Final Harbor

Chapter 2

The blast of the diving klaxon sent the Mako sliding down under the sea before the first light of the false dawn. Captain Hinman stood in the Conning Tower, waiting until the diving officer had leveled the ship off at 63 feet. Then he cautiously raised the periscope and began a methodical search of the horizon. As he finished, Mike Brannon’s voice came up to him through the hatch.

“Crew is at Battle Stations, sir. Torpedo tube doors are closed. Repeat closed. We should be at the approach to the harbor entrance in twenty minutes. Sunrise should be in twenty-four minutes. When the headland on our starboard hand bears zero five zero, sir, we’ll have to make a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree turn to port and proceed on the reverse course. We should have time to run in, run out and run in again before the sun gets too high to blind anyone looking for our periscope.”

“Very well,” Captain Hinman said.

The Mako slid silently through the water. As the ship neared the mouth of the harbor, Captain Hinman, searching the area to his stern, flinched at the blaze of the rising sun in the lens of the periscope.

“The sun is up now, Control. Bring me up another ten feet. Slowly! I don’t want to broach!” He nodded at Chief Yeoman John Maxwell who stood in the after end of the Conning Tower with a notebook and pencil ready.

“Stand by, John. Take down everything I say.” He swung the periscope through another complete turn, examining the sea and the sky. Then he steadied the lens on the harbor. Maxwell saw the muscles of Hinman’s shoulders bunch under his thin khaki shirt.

“I see one… three… six, seven… nine… eleven oil tankers in the harbor!” Hinman’s voice was crisp. “Five of those ships are in the center of the harbor. I can’t tell from this distance and angle whether they are moored or anchored. Estimated tonnage of those five ships ranges from five to eight thousand tons.

“There are two ships at docks at the far end of the harbor. These are much larger ships, look to be twice the size of those in the middle of the harbor. The five tankers in the middle of the harbor appear to be fully loaded.

“There are four destroyers underway in the harbor! One of the destroyers is very large, estimate it to be a Fubuki destroyer leader.” He pulled the periscope around. “Headland now bears zero five zero, Control. Commence your turn to port.” He swung the periscope back to the harbor.

“The four destroyers have formed up and are now standing this way, coming toward the harbor mouth! The Fubuki is in the lead!” He began to turn the periscope to the right as the Mako began to turn left.

“I’ll stay at this depth for two more minutes,” he said to the Control Room. “When I give you the word take me back down to sixty-three feet. Here we go again, Chief. I see four ships deep in the harbor, this is in addition to the others recorded. These ships are either anchored or moored. All appear to be some sort of freighters, I cannot estimate tonnages from here. There are several warships, destroyers or destroyer leaders moored in a nest. I count six destroyers in that nest.

“The Japanese destroyers are now nearing the mouth of the harbor. Range to the lead destroyer is four zero zero zero yards! Open the outer doors on all torpedo tubes! Take me down to sixty-five feet! Fast!” He slammed the handles on the search periscope into the up position and jammed his thumb against the button that lowered the periscope.

“Left fifteen degrees rudder!” He thumbed the control button to raise the attack periscope, a thin-necked tube with a small viewing lens that left very little wake at slow speeds.

“Sound reports screws bearing two one zero, sir,” Brannon reported.

“Very well,” Hinman said. He handed the periscope control to the quartermaster. “Up slowly, I’ll ride her up.” He crouched down on the deck and as the periscope rose out of its well he snapped the handles down and clamped his face against the rubber eyepiece and rode the periscope upward. The quartermaster watched him carefully, his thumb on the button that would stop the upward travel of the periscope. Hinman saw the solid green water in the lens break into foam and daylight.

“Stop!” Hinman snapped.

“Lead destroyer now bearing zero zero zero! Range is two five zero zero! Helm amidships! Meet her head right there! By God, I don’t think they know we’re here!” He watched the big Fubuki, its high knife-like bow cleaving the water as it passed directly in front of Mako, followed by the three smaller ships.

“They’re going so fast they can’t hear anything on their sound gear,” Hinman said. “Take a fathometer reading, Mike. I want to know how much water we’ve got under our keel over here.”

He heard the muted “ping” of the fathometer and then Mike Brannon’s voice came up through the hatch.

“Forty feet under the keel, sir. Repeat. Four zero feet.” Hinman shuddered. The Mako was in water far too shallow to do any evasive maneuvering. He looked at the line of destroyers again. The Fubuki was now well out of the harbor and picking up speed. He saw a burst of bright color at the Fubuki’s foremast yardman as the ship began a turn to the left, heading north. Similar bursts of color showed at the foremasts of the other three destroyers as they obeyed the turn signal. As the destroyers pulled away, the Mako slid toward the harbor.

“We’ll go right into the harbor mouth,” Hinman called down to the Control Room. “We’ll make a turn to starboard to come out, we know there’s plenty of water in the channel. John, stand by with your pencil. I’ll make another count of the ships.” He ran up the search periscope with its big viewing lens. His ship count was correct. He gave orders to reverse course and looked to the north. He could see the faint outlines of the destroyers, still heading northward.

“Close Torpedo Room outer doors,” he called down to the Control Room. “Mr. Simms, turn the dive over to the Chief of the Watch and come up here and take the deck. Close torpedo tube outer doors. Crew can stand easy on Battle Stations. Cooks can serve coffee now, breakfast later when I give the word. Maintain quiet about the decks. I’ll see Mr. Brannon in the Wardroom in five minutes with his charts. Smoking lamp is lighted.”

Captain Hinman sipped at a cup of black coffee as he studied the chart Brannon had laid out on the Wardroom table. Brannon spooned sugar into his coffee cup and poured canned milk into the cup.

“I want to set up a patrol course along the coast from the harbor north,” Hinman said. “As long as those tin cans are out of sight to the north we can risk fathometer readings as we go. We might need that information later.” He put his thick thumb on the chart. “I’d like to patrol from the harbor to about here, about ten miles up the coast and back again.”

“What do you think they’ll do?” Brannon’s eyes were innocent as he sipped his coffee.

“I saw five tankers in there loaded to their Plimosol marks,” Hinman said. “And a big Fubuki and three other tin cans came out of the harbor and went north. What do you think?”

“I’d say the tin cans are making an anti-submarine sweep, a search,” Brannon said. “That’s what I’d do if I was getting ready to put a convoy out to sea. I’d search the area first.”

Hinman nodded, his face expressionless. “What else?”

“Well, if they don’t find anything and I don’t think they will because there’s not another submarine of ours within five hundred miles of here, they’re all well north of us, I’d say the tin cans will come back and escort some tankers out of the harbor.”

“When? Before or after dark?”

“After dark.” Brannon warmed to the questions he was being asked. “If I were on that Fubuki I’d come back with my other cans and make another sweep around the harbor mouth and then lead out my convoy, form them up and start north. I’d stay close to the land mass so the ship’s outlines couldn’t be picked up against the mountains. There’s good water, deep water all the way in to the beach according to this chart we have. That would be the safest thing for them to do, don’t you think?”

“I’m asking you what you think,” Hinman said. He stood up and stretched hugely.

“He’d be safe from observation from the sea,” Brannon said slowly. “But what he wouldn’t know is that we are in between his ships and the beach!” He looked up at Captain Hinman.

“Exactly!” Hinman said. “I’m going to get some sleep. Wake me if the periscope watch sees anything at all. Secure Battle Stations. Serve breakfast. Maintain quiet about the decks.” He left the Wardroom. Brannon watched him go. He hadn’t said anything about his battle plan. Or had he? Brannon sighed and looked at the chart.