Yashimoto's Last Dive

Twenty-eight

At 1830 Restless's broadcast system crackled into life. The shrill whistle of the Boatswain’s call was followed by the Coxswain’s, ‘D’ye hear there — d’ye hear there?’ Next came Barratt’s voice: ‘This is your Captain speaking. I want to tell you about tonight’s operation. As you know the Japanese submarine which massacred the Fort Nebraska survivors is inside the creek where they’ve been repairing shell damage. We’re keeping the entrance covered by radar. The water outside is too shallow for a dive for about the first mile so the Jap will have to come out on the surface. Well trimmed down, no doubt, but still a radar target.’ Barratt coughed, cleared his throat. ‘I think we’ve got our nasty friends pretty well bottled up. We know they have sentries at the mouth of the creek — and probably on the headland since the Catalina’s visit this afternoon. But that doesn’t matter now. We want them to see us hanging around their front door. They’ll be on the alert tonight, probably expecting something to happen. And they’ll not be disappointed.’ Barratt paused. ‘But it won’t come from where they expect it. No straight left to the chin. No Marquis of Queensberry rules. What they’re going to get is a bloody great kick up the arse. And we’re going to give it to them. So we’ll be landing a shore party in much the same way as we did last night. Only this one will be a lot bigger, and its job a lot tougher.’ Barratt’s voice was hoarse. He stopped, again cleared his throat. ‘I won’t go into the where and how of the operation now, because I’ll soon be giving a detailed briefing to the shore party and others concerned. They’ll pass on the story in their messes after the briefing. So you’ll get it all very shortly. There’s one thing I want to stress — the shore party is, for obvious reasons, small in numbers. Each man has been chosen for his special skills, and each is a volunteer. But I want to emphasize that the attack is being carried out by Restless — it’s her battle — and every one of you has an important role to play. And that’s why I know the attack is going to succeed. Because this is a first-rate ship with a first-rate ship’s company. We are going to destroy that — ’ he hesitated, searching for words, — that submarine and as many of its bloody awful crew as we possibly can. Zero hour is 0200, two hours after midnight. That is all. Good luck and God bless you.’

The rumble of cheers from the messdecks reached many parts of the ship.

It was a hot night, made more sultry by low cloud which shut out the sky, and though the wind had freshened it was blowing down from the Equator bringing with it a front of warm air.

After the Captain’s broadcast, Brad Corrigan left the stuffiness of the seamen’s mess for the comparative comfort of the upper deck where he leant against the ladder to the searchlight platform. There, with folded arms, he looked out into the wall of darkness surrounding the ship, seeing nothing but hearing the rhythmic hum of the turbines, louder than usual because he was near the engineroom skylights, and the splash of the sea along the side as Restless moved through the water. At regular intervals the ship would heel over as she reversed course at the extremities of her patrol line.

Corrigan’s thoughts were mixed: excited at the prospect of action, worried at the thought of danger, reassured by his own strength and skill, and proud in a diffident way about what the Captain had said that afternoon.

He’d begun by saying that the Japanese submarine was to be attacked that night, and hinted at how it would be done. ‘I’m not pretending it won’t be dangerous, Corrigan. It will be. But I want you with me because you’re a long way the best man for the job. We’ll have plenty of back-up, but you and I — just the two of us — will be on the sharp end. There are two reasons why I reckon we’re the best pair for the job. One is that we both have a lot more reason than anybody else in this ship to loathe those bastards. The other is that you’re a strong swimmer, you know how to look after yourself in the water. I’m pretty good there, too. Not in your class, but above average. Now I’m not taking anybody ashore who isn’t a volunteer. If you volunteer for the job I’ll be delighted. But if you don’t — and I know you’d have good reasons for that — I won’t think any the less of you, nor ask for your reasons.’

There hadn’t been any hesitation on Corrigan’s part. ‘No way will I miss that chance, Captain. I’ll be right there with you. And glad of it.’ And he’d said it thinking of what the goddam Japs had done to Smitty Fredericks and all his other mates.

He looked at his watch — 1850. Another ten minutes and I’ll have to go along to the wardroom, he thought. See who the other guys are and get the low-down on what’s gonna happen. The Captain put me wise on what he called the Sharp End. But there’s a helluva lot he hasn’t told me. He said I’d get it all at the briefing. Then he shakes hands like we were buddies and I see from his eyes that he’s all het up. Looking for a fight, I guess. He’s not a big guy but he’s tough all right. And he knows what he’s doing. I’m glad it’s him and not some kinda ordinary officer I’m going with.

A distant sheet of lightning lit the horizon and he could see the coastline of Africa, a low-lying, undulating strip of land. Don’t need no goddam lightning, he told himself. Better it stays plenty dark. Looking up into the black, starless sky, he muttered, ‘Hey, Mister God, keep it real dark will you.’ His thoughts moved on to Sandport, Massachusetts. How’s it there? he wondered, pictures of his parents sliding through his mind. After the briefing I better write a note to the folks, just in case. Tell them we got a fight coming in a few hours. Say I feel great. Think about them a lot. That’s what they like to hear. Guess I’ll ask them to pass my love to Mary Lou. Yeah. I’ll do that. Just a few lines’ll be enough.

But for guest nights, Restless's wardroom was rarely called upon to accommodate so many people. Close on thirty officers and men, some sitting, some standing, had crowded in, the ventilation system struggling valiantly with tropical night and the heat of many human bodies in a confined space. Barratt sat at the far end of the wardroom table facing his audience, briefing notes in front of him. He was flanked by the First Lieutenant and the Engineer Officer.

‘The object of Operation Maji Mark Two', he said by way of opening the proceedings, ‘is to destroy the Japanese submarine I-357.’ With a sombre look he added, ‘The more Japanese we kill in accomplishing that object the better.’ He went on to say that those present included the members of the shore party and the key personnel responsible for fighting the ship. ‘The operation involves a two-handed attack on the enemy. Restless will do a lot more than landing and recovering the shore party. She will deal with any attempt by the submarine to leave the creek, and she will create a vital diversion. Without it the operation is unlikely to succeed.

‘Before getting down to detail I would like to make a few observations. There were many more volunteers than we needed for the shore party. That didn’t surprise me. But its members are limited and with a ship’s company of two hundred and twenty men there were bound to be disappointments. I’m sorry about that. However, every man in Restless is involved in the operation in one way or another. In every way it’s a team effort. In choosing men for the shore party I was influenced by our needs and their special skills. We’ve a poacher…’ He looked at Angus McLean and there was a murmur of laughter. ‘… four men with marksmen’s badges, some good swimmers, a county rugger player, a couple of Judo experts, and so on. Next point. No notes, please.’ Barratt’s eyes were on Andrew Weeks. ‘I don’t think anybody will be taken prisoner but we must guard against the possibility, however remote. So, no notes. When I get to what each of you has to do, commit your part to memory.’

With an embarrassed grin Andrew Weeks put away his notebook.

‘Now for the shore party,’ Barratt went on, looking round with eyes which seemed unusually bright. ‘First let me say that all those who landed in last night’s recce party have volunteered for tonight’s do, so we’ve an important advantage. Not only have we got men who’ve already been on the island at night but, in place of the splendid Mr Katu — ’ Barratt hesitated, frowned, then smiled at the fresh ripple of subdued laughter, ‘- we have Aba Said, a Maji islander. He not only knows every inch of the island and exactly where the submarine is lying, but he’s familiar with its routine, where the sentry posts are, their inspection routine, etcetera.’ Barratt looked across to where Peter Morrow was doing a low-key simultaneous translation for the African’s benefit. ‘He’s already given us marvellous information, including details like the submarine’s pennant numbers. He saw them on one of their inflatables. He’ll be invaluable tonight.’ Barratt consulted his notes. ‘Right — let’s move on. The shore party will be seventeen strong, split into four groups: the Pathfinders, three men; the Rig Crew, seven; the Beach Party, five men — and the Sharp End, two. Got that?’ He glanced at the faces in front of him. ‘Now this is where you chaps have got to listen very carefully because I’m going to give you the names of those in each group, and explain their duties. I’ll also give the times for the different stages of the operation. They are, of course, approximate.’ His manner took on a sudden gravity. ‘Remember — there can be hitches, things can go wrong. It’s the unpredictable in war which makes planning difficult. An awkward sentry for instance, or too much moon, too little cloud, too much noise. That sort of thing. So be ready to improvise if necessary.’

When he’d finished naming the men for each group and outlining their various tasks, he detailed the arms and other equipment to be carried, the signal arrangements and much else. That done, he explained the different stages of the operation, beginning with the beach landing, and ending with the destroyer’s recovery of the shore party.

He dealt next with the part Restless was to play, stressing the importance of timing, of synchronizing her movements as far as possible with those of the shore party. He spoke of the emergency signals, the circumstances under which they might be used, and the action the destroyer would take on observing them. At this point he said, ‘I think I’ve covered just about everything. If you have any questions, now is the time to put them. I’ll do my best to answer them.’

There were a number of questions, some of them important enough to require changes in the operational plan.

When Barratt had dealt with these he looked at the wardroom clock, compared the time with his wristwatch. ‘It’s almost 2000,’ he said. ‘Members of the shore party must have their gear, arms, etcetera mustered by 2130. It’s important to get as much rest as possible between then and 0200 when you leave the ship. ‘Wear dark clothing. Not too much, it’ll be very hot. Blacken your faces and all other exposed flesh — your hair, too, unless it’s black. See the Coxswain if you’ve not got enough blacking, he’ll fix you up. If you run into a Jap sentry in the dark we want him to think you’re an African.’ Barratt’s eyes glittered in a humourless smile. 7/ he has time to think before you kill him.’ He ran a hand across his forehead, once more cleared his throat. ‘Landing on the beach is, as I said earlier, scheduled for 0230. The attack itself round about 0320.’ His eyes travelled over the curious, expectant faces. ‘The First Lieutenant will command Restless in my absence, so the ship will be in good hands.’ He stood up. ‘Well, that’s it. I haven’t thrown in any pep talk. You probably dislike that sort of thing as much as I do. I just want to say that we’ve got a first-rate team, ashore and afloat.’ He paused. ‘When we sink that bloody submarine — I say bloody advisedly -1 hope we’ll give the Japanese some of the treatment they like to dish out to others.’ For a moment his stare seemed to reach out over the heads of his audience, to something beyond the confines of the wardroom. ‘That’s all,’ he said. ‘So good luck and good hunting.’

The First Lieutenant, an attentive but privately critical member of the audience, could not have disapproved more of Operation Map Mark Two. Nevertheless he conceded to himself that the Captain’s planning was impressive. It’s a pity, he thought, that he’s put so much into a mad-hat scheme which is bound to end in disaster.

There was no doubt in Hamilton’s mind that Restless under his temporary command would do all that was required of her, and for his part he would certainly do his utmost. But he was more than ever convinced that Barratt’s judgement had gone. The strange, almost wild light in the Captain’s eyes during the briefing strengthened Hamilton’s belief that the man was on the edge of madness, if not already there.

The punkah flapped interminably, sweeping invisible waves of warm air over those in the Operations Room.

The principle is absurd,’ said Captain (D), eyeing it savagely. ‘Hot air rises. That wretched contraption pushes it down again. Can’t we open another window?’

‘There aren’t any other windows, sir.’ Jakes’s smile suggested happiness with his answer.

‘Well, there ought to be.’ Captain (D) patted round the wetter parts of his forehead, face and neck with a large white handkerchief. ‘So, what is the news from the fighting front?’ he asked the room in general.

Looking gloomier than usual, the SOO tugged at the lobe of an ear. ‘Hutchison was about to report a message from the Duty Officer at 290 Squadron when you came in.’

‘Oh, sorry if I interrupted. Let’s hear it, Hutchison.’

The Flight Lieutenant, having twisted round to hold a whispered conversation with the Wren at the signals’ desk, turned swiftly. ‘Sorry, sir. I’m afraid I missed that?’

‘Not surprised.’ Captain (D) shook his head. ‘Your antennae were trained in the wrong direction. However, I gather you have news from 290 Squadron. What is it? Japanese Fleet sighted, or something serious?’

‘G-for-George landed at Port Reitz a few minutes ago, sir. Its captain, Don Tuke, reports that he sighted Restless at 1725 midway between Tambuzi Island and Cape Ulu, more or less where she’s been for the last couple of days. There was thick cloud and heavy rain in the area during the afternoon, but Tuke says he had a good low-fly look at the coast and islands in the vicinity. Apart from a couple of Portuguese coasters, some dhows and the usual rash of catamarans, he saw nothing worth reporting.’

‘Did Restless attempt to communicate with him?’ The SOO held his head back, his eyes focused along his nose as if it were a rifle barrel.

‘I imagine Don Tuke would have told me had she done so, sir.’ Hutchison spoke in a low voice. He looked across to the far end of the room to check whether Camilla had heard him. She was keying a cypher machine.

‘I simply cannot make out what Barratt’s up to.’ Captain Pelly, the Chief Staff Officer, looked at the punkah as if the answer might come from somewhere within its languid flaps. ‘Looks as if you’ll be joining S-for-Sugar for tomorrow’s ride, George.’

Captain (D)’s blue eyes twinkled with pleasure. ‘Yes, indeed. Take-off at 0400. Spoil my beauty sleep, but it should be worth it. Bound to be cooler in the Catalina.’ He chuckled. ‘Cooler in the Catalina. Rather good. Title for a hit tune.’

‘Let’s hope the weather holds,’ said the CSO. ‘Don’t like the sound of those rainstorms.’

A squeak of surprise from the cypher desk and the scrape of a chair was followed by Camilla sweeping across the room clipboard in hand. ‘Signal from Restless,’ was her triumphant announcement as she passed it to the SOO.

He took it, frowning as he read. ‘H’m,’ he said. ‘That’s better, but still a bit odd.’

‘Come on SOO.’ Captain (D) waved an imperious arm. ‘Let’s have it. Can’t keep all the juicy bits to yourself.’

The SOO surveyed the faces round the operations table with an I-know-it-but-you-don’t look. ‘Usual address and other prefixes,’ he said. ‘Message begins. Intend to attack Japanese submarine I-357 before dawn tomorrow. Message ends. Time of origin 2231.’ He handed the clipboard back to the cypher officer.

Captain (D) glanced at the wall-clock. ‘That was fifteen minutes ago. Does sound a bit odd, CSO. What d’you make of it? And how on earth does he know the Jap’s pennant numbers?’

‘It rather confirms what I thought,’ said the Chief Staff Officer. ‘Barratt knows where that submarine is. Can’t get at it — neutral territory, that sort of thing — so he’s been playing cat and mouse outside, waiting for it to put to sea. His tactics have evidently paid off. He must know she’s coming out sometime before daylight tomorrow. Could be information picked up from African fishermen. They probably gave him the pennant numbers. You’ll recall that Restless's motorboat was seen towing a catamaran. Only thing that puzzles me is why Barratt has now decided to break wireless silence.’

Captain (D) blew out his cheeks before rapidly deflating them. ‘I dare say he made a high speed dash — twenty or thirty miles out to sea before transmitting. That wouldn’t alert the Jap if he’s holed up close inshore. Plenty of traffic in the Mozambique Channel.’

‘Pity Barratt didn’t think of doing something like that days ago,’ suggested the SOO.

The Chief Staff Officer’s expression, the slightly raised eyebrows, conveyed mild disapproval. ‘I’ve no doubt he’ll explain it all when he gets back.’ His eyes settled for a moment on the SOO. ‘Our views may have been a little uncharitable. We could be sending him a signal of congratulation tomorrow.’

‘So — do I or don’t I go down there in the morning, CSO?’ Captain (D)’s usually cheerful face was shadowed by disappointment.

‘I think we might wait and see what happens before deciding on that, George.’

Camilla, standing beside the SOO, patted the clipboard. ‘The Fleet W/T office acknowledged Restless's signal,’ she said. ‘Are we to make any reply, sir?’

‘No,’ said the SOO, adding, ‘unless either of you gentlemen care to?’

‘I don’t think so,’ said Captain (D). ‘Barratt’s found the submarine. He hasn’t asked for help. Why not leave things as they are. He seems to be doing a good job.’

Greatly daring, Camilla fixed her attentions on Captain Pelly. ‘Wouldn’t it be rather nice, sir, to send Restless a “Good luck and good hunting” signal?’

The Captain melted under the appealing eyes of the cypher officer. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘It would be rather nice.’