It’s really not that much different than daily life, except if you make the wrong call as the skipper of a Cleveland-class cruiser while the Japanese are shooting at you, almost thirteen hundred people could end up dead in a hurry.
We were out patrolling, mostly for submarines, as part of a destroyer/cruiser task force. The idea at the time was to keep the Japs from threatening the supply lines to the forward bases, of which Iwo Jima was one. We were essentially escorting three destroyers, providing additional air support for them in case of attack while they hunted for submarines.
As the flag ship for the group we had the “fortune” of having an admiral and his staff on board. I never liked being the flagship of a group of ships because sometimes the admirals like to think they are in command of the ship rather than the task force, and that really can get in the way.
If you have ever seen the Pacific Ocean, you would know it is really something to behold. It can get very rough at times, but for some long periods of time, it can become very smooth and peaceful, like glass. It is almost like the ship is floating on a very large mirror where everything in the sky is almost perfectly reflected in the water.
This day was one of the smooth days, the kind you really like because you can see everything coming for miles around the ship. Things like periscopes and torpedo wakes really stand out when the ocean is like that, and in combat, that can really make a huge difference. It couldn’t be counted on to always protect you, but it did tend to relax you a bit.
I was on the bridge with my old friend from the Oklahoma, Chuck Lewis. We were reviewing the procedures for air combat and training, not that I wanted to make any changes; that would be the executive officer’s job. I just always felt as captain, I needed to know what the department heads were thinking and how the crews were trained in case of a crisis, as well as knowing how the ship’s systems operate. That was the kind of thinking that won me the Navy Cross at Pearl.
As well, it is a sign of a good officer to know precisely where his authority ends, and not to step on the authority of those above and below you, as well as not allow them to step on yours. As captain, you do have the trump card of the ship, but you really have to know how and when to use it, or you could end up in big trouble from the admirals in a hurry.
Chuck was in the middle of telling me about some of the improvements in the optics on the directors for the secondary batteries when I noticed one of the watches on the starboard side sit up and grab his binoculars. It is interesting how you get “in tune” with the crew and recognize exactly when one of them notices something wrong.
I held up my hand to signal Lewis to stop talking and looked off in the direction the watch was looking, and with my other hand, reached for my own binoculars. For several seconds, I scanned the water between the horizon and the starboard bow.
The escorting destroyers were pretty far out, so the sound of the Buffalo going through the water didn’t mess with their sonar. The water was perfectly smooth except for a series of tiny ripples, almost undetectable by the human eye, maybe several hundred yards out, and proceeding at a rapid pace directly across the course of my ship.
“Damn!” I said to Lewis, just as the watch turned around and shouted, “Torpedoes starboard bow! Range six hundred yards!”
“Battle stations now!” I responded as I began the mental calculations on exactly how to defend my ship for the attack that had just begun.
We weren’t totally unprepared, but we weren’t exactly expecting an attack on a day like this, either, which is probably exactly what the captain of the Japanese sub was thinking, and why he decided to attack. In some ways, it was just like Pearl. It was a surprise attack.
“Sneaky Jap bastards are good at that,” I thought.
It still amazes me how fast the human mind, even when caught by surprise, can look at a set of variables and come up with the best possible solution for the situation. I could see four distinctly different wakes coming toward us, fanned out over several degrees from the firing point, and right away, I could tell the captain of the Jap sub that fired them was a good shot. His turn in the game was well played, and now, what should I do about it?
If the Buffalo would accelerate quickly enough on a straight course, we could have one pass aft, but we would still be hit by at least two, probably three. If we maintained current course and speed, we would have one pass forward and still be hit by three. If we could turn quickly enough, with enough acceleration, maybe we could have one pass forward and one aft, but still be most likely hit by two, and if extremely lucky, maybe one or even none. A turn to port would leave the ship’s propellers toward the torpedoes, resulting in the possible loss of propulsion. A starboard turn would protect the propellers but would sacrifice some ship’s stores and forward battery powder magazines.
However, if a torpedo hits the engineering spaces in a turn either direction, particularly below the armor belt, propulsion could still be lost. And a hard starboard turn causes the ship to roll to port, leaving the armor protection well above the normal level in the water. A port turn would push the ship’s armor deeper into the water on the starboard side and minimize the damage done to the internal systems. It all depended on how fast the Buffalo could accelerate and how quickly she could turn.
On top of all of that, the crew wouldn’t reach their battle stations until well after the torpedoes hit. A good portion of the watertight doors and hatches would not be closed, so there would be a lot of additional flooding to deal with.
All of these thoughts, and more, flooded my mind as I worked out the different scenarios. In the blink of an eye, my mind turned out a hundred different pictures of what could happen next. The lives of all on board depended on getting the best possible answer, and maybe even that wouldn’t be good enough. And in another blink of an eye, I selected the one on which all of our hopes and prayers would shortly come to rest.
“Hard to starboard, emergency flank speed! Now, goddamn it!” I shouted to the helmsman, who no doubt was prepared for my orders and began spinning the wheel in his hands as quickly as I spoke. And slowly, too slowly for comfort, the twelve-thousand tons of steel named Buffalo began to accelerate and turn to face the oncoming torpedoes.
As the seconds passed, the ship began its predicted roll toward the port side, thus raising the starboard armor belt high up out of the water. I stared unblinking at the oncoming torpedo wakes as they sped toward the unprotected underbelly of the Buffalo. Timing was everything, and this had to be timed just right, or the best possible outcome could quickly become the worst.
I turned my attention to the closest of the torpedoes, the forward one. It began to look like it would miss by a long shot, evaded by the quickness of the Buffalo’s starboard turn. I looked at the aft one and knew it would be close but would most likely miss. The ship, as I predicted, would not be agile enough to avoid all of the torpedoes. By then, the other two were getting very close, so I decided it was time to put the armor belts back into the water to protect the ship, as they may, from the inevitable explosions. No way around it; some of us were going to die.
“Hard to port!” I shouted at the helm. And, much more quickly, the Buffalo responded, having accelerated to attack speed. The ship rapidly began a starboard roll, shoving the armor belt deep down into the water.