a sense of satisfaction at a job well done. And so he happened to be standing in the windows gazing at the harbor when the Marlboro blew up. He had the presence of mind to throw himself to the floor just as the blast blew in the windows, scattering shards of glass across the room. His mind scampered around trying to find the thread that would allow him to start planning the recovery of an operation which just went to hell.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
March 20, 1942; 7:30AM
Eastern Pacific Ocean
Captain Dan Anderson was startled. He had been running on the surface for several days, following a southerly heading. His orders were to simply patrol and report. At the first hints of daylight, he had decided to drill the crew and had submerged the Wahoo. Satisfied that the crew had not forgotten the basics of managing a boat under the surface of the water, he had prepared to surface. After coming to periscope depth, he had raised the scope for a routine scan. The Japanese carrier was just slightly more than a thousand yards away and passing in front of the Wahoo.
“Quiet on the boat,” he said conversationally to the executive officer. “Send the crew to quarters, torpedo. This is not a drill.”
“Aye, aye, Skipper.”
He swung around to get a quick 360-degree view. Nothing else was near. He spun back around to face the carrier. Smoke not only boiled from the stack, the bone in her teeth indicated she was making good speed, but plumes of smoke rose from multiple openings in the ship. She had apparently been in combat and was still on fire.
“Bearing, mark.”
The sailor standing beside him noted the marking on the scope to indicate its angle away from straight ahead.
“Bearing mark, Aye, Sir.”
“Down scope.”
“Down scope, Aye, Sir.”
“We have us a Jap carrier directly ahead,” he told the exec. “Looks like she’s had battle damage, but probably running flank speed.”
Anderson pulled out his Is-Was and began manipulating the slides. “I’m guessing, but I’d say she’s doing about 26 knots.”
“Where the heck did she come from?”
“I don’t know. But, I am not about to kiss-off Lady Luck. Okay, Exec, check me on this.”
The executive officer took the slide rule from the captain and studied it. “Looks good to me, Skipper.”
“Very well. Get the torpedoes set. We’ll take one more peek and then shoot.”
“Aye, aye, Sir.”
The captain waited impatiently for what was only about two minutes, and then raised the scope again.
“Bearing mark!”
“Bearing mark, aye.”
“Down scope.”
“Down scope, aye, Sir.”
He made the necessary adjustments to the Is-Was and showed it to the exec.
“I think we’re good, Skipper.”
“Very well. Fire one.”
They heard the whoosh and gurgle of a torpedo fired.
“Tube one fired, Sir.”
“Fire two.”
And so, they fired a spread of four torpedoes. Anderson ordered a turn to the right, intending to run parallel with the Japanese carrier. He did not want to be to close when the torpedoes hit.
§ § §
Vice-Admiral Chuichi Nagumo looked across the deck of the carrier Kaga at the shadows thrown by the rising sun. The sea was empty and he felt very alone. Although their attack on the western locks of the Panama Canal was partially successful – they had succeeded in destroying or disabling one set of locks – the Americans were prepared for them this time. Two of his carriers had been sunk and this one was badly damaged. He had also lost a pair of cruisers and three destroyers. He had sent the rest of the task force racing ahead to get out of the range of land-based aircraft.
The American Catalina flying boats had found the Japanese task force almost as soon as they had launched the canal strike. Nagumo had immediately arranged his decks to launch the remaining fighters. He had split the fighter force between coverage for the strike and defending the ships.
The Americans had reacted quickly. Their intelligence services were getting better quickly and they had anticipated this attack, he thought. Within two hours a fleet of nearly fifty Flying Fortresses attacked from twenty-thousand feet above the task force. Nagumo was skeptical of the value of high-altitude bombing in this context and was intellectually interested in how well the Americans would do.
Dozens of pairs of binoculars focused on the enemy aircraft, watching for the release of the bombs. The Americans salvoed their bombs in one massive regurgitative spasm. Nagumo thought that was particularly stupid of the Americans, but did not feel disposed to complain. On the other hand, a group of twenty-five Zeroes were tearing into the bombers, so they were motivated to take their best shot and then deal with the marauding fighters. The ships immediately executed a series of radical maneuvers to take them out of the path of the falling bombs.
Even by American standards, Nagumo thought the aim was poor. Gushers exploded out of the sea as the bombs fell, mostly not close to any of the ships. One fell close to Kaga, and drenched the flight deck, but otherwise not damaging the carrier. However, one 250-pound bomb fell through the flight deck of the Shokaku and exploded in the hanger deck, starting a conflagration. Another fell very close to the hapless carrier and popped seams along the port side. Still the carrier maintained formation, smoke boiling from below decks.
Nagumo studied the ship with his binoculars and wondered if it would survive. There was no question it was out of the fight. He then swung around to study the formation that had just passed overhead. Flaming Fortresses were beginning to tumble out of the sky. Japanese Naval Aviation had made a careful study of the American bomber. They were under-gunned with thirty caliber defensive weapons, and had a huge blind spot at
the rear. The Zero pilots had not even bothered to release their drop tanks. They would throttle back behind the big Boeings and then carefully shoot up the planes with the twenty-millimeter cannon. There was little the Americans could do but die, since they had nothing to range in the Japanese. Nagumo wondered where the American fighters were. Twenty-five of the bombers went down before the Zeroes broke off.
Nagumo had a necklace of Val dive bombers orbiting the fleet as sentinels at one-hundred miles. Several radioed the next raid warning. A mix of dive bombers and torpedo planes was heading for the Japanese task force. They were accompanied by twenty-five Warhawks. Most of the Zeroes had plenty of fuel and turned to meet the next threat. Nagumo launched his remaining Zeroes, plus everything else that would fly. He decided the small gaggle of remaining planes were safer in the air than huddled below decks to await the same fate as Shokaku if the Americans got lucky.
The torpedo bombers came in at very low altitude and had to fly through the worst of Japanese anti-aircraft fire. Only a couple managed to get torpedoes launched. All were shot down and although two torpedoes scored hits, they failed to explode. The next wave were the dive bombers, who arrived at 12,000 feet over the task force. They tipped over in their dives and now had to face the anti-aircraft fire. Nagumo was pleased with the accuracy of his gunners. They were rapidly scoring on the dive bombers. However, Nagumo could not fault the bravery of the Americans. They pressed the attack.
The burning Shokaku staggered as three more bombs penetrated the flight deck and exploded. It was clear to Nagumo that she was mortally wounded. Akagi and Ryujo were also hit and Akagi simply exploded from a bomb that penetrated to the magazines.
It was now Kaga’s turn as the helmsman threw the big ship into a radical turn in an attempt to throw the aim of the dive bombers now tipping over to attack. One bomb hit the flight deck and another hit the corner of the superstructure. Kaga was now out of business.
The Zeroes tore into the American Army Air Corps Curtiss Warhawks, scattering their formation. The Americans who made a single firing pass and then dove away fared well, shooting down several Zeroes. Those who chose to mix it up in dogfights did less well. Nearly half the Warhawks were shot down before the Americans broke off.
With two carriers gone and Kaga out of commission, Nagumo ordered all the aircraft recovered to the now overcrowded Soryu and Hiryu. He instructed the task force to withdraw at high speed. Kaga would follow at its best speed.
Because of the limited time, he had not transferred his flag, but rather stayed aboard Kaga. He thought they were now out of range of the American B-17s. The Americans had no carriers in the Pacific as yet. If he could stay afloat long enough to reach Pearl Harbor, he would be satisfied. While very unhappy about the loss of his ships and crew, on balance he was satisfied with the mission. As the night went on, the crew made good progress at bringing the fires under control. Nagumo felt more optimistic with the daylight.
One of the watch standers suddenly screamed, “Torpedo! Off the starboard midships!”
The captain scrambled to the right side of the bridge to look. He then turned.
“Hard to starboard! Screws three and four reverse flank speed!”
“Sir, my wheel is hard to starboard,” the helmsman said.
The admiral watched another rating manipulating the engine-room telegraph. Almost immediately he felt the rumble as the big ship tried to claw her way to the right. She almost made it. Two of the torpedoes missed. One hit, but was apparently a dud. The fourth torpedo detonated directly under the engineering spaces. Nagumo felt the ship lurch and then the propulsion died. The captain had picked up the internal telephone system and was demanding a report from Damage Control. Nagumo sensed the ship was settling in the water. The captain turned to Nagumo and bowed.
“Admiral, I must regret to give you my recommendation that we abandon ship. We cannot save her. Engineering is flooded.”
Nagumo nodded. “You and the crew have far exceeded my expectations. You have done more than anyone could have expected. Please do everything possible to save the lives of the crew.”
The captain bowed again, and then gave a crisp salute. He then quickly turned and started issuing orders.
§ § §
March 21, 1942; 9AM
Hotel Romano
Riva del Garda, Italy
“Tell me what happened in La Spezia,” Schloss ordered.
Willem Kirche grimaced. “The American provisioning ship for the U-Boats blew up, Herr Reichschancellor. Several of the nearby U-Boats were severely damaged.”
“What were the casualties?”
“We do not know as yet,” Kirche said. “The High Command thinks there were maybe three hundred Americans aboard the ship. There were also Italian and German casualties.”
“Who do we have there?” Schloss demanded.
“Admiral Becker had just stepped outside when the ship went up. He was badly injured, but is still alive. The American captain has been coordinating things for us.”
“We have got to get back to Berlin,” Schloss said. “This delay in getting information is killing us. It has taken two days to get a report, and it is inadequate.”
“The Condor will arrive this afternoon in Verona,” Kirche said. “The Luftwaffe is also flying in ground crews, so if all goes well, we can return to Berlin tomorrow. The Italians are being cooperative.”
“I expect they are,” Schloss said. “They are embarrassed and horrified.”
“And this just came in this morning,” Kirche said, handing Schloss a radio communication.
Schloss quickly read the digest. He pursed his lips in a whistle. “So the Japanese managed to shut down the Panama Canal. They are doing far better than I would have expected in their war.”
“And they are expecting a raid on the western side of the canal,” Kirche said.
“This lack of information is maddening,” Schloss said. “Did you confirm Ribbentrop is flying to Rome for Mussolini’s funeral?”
“Yes, Herr Reichschancellor.”
“Good. I suppose I ought to go, but I don’t think the Italians will blame me for flying home.”
Kirche had a ghost of a smile. “They seem very understanding about that.”
“Things are happening too quickly for me to be stuck in the backwater. Benefit of hindsight, we should have just gone home after the honeymoon at the chalet. I got careless.”
Kirche tilted his head slightly. “Herr Reichschancellor, you are among most careful of men. We just got caught up in a major storm.”
“True, but we must get much better at contingency planning. God knows what could have happened here.”
The secretary looked down at his notepad. “Perhaps that is true, Herr Reichschancellor. However, I have never seen anyone as skilled at quick thinking.”
Schloss chuckled bitterly. “The problem with quick thinking during desperate situations is that the law of averages eventually catches up with you.”
Kirche had no answer for that.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
March 21, 1942; 10AM
SIS Headquarters
London, England
Admiral Sir Hugh Sinclair looked across the desk at his visitor. The British Prime Minister, Winston Churchill looked exhausted. He had not seen the man exhibit other than his normal cheerful countenance before this morning’s meeting.
“Are you ill, Sir?” Sinclair asked.
“I am not ill, Sir Hugh,” Churchill said. “However, I must confess to being very tired.”
“Jerry are not cooperating,” Sinclair said simply.
“I suppose it was a mistake on our part in assuming they would remain stupid. They have always been a dangerous adversary, but, this Schloss has us dancing to his tune.”
“A bit of good news, perhaps...” Sinclair offered.
“And what would that be?”
“The U-Boats that the German government sold to the Americans were preparing to sail from Italy. The American provisio
ning ship mysteriously blew up.”
“Is that so?” Churchill asked. “And did our people have a hand in this?”
“I suppose I should ask if you need deniability?” the SIS chief asked.
“You are asking if I have the ability to look President Wallace in the eye and sincerely lie. I can assure you of that. After all, I am a member of the British House of Commons.”
“Very well, Prime Minister,” Sinclair said, one side of his mouth twitching into a grin. “One of our Commando teams slipped in and planted a mine on the American vessel. They got out undetected.”
“How were they able to accomplish that?”
“They went in via a submarine. Ironically, with all the U-Boats in the Med, if ours was spotted, they probably assumed it was one of theirs.”
Churchill unwrapped a cigar and clipped it. He often used this as an opportunity to think. Once he had fired it up, he looked at Sinclair again.
“One regrets the loss of life. It is sometimes necessary in our line of work. I trust your operational security is tight.”
“Absolutely, Prime Minister.”
“We need the American cousins in our corner, Sir Hugh. That much has not changed. They cannot learn about our involvement in this event.”
“I understand. They will suspect us, though.”
“Perhaps you could pass along a tidbit that it was instigated by the Communist partisans. Considering that they just scored with Signore Mussolini, everyone would be disposed to believe that.”
Sinclair nodded. “That is a good idea. I understand that the partisans nearly bagged Schloss along Il Duce. He is flying home tomorrow.”
Churchill leaned back in his chair and blew smoke rings at the ceiling. He was thinking hard.
“You know, I have never understood how to do that.”
“What is that?” Churchill asked.
“Blow smoke rings.”
“It is difficult to explain and harder to do,” the prime minister said. “Apropos of nothing at all, I have an idea.”
