Final Harbor

Chapter 27

The message ordering the Mako in to Brisbane for refit and a period of rest and relaxation came a week after the deck gun actions against the Japanese ships. There were no expressions of joy from Mako’s crew when the news came that the patrol was over and they were heading for port. The death of Grabnas had sobered the crew. The soft-spoken Floridian had been popular with his fellow crewmen. Tribute was paid to him in small subtle ways that only the men who knew and served with him appreciated. Ginty summed up the crew’s feelings in the Crew’s Mess, his deep growl dominating the compartment.

“That Greek kid, that Grabby Grabnas. Called hisself a ‘Conch’ because he was born in Key West. He was proud of being born in Key West. Lousiest submarine base in the Navy to do duty in, I heard! What the hell is there to be proud of, born in a lousy place to do duty? I’ll say this for the bastard; he never came forward to my Room what he didn’t bring fresh coffee for the man on watch and a doughnut or a sandwich. Never shot his mouth off to no one. I’ll say another thing and any you poges want to call me wrong stand up; that son of a bitch wasn’t no ‘Conch’ or whatever he wanted to call himself. He was a submarine sailor! Coulda served on S-Boats with me and that’s something I wouldn’t say about very many of you bastards!”

Two Australian Navy gunboats met Mako at sea off the Great Barrier Reef and escorted her into Marston Bay, where a uniformed pilot came aboard, and then into the mouth of the Swan River. On the way up the river the port lookout leveled his glasses at the shore line.

“Someone over there on top of that little white building is sending us semaphore flag signals, Bridge! It’s two broads!” The off-duty crew members on deck enjoying the unaccustomed sunlight came alert.

“Better see what they want, Bradshaw.” Captain Hinman said. The quartermaster climbed up into the periscope shears and squeezed himself in beside the port lookout.

“Gimme your white hat,” he said to the lookout. “I’ll use my hat and yours for flags. God knows where our flags are stowed.” He held a hat in each hand and answered the girls on the small building. One of the girls began whipping her semaphore flags rapidly.

“What’s she saying?” Hinman called up.

“Meet… you… at… gate… sixteen… hundred,” Bradshaw yelled out. “Hey, that second one is going now and she’s too fast for a Chief Signalman on a battleship to read! Man, can she go!”

“Never mind that crap,” a voice yelled from the deck. “Just tell them we’ll be there with bells on!”

Captain Hinman laughed and turned to the Australian Navy pilot.

“I’ve been in a lot of ports in my life but I’ve never seen anything like that before.”

“This is your first trip here,” the pilot said. “Brisbane is a lonely city for women. You won’t see a man in civilian clothes on the street between the ages of seventeen and fifty unless he’s lost an arm or a leg or is blind.”

“Why?” Joe Sirocco asked.

“Our men made up most of the famous Ninth Divvy, the Ninth Division of the Australian Army,” the pilot said quietly. “The bloody British threw our men in against Rommel, in Africa. Rifles and flesh and blood against tanks! Rommel’s tanks cut our boys into ribbons! They’ve been overseas since late Thirty-nine and this city is a lonely place for women.”

The official welcoming party at the New Farm Wharf lacked the enthusiastic celebration that the Submarine Staff at Pearl Harbor usually gave a returning submarine, but it was warm enough. A working party from the submarine tender brought aboard crates of tropical fruits and eight sacks of mail. As the crew spread out on the deck, chewing at fruit and reading their mail, Captain Hinman and his officers went up on the Wharf to meet and shake hands with the Submarine Staff officers. A tall, slim, Australian General stepped out and shook hands warmly with Major Struthers.

“First things first, Captain Hinman,” the Operations Officer of the Staff said. “We are pleased to credit Mako with four ships sunk in the special mission at Bougainville. Four.

“In all fairness I will say that we could not give Mako credit for any sinkings until Intelligence had confirmed the actual results. That confirmation has come in. The Japs have written off four of the ships as a total loss. Three other ships are badly damaged, engine rooms flooded, that sort of thing and you are credited with damaging those ships. Two other ships have been repaired so we cannot give credit for those.” He paused and nodded his head at a junior officer, who stepped forward and handed Captain Hinman a large, flat manila envelope.

“Open it, Captain,” the Operations Officer said.

Hinman opened the envelope and pulled out a stencil of a bath house on stilts with a Japanese Rising Sun flag painted on its side.

“Naval Intelligence also reports the Japanese Command at Bougainville reported that a Major General, a full Colonel. and two enlisted men were killed in what was described as the explosion of a probable aircraft bomb during an air raid while they were taking their morning shower on the date,” he paused and allowed a small smile to cross his face, “on the date Mako reports that the shore party had mined a bath house within the Japanese Army camp!

“In view of the fact that both the Japanese officers were known to be experts in jungle warfare and inasmuch as the U.S. Navy’s Marine Corps is now engaged in a bitter battle to hold on to Guadalcanal, it has been officially decided that the, ah, mining of the bath house was a heavy loss to the enemy and Mako is hereby given credit for sinking one, ah, Japanese bath house!”

“Bloody good show!” Major Struthers bellowed. “Our turn now?” He looked at the Australian General, who nodded.

Major Struthers executed a smart left face, took two steps and did a right face and cracked his boot heels together. He put his riding crop under his left arm and snapped off a smart salute, his right hand quivering at his hat brim in the Australian Army style. The Operations Officer returned the salute and Major Struthers held out his hand. The General stepped forward and gave him a manila folder, one of two such folders the Major had handed him when he walked up on the Wharf.

“It is my privilege to present you with this copy of my report to our General Command, sir.” He handed the folder to the Operations Officer.

“I will summarize the contents for the benefit of those here and for the benefit of the U.S.S. Mako’s Captain and officers who have not seen the report,” Major Struthers went on.

“I have detailed the special mission from start to end with my own estimates of damages inflicted on the enemy.

“I have strongly endorsed what I assume you know already, gentlemen, that Captain Hinman is a courageous, aggressive, highly skilled Naval officer with a fine crew.” He drew a deep breath.

“Further: I have made a strong recommendation that Captain Hinman and Chief Torpedoman’s Mate Gordon Rhodes be awarded the Order of the British Empire for gallantry in action in the face of the enemy!

“I have strongly recommended that the Submarine Command, United States Navy, serving in Australia in the common effort against the enemy, be commended by His Majesty for their daring use of the submarine as a diversified weapon and that the U.S.S. Mako and each member of its crew be commended by His Majesty for gallant service!” He stepped back a pace and saluted again.

The Australian General cleared his throat.

“We are most happy to forward Major Struthers’ recommendations, gentlemen. I might add that the Major’s recommendations will carry great weight. Recommendations for the award of medals for gallantry and for commendations for gallantry which come from a holder of the Victoria Cross with a bar for a second Cross are most seriously considered.”

There was a dead silence on the Wharf. Joe Sirocco nudged Don Grilley slightly. Grilley nudged back to let Sirocco know he understood. The Major had taken no part in the Wardroom discussions about defective torpedoes and the political bickering in the Brisbane Submarine Command. But he had, by his résumé of what he had put in his official report, effectively spiked the guns of those who might have intentions of reprimanding Captain Hinman for his prodigal use of torpedoes.

The Australian General cleared his throat again.

“I might add this to the Major’s report, gentlemen. Major Struthers is a very dangerous combat man. He has been threatening for a long time to bag a General. Now that he has done so I think I can sleep safely of nights!” A gust of laughter swept the Wharf.

“The buses will be here at fourteen hundred hours, Captain.” The Operations Officer was talking to Captain Hinman. “You’ll have to warn your men to be on their best behavior. The Canberra Hotel, where they’ll be quartered, is a temperance hotel, that is, there is no drinking allowed. We have no separate accommodations for your Chief Petty Officers but the good people of this city beg us to quarter Americans in their homes. The Chiefs will be billeted in private homes if they so desire. Officers will be housed in homes we have leased for the duration. My aide will get together with your Executive Officer and take care of the details. If you don’t mind, I’ll send a car for you and your Executive Officer at fourteen hundred so we can get the de-briefing over with today. I’ll have read your report of the patrol by then.”

“This place don’t allow no liquor or beer, that right, Pops?” Ginty growled at the one-armed elevator operator in the Canberra Hotel.

“Matter of speaking, that’s the way it is,” the old man said. “But us old sojers stick together. I lost my left flipper in the first Big War, at the Dardenelles. All you have to do is let me know what you want. Same price as you’d pay in the pub.”

“You wouldn’t have a girl up that empty sleeve, would you?” Ginty grinned.

“I’m past the time for that, bucko,” the old man said. “But you’ll not want for girls. All you have to do is stand on the street corner and look lonesome. There’s women so starved for a man in their bed in this city they’ll fair kidnap you!”

“God!” Mike DeLucia said from the back of the elevator. “We’ve all been killed and gone to Heaven!”

“My first reaction to your patrol report,” the Operations Officer said to Hinman and Sirocco, “is that your tactic of a night surface torpedo attack on the convoy you sighted was wrongly conceived. You wasted four torpedoes on a destroyer escort. We are very short of torpedoes, Captain! One would have been enough. Two at the most.”

“I felt I had to fire the spread of four, sir,” Hinman said. “It was a down-the-throat shot, sir.”

“If you had made your initial attack against the troop-carrying ships, as ordered, the odds are you might have had a much more advantageous firing angle, sir,” the Operations Officer said. “One torpedo fired at the first two troop-carrying ships, one torpedo at each ship, would have brought the destroyer escort back to his charges and you could have picked your firing angle. If you had been submerged, as you should have been, the DE wouldn’t have had a chance! You stayed on the surface and enticed the DE!”

“Sir,” Hinman’s voice was stubborn, “I fired at the DE in what I thought was the best action I could conceive. Once the escort vessel was out of the way I could set up and fire one torpedo at each troop-carrying ship at leisure, take my time, get my hits.

“I did that. As I noted in the patrol report, I fired at seven hundred yards. I made each set-up very carefully. The torpedoes ran too deep! My sound man, there isn’t a better officer in the whole of the submarine Navy than Lieutenant Cohen, heard the fish run through the target bearings, sir! Even when I set the depth at zero feet on the last torpedo it ran under the target!”

“Captain, the torpedoes do not run deeper than the depth setting! I should know, I spent two years working on torpedo depth setting and performance! You missed!”

“Sir,” Hinman said, “with all due respect, sir: Captain Rudd fired three torpedoes out of Plunger’s forward tubes before I left Pearl. Fired them through a net. Each torpedo ran much deeper than set to run. One fish ran almost sixteen feet deeper than it was set to run!”

“Three torpedoes fired in a hastily contrived operation do not constitute a body of proof,” the Operations Officer said calmly. “Show me the results of three hundred torpedoes fired in a carefully supervised test at a proper test range and I’ll consider the evidence of those tests and evaluate them. You Pearl Harbor Captains are very good at complaining about your torpedoes, sir. All of the senior officers in the South West Pacific Command are torpedo experts; we all worked on them at the range in Newport. Your complaints about torpedoes will get no ear in this command, sir! As for the rest of your patrol, I congratulate you.

“The special mission to rescue the missionary and his family was carried out very well. The way your crew treated those unfortunate people has been noted and will undoubtedly be noticed by Sir Winston Churchill. It will help cement better relations between our two nations. This last special mission at Bougainville, very well done, sir!” He paused, his eyes distant.

“This Major Struthers — a most peculiar man.”

“I found him to be a delightful man to have aboard ship, sir. Very cooperative, very pleasant.”

“The Australian military people are very peculiar,” the Operations Officer said. “Not long ago a troop transport loaded with Australian troops from Africa docked at Freemantle, over on the other side of the continent. All the officers commanding those troops had been killed in action or wounded and invalided home.

“A group of English officers was waiting on the dock to take command of the debarking troops. Those Australian troops literally drove the English officers from the dock with a hail of pennies! The Australian penny, Captain, is a very large coin. Thrown with great force it can damage anyone it hits. They threw so many pennies, aimed them so well, the English officers ran in retreat! And the Australian High Command ignored the incident!”

He stood up. “Well, I don’t want to interfere with your rest and relaxation, Captain. I congratulate you on the recommendation for a medal for gallantry by Major Struthers. Our own recommendation will, of course, be filed. I’ll see you here in my office when your ten days are up.”

“I thought we were getting two weeks, sir.”

“Ten days. I’m very sorry but we need submarines out there who can and will fight, sir. As it is I’m stretching it to give your crew ten days.”

Later, sitting over a glass of strong Australian beer, Lieut. Comdr. Gene Puser said, “Captain, there is no way you are going to change these old Gun Club boys. You’re just going to have to grin and bear it.”

“My God!” Hinman said. “How can they discount the evidence? How can they sit there and say that we are missing our targets when I know I didn’t miss?”

“The first thing you have to recognize, sir, is that when you say the torpedoes are faulty you are criticizing all of them. But to be fair, and God knows I don’t want to be, you should see the condition some of the torpedoes are in when some submarines arrive here after patrol. They haven’t been routined, some of them have air flasks with only a half an air charge in them, I’ve seen water scoops plunged up with filth, I’ve seen the air line that goes to the combustion flask too badly misthreaded that it was hanging on the flask by one or two threads. It would blow off the minute the torpedo was fired and the fish wouldn’t have run!

“I’ve seen torpedoes with no alcohol in the alcohol tanks, fish so filthy that I know the screws wouldn’t have turned because the bearings had never been taken care of. So these people do have some basis in their assumption that you people out there are missing the targets, because they’re sure that the torpedoes are so badly cared for that they don’t function.

“And that’s only half of it, the lesser half. What’s worse is the political situation here. Admirals are feuding with other Admirals. General MacArthur, who is the best politician of all of them, takes one side and then the other, playing our people off one against the other so he can get what he wants. It’s a damned wonder that anything gets done at all!”

“Why do you stay here and put up with it?” Hinman’s tone was blunt.

“I owe a hell of a lot to Bob Rudd. He asked me to be his eyes and ears. I hate being a tale bearer but I rationalize it by saying to myself that it’s for the good of the Service.

“And I can see some good coming of it. Captain Rudd is putting enormous pressures on Washington and the torpedo experts there and in Newport.

“The fact that they admitted that you had sunk those ships in the harbor would not have happened six months ago. Six months ago they wouldn’t have asked for an Intelligence evaluation of your contact report! Six months ago they would have put you on the carpet for even admitting your shore party had mined a Japanese bath house! But when they asked for an Intelligence report on that I knew it was a sign that what I do for Captain Rudd, what he’s doing from his end, is getting results.”

“Hell of a thing,” Hinman grinned. “Painting a bath house on the Conning Tower! Major Struthers wanted me to go up to the Empire and put him ashore so he could blow up a train and we could paint a train on our Conning Tower! He’s a character!”

“One to be a friend with, not an enemy,” Puser said. “He’s one of the few around who are living who’s got two Victoria Crosses. That’s the British equivalent of our Congressional Medal of Honor, you know.”

“He never even hinted at it when he was on board,” Hinman said. “What did he get them for?”

“I only know about one,” Puser said. “British Intelligence got word that Rommel was going to host a dinner party for his top commanders in Bizerte, in Tunisia. The Major parachuted into the outskirts of the city and walked into the General Staff Headquarters building, and God knows how he did that!

“Then he walked up, nice as you please, and rapped at the front door. When the German sentry opened the door he cut the man’s throat! He walked into the building, found the room where the dinner party was going on, kicked the door open and Sten-gunned the whole dinner table! Rommel wasn’t there but he killed a lot of top German brass!

“Then he ran out of the building, it was built up on stilts like so many desert buildings, and went under the building and jumped into the cesspool that the building’s toilets emptied into! He stayed there all that night and the next day and then he climbed out the following night and walked out into the desert to a prearranged place and was picked up by a light plane. I’m told that the plane’s pilot put in for Hardship Discharge, said the Major’s stench had ruined his nose and eyes for life!”

Hinman toyed with his empty beer glass. “He’s a strange man but a good one. He’s properly trained for his work. We’re not. The Japs are much better at anti-submarine warfare than we are. We were never trained properly to attack enemy ships. We don’t know much about their mast heights, their silhouettes, their speeds. But the Jap knows how to fight us! Bob Rudd told me that we’re taking very heavy losses in the submarine force.”

Puser nodded assent. “I’m sure you’re right. Some of our submarine skippers are far too timid. You didn’t mention that but you could have because I’m sure you know it. We get patrol reports in here from a Captain and then we hear a request for a transfer from his Executive Officer and you wouldn’t think the two men had been on the same war patrol! We’ve got younger officers accusing their Captains of outright cowardice! Not one, quite a few! It’s shocked the Command here almost into a coma, they don’t want to believe that Academy officers are cowards, some of them.

“I’ll say this to your face, sir; there aren’t very many Art Hinmans around and there are damned few Arvin Mealeys! Which reminds me, there’s another thing I want to tell you.

“You read Mealey’s report on the patrol he made with Mako? He went into great detail about the tenacious and skilled attacks made on him by the Japanese. Intelligence has found out who was directing those attacks on Mealey. His name is Captain Akihito Hideki. He used to run the anti-submarine warfare school for the Japanese Navy. His nickname in the Japanese Navy is ‘The Professor.’ Not many anti-submarine people know as much as that fellow does and Mealey was lucky to get away from him. Just hope that you don’t ever meet up with him!” He drained his glass.

“Now, if you want to know about Brisbane’s night life, which isn’t much, or about the ladies of Brisbane, and there are lots of them, let me know.”

Hinman shook his head, grinning. “I got married just before I left the States. I’ll stick to the zoo and the botanical gardens and write letters. But thanks for the offer.”

“No reason you should spend all your time alone,” Puser said. “I happen to be single and I’m sort of going with a very lovely girl. You could be a third at dinner any evening you want some company.” He smiled at Hinman.

“Your crew won’t have any trouble finding someone to give them a back rub! You might not be able to find more than half of them when it comes time to go back to the ship. That happens in Brisbane!”