"Torpedo run?" I called out, as the periscope was on the way down.
"One-six-five-oh." A quick calculation. A little over one minute to go. Up went the periscope again. I spun it around, dipped it, raised it again. One escort was passing astern. I hadn't given him much of an inspection before, he was an old type destroyer, Momo class as nearly as I could tell, with a well-deck forward of the bridge, and two stacks far apart.
The periscope dipped again and then went back up to the target. All still serene.
"How long?"
"Thirty seconds to go." I swung around once more, then back to the target, just in time to catch sight of a white-clad figure racing out to the side of his bridge. Then a stream of vapor shot from his stack, evidently his whistle. Too late, however. There was now no chance of avoiding our torpedoes unless they were improperly aimed. I swung the periscope all the way around. The destroyer which had just crossed our stern was heeling over radically I away from us, starting to turn toward with hard-over rudder. A quick look on our port beam. The rear-most destroyer was coming directly at us, showing white-water all along his waterline.
There was no time to linger. "Take her down!" I shouted.
There would still be a few seconds before the periscope went under, time, perhaps to see the torpedoes strike home.
I started to swing back toward the target, suddenly received a sharp blow on my head as the periscope yoke collar unex- pectedly descended upon it. I reeled backward, momentarily stunned, looked up to see Rubinoffski's consternation. He was squeezing the pickle, and the periscope base with the rubber, eye-pieces had already dropped out of sight into the periscope well. I could hear the rush of air in the control room as negative-tank flood valve was opened and Kohler yanked the tank vent. Negative would take in approximately nine tons of water, well forward of amidships, thus helping us to start down. I could feel Walrus' deck tilt forward gently. I rubbed my aching skull opened 'my mouth to curse at Rubinoffski, but never got the words out. Suddenly there was a tremendous stupefying roar.
Whrangg.
Our hull resounded like a tuning fork. The sensation could be likened to being inside a wash boiler and having a giant, beat on the outside with a sledge hammer. My ears rang.
Jim was shouting. "We've hit him! It's a hit!" He slapped me on the back. "You did it, skipper. You sunk the son-of-a-bitch!" Then he turned to Keith, pounded him on the back also.
"How about the other two fish?" I asked him.
Jim looked at his stop watch, shook his head regretfully.
"No luck there…" As he spoke, there came clearly a tinny, high-pitched Pwhyunng. I glanced, startled.
"That was timed for the third torpedo," Jim said, punching the winding stem of his watch, showing me its face.
Walrus' deck was tilted down even farther by now and she was clawing for the depths.
"What do you think that noise could have been?" I asked.
Keith answered: "Gosh, I don't know. Maybe an air flash, have you ever heard an air flash explode, Captain?" Jim and I both shook our heads. I would have discussed it more but a shout from O'Brien started a whole new train of thought.
"He's starting a run on us!" I leaped to his side, grabbed the extra pair of earphones. The enemy destroyer's 'pings' could clearly be heard, sounding just like our own destroyers.
They were coming in rapidly, too, and I could hear the "thum, thum, thum," of his propeller beats. The sonarman put his left hand on the gain control, ready to tune down the volume when the depth charges went off. I could see it shaking as he touched the knob.
WHAM… WHAM… The giant alongside us cut loose with three violent blows from his sledge hammer.
Walrus quivered and shook. Dust rose from the equipment and the deck. A piece of cork bounced from nowhere, made a peculiar "plop' as it landed on Adams' chart table.
I became aware of a new sound, a click which seemed to precede each depth charge. "CLICK, WHAM… CLICK, WHAM…" two more depth charges. Then there was a pro- longed swishing of water as though someone were hosing our side with a fire hose. The propeller beat, reduced in volume because of our having lowered the gain, suddenly dropped in frequency. O'Brien glanced up briefly. "He's passed overhead. That's 'Down Doppler.'" It was similar to the drop in pitch of a train going by at high speed.
'Maybe they'll go away now." This was Jim's voice. It did seem possible, for the destroyer's beat kept on without slack- ening or other change, toward the general direction of south- east.
"Search all around," I directed O'Brien. Obediently, he did so, holding the control handle over and causing the sound- head pointer to travel a complete circle. I, still had the ear- phones on and something, a discontinuity in the sound as he went by it some impulse-caused me to ask him to turn back to the northwest sector.
There it was again. A slight increase in noise level.
Nothing specific, no propeller beat, just an increased sound From that bearing. Walrus reached her maximum designed depth and now we slowed to minimum speed in accordance with our silent-running routine. We should be difficult for some- one else to hear, and, conversely, could hear better ourselves.
But the noise, if such it really was, could not be resolved into identifiable components. I motioned with my finger all around the dial. Obediently O'Brien set his equipment in motion. The propeller beats of the Momo-class destroyer which had depth- charged us were still to be heard, more faintly than before but on the same general bearing. He was-going away. There was no question of it. I could see O'Brien listen intently in its direction. Finally he looked up, uncovered one ear. "Captain," he said, "there are at least two ships over there. Two sets of high-speed propellers. Maybe more."
Jim had approached unnoticed. "Good," he said, "they've gone off."
"I'm not so sure," I muttered, half to myself. "This noise level…" I motioned to O'Brien, who went past the new sector again. When the sound head moved past the bearing rapidly there was no question about the increase in noise level, but when we turned directly on the bearing it was impossible to make anything out, or even to distinguish any difference.
Jim listened with me for some minutes. "What do you think it is?" he finally whispered.
"Don't know. Never heard anything like this before."
"Could it be the ship we sank?"
"Maybe."
"Maybe we should come up and take a look through the periscope."
For several more minutes we waited. Nothing more could be heard from the direction in which our Momo-class destroyer had disappeared. Nothing more could be heard in any direction, in fact, but the feeling of uneasiness persisted, the noise, if such it could be called, had not changed. If anything, it, was a bit weaker. Walrus stealthily slipped through the depths, every nerve taut, unable to see, not sure of what she heard. I ordered a course change, to put the area of high-sound level nearly astern, not exactly, so as not to mask it with the quiet swishing of our own propellers.
More time passed. It was over an hour since we had fired our torpedoes. Gradually our guard relaxed. To relieve the op- pressive heat and humidity I permitted the ventilation system and air-conditioning machinery to be started. It was quiet all around the sonar dial, except for our port quarter, where the faint noise level persisted.
"If there's anything up there, it's the ship we just sank!
Maybe that's the sinking ship we're hearing!" Jim's sustained excitement was infectious. I could sense the approval of every- one in the conning tower. Every eye turned upon me.
Jim spoke again, eagerness flashing from every facial ex- pression. "God, skipper! If we hurry we might be able to see him sink! We don't have to surface, just get up to periscope depth!"
The moment, after our moments of tension, was one of anticlimax. We had fired our torpedoes, heard what we had assumed was an explosion of one of them, plus another peculiar low-order explosion, and had withstood our first depth- charging. Besides, we had heard the screw noises of several ships departing from the scene of the attack, among them at least one positively identified as a destroyer. I was eager also to see the results of our first encounter with the enemy-and so I allowed myself to be convinced.