Around the World Submerged (31 page)

As a consequence, the landfall on Guam was made by the combined efforts of both navigating teams, and at 0726, on the twenty-eighth of March, with the whole day ahead of us for a careful reconnaissance of this once-beleaguered Pacific
bastion,
Triton
came to periscope depth. Guam was dead ahead and Rota lay due north. It was another perfect landfall after sixty-seven hundred miles of submerged travel.

We planned to work our photographic reconnaissance for the northwestern coast of Guam as closely as we could. We would have no problem with the three-mile limit, for Guam was a US possession. Nevertheless, so far as we knew, none of the American authorities on Guam were aware of
Triton’
s trip, and from our point of view it would be as embarrassing to be detected by our own personnel as by any other nationality.

We had two complete photographic teams. Team One consisted of Commander Joseph Roberts, USNR, helped by Photographer’s Mate First Class Earnest R. Meadows, who were specially attached to
Triton
for the voyage. Team Two consisted of Lieutenant Dick Harris and Chief William R. Hadley. Though the teams naturally competed with each other, both had full access to the special skills and techniques which Joe Roberts had developed during a lifetime in the business. In addition to everything else, Joe had been assigned as “pool press photographer,” which meant that all his pictures would be equally available to the entire newspaper and magazine media of the country.

As the water shoaled, while we were working into position, we had an opportunity to test our latest, do-it-yourself fathometer in relatively shallow water. By this time we had two homemade fathometer heads, or transducers as they are technically called. One had been built from scratch and very neatly finished off by Phil Kinnie and Chief Engineman Alfred Abel, both of them accomplished stainless-steel welders—which is, by the way, one of the most difficult phases of the welder’s art. Commandeering one of Jim Stark’s stainless-steel medical containers, they had cut it down and welded it around the entire jury-transducer which Electronics Technician’s Mates Docker, Simpson, and Blaede had manufactured under “Whitey” Rubb’s direction; it looked like a most professional
job. The second transducer was a conversion from one of our regular announcing-system speakers, waterproofed as well as we were able. While not so rugged as the stainless-steel one just described, it had the theoretical advantage of being superior in frequency response.

But as ingenious as the new heads were, they still could not transmit a signal with enough strength to pierce the outer hull and return to the ship. Our efforts, again, were a complete failure.

However, there was one way, short of cutting a hole through the bottom of the hull of the ship, to project our transducer directly into the sea and by-pass the rugged steel plating. This was through our garbage ejector. If we could operate it with the inner door closed and the outer door open, the signal would at least have an unimpeded path through water. Whether we would be able to hear an answering echo on our sonar receivers, which were located quite some distance forward of the garbage ejector, was a matter for conjecture. And whether we could devise some means of getting electrical energy into the transducer through the closed breech of the garbage ejector was a technical hurdle as yet uncrossed. But the idea was at least worth a try.

From the Log:

During the approach to Guam, we have remained at periscope depth and have observed considerable activity on shore. Several aircraft are landing or taking off and a helicopter can be seen hovering over the airfield. We can see the planes being maneuvered about the hangar and people walking on the roads, cars driving back and forth, and other signs of activity. There is one housing area which is very clear indeed on top of a near hill with slope toward the sea. We can see the green grass plots, and brown areas where walkways and driveways have been carved out. The houses are white or creamed stucco, surrounded in most cases by flowers and shrubs.

As we prepare for our reconnaissance our vision is occasionally obscured by a succession of torrential downpours which come marching in from the north. At times the rain is so heavy that it is impossible to see more than a few hundred yards in any direction. Our photographic efforts therefore are under an unusual difficulty—that of predicting the showers so that the part of the island we wish to photograph is for the time being clear. During one period there were as many as three localized thunderstorms on different bearings, with clear visibility between.

Today is a big day, too, for Edward C. Carbullido, SD2 (SS), USN. Carbullido was born on Guam and has youthful memories of the period of Japanese occupation during the war. Subsequently, when old enough, he enlisted in the US Navy and has been in the Navy for 14 years, during which he has never returned to his home island. Today is, in fact, the closest he has ever been. We wish it were possible to let him go ashore for a few days, and we shall do as much as we can for him.

Carbullido’s father is a Chief Quartermaster in the Navy, now retired and living here. He has recently built a new home in the town of Agat, just to the southward of Orote peninsula, around the point of land from Apra Harbor and Agana, the main city of Guam.

Many a father would like to have a son like our Carbullido. During the Japanese Occupation, the father was away. This was good luck, of a sort, but during this period there was no support for his family. Edward Carbullido, the oldest, worked for the Japanese to support his mother and the younger children. After the war, as soon as old enough, he joined the Navy, and during the subsequent 14 years he has sent home every cent he could spare, a total of several thousand dollars, to help pay for a new house and the education of his brothers and sisters. Carbullido’s ambition is to return to Guam after completing 20 years of service, 6 years from now. One can hardly believe that he is actually well into his 30’s; he looks 10 years younger.

We spread a map of Guam on the wardroom table and ask Carbullido to pinpoint, as accurately as he can, the exact spot
where his parents’ house is. In “The Skipper’s Corner” I have explained that today, after we have carried out our scheduled drill photographing the Island of Guam, we shall expend a few hours giving Carbullido the best possible look we can through the periscope at his home town. This seems to suit everyone.

After we finish photographing the town of Agana, we go through the same procedure at Apra Harbor. Behind the breakwater we can see a floating dry dock, a Navy barracks ship or barge, and what looks like a small seaplane tender. We then pass close around the tip of Orote peninsula, periscope raised, looking very carefully at the signal station out on the end of the point. We don’t want to be detected; therefore it receives a searching investigation. The place is deserted.

1445 We have rounded Orote Point and changed course toward Agat. The water is deep and the sea calm, although large rollers are sweeping down past Orote Point. They do not affect us in the lee of the land.

Carbullido is ready a full hour early in the Conning Tower, wearing a clean suit of dungarees and grinning self-consciously. As we approach Agat, he gets his turn with the periscope alternately with the Executive Officer and myself. His eagerness is evident as we approach closer and closer, and the objects on shore become clearer to him.

During our times at the periscope Will Adams takes navigational cuts, and I am constantly sweeping the near shore against any possibility that someone might be there by chance looking out to seaward. People ashore rarely look to sea, however, and I doubt, even if there were anyone, that there would be much chance of their seeing our periscope. Nevertheless, we are cautious with it, exposing only a few inches for brief seconds.

It is touching to see the intense eagerness with which Carbullido peers through the periscope, looking for the house he has helped to buy but has never seen. With a big grin, he announces that Agat is very different from the way he remembers it. “Many more people,” he says, “many more houses.” It is, indeed, an attractive
modern-looking town. As we draw closer, we insist upon Carbullido identifying his father’s house, which he feels he can do from the descriptions and pictures he has received by mail. Finally, with a wide smile, he has it spotted, and we all eagerly take turns to look it over. Even with the periscope at high power and the ship as close to shore as we can bring her, the house Carbullido has selected is only a tiny spot in the distance. It is situated as he had described it, on a fairly high piece of ground, near the water but high enough to be free of flooding.

We stay a long time at slow speed in Agat Bay, in order to give Carbullido the maximum periscope liberty possible. At one time I draw Carbullido to the periscope with the idea that I can see a person or people near his house. After a long look Carbullido confirms this, but still I am not sure. It would be nice to say that he actually did see some member of his family, but we are too far away to be positive. Whatever it is I saw, it was motionless much too long.

1630 We have been in Agat Bay an hour and ten minutes; it is time to go. Regretfully, I tell Carbullido that we must put the periscope down and get under way for the Philippine Islands. Carbullido’s eyes are shining as he thanks everyone in the conning tower and starts down the ladder into the control room.

One of the things which has impressed me from the beginning of this episode is the consideration and kindness of the rest of the crew and the conning tower personnel for their shipmate. So far, at every landfall we have made, there has always been a number of men wanting to come up for a look; off Cape Horn and Easter Island there had been a determined effort to get as many people as possible to the periscopes so that they could say that they had seen them. In this instance, not a soul has asked for permission to come up and take any of Carbullido’s periscope time; and if he had been the Captain of the ship himself, he could not have received more attention or assistance from the quartermasters with regard to focusing the periscope, aiming it in the right direction, setting his bearings, etc. As Carbullido’s grateful face vanishes below the
conning tower hatch to the control room, Chief Quartermaster Bill Marshall puts into words the thought which has occurred to all of us: “Wouldn’t it be great if we could figure out some way to get him to Guam for a real leave? Fourteen years away from home is a long time.” We have already been gone a long time, too; a month and a half. To Marshall’s words, there is general nodding assent.

A few hours later, I went Marshall one better and categorically promised Carbullido that some way, somehow, we would get him to Guam. It was a reckless promise, but I felt a way would turn up to make it good.

So far as we could tell, we had passed close aboard the island of Guam, had held the periscope up for a lengthy period, and had even spent considerable time in Agat harbor with the periscope going up and down almost continuously without stirring any noticeable reaction on shore. That night, however, I suddenly was not so sure. We had been at periscope depth for a short time, to make our normal celestial observations and ventilate the ship, when flashing red and green lights were detected on a bearing northeast by east, in the general direction of Guam, approximate altitude 30°, closing on us with a steady bearing.

I snatched the periscope when the report was given and made a long, searching inspection. There was no doubt about it. Lights were flashing red and green, and the bearings did not change. It must be an aircraft heading for us.

“Down scope,” I barked. “Secure ventilation. Take her deep.”

If it was indeed an aircraft coming right for us, possibly inspecting the surface of the water for want of anything more interesting to look at, we didn’t want to show the white froth of our propeller wake which would reveal the fact that something unusual had been there in the sea. I waited a perceptible time before giving the next order. “All ahead two-thirds.”

I could feel
Triton
angle downward gently and our speed begin to increase. Deliberately, I waited until the depth gauges showed there was a concealing cover of water over our screws before ordering, “All ahead full.”

Down we went into the friendly depths, on our way toward the Philippine Islands. I was somewhat disturbed that the aircraft had showed no signs of flying by, instead it had zeroed directly in on us.

From the Log:

Tuesday, 29 March 1943 Coming to periscope depth for routine night evolutions including ventilating and celestial observations.

1946 Aircraft contact bearing 070° true. Flashing red and green lights. Two nights in succession; maybe we have been detected. Who could be so persistent? Has he figured out our routine? Only a submariner could do that—maybe Admiral Benson, my ex-skipper and now ComSubPac, is playing games with us; or maybe the fliers in Guam have some extra gasoline to expend. Possibly they suspect a non-US submarine.

Two weeks before, we had received a message informing us that my old wartime skipper in USS
Trigger,
Commander (now Rear Admiral) Roy S. Benson, had taken over as ComSubPac. Our acquaintance had dated from my midshipman days, when he had been my instructor in seamanship and navigation, and well did I remember his propensity, as both instructor and skipper, for an occasional witticism at the expense of one of his less alert students or subordinates. There never was a sting to any of Admiral Benson’s humor, and usually there was a lesson to be learned. There was, for example, the day I navigated the old
Trigger
directly under the sun.

When the sun passes dead overhead, its altitude measures 90° no matter in what direction one looks, and a special
type of observation known as a “high-altitude sight” must be worked out for a position. A running fire of semicaustic comment from Benson, to the effect that modern navigators didn’t know how to handle a high-altitude sight, that no Executive Officer of a submarine today, myself included, would know what to do about this situation, had impelled me to a rather searching investigation as to just how the situation
was
to be handled. When the calculated time came, I stood on the bridge and took shot after shot of the sun as we approached and passed through the subsolar point, finding later, to my astonishment, that I had been there for an hour and a half of continuous observation. Then, still fascinated with the unique navigational problem, I spent another couple of hours computing the results. When I was finished, I had produced a beautiful set of curves showing exactly where we had been during the entire period, all defined by a series of tiny intersecting arcs.