Diving Stations

by Edwyn Gray

  Swinging the eye of the upper lens to starboard, he waited tensely as the submarine moved into the area which would enable him to see what was lurking on the inshore side of the gaunt, granite rock. Yard by yard, more of the northern face of the rock became visible and then, suddenly, the dark grey paintwork of a Japanese warship came into view.

  ‘Enemy destroyer anchored between Taichee Rock and the island. Small boats going ashore,’ he reported back to Mannon and the other men in the control room. ‘Estimated range two miles...’

  ‘Someone must have given us away to the Japs,’ Mannon said bitterly. ‘It would have taken them months to find this place.’

  ‘Steer zero-six-five. Reduce to half power. Open bow caps.’ Hamilton waited to complete his instructions and then glanced at Mannon. ‘No one’s given us away, Number One,’ he said sharply. ‘Chai Chen realized she would die whether she talked or not. She must have told them about the island in order to put them on a false trail.’

  ‘I can’t see anything false about it, sir,’ Mannon objected. ‘If the enemy has destroyed our storage depot Rapier will be about as battle-worthy as a bloody canoe without paddles.’

  ‘Perhaps so - but, in my opinion, she was trying to lead us to the men responsible for her death. And that destroyer anchored under the Rock proves it. If she’d told them the truth the Japs would have ambushed us when we arrived at the refueling point. And the reason they didn’t do so is because they did not know we were planning to meet the junk at sea.’

  Mannon shrugged. ‘I’m not denying the girl’s courage, sir. She may not have told them about the rendezvous, but she certainly seems to have given away the secret of our supply base. And while I don’t blame her after what they did to her I’m damned if I can see any advantage in it.’

  ‘In that case, Number One, I’ll spell it out to you,’ Hamilton said coldly. ‘If Chai Chen had told the Japs about our refueling plans, Rapier would be lying on the bottom of the South China Sea by now because they would have caught us by surprise. She knew, however, that once we found the junk we’d be very much on the alert.' So she told them the oil was being shipped to the island - it would have sounded a plausible enough story. As a result, the Japs are still under the impression that they have surprise on their side and they’re hiding behind Taichee Rock waiting to jump us when we arrive.’

  ‘But Chai Chen was obviously thinking several moves ahead. She realized we’d make for the island and she knew, also, that we’d be prepared for trouble after finding the junk. So by telling them about the replenishment base she made sure that retribution would follow within a few hours. And, in addition, I would know that the officer commanding the Japanese ship waiting at the island must be the man responsible for her death.’

  Mannon made no immediate reply. Hamilton’s theory was a little too trite for his liking. And it involved a hell of a lot of supposition. But whether the skipper was right or wrong there was no disputing the fact that, on the balance of probabilities, the man who had tortured Chai Chen to death was the captain of the destroyer now anchored off the island. Any other explanation would be stretching the long arm of coincidence a trifle too far.

  ‘You’re probably right, sir,’ he agreed reluctantly.

  At that precise moment Hamilton was not particularly interested whether Mannon agreed or not. He wanted revenge. And no one was going to stop him from carrying out his self-appointed task. He picked up the telephone to the bow compartment.

  ‘Is everything ready, Number Four?’

  ‘Bow Compartment, aye, aye, sir,’ Villiers reported. ‘Doors open and tubes flooded up. Standing by.’

  ‘Well, keep your fingers crossed that we don’t miss. They’re our last four torpedoes and it looks as if our reserves have already gone up in smoke.’ He cradled the phone on its hook and nodded to Bushby. ‘Up periscope!’

  He found the enemy destroyer almost immediately. The dark grey warship with its strangely cranked funnels and knuckled bow was lying broadside on to the submarine in an almost perfect attack position. Hamilton felt a sudden surge of adrenalin pump into his bloodstream as he recognized the sleek silhouette. It was Suma. The man he was hunting was Aritsu!

  Hamilton controlled his excitement and mechanically wiped the damp sweat of his hands on his trousers. The range was down to eight hundred yards. This time he had no need for the back-up support of the Attack Team- with a stationary target course and speed were irrelevant and there were no problems of deflection or aim off. All that counted was the accuracy of his eye and steady nerves. Moving to the attack ’scope he ordered it to be raised and carefully brought the anchored destroyer into the center of the graticule sights.

  ‘Stand by to fire. Fire One... Fire Two... Fire Three... Fire Four…’

  A slight increase in air pressure inside the control room indicated that the tubes had been fired and the four green warning lights on the for’ard bulkhead display glowed brightly in confirmation. Glover bent over his box of tricks as he listened for the sound of the whirring propellers.

  ‘Torpedoes running, sir!’

  ‘Hard a’port, helmsman! Stand by to surface. Close up for gun action... surface!’

  ‘Up helm ’planes! Close vents and blow main ballast!’

  Although Mannon rapped out the routine commands with disciplined obedience, he was puzzled by Hamilton’s decision to surface. Most submarine commanders dived deep immediately after a torpedo attack in anticipation of the enemy’s counter-action. And if the skipper had miscalculated, it seemed foolish to invite a fight on the surface when the odds would be all against the submarine. Perhaps Hamilton had allowed his excitement to override his natural caution.

  The muffled clang of the vents being slammed shut coincided with the shrill scream of high-pressure air as the ballast tanks were blown clear. Acting on his own initiative, Mannon decided to increase speed so that the submarine would make a more difficult target when she emerged on the surface.

  ‘Group up - full ahead both motors!’ He glanced at the dials and saw that the bows were rising too sluggishly.

  ‘Blow Q!’

  ‘Ten feet, sir!’

  ‘Stand by for gun action!’

  ‘Come on, lads,’ Morgan urged the gun crew. ‘Up you go!’

  Hamilton had just unclipped the upper hatch and thrown back the heavy steel cover, when the blast of the explosion nearly hurled him from the ladder. He hung on grimly, as a vivid flash lit the sky and a thunderous roar deafened his ears. A second detonation followed a moment later and then a third. Pulling himself up through the narrow opening he hurried to the starboard side of the bridge.

  The dying echoes of the three thunderous explosions were still reverberating back from the sheer north face of Taichee Rock and the screaming protests of the gulls disturbed from their nests added to the confusion. Suma had been struck fair and square amidships and the second torpedo had broken the destroyer in half. The stern section was already sinking beneath the surface and, as he stared at the awful spectacle, Hamilton saw the bows tilt upwards, hang suspended for a few seconds, and then slide back beneath the sea with a sibilant hiss of quenched white-hot steel. Wreckage and bodies bobbed aimlessly in the water and a cloud of steam hung wraith-like above the surface to mark Suma's grave.

  ‘Machine guns to the bridge! Reduce to half-speed!’

  MacIntyre and Davidson came up through the hatch clutching their cumbersome Lewis guns and Hamilton sent them to their battle-stations in the port and starboard wings. Then, raising his binoculars, he searched the floating wreckage for survivors. But the torpedoes had done their deadly work almost too efficiently. Suma had gone down in less than half a minute and those members of the crew who survived the first torpedo had died in the water, their ribs smashed and their lungs ruptured by the pressure wave radiating outwards from the second explosion.

  ‘Boat approaching on port side!’

  Hamilton swung round to focus his glasses on a small rowing cutter emerging from the entrance to
the lagoon. The sailors on shore had obviously heard the noise of the explosions and were hurrying to the scene in search of survivors.

  ‘Target red-eight-zero!’ Hamilton shouted to Morgan. ‘Open fire!’

  Rapier's deck gun traversed to port and the layer’s arms pumped like pistons as he reversed the elevation wheel to depress the barrel. The loader slammed the first shell into the breech, closed the block, and pulled down the locking lever.

  ‘Loaded and ready Chief!’

  But Morgan hesitated. Pitching steeply as its bows met the swell of the sea beyond the sheltered waters of the lagoon, the cutter thrust forward as its crew strained on their oars. The boat was less than five hundred yards off the submarine’s port beam and the Welshman’s keen eyes could make out every detail.

  ‘They’re not armed, sir,’ he shouted up to Hamilton.

  Rapier's captain examined the cutter through his binoculars. There were four men at the oars and the fifth, a petty officer, was at the tiller. Hamilton studied him closely and saw the holstered pistol at his hip.

  ‘They’re carrying guns, Mister Morgan. Open fire!’

  Years of discipline had destroyed Morgan’s initiative. He knew that the men in the cutter were carrying only side- arms. They posed no threat to the submarine and intent on the task of finding survivors, they wen; showing no hostility towards Rapier. He knew too that in his present mood for revenge Hamilton would not rest until every single member of Suma’s crew was dead. But he had been given an order by a superior officer and it was not for him to question it. He turned back to the men working the deck gun.

  ‘Fire!... Reload!’

  The first shell fell short by twenty yards and exploded harmlessly in the sea ahead of the cutter. Morgan saw the petty officer glance at the splash of the bursting shell and then concentrate his attention on the steering again. Ignoring the threat of Rapier’s gun the oarsmen continued to row steadily towards the spot where Suma had gone down.

  ‘Up ten... fire! Reload!’

  The shell exploded with a blinding flash as it struck the starboard gunwale of the cutter. Jagged splinters of red- hot steel scythed through the men bending over the oars and simultaneously, the tiny boat disintegrated. Only the petty officer survived and, as he bobbed to the surface some twenty yards astern, two ugly triangular dorsal fins darted through the water. Hamilton lowered his glasses and leaned his elbows on the conning tower rails as the sea around the struggling man was suddenly ripped into a frenzy of boiling foam. The petty officer let out a single despairing shriek as he vanished from sight and a circle of bright red blood rose to the surface....

  ‘Coxswain to the bridge! Stand by to transfer steering to upper position.’ Hamilton waited for Ernie Blood to come up through the hatchway and take his position at the helm. ‘Obey telegraphs - full ahead together. You can take her into the lagoon, Chief.’

  Fifteen minutes later Rapier was snugly berthed under the camouflage netting, with her bow and stern tied up to the makeshift wooden jetty the submariners had constructed the previous month. However, nothing else remained of their carefully prepared hiding place. Both of the bamboo huts had been torn down. The aqueduct which Scott had designed to bring fresh water down from the hill had been destroyed and only the smoldering ashes remained of the wooden crates containing the victuals, stores, and spare parts which had been so laboriously transported from Hong Kong a few weeks earlier.

  Hamilton looked at the heartbreaking remains of his labours unemotionally. He consoled his disappointment by admitting it had been a crazy idea from the outset. And yet, although everything had gone wrong, he had no regrets. Without torpedoes, his grandiose plans for a lone marauding sweep of the South China Sea in search of enemy shipping would have to be set aside. And now, deprived of its oil reserves, Rapier had barely enough fuel to retire to a safe base. Tightening the gun belt around his waist, he made his way down the rickety bamboo gangway and joined Mannon on the jetty.

  ‘O’Brien has found one of Suma’s motorboats hauled up on the beach, Number One, and that means there are still some survivors hiding ashore. I intend to remain here until every last man is dead.’

  ‘The Japs are trained in jungle fighting, sir,’ Mannon pointed out. He disliked his continual role of devil’s advocate but as Rapier’s executive officer he considered it his duty to underline the difficulties. Hamilton’s unreasoning thirst for vengeance made him blind to any defects in his plans. ‘Most of our lads hardly know how to aim a rifle.’

  But Hamilton was not listening. ‘The motorboat suggests there’s an officer with them, and there’s just an outside chance it’s Aritsu.’ He turned to Mannon. ‘How many men can be made available for a search party?’ he asked sharply.

  ‘Every man in the ship’s company has volunteered for shore service, sir. But as we only had ten rifles aboard I’ve had to prune them down a bit. They’re waiting over by the trees.’

  Hamilton strode over and gave the hurriedly constituted landing party a cursory inspection. Individually they looked tough enough and, despite Mannon’s pessimism, he knew that three of them had obtained marksman badges. It was a rough and ready little army, but Hamilton considered it adequate for the task he had in mind. The enemy was unlikely to be better armed and, judging by the size of the destroyer’s diminutive tender, he felt confident he had superiority in numbers. Even so, like most sailors, he felt slightly uneasy at the prospect of fighting ashore. His knowledge of military tactics was limited to a fortnight’s course at Excellent and the uninspiring contents of the Royal Naval Handbook of Field Training - most of which was devoted to the niceties of parade ground drill and ceremonial occasions, although he could vividly recall a bloodthirsty photograph demonstrating ‘withdrawal of bayonet after kill on the ground.’

  ‘Take five men and search the north hill, Number One. The remainder will go with me to cover the southern section of the island.’

  ‘What happens if we find them?’ Mannon asked. Hamilton stared at him impassively. ‘Don’t ask bloody silly questions, Number One. If you find them- kill them.’ ‘But suppose they surrender, sir?’

  Hamilton unholstered his revolver and broke it open to check that the cylinder was fully loaded. ‘The Japanese do not surrender, Mister Mannon,’ he said coldly. ‘To lay down their arms when they are still capable of fighting would be regarded as an act of dishonour.’

  ‘Not always, Lieutenant...’

  Hamilton spun around as he recognized the voice. His right hand swung up and his finger tightened on the trigger as he saw Commander Aritsu, another officer and two ratings emerge from the trees and walk slowly down the beach towards him. Aritsu’s hands were stretched out in front of his body and he was bearing his sheathed sword.

  ‘Stop where you are, Commander!’ As Suma’s captain obeyed the order, Hamilton turned to Mannon. ‘It could be a trap. Search the bushes. If you find anybody hiding... shoot them!’

  ‘There is no one else, Lieutenant.’ Aritsu told him quietly. ‘I regret to inform you that we are the only survivors.’ He bowed stiffly, ‘Permit me to hand you my sword.’

  Hamilton flicked the safety catch of the Webley as the Commander took a pace forward. ‘Stay where you are! Throw the sword on the ground.’

  Aritsu hesitated for a moment and then obeyed. Hamilton lowered his revolver fractionally. Although he had Suma’s captain at his mercy, he intended to take no chances. His brain worked quickly as he considered what to do with his unexpected bonus. According to the book, he should take all four of them prisoner and hand them over to the proper authorities when Rapier returned to base. But as things stood at the moment, he could not even be certain that the submarine would ever succeed in reaching a friendly harbor, and with a shortage of stores and fresh water he saw no reason for carrying any extra passengers. He had little doubt what the fate of his men would be if they fell into the hands of the Japanese in similar circumstances.

  ‘I should take you back and have you charged with war crimes, Commande
r.’

  ‘You found the junk then?’

  Hamilton parried the question. ‘I always thought that an officer of the Imperial Navy was a man of honor. Having seen what you did to the crew I realize I was wrong - the Japanese are nothing but a race of sadistic barbarians!’ Sub-Lieutenant Mihoro had not spoken since Aritsu had led the survivors out to surrender. His small black eyes watched the English submarine commander with the chilling intensity of a mongoose stalking a snake. It was apparent from the expression on his face that he had no respect for Suma’s captain and Hamilton's accusation stirred him to life.

  ‘You are directing your insults at the wrong man, Lieutenant! Commander Aritsu had no part in the affair. I carried out the interrogation of the crew.’ His eyes blazed suddenly, as if defying Hamilton to do something lo him. ‘Is this correct, Commander?’

  Aritsu shook his head. ‘Any action taken against prisoners is my responsibility. When I saw the oil drums I knew they were intended for your submarine. It was my duty to obtain information. Mihoro was merely the instrument who carried out my instructions.’

  Realizing that he had just signed his own death warrant, he bowed politely and composed himself with dignity to await Hamilton’s inevitable order.

  ‘I appreciate your candour, Commander. Perhaps I was mistaken in saying you were a man without honor.’ Hamilton stared hard and deep into Aritsu’s eyes as he put the question. ‘Did you tell your Sub-Lieutenant how the interrogations were to be carried out?’

  ‘No... I left him to do whatever he thought fit.’

  ‘He was too weak!’ Mihoro spat defiantly. ‘He went back to his ship so that he did not have to witness what happened. He is not fit to serve the Emperor.’

  Hamilton switched his attention to the Korean. His eyes were completely expressionless as he looked at him, and his index finger was trembling on the trigger of his revolver. ‘You are the one who interrogated Chai Chen?’

  ‘If you mean the girl - yes. And I succeeded. She told me all about the island and your plans to use it as a secret refueling base. She was stubborn - but I consider myself to be an expert in such matters…