for another attempt at classifying the ship we had sunk. The publication was not all-inclusive, nor was it a bible, but some tended to treat it so.
Wahoo
had brought back pictures, house flags, and life rings painted with both Japanese characters and the English equivalent, NITU MARU, in large block letters. This older freighter was not listed in ONI-208J, so the staff substituted the
Nitsii Maru
, whose pictures in the book didn’t even jibe with sharp enlargements of the real ship. At a minimum, however, the manual did help in making an educated guess. On a daytime approach and attack, I would expect to provide our identification party with details that might help them narrow down the choices to a particular class, though rarely to a specific ship. In any case, the determination would be better than just “Unknown
Maru.”
All sinking reports required visual confirmation, and these would normally be modified by the reporting senior, who would affix an (EU) or an (EC) depending on whether, with the total information available, he considered the estimate of the class to be uncertain or certain, respectively. The tonnage listed would be from ONI-208J for that class.
With good help from the Quartermaster’s Notebook, and my memory of fleeting silhouettes, Frank and Mel settled on a
Mansei Maru
class freighter, with a listed tonnage of 7,770, and it looked about right to me. With the latitude of 8° 04′ north and the longitude of 149° 28′ east handy in the notebook, I copied it all into my Night Order Book.
The freighter that had gotten away still occupied my mind. I found myself practically brooding over her probable meandering around to the south of us while we sat here twiddling our thumbs. Confusing dispatches on the night of the 17th did not help. One of them directed a submerged patrol. The other simply said, CRABAPPLES CRABAPPLES . There was obviously something missing from our Operation Order due to our early departure. After a dawn dive, with not even a plane in sight, we surfaced to find out what was going on. The area was clear, but not the ether waves. There was a message on the morning Fox that we normally would not have received until surfacing after dark, since our boats could not receive Fox frequencies submerged. The tape came out of the machine and
Tang
was on her way for Saipan, still wondering what “crabapples” was all about.
6
The complete dispatch had disclosed that Task Force 58, the fast carrier force that had just hit Truk, would conduct an air strike on Saipan the following week. Five of the submarines that had been at Truk, including
Tang
, were ordered on for this attack, with specific assignments to follow later. We had started off at one-engine speed, as that would put us there handily. The navigator laid down our track on the new chart and brought it down to the wardroom, where we could look over the situation.
With the Marianas in front of us, the possibilities for independent hunting unfolded. I picked up the phone from its receptacle to my left and ordered 18 knots. In minutes we felt the surge of two more diesels. Fraz stepped off our new four-hour positions along the track, and we were just starting our short-range planning when Chief Jones came to the wardroom’s after door. He had heard the engine bells from CPO quarters, located next to the control room, and surmised he’d be affected.
“Make it eighteen knots, Jones,” said Fraz. He received a ready “Aye, aye, sir.” This was a change no one objected to! Jones left for the crew’s mess to correct the positions on their chart.
We might not know what ComSubPac wanted, except ships on the bottom, and ComSubPac was unaware of just what we were doing. Within a submarine, however, pending operations became common knowledge. At the initial one-engine speed,
Tang
was just going, but with three engines the crew knew that something was brewing. We hoped they were not wrong, for this was the situation: All submarines within
Wahoo
had brought back pictures, house flags, and life rings painted with both Japanese characters and the English equivalent, NITU MARU, in large block letters. This older freighter was not listed in ONI-208J, so the staff substituted the
Nitsii Maru
, whose pictures in the book didn’t even jibe with sharp enlargements of the real ship. At a minimum, however, the manual did help in making an educated guess. On a daytime approach and attack, I would expect to provide our identification party with details that might help them narrow down the choices to a particular class, though rarely to a specific ship. In any case, the determination would be better than just “Unknown
Maru.”
All sinking reports required visual confirmation, and these would normally be modified by the reporting senior, who would affix an (EU) or an (EC) depending on whether, with the total information available, he considered the estimate of the class to be uncertain or certain, respectively. The tonnage listed would be from ONI-208J for that class.
With good help from the Quartermaster’s Notebook, and my memory of fleeting silhouettes, Frank and Mel settled on a
Mansei Maru
class freighter, with a listed tonnage of 7,770, and it looked about right to me. With the latitude of 8° 04′ north and the longitude of 149° 28′ east handy in the notebook, I copied it all into my Night Order Book.
The freighter that had gotten away still occupied my mind. I found myself practically brooding over her probable meandering around to the south of us while we sat here twiddling our thumbs. Confusing dispatches on the night of the 17th did not help. One of them directed a submerged patrol. The other simply said, CRABAPPLES CRABAPPLES . There was obviously something missing from our Operation Order due to our early departure. After a dawn dive, with not even a plane in sight, we surfaced to find out what was going on. The area was clear, but not the ether waves. There was a message on the morning Fox that we normally would not have received until surfacing after dark, since our boats could not receive Fox frequencies submerged. The tape came out of the machine and
Tang
was on her way for Saipan, still wondering what “crabapples” was all about.
6
The complete dispatch had disclosed that Task Force 58, the fast carrier force that had just hit Truk, would conduct an air strike on Saipan the following week. Five of the submarines that had been at Truk, including
Tang
, were ordered on for this attack, with specific assignments to follow later. We had started off at one-engine speed, as that would put us there handily. The navigator laid down our track on the new chart and brought it down to the wardroom, where we could look over the situation.
With the Marianas in front of us, the possibilities for independent hunting unfolded. I picked up the phone from its receptacle to my left and ordered 18 knots. In minutes we felt the surge of two more diesels. Fraz stepped off our new four-hour positions along the track, and we were just starting our short-range planning when Chief Jones came to the wardroom’s after door. He had heard the engine bells from CPO quarters, located next to the control room, and surmised he’d be affected.
“Make it eighteen knots, Jones,” said Fraz. He received a ready “Aye, aye, sir.” This was a change no one objected to! Jones left for the crew’s mess to correct the positions on their chart.
We might not know what ComSubPac wanted, except ships on the bottom, and ComSubPac was unaware of just what we were doing. Within a submarine, however, pending operations became common knowledge. At the initial one-engine speed,
Tang
was just going, but with three engines the crew knew that something was brewing. We hoped they were not wrong, for this was the situation: All submarines within
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