Tremain ignored the man and called off a quick weather report, which the nearby quartermaster hurriedly scribbled onto a note pad.
How could Stillsen know what to expect? Tremain thought. Stillsen had never been this close to the empire before. He didn’t know what he was talking about, much like most of his conversation over the past two weeks since they had left Pearl. If Stillsen had known anything about the area, he would know that Mackerel was now in range of long-range aircraft flying from the Japanese southern home islands. Something Tremain knew about first hand.
“I’ve seen aircraft where I didn’t expect to see any, Commander,” Tremain said to Stillsen, turning the scope over to Hubley. “It’s always best to be cautious when you decide to stick this scope above the water.”
Stillsen acted like he had not heard him. He had not been taking well to Tremain’s tutoring.
Tremain had been trying the best he could to bring Stillsen up to speed. He corrected him whenever he said something wrong. He provided guidance when he thought it was necessary. He gave advice where he saw fit, but Stillsen just could not bring himself to accept the subordinate role. It was obvious to everyone on board that he resented not being in command on this patrol. He had already openly criticized several of Tremain’s policies in front of the men, enough that even Cazanavette was in an uproar. Stillsen even referred to Tremain by his last name instead of as “Captain,” an infraction Tremain would have been well within his bounds to correct, but he held back, hoping that Stillsen would eventually come around. He hoped that the naive new commander would see the light and realize that he was nothing more than a simple PCO rider that had no useful purpose on the ship.
They had been at sea for over two weeks. They were literally on the Japanese emperor’s doorstep, and even now Stillsen could not rise above himself.
“I see no contacts either, Captain,” Hubley said.
“Very well. Bring her up to radar depth, Carl. We’ll wait until sundown to surface.”
Mackerel cruised submerged for the rest of the afternoon, with the radar mast exposed and radiating. When the sun set, Mackerel surfaced for the planned high-speed run and battery recharge under the cover of darkness. She would need to get as close as possible to the eastern coast of Shikoku before the next morning.
Tremain had kept silent about the mission for the entire voyage. The crew was still completely in the dark. Rumors were floating around but no one was really sure where they were going. Tremain had planned this intentionally. He did not want the crew to have two weeks to think about their odds for survival. Now that they were close to their objective, it was time to fill them in. He called an officer meeting in the wardroom that evening.
The officers filed in around the table, eager to finally hear the orders they had been curious about for so long. Stillsen was there, too, and he seemed to be slightly annoyed as Tremain went through the entire briefing, just as it had been presented to him at SubPac headquarters. Tremain did, however, choose to leave out the part about the primary target being the shipyard workers. When he finished he asked for questions.
“That’s pretty shallow water we’ll be attacking in, sir,” George Olander started. “Will we be on the surface or submerged?”
“You’re right, George, it’s damn shallow there. Only eighty feet in some areas. Unfortunately we don’t know the Kurita’s exact date of departure from Kobe, so we don’t know when she’ll pass through Kii Suido. It could be during the day, it could be at night. Either way, we’ll attack. Luckily, we’re in a moonless period, so if we do have the good fortune of attacking at night, we’ll have a good chance of making our escape.”
“What about land-based radars, sir?” Hubley asked. “Don’t the Japanese have them?”
“They most likely do and I’m sure they’ll be probing the strait with every one of them. We’re going to have to present a low silhouette at all times. Ideally, we will attack on the surface at night. We are counting on our conning tower being low enough that we won’t stick out on their radar screens. If we do, with any luck, they’ll confuse our return for a fishing boat. We’ll slip inside the task force, fill the Kurita with torpedoes, then sail away. Once we’re twenty miles or so from the strait, the water will be deep enough to submerge safely. Then we’ll just dive and cruise away to fight another day. Nothing to it.”
Everyone in the room chuckled at the attempted humor. Fighting another day would be the last thing on their minds. “Sir?” Wright spoke up.
“Go ahead, Ryan.”
“What about our torpedoes?”
“The warheads in these torpedoes are much larger than the normal Mark 14s. They should do the job against the Kurita’s armor.”
“No, sir, that’s not what I meant,” Wright said. “I meant to ask, are we going to modify the exploders on these fish like we did on the last ones?”
Wright had asked the question innocently enough, but Tremain felt the question stab him like a knife, and he immediately saw Stillsen’s expression change out of the corner of his eye. No one had told the ensign to keep his mouth shut about the exploders.
“Modify?” Stillsen intoned. “What are you talking about, Ensign? What the hell is he talking about, Tremain?”
Wright immediately knew that he had erred. The other officers were avoiding eye contact with him. All except Stillsen, whose bird-like eyes were transfixed upon him, waiting for an answer. Wright did not know what to say. No one had told him to keep Stillsen in the dark on the matter. “I’m waiting, Ensign,” Stillsen said, impatiently.
Wright started to speak, but was saved by Tremain.
“Mr. Wright is referring to a modification I ordered my chief torpedoman to make on several of our Mark 14s during our last patrol.”
“What kind of modifications?” Stillsen snapped.
Tremain exchanged glances with Cazanavette. He knew that Stillsen would not let this issue lie. He had found a weakness in Tremain and now he was going to exploit it.
“I ordered the magnetic exploders deactivated, Commander,” Tremain said.
“You are not authorized to order any modifications to weapons.” Stillsen spat out the words like a tattling schoolboy. “Does ComSubPac know about this?”
“That’s irrelevant at this point, Commander,” Tremain said. “The fact is, I did it. The fish we’re carrying now have also been changed to contact weapons, by my order.”
Stillsen gasped.
“There is no sense in pointing fingers and talking about authorizations, now,” Tremain continued. “Let’s save it for when we’re out of Japanese waters. Right now we need to focus on the mission at hand.”
“Why wasn’t I informed of the modifications?” Stillsen insisted.
“Because there was no need to inform you.” Tremain added in a firm voice, “Let’s address this issue another time, Commander, in private. I’d like to get on with the mission briefing.”
Tremain did not want to argue in front of the other officers. Junior officers should not have to see their captain and future captain in disagreements. It could only damage the command climate. It was exactly the reason Tremain had wanted to leave Stillsen ashore.
“Like hell we’ll address this another time. We’ll address it now, Tremain,” Stillsen said. “You’ve broken BuOrd regulations. You’ve modified weapons that have been specifically prepared for this mission. Those torpedoes have been designed to sink the Kurita by exploding underneath it. That’s the only way they can break the ship’s keel. Now how the hell do you intend to do that with contact exploders, Tremain?”