Terror in the pacific, p.20
Terror in the Pacific, page 20
The light went on and the guns fired instantly. A three-volley round was fired by the fifty-one and fifty-two mounts without hesitation. The six shells turned the after mount into a funeral pyre that continued to set off ammunition in the mount. At the same time, the after two mounts on the HAMMER tore into the barge full of supplies for Guadalcanal.
Firing back and forth between the second escort and the AGAR lit up the skies a mile away.
The last towing destroyer fired its only gun at the HAMMER, scoring a direct hit on the torpedo tubes, which erupted into a fierce inferno. The repair parties immediately began fighting the fire, which if not contained would destroy the ship.
The fifty-five and fifty-four mounts swung about and fired into the hulk of the once proud destroyer of the Imperial Japanese Navy, sending her beneath the surface that quenched its own fires.
It became eerie quiet after the battle, the only ships about were the HAMMER and AGAR, both damaged, and the HAMMER still battling flames. AGAR searched for survivors, several of which swam away. They were not pursued.
The two ships headed for Tulagi, a hundred-ninety-miles to the southeast. With the fire still burning, the ships made only ten knots. Half an hour later it was fully extinguished, and the ships boosted their speed to twenty-five knots. It would take about eight and a half hours to make the trip.
“Captain,” a messenger murmured as he handed the commander a slip of paper. The young messenger was supposed to be seventeen, but he lied, nobody knowing he would have his sixteenth birthday in a week. He looked at the Captain, who was looking him in the eyes, “I’m terribly sorry sir,” Tears ran down his soot darkened face, as he hung his head. The Captain knew he wasn’t of age and reached out to him.
“It will be alright son, you’re doing a hard man’s job. Anytime you want to talk, just get ahold of me.”
“Thank you sir, I need to get back to my station.”
“You’re a good sailor mate, and I’m proud to have you as part of my crew.”
“Thank you sir.” Then he was gone into the darkness.
The Captain received word that seven sailors and the Torpedo Officer lost their lives, and six men were injured.
The Captain said, “OOD, I’m making a head call and will stop by the wardroom to see the Doc.”
“Aye sir. Captain’s off the bridge.”
Captain Jackman entered the wardroom, which doubles as a surgery bay. “How are things going Doc?”
“We lost seven and Ensign Edgerton.”
“I saw the list, how are the other six?”
“All will survive, but two will need surgery to correct the burns they received, one of which will carry his scars for life. The other four are relatively minor, I took them off duty for now, but if the need arises, they can man their stations. How are you doing? Are you getting the rest you need?”
“I’m trying doc but running a combat ship isn’t like a civilian job, in by eight or nine, then home by five. It’s more like a demanding woman. When she wants this or that, it’s now.”
“Yes, I know, all too much. Try to get as much rest as you can, it is necessary for the ship.”
“I hear ya Doc, and I will. If you need anything, call, we’ll do whatever we can for our wounded.”
“Yes Captain.”
A quick stop by the site of the fire, and the Captain headed for the bridge. On entering he was greeted with the traditional “Captain on the bridge.”
“OOD, how is our progress?”
“Good captain, I estimate Tulagi by nine-hundred.”
“Very well. The estimate of damage come in yet?”
“Torpedo called and will have it here in an hour.”
The Captain called the after-deckhouse shop. “How did the recovery go, we were a bit busy up here?”
“It went well sir, a small ding in a wing, but overall she is in good shape.”
“That was a whole new advantage we had over seeing their moves as they made them. When we get time, I would like to know more about how we might make use of your little invention.”
“Yes sir.” Now the trouble begins. I’m just going to have to avoid that meeting. Morgan and Mike knocked off and went topside to catch a couple of winks before the war caught up to them again.
The call to man the Special Sea and Anchor detail got the two up and they headed for the engineroom.
Morgan took the throttles and Mike headed for the lower level to man the pumps. Other than the sounds of machinery, it was quiet at least from the steam driven pumps, Mike settled in on the watch.
In his spare time outside the engineroom, Mike had been reading everything regarding electricity and electronics, for some unknown reason, it all stuck with him, and was completely logical and easy to understand. Then with being able to help Morgan on the drone and associated components they handmade, it was as if he was a natural at it. He designed and standpoint of having people around. After checking all the pumps operations, and particularly the oil levels in the made the servo motors for the flight control surfaces after discussing it with Morgan.
Morgan motioned to Jake to get his attention, “We’re moving into the Tulagi anchorage area. We should drop our anchor any minute now.”
Jake raised his cup of coffee in response.
The annunciator rank up all stop. Then on the sound powered circuit he heard, “Anchor has been dropped. After engineroom, Main Control, put the main engine on the Jacking gear and lube oil pump, maintain a steaming watch.”
“We’re to maintain the standard steaming watch. I have a feeling we won’t be here too long.”
“Yeah, probably until the next air raid comes in.”
A boat pulled alongside the HAMMER, and the Squadron Division Officer climbed aboard. In the wardroom, the officers discussed a deployment to give a cruiser-destroyer force some extra guns. “ Head to the Russell Island refueling point and top off from the oiler, then join the task force.”
“Aye sir.”
“Tell me, how were you able to evade a school of fish, then wipe out a five destroyers and two cruiser with just two destroyers?”
“Just good luck and all the right moves at the right time, sir. The cruisers weren’t engaged, they turned northeast at the start of the attack. It wasn’t without a high price. We lost out Torpedo Officer, Ensign Forest Edgerton and six men, with another six wounded.”
“I saw that, sorry to hear of your loss. I’ve put in for replacements, but it’s unknown how long it will take to them get here.”
our fish because they became a danger to the ship and crew.”
“You were right to do so. You can pick up replacements after this assignment.”
“Understood sir. Any specific orders regarding the gun force.”
“No, just keep your head on, and help where you can.”
“Will do sir. I take it you received my damage report?”
“I did, when you finish this assignment we’ll get you to a repair shop.”
“Thank you sir. Just to keep in mind we’re without tubes, and we jettisoned
“Yes sir.”
“Sir, will the AGAR go with us?”
“No, she is on another assignment. I need to be moving on, there is a lot going on.”
The ship prepared to head for the oiler, then at sixteen hundred set sail for the area off the southern corner of Rennell Island. The oiler was located and HAMMER waited her turn to refuel. She joined the task force and headed off the southern shores of Guadalcanal, following last in line behind a Benson class can. The Benson and Gleaves class ships were almost identical. The most readily identifying feature were the flat sides of the Benson’s stacks, while the Gleaves were round. Some called the Bensons the Livermore class thus they were called in some circles as the Livermore-Benson class. No matter the class, heroes manned them all.
By twenty-two-thirty, every ship had been locked down in condition one since sunset. They steamed about fifteen miles southeast of Cape Esperance. Orders placed six-hundred yards between cruisers, and five-hundred between destroyers.
The American line of warships were about to cross the ‘T’ of the enemy’s course of one-four-nine-degrees, when the cruisers opened fire at the enemy ships about seven-mile distance. They caught a Japanese task force by surprise. The HAMMER shook from bow to stern as the four main battery five-inch guns began a furious barrage at the enemy ships.
Despite the lead cruiser being trashed immediately by the first volley’s , other cruisers and destroyers returned fire as they unmasked their guns. As it happens, the ensuing night battle dove into confusion. The American destroyers launched a broadsides of torpedoes, scoring one or two hits. Caught off guard, the Japanese ships were late in launching a wave of their own deadly three- ton monster torpedoes. The shells from the enemy ships began scoring hits of their own. The HAMMER shook as a single eight-inch shell punched through her port side beneath the bridge and due to being a dud armor piercing round, crashed through bulkheads and out the starboard side at the waterline without exploding. Damage control teams immediately began patching the holes, thankful the shell didn’t go off.
The formation held together with guns firing from all directions. The enemy commander ordered a hundred-eighty-degree turn about, to clear the American buzz saw they ran into. Here and there search lights went on, but immediately became a target of frenzy shots to shut them down.
Some cool heads on the enemy ships, lined up and fired torpedoes at the line of Americans. The three-ton ship killers raced eight and to ten feet below the surface at fifty knots. The American naval forces still unaware of the magnitude of destruction in those torpedoes.
The American formation fell apart as it pursued the turning enemy ships, several of which were afire. The Task Force was now shy by three destroyers, which had been badly hit, and two in the early throes of sinking.
Nobody saw the Type ninety-three torpedo streaking through the black water toward the HAMMER.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The ship staggered a little at the initial impact, then jumped several feet sideways and upward. After picking his sore body off the deck, Charlie Evans asked, “What was that?” his eyes wide with fear.
Every person aboard was taken by surprise as the torpedo punched its way through the side of the ship into the after fireroom. The beast had plunged half its length into the space when the detonating sequence closed, setting off the thousand-eighty-pounds of high explosive in its warhead.
Everything that followed took place in less than the blink of an eye. The compression of the air in the enclosed space spiked the temperature higher than the flame of the burning explosive, resulting in a superheated ram of air that burned every man in the space to ash which was then pulverized at the same time from the massive pressure overload. The end for those men was instantaneous and merciful. The boilers exploded adding more building pressure within the space. These ships were not designed for the pressures that were exerted within it, causing the ship to rip into two parts in that blink of an eye. Several men topside were tossed up to thirty yards from the ship into the black sea, including a fifteen-year old seaman, who swam away from the doomed ship. Nobody on the bridge survived.
The forward end of the ship was then battered with eight and five-inch shells from several Japanese ships at the same time. The near unrecognizable mass of twisted and torn metal groaned, then rolled over into her death dive, taking all hands still aboard with her.
In the after-engine room of the severed stern section, Mike Crown was having trouble freeing himself from a twisted and bent handrail wrapped about his ankle. His sight blurred from the stream of blood from a gash in his head. The black, oily water was raising at a frightening rate. Morgan pulled himself from the tangled pile of humanity beneath the throttle board and looked about. The forward bulkhead was partially missing, which allowed him to see a flickering fire and smoke from still burning puddles of fuel.
“Mike, where are you? Mike?” Morgan called. He worked his way by hand to what was left of the orderly lower level to find Mike pressed against the outer bulkhead. He was bleeding from a head wound and fighting to free his foot. Morgan wiped blood from his own face as he vaulted over what was the twisted knot of a pump and landed just above Mike.
“Are you alright?”
“Yeah, but my foot is caught, can you help?”
Morgan lowered himself into the cool water which was bubbling in faster than he wanted. Reaching down he felt the handrail and moved along it until it came into contact with Mike’s leg. “How did you manage to get wrapped around that stantion?” He asked with an unseen smile.
“Just get me the hell out of here, I don’t want to go down with this junk heap.”
“Trust me, neither of us are going down with her.” He grabbed the handrail and braced his feet against the bulkhead and pulled with all his might, while asking God for the strength to do what normally was impossible. The handrail moved, then popped away from one end. Morgan grabbed the now oil covered railing and gave it a pull. With the added length from the bend, the leverage pulled the railing off Mikes ankle.
“I’m free, let’s get out of here.”
By then the stern section had taken on a list as the two swam into the waters of the sound. A bright light played on the two of them, a voice called out, “Grab this.” Then a life ring slapped into the water. Mike grabbed it, unable to move his foot without excruciating pain.
“I think my ankle is broken.”
“Just hang on, we’ll pull you in.” Minutes later Mike was hauled up out of the water, denying the New Georgia of yet another soul.
“Morgan, where are you. Do you see the other guy who was with me?”
“He’s swimming back toward the wreckage. There may be more men in there.”
Mike pulled himself up a folded fire hose on the bulkhead, and looked back, trying to see his friend in the dark waters. He saw flotsam and a couple of unmoving bodies. Then the dreaded triangle of a dorsal fin cutting the water.
The list of the stern section of the once proud USS HAMMER rolled over in slow motion, then with her twisted propellers waving goodbye, slipped beneath the oil covered water to join her other section three thousand feet below. Now it was only black oily water, with pieces of debris on fire of floating around. The burning flotsam giving off an eerie flickering light.
A Hospitalman said quietly, “Let me look at that leg.” He helped Mike lay down, tears falling unabashedly down his cheeks. His ship, his most trusted friend, everything, gone. He had a terribly empty feeling in his stomach he feared would never go away.
****
Morgan swam by the dying stern of the ship, knowing there was no saving anyone else from the twisted engineroom. He had to get away from the wreckage or it would pull him to the bottom with it. He swam as hard as he could to stay clear of the stern section, which still held a dozen depth charges. If they weren’t on safe, the concussion of their explosions would crush the life out of him as surly as if he was standing next to the torpedo that sank them.
He swam until he was unable to move. His body covered with sticky black oil. His mouth and nose clogged with the horrid stuff. A thousand thoughts went through his mind. Some of which was the only evidence of the drone program, or knowledge of it was now on its way to the bottom. He didn’t know how many men who knew of its existence survived. He wasn’t worried about Mike, he would keep it to himself. Morgan had watched his buddy until he saw the first part of the rescue before he turned toward the stern section. Looking about he saw a boat not too far away and he yelled at it, hoping his weakened voice would carry the distance.
After what seemed a year, a beam of light flashed across his face and moved on. Suddenly it reversed its course and returned to light up the straining man. He weakly waved at the source of the light. Then strong arms were pulling him from the sound. Totally exhausted, Morgan relaxed allowing the saving hands to haul him into the motor whale boat. With a belly full of the oil, he was seriously nauseated, and began vomiting it out.
The Coxswain checked him over, “can you breathe okay?”
The soggy man said yes, then turned over and retched again.
The motor whale boat slowly move in an enlarging circle looking for survivors. The Coxswain grimaced, “The place is crawling with sharks, man I hate them.” After looking for another thirty minutes, the boat made for its home, a destroyer escort.
Morgan was taken to the sick bay where he was checked over and it was determined that other than swallowing some black fuel oil and a large laceration on his head, he was uninjured. The Hospitalman gave him some blackish thick liquid and told him to drink it.
“What is it?” He asked.
“It’s a mixture of activated charcoal in a drinkable solution. It will help you pass the remaining oil in your system. Once you do that, you’ll feel much better.”
“Thanks,” Morgan groaned.
“What’s your name and rank?”
Thinking for a minute, Morgan told him name and rank, along with his service number. He was going to give him another name, but the face of his beautiful red-haired wife flashed before his eyes. If there were any inquisitions about an unauthorized project, he would just play dumb, and deny any knowledge of it. With his friend safe, he now had a wife and a life to live.
As the smaller ship made its way toward Tulagi, Morgan was still weak and passing black stools. The doctor decided he should be taken to the hospital ship at Vanuatu, where he could get the needed care he was going to need. It was going to take a while for his system to clean out.
****
Meanwhile Mike was taken from Tulagi and sent stateside for additional attention to his foot. The attending doctor said to him, “You have a nasty break in your ankle, but the medical facilities at Balboa should be able to put you in top shape. You should get thirty days survivors leave that doesn’t count against your regular leave. Take it and rest, it’s the best thing you can do to complete the rehabilitation part of recovery.”
