War Beneath the Waves by Don Keith Page A

aggressor has launched an attack. He hears torpedo tube doors opening or torpedoes in the water, hopefully quickly enough to allow for evasive measures. Radar, on the other hand, uses radio signals to detect objects at a distance. That technology continued to evolve throughout World War II. More sophisticated radar on all fronts—including aboard submarines—and the delay of the Japanese in obtaining more advanced technology turned out to be a key factor in the Allied victory. For submarines, radar could be used only when the antenna was poked above the surface of the water. It had no use while the ship was submerged. Millican and his crew paused in a narrow pass between islands long enough to sink a torpedo tender ship, Shinso Maru .
    Once again, thunderous explosions rocked them as they dived to hide in the shallow water. This time, though, it was not depth charges from a destroyer. It was a well-placed bomb as well as some dangerously close depth charges, and this time they came from an airplane that caught them as they submerged. Then, based on the sudden sounds of a destroyer’s screws ratcheting away above them, they could tell that the enemy once again had them dead to rights.
    No doubt the airplane summoned help to finish off the American submarine. In the close quarters of the pass, odds were very much with the enemy destroyer.
    Suddenly, though, the sea above and around them grew eerily quiet. The rumbling explosions stopped. So did the frenzied spinning of the destroyer’s propellers, now reduced to an almost gentle clack , clack , clack , as if he were simply marking time over them.
    Had he given up the brawl that easily? Or was he only drawing back his fist to throw a knockout punch?
    Millican and his crew in the control room looked at one another, wondering what the enemy was up to. They had Thresher effectively trapped in the passageway between the islands. They could go no deeper or risk getting stuck in the mud on the bottom. The aircraft soaring overhead could probably see them in the clear water and continue bombing them or tell the destroyer precisely where to drop its charges.
    The quiet began to grate on their nerves as certainly as the thunder of the depth charges would have.
    Millican was busily looking for a way out before the enemy captain decided to blast them. But no matter which way the Thresher turned, propelled by her quiet, battery-powered electric motors, the destroyer turned with them. The enemy ship stayed right above, shadowing them, as if attached by an unseen umbilical.
    Still, the waters of the pass remained hushed—no more grumbling, teeth-rattling depth charges—like the calm before a particularly deadly storm. Only the gentle, watery shuffle of the destroyer’s engines directly overhead. The crew went about fixing the things that broke with the first attack from the aircraft, still anticipating the telltale splashes of depth charges in the water in a circle around them.
    What Thresher and her new skipper did not know at the time was that the initial close-by explosion damaged one of their compressed air tanks, one used to store high-pressure air needed to flush torpedoes from their tubes. It leaked a trail of tiny air bubbles to the surface, a perfect marker for their position. The aircraft could no longer see them in the murky water.
    Even so, the destroyer crew knew exactly where its target was. She could remain right above them, following the bubbles through any evasive maneuvers the submarine might make while trying to slip away.
    So why were they not pounding the American vessel? Thresher and her puzzled crew were about to find out.
    Rigged for silent running, the inside of the submarine was as near completely quiet as seventy men could make it. They could hear the screws of the destroyer making a wavering drone above, the noise of the enemy ship even more pronounced without the splashes, clicks, and explosions of depth charges. Their faces shiny with sweat, those who were