“Excellent warheads and exploders,” Mealey said. “Rather astounding results on a couple of them. We apparently hit the aviation fuel tanks in that small carrier, because she burned like a big torch. The one freighter I hit started to explode like a Fourth of July display at a county fair. It must have been loaded with ammunition. I’ve been told that their tankers are often hard to sink because of their excellent compartmentation and watertight integrity, but the one we hit simply went up with a big roar.” He looked at Admiral Christie.
“Any word from the rest of the wolf pack, sir?”
“Yes,” Christie said. “Jim Shelton in Sea Chub went after the rest of the ships of the task force that had turned back to Manila Bay. He confirmed that they did return, as did an Ultra message two days later. The Ultra people also confirmed every one of your ships, gentlemen. Higher tonnages than you had estimated on the tanker and the freighter. I have a copy of the Ultra report here for you. Hatchet Fish and Sea Chub are on their way back here. They’ll be in day after tomorrow.”
“Why didn’t they go on to the patrol area?” Mealey snapped. “Those were my orders.”
“Admiral Nimitz ordered four submarines that were in the area just north of your patrol area to form up as a wolf pack and take over that spot,” Christie said. “All four of those skippers had the benefit of some long discussions, or so I gather, with Bob Rudd and Nimitz about wolf-pack operations. So they won’t be going in cold, so to speak. They know what they want to do.” He looked at Mealey.
“Where did you station Hatchet Fish and Sea Chub, Captain?”
“As I mentioned in our action report and our patrol report, sir, we stationed Hatchet Fish three miles to the east of the proposed attack area and slightly to the south. Sea Chub was stationed three miles east and slightly north. I thought it reasonable from a seaman’s point of view, and Captain Brannon concurred, that the task-force captains would not attempt to reverse course and go back through that narrow gut between Luzon and Mindoro. “I reasoned that when they came under my attack they would bolt the task-force formation and go east, breaking off to the north and south. Sea Chub got the troop transport when the captain of that ship did precisely that. He slanted off to the northeast in an effort to get away from the attack. Sea Chub stopped to pick up two prisoners and a life ring. I think that was good thinking on his part.” Mealey’s long forefinger rose and touched the side of his mustache.
“Speaking for myself alone, Admiral, I deeply appreciate the attack made by Sea Chub on the destroyers that had pinned us down for some nine hours, but I submit. .” His face hardened, and the pale blue eyes bored at Admiral Christie. “I submit, sir, that they took one hell of a long damned time to make up their mind to attack!”
“That’s a grave charge, Captain Mealey,” the Admiral said. “We haven’t been told his side of the story. He may have had some problem in materiel. We don’t know.”
“Granted,” Mealey said, his voice dry.
“And Hatchet Fish?” Admiral Christie’s voice was almost silken in tone.
“I intend to prefer charges of cowardice against that man!” Mealey snapped. “He lay out there, six thousand yards from the action, safe and sound. He could see the fires of our targets — Sea Chub saw them. He could hear the Japanese destroyers giving us hell — Sea Chub heard them. He made no effort to come to our assistance. I demand, sir, that he be relieved of command, and if there is any way I can do it I am going to have that man hung!”
There was a dead silence around the conference table. Mike Brannon moved restlessly in his chair. John Olsen sat very still, his eyes on Captain Mealey. The silence was broken at last by Captain Sam Rivers, the Operations Officer.
“Captain Marble has informed us that you gave him very strict orders to maintain his patrol position. He says you sent him no orders to join in the action, as you say in your action report you did. If, sir, I may say this without prejudice on my part, I am merely reading what Captain Marble has said — he charges you with hogging the action. Those are his words, hogging the action so that you could attack the targets and get, ahem, another medal.” He sat hack in his chair, his powerful chest and shoulders rigid.
Captain Mealey turned to Admiral Christie. “A moment ago, sir, you said I had made a grave charge against the Captain of the Sea Chub when I said he took too damned long to come to our aid. Captain Marble has made a heinous charge against me, and I demand satisfaction.” He paused, and Mike Brannon could see him fighting for composure and control.
“I demand, sir, with all due respect to you, that the commanding officers of the Sea Chub and the Hatchet Fish face me in this room, before you and your staff, sir, and we’ll find out who the damned liars are!”
Admiral Christie stared at the table in front of him for a long moment and then raised his face.
“Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, Captain Mealey, I cannot grant your legitimate request.
“Admiral Nimitz has ordered you home to Pearl by the fastest possible means. A plane is available tomorrow morning. I must insist that you be on it.” His normally jovial face was grim, almost sad.
“If I were you, sir, I would thank Captain Rudd when you get back. He received a copy of your action report. He has been informed of Captain Marble’s charge. I think he anticipated your reaction, and he has added his own urgent request for your immediate return. His exact words in a cable to me are…” He shuffled in the papers in front of him. “He said, and I quote, tell the S.O.B. that we’ve won a little war and there is no reason to risk another battle, unquote. You undoubtedly know what Captain Rudd is referring to, sir. Now…” His face brightened.
“I cannot recommend you for another Congressional Medal of Honor, as much as I, all of us here, want to. So we have settled for a Navy Cross. Captain Brannon is to get a Navy Cross also, and Mr. Olsen, for his sterling work as the Executive Officer of the Eelfish in what will go down in our history sir, as the Battle of the Sibuyan Sea.
“We have also decided to award every member of the Wardroom a Silver Star. We’ve never done that before, but we think they deserve it.” The Admiral stood up, and the people around the table rose in response. He looked at Captain Mealey and Mike Brannon.
“Gentlemen,” he said softly, “if we had an Arvin Mealey and a Mike Brannon on every submarine and if every submarine we had was an Eelfish this war would be over now. Please accept my heartfelt thanks and congratulations.”
Later, standing in the lobby waiting for the car to take them back to the Eelfish, Captain Mealey turned as Captain Sam Rivers walked up. He looked up at the taller man and put his hand on Mealey’s arm.
“Chet Marble is being relieved of command with prejudice, sir,” he said in a low tone. “The Admiral has decided to give Jim Shelton another chance, now that you’ve shown him how to sink ships.”
“With prejudice?” Mealey said.
“He’s going to the Navy Yard in San Diego,” Rivers said. “That, sir, is prejudice, and it won’t look good in his service jacket. Be content.” He turned and walked away, his short, squat figure rigid.
Mike Brannon sat astride a chair in his stateroom, resting his arms on the chair back, and watched Captain Mealey pack.
Mealey turned to him, holding his razor in his hand. “You should understand a little more about politics by now, Mike. For a minute or two I forgot what I’d learned at Pearl Harbor. Captain Rudd never forgets. He knew I’d blow my stack about Chet Marble. So he’s getting me back there where he can keep a tight rein on my big mouth.” He smiled briefly. “Captain Marble has very powerful friends in Washington. Admiral Christie will have to run the risk of those people.”