“Hard right rudder!” Tremain shouted into the microphone. “All ahead flank!”
Mackerel's turn felt slower than any Tremain had ever remembered. The feeling was almost certainly brought on by the fact that a four-thousand-ton ship was bearing down on them. The order had come not a moment too soon. Mackerel turned just in time to miss the ominous bow of the freighter as it passed by. The submarine then steadied up on course as the cargo-laden vessel drove past her stern.
Several minutes passed before Tremain realized that the freighter had not sighted them. It simply continued to drive on heading northeast at top speed, straight through the burning oil and flotsam of the evaporated freighter. The freighter’s sloping deck must have hidden Mackerel from the merchant’s lookouts when she was close abeam.
Tremain then maneuvered his ship to line up for a stern tube shot on the escaping freighter. He was about to unleash the stern torpedoes when he noticed a dark shape drive into the firelight just beyond the freighter’s stern. He had not expected a ship to be there. The newcomer’s bow parted the blackened sea before it with ease and must have been traveling at close to twenty-five knots. The squatty hull was unmistakable to Tremain, even in the poor firelight. It was a Fubuki Class destroyer, a submarine killer, less than a thousand yards away and heading straight for the Mackerel.
“Mother of… ” Hubley never finished. The Fubuki’s foremost five-inch gun erupted in a cloud of smoke and seconds later the shell screamed over their heads and smashed into the waves off Mackerels starboard bow, throwing up a column of water that doused the bridge.
Tremain wiped the salt mist from his eyes and turned the TBT toward the oncoming destroyer. Diving was not an option. They could not dive fast enough. The destroyer would be on them in minutes. They had only one chance.
“Mark this bearing and standby tubes seven through ten!” Tremain yelled into the microphone. “Set depth at six feet! One degree spread!”
Another shot from the destroyer’s foreward gun mount drowned out Cazanavette’s response. Tremain and the men on the bridge ducked under the coaming and held on as the ship lurched from the concussion. Again they were doused with spray. The shell had split the air over their heads and then exploded just a few yards in front of the Mackerel’s bow.
Tremain fought the urge to stay down behind the protective bridge coaming and swung the TBT around to mark the bearing to the destroyer once more. The bearing had not changed.
That was good, Tremain thought. It was a lot easier to hit a target that wasn’t moving from side to side. But the destroyer was driving straight for them and closing fast. What was taking Cazanavette so long?
Just then the XO’s agitated voice squawked on the intercom, “Torpedoes ready, Captain!”
“Fire all four!” Tremain shouted.
The deck shook as all four aft tubes ejected their loads. Tremain watched as the four bubbling wakes instantly appeared on the surface and reached out toward the oncoming destroyer. He winced but did not duck, as the Fubuki fired again, this time hitting the water just aft of Mackerel.
That’s it, Tremain thought. The destroyer’s gunner had straddled them. The gunner needed only to make a minor range correction and the next shot would hit. The same realization came to Hubley and the lookouts, as they instinctively ducked behind the bridge coaming. Tremain stood tall, dreading the destroyer’s next shot, but staring entranced at the charging enemy only five hundred yards away.
Then, right before Tremain’s eyes, the destroyer’s bow forward of the gun turret blew off in a massive sparkling explosion. One of Mackerel's torpedoes had run true. Tremain ducked away from the shockwave as another blast echoed across the night. Another five-hundred-pound torpedo warhead had done its job. Tremain closed his eyes and rested his head against the coaming, out of breath from the whole ordeal. There were no more explosions, but no more would be necessary.
Loud gurgling and hissing sounds filled the air, causing Tremain to allow himself a peak over the railing at the resulting devastation. Before the torpedoes had hit, the Fubuki had worked itself up to a speed of close to thirty knots, and now, with no bow, that same momentum drove the destroyer straight beneath the waves. Like a sea creature, the doomed ship’s stern raised high in the air and quickly plunged downward, its exposed screws still turning in vain. Within moments, the destroyer had disappeared, leaving only a fury of frothing eddies and whirlpools to mark its existence.
Hubley and the lookouts gave a jubilant “hoorah!” and passed the word down to the conning tower. Similar cheers came from below.
That’s for Rudy O’Connell, Tremain thought.
Tremain quickly ordered Mackerel to the south at flank speed, away from the light of the burning tanker. Once at a safe distance he ordered all compartments to check for damage and conferred with Cazanavette to assess the situation.
The remains of the convoy had scattered at top speed in all directions and were quickly heading out of radar range.
No more escort vessels had been sighted, either visually or by radar. Tremain assumed that if there were any, they had left with the single remaining large ship, which had evaded to the east. Tremain decided to pursue one of the slower freighters trying to escape just south of Mackerel. With it being the only radar return in that direction, Tremain could be sure that there were no more escorts with it.
Tremain ordered the tubes reloaded and, once again, used Cazanavette on the radar to close within one thousand yards of the freighter.
With a good beam shot set-up, Mackerel fired two torpedoes. They waited, but there were no detonations. Tremain quickly recalled that they had not modified those torpedoes, and that they had no more modified weapons ready. The faulty exploder had reared its ugly head again.
Tremain ordered two more fired, hoping for some luck. This time one exploded halfway between the Mackerel and the freighter, knocking the bridge personnel down and alerting the freighter to their presence.
Frustrated and cursing, Tremain ordered Mackerel to come about and fired all four aft tubes at the fleeing freighter. One torpedo found its mark, slowing the freighter’s escape to a crawl. Tremain then refused to fire any more faulty torpedoes and ordered the deck hatch opened to exercise Mackerel’s deck gun crew, which promptly sank the stricken ship with two dozen five-inch shells.
When battle stations were finally secured in the early morning hours of the next day, the frustrations felt by Tremain because of the faulty torpedoes did not seem to affect the attitude of the crew. They all appeared to be happy and proud of their little ship. Tremain even overheard a few of them referring to her as the Mighty Mack.
Tremain picked up on the expression and used it the next day when he and Cazanavette penned the patrol report to ComSubPac:
From: USS Mackerel (SS-244)
To: Commander Submarines Pacific Fleet
Subject: Patrol Summary
The Mighty Mack sank one tanker, one large transport, three freighters, and one destroyer. One officer killed in action, Rudell J. O'Connell, Ltjg USN (102691). Light damage. Have expended all but two torpedoes. At fuel limit. Returning to Pearl Harbor.