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OVERDUE AND PRESUMED LOST
The Story of the USS Bullhead
By MARTIN SHERIDAN Naval Institute Press
Copyright © 1947 Martin Sheridan
All right reserved. Chapter One
This is the story of men who go down to and UNDER the sea in ships. Audacious, defiant, and stubbornly aggressive men - all volunteers - who have served on the far-ranging underseas craft of the United States Navy's Submarine Service. Men whose courage is as deep as the enemy waters they have patrolled, and as enduring as the enviable records they have established since that memorable day in December 1941, when the Japanese loosed their aerial bombs on Pearl Harbor and plunged this country into a Pacific War of such vast proportions as to be without equal in history.
With slightly more than one per cent of the Navy's total personnel, the comparatively tiny Submarine Service achieved the destruction of so large a portion of Japanese steel merchant shipping and warships (4,871,-600 tons) and damaged so many other vessels as to have sped the end of our island-hopping warfare by several months. It was highly perilous work, and the percentage of lives lost was higher than in any other branch of the armed forces: 16 per cent of the officers, 13 per cent of the enlisted men who actually served in submarines.
Immediately after the Japanese attacks on Pearl Harbor and Manila, our fleet submarines, the only warships able to operate independently of a large task force, because of their ability to submerge and surprise the enemy, began to prowl the blue Pacific in pitifully small numbers in search of targets for their lethal torpedoes and deck guns. Those were desperate days.
Although these submarines were operating deep in enemy waters entirely on their own, they tackled anything and everything that came their way. Neither size nor numbers mattered one whit. Submarine commanders picked on the big fellows as well as the small: they also tore into groups of five and six. Said one skipper, "The bigger they come, the better the target, and the faster they sink."
American submarines evacuated military personnel and civilians from the Philippines and delivered food and equipment to hardy guerillas remaining in the islands. They poked fearlessly into Tokyo Bay. In ever increasing numbers, they conducted unrestricted warfare and wolf-packed Japanese merchantmen and tankers in the Netherlands East Indies, off the French Indo-China coast, off China, Formosa, the Japanese main islands, and among hundreds of Pacific islands and atolls from the Solomons to the Aleutians.
Time and again, these submarines severed Japanese lines of communication with captured islands. They conducted invaluable photographic reconnaissance of enemy beaches weeks prior to the arrival of our invasion troops. They laid mines in shallow water. They thoroughly demoralized enemy supply lines with their war of attrition, sent jammed enemy troopships to the bottom and established a highly efficient lifeguard service that saved the lives of 504 men from American planes shot down within sight of Japan itself and elsewhere in unfriendly territory in the Pacific.
Our submarines tore into the once highly-vaunted Japanese Imperial Navy and tightened a strangling tourniquet around the far-flung Japanese lifelines until only a trickle of indispensable oil, tin, zinc, rice, rubber, quinine, gold, nickel, and other stolen natural resources was able to reach the Empire.
Up to September 3, 1943, the Jap Navy had lost one third of its available tonnage, with American submarines credited with the destruction of 77 per cent of that lost fleet.
Several new submersibles were joining our Pacific Fleet each month. Many were under construction at the Portsmouth (N. H.) and Mare Island (Calif.) Navy Yards; at the Electric Boat Company's yards at Groton, Conn., at the Manitowoc Shipbuilding Company's yards at Manitowoc, Wis., and at the Cramp Shipbuilding Company, Camden, N. J.
The keel for submarine 332 (later named the USS Bullhead) was laid on October 21, 1943, at the Victory Yard of the Electric Boat Company in Groton. There, amid the deafening cacaphony created by thousands of workmen working with chipping and sledge hammers, rivet guns, trucks, yard locomotives, and overhead cranes, the new submarine began to take shape. Through the winter months, they labored to speed the craft to completion.
The following spring, a lean, battle-weary submarine skipper reported to the Commander of the Submarine Base at New London for duty as an instructor at the Prospective Commanding Officers' School. He was Lieut. Comdr. Walter T. Griffith, fresh in from Fremantle, Australia, after completing four highly successful and gruelling war patrols as commanding officer of the USS Bowfin. On his first run, he had destroyed 70,948 tons of Japanese shipping, a record that stood for over two years.
Shore duty in those days did not harmonize with Griffith's highly nervous disposition, and he soon put in a request for sea duty. Submarines were being launched more rapidly than new submarine officers were graduating, so the Navy quickly assigned the carrot-topped Louisianian to command the new Bullhead, under construction only a few miles down the river.
At 7 p.m. on July 16, 1944, the submarine was scheduled to be launched, the 57th underseas craft to be built by the Electric Boat Company after Pearl Harbor. Her sponsor was Mrs. Grace Moody Doyle of Groton, wife of a yard employee who won the privilege of naming the sponsor in an election held under a special Navy directive.
Shortly before the appointed hour, the blue sky turned angry gray and broke into a heavy summer thunderstorm. Strong gusts of wind drove sheets of blinding rain into the faces of the crew and the few invited civilian guests, among whom was a full blooded Indian. The heavens reverberated with sharp claps of thunder: everyone was drenched to the skin. By 7:15, the sudden blow had cleared sufficiently to permit the launching of the Bullhead, which had withstood the rain far better than the guests' clothes.
"Guess we ought to have smooth sailing from here on," remarked Comdr. Griffith to his executive officer, dark haired Lieut. Keith R. Phillips. "This storm should be a good omen."
The craft slid almost unnoticed into the Thames River and rolled unsteadily for a few seconds like a new-born calf until she gained her sea legs. At that very moment, sections of another keel were being lowered into place on the same ways for a new submarine.
Comdr. Griffith then moved the Bullhead to an Electric Boat Company fitting out pier and began to round up his full crew. As a nucleus, he used three capable enlisted men who had served with him through four war patrols on the Bowfin and had asked to go along on the Bullhead. The trio included electrician's mate 1st class, Joseph W. Jones, of Rule, Texas; torpedoman 3rd class, Jack P. Markham, of Hornell, N. Y., and torpedoman 1st class, William E. Short, of Jackson Heights, N. Y., already veterans of 9, 10, and 11 war patrols, respectively. In addition, the skipper chose for his engineering officer, Lieut. John P. (Pat) Doherty, USN, who had held the same assignment under him for three patrols on the Bowfin.
Other men were assigned to the Bullhead. Griffith was made a full commander in September, and by December 4, 1944, the submarine's commissioning date, he had his full complement of 85 officers and enlisted men aboard. Five officers (including the skipper) and 26 enlisted men had completed excursions into enemy waters, but the remaining 54 men were recent graduates from the Submarine School.
At the commissioning, the Navy announced a change of policy by revealing the name of the vessel and the names of the captain and other principal officers for the first time since the war began. Heretofore, officers had been identified with submarines only after they had completed their tour of duty, and submarines remained nonentities until they had engineered some spectacular accomplishments or were lost.
A crew of civilians moved the Bullhead to her pier at the Submarine Base at 1:50 p.m. on December 4, and the formal commissioning ceremony began shortly thereafter with the mustering of the ship's company topside in blues.
Capt. H. H. McLean, then commanding officer of the Base, read the Navy Department's authorization for acceptance of the Bullhead. He was followed by Capt. W. W. Foster, representing the Electric Boat Co., who formally presented the submarine to the Navy.
"I accept the Bullhead for the United States Navy from the Electric Boat Company," said Capt. McLean.
At this point the Submarine Base band began to play the national anthem. Crewmen on the boat then performed their first official duty by breaking out the colors, union jack, and commissioning pennant from their respective masts.
Holding several sheets of white paper with hands that shook slightly, Comdr. Griffith read his orders from the Navy Department in Washington, assigning him to command the vessel. The brief ceremonies were concluded with a prayer by Chaplain H. F. Murphy.
Before dismissing the crew, however, Griffith called Jones, Markham, and Short forward and presented them Presidential Unit Citation ribbons commemorating the second outstanding war patrol of the Bowfin in November 1943, commanded by him at that time.
With 54 green men aboard, Comdr. Griffith had to conduct a fast and furious intensive training program, to whip everyone into shape as a smooth-working team for warfare against Jap shipping in the Pacific. The Bullhead had a month's shakedown training in Narragansett Bay before sailing early in January for two weeks' additional training off Key West. It was primarily diving practice, because a submarine's chief stock in trade is a speedy dive. Also on the agenda were many gunnery sessions and maneuvers with destroyers and smaller craft to perfect the use of radar and sound gear.
Next stop for the Bullhead was the Canal Zone. More training and maneuvers and lively liberty parties in gay night spots ashore.
"We're about ready, men," Comdr. Griffith announced one day. "Have your fun here, and get all the playfulness out of your system, because from now on there's going to be hard work and plenty of it."
In February 1945, the Bullhead cleared Balboa and departed for Pearl Harbor and points beyond. On the first day out, the new submarine experienced a close call that might have led to a repetition of the "Squalus" disaster had it not been for quick thinking by the skipper.
During a routine practice dive, the main induction valve failed to close fast enough because the hydraulic pressure was low. Tons of water flooded the big valve before it could be shut, but Griffith compensated for this by shifting ballast and pumping out water and continuing the dive. The incident sobered the new men to the realization that complete knowledge of their post was essential for their own safety and for the safety of everyone aboard.
The Bullhead arrived without further incident at Pearl Harbor, where Griffith picked up the latest charts and directives, and his commissary officer, Lieut. (jg) Raymond W. Strassle, USN, rustled up fresh meat, fruit, vegetables, and canned goods till the refrigerators and food lockers were packed tight. Everyone had a brief liberty ashore in teeming Honolulu, and sent home the usual souvenir - a cellophane skirt.
Following the nine day stopover, the new sub picked her way through the tortuous channels of Pearl Harbor and left the Hawaiian Islands for an uneventful trip to Guam. There, she tied up alongside the submarine tender, Holland, where Vice Admiral Charles A. Lockwood, Jr., Commander, Submarine Force, Pacific Fleet, had established his advance base headquarters.
Chapter Two
March 21 - Only the metallic clanging of a ranting dredge, and the incessant lapping of water against the Bullhead's hull disturbed the tranquility and relaxation of the warm afternoon. The sun beat down fiercely, and some of the men had slipped out of their scivvy shirts to enjoy a sun bath on the slatted deck of the submarine. Others, preoccupied with the anticipation of their first war patrol, just stood around and spoke softly.
Below in the tiny wardroom, officers had finished reading and sealing the last letters the crew would be able to send their families for several weeks. They were the usual uninformative letters composed by submariners operating under the strictest censorship.
"Don't worry, darling.... You won't be hearing from me for a while.... But keep on writing ... every day.... Your letters mean so much to me...."
The censors' job was a comparatively simple one, since the men knew exactly what they were not permitted to write and they proceeded not to write it. That kept deletions with a razor blade at a minimum. The mail orderly stood by patiently until the censors stamped the last envelopes with "Passed by Naval Censor" and initialed them. Then he stuffed the mountain of letters into his brown leather pouch, climbed topside, hurried across a narrow gangway to the submarine alongside, and went up another gangway to the dark gray tender.
A moment later, the old man hurried aboard and everyone instinctively straightened up to attention. Comdr. Walter T. Griffith and the other skippers of our wolf pack had just been briefed. Our skipper had been decorated with a Gold Star Medal in lieu of a second Navy Cross for his last successful war patrol on the Bowfin.
From under a khaki scrambled egg cap, his pale eyes squinted at the exec's wrist watch.
"We're getting underway at three, Keith," said Griffith. "Let's start the engines. And here's a passenger for us. MISTER Sheridan meet Lieut. Phillips, my executive officer."
Then an aside to Phillips, "Sheridan is a CIVILIAN war correspondent!"
Phillips was flabbergasted, I know, and his eyes blinked in amazement. But he recovered rapidly, and turned on his heel to pass the word for getting underway to the engineering officer, Pat Doherty. Clouds of pale gray smoke soon belched from the exhaust at the stern as the 16-cylinder Diesels turned over.
Back came the mail orderly, and the men began to disappear down hatches. It was exactly three o'clock when the gangway was taken in and the skipper sang out, "Take in four. Take in one. All back full." The engines throbbed powerfully below deck, and the black-hulled, low-silhouetted sub began to slide back slowly from a sister ship, barely avoiding a large mooring buoy as she swung around.
"Ahead one third, left full rudder," ordered the captain.
The harbor water churned madly at the stern when the twin screws were reversed. The boat shuddered to a halt, then moved forward slowly as the screws took hold. We passed LST's, Liberty ships, transports, and assorted small craft in the harbor.
The USS Bullhead, newest submarine to join the Pacific Fleet, was only beginning her first war patrol but she had already lost that gleaming appearance of newness.
Continues...
Excerpted from OVERDUE AND PRESUMED LOST by MARTIN SHERIDAN Copyright © 1947 by Martin Sheridan. Excerpted by permission.
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