Submarine! by Edward L. Beach Page B

“Fire!” Three torpedoes churn their way toward the unsuspecting destroyer.
    Cautiously Dick O’Kane runs up the periscope. Suddenly he curses. “They’re going aft! The bastard has speeded up!”
    At the same moment a report from the sound man: “Two hundred turns, sir!”
    â€œThat’s eighteen knots,” says Morton. Then to Roger Paine, “Let’s lead him a bit. Set speed twenty knots!”
    â€œBearing—mark!” from O’Kane.
    â€œZero one zero!”
    â€œSet!”
    â€œFIRE!”
    A fourth torpedo heads for the enemy.
    A cry from O’Kane-“Cease firing! He’s seen the fish! He’s turning away! Down ’scope!” The periscope starts down.
    â€œLeave it up, by God!” Mush’s voice has taken on a new quality, one not heard before by Wahoo’s crew. A raging, fighting, furious voice—the voice of a man who will always dominate the fight, who will lead and conquer, or most assuredly die in the attempt.
    As the periscope starts up again, all eyes in the conning tower instinctively turn toward their skipper. This is something entirely new and unorthodox. “Why, that will make sure he sees us, and will surely bring him right down on top of us! What can the Captain be thinking of?”
    As if in answer to the unspoken thought, Morton speaks again, in the same reckless, furious tone as before. “We’ll give that son of a bitch a point of aim all right. Let him comeafter us! Wait till he gets close, and we’ll blast that goddam tin-can clean into kingdom come!”
    At the full import of these words, the atmosphere in the tiny conning tower is electric. Striving to keep his voice calm, the telephone talker relays the plan of action to the rest of the ship, so that every man is apprised of it, and, of course, aware of the most extreme danger in which it places Wahoo . But not one of them falters, not one quails; although some may be mentally saying their prayers, they loyally go through with their skipper all the way.
    Morton’s plan is indeed unprecedented in submarine warfare, although obviously it has not been thought up on the spur of the moment. Wahoo is going to remain at periscope depth, instead of going deep and trying to evade the working over with depth charges she has invited. She will leave the periscope up in plain view—it being broad daylight, remember—to make sure that the enemy destroyer knows exactly where the submarine is. Seeing the periscope, of course, the Jap will also know the exact depth to set on his charges. But as he rushes in to make this apparently easy kill, Wahoo’s bow will be kept pointed toward him, and at the last possible minute, so that he will not have a chance to avoid it, a torpedo will be fired right down his throat!
    This, rather obviously, is a pretty risky way to operate. Four torpedoes already have been fired, and there are only two more ready forward. All four after tubes are ready, of course, but there is no time to turn the submarine around. So Morton is shooting the works with only two fish, and one of them had better hit!
    Grimly, O’Kane hangs on to the periscope, watching the Jap ship complete his evasive maneuver—turning away and paralleling the last torpedo, and then, after it has safely passed, turning around once more and heading for the source of the sudden attack. Smoke belches from his stacks as his firerooms are called upon for full power. Around he comes, a full 180 degrees, until all that O’Kane can see is the destroyer’s sharp, evil-looking bow, curiously now rather fat in appearance. Men are racing around the decks, and at leasta hundred of them take stations in various spots of the topside, on top of turrets and gun shields, in the rigging, and along the rails on both sides of the bow.
    Sweat pours off the face of the Executive Officer as he stares at what looks like certain destruction. But he does not forget