I quickly checked my forty-five as I watched the oncoming torpedoes.
Several twenty-millimeter guns opened fire in a last-ditch attempt to detonate the torpedoes before they contacted the ship. Sometimes, if you are lucky, it works, but most of the time it doesn’t.
The forward one sped by some distance from the ship. The second one was going to hit the bow section of the Buffalo; it was inevitable. The third was going to hit amidships. The fourth was going to be close, maybe feet or inches between hit or miss; it was hard to tell. All I could do to protect the ship had been done at that point, so I ducked and waited the last few seconds for the explosions, resigning the Buffalo and her crew to their fate.
Boom! The first torpedo hit forward, sending a plume of water and small debris high above the ship that showered down over all of the forward weather decks. The Buffalo convulsed violently as the smell of the chemicals in the explosives mixed with fuel oil filled the air.
Boom! The second torpedo hit amidships, and once again, the Buffalo, in the thrashing violence of agony, tried to leap out of the water. “That’s the one that is going to hurt,” I thought to myself as more oily salt water showered down over the bridge.
I got up and looked aft, deciding to look at the fourth torpedo wake to see if it would miss. The forward smokestack began to belch out steam, which was usually symptomatic of a boiler in the fire room flooding, which blocked my view of the aft parts of the ship. I couldn’t follow the track of the torpedo all the way, but it looked like it had passed very near the ship and, thank God, missed.
Now, I have to say that any torpedo is more powerful than you would want to be around when it goes off, but these ones seemed milder than the one that struck the North Carolina earlier in the war. I thought at the time maybe the Japanese were using up stocks of older, less powerful torpedoes than they had been using earlier on. The Japanese supply lines had been disrupted very badly at that time, and maybe they had been having troubles building newer models and were forced to use older prewar versions. After the Japanese surrendered, it was discovered from their records this was exactly what had occurred. And that fact alone may have saved the Buffalo.
The next thing in the order of combat I had to do was to try and present as small of a target to the enemy as possible while at the same time, widening the distance. “Continue port turn to heading one zero five,” I told the helm. This would leave our propellers toward them but would widen the distance and lower our profile to them, leaving less of a target.
“All stations report!” I said to the talker on the bridge. Most of the ship would be at battle stations by then, and I needed to know how badly we had been hit.
“Signal, alert the rest of the task force that the torpedoes came from bearing two eight five relative to our current position,” I told the signalman, hoping the destroyers would be able to find the submarine and at least keep it busy, if not sink it. We were turning to the exact correct heading for them to fire another shot at us and destroy our propulsion systems, but we needed to open the distance between us as fast as we could. And I was betting the sub that fired those torpedoes was going to go deep and silent and try to slip away rather than fight three destroyers.
As the Buffalo continued its turn, I began to notice she was slowing slightly. “Were we losing propulsion?” I wondered to myself.
As the ship came out of her port turn, she didn’t settle back to an even keel. There was definitely a starboard list, only a few degrees but probably increasing. I could already tell my ship was wounded, and it wasn’t going to be pretty. I got out the list of stations that I used to mark off as they reported “ready” for general quarters. Then I got out a diagram I hoped I would never have to use; it was an inboard profile of the ship that I would use to keep track of the damaged systems and areas of the ship. I listened as the bridge talker told me the stations that were reporting.
The reports came in slowly at first, not at all with the “snap and pop” that would be normal for the crew. I could tell large portions of them were disoriented, which again gave me some hints on the condition of the ship.
The areas above decks reported first, then below decks aft. No reports came in from forward below decks, damage control central, the forward main guns, or any of the engine rooms. I began to count the systems in those areas of the ship as being off line in my mind at that point. Even though we were still moving, and thus did have some engine power, I didn’t know how long it would last. If I can’t communicate with them, I can’t use them effectively.
The one that bothered me the most was damage control central. It was going to take a coordinated effort to keep the Buffalo swimming, and on a damaged ship, they are the nerve center that makes that effort work. In a life-and-death situation, information is everything, and that’s where it was supposed to come from.
Just then, Rear Admiral Parkhurst appeared on the bridge. Everybody, myself included, was so busy at their stations doing their jobs that nobody noticed him come in.
“Captain, report,” I heard his voice say behind me.
Glancing up quickly, I saw him standing next to me in battle gear, life preserver, and everything. He looked a little nervous, and I could tell right away this was his first combat.
“Nothing to report yet, sir, except two torpedo hits, which I’m sure you heard; other than that, we are very busy trying to figure out what is going on.” I didn’t want to deal with him at that moment; the captain’s duty is to his ship, and at that time, the admiral seemed to be in relatively good condition.
I very badly needed a damage report. The starboard list was increasing rapidly.
“Runners to the bridge,” I said to the talker. I had prepared for the possibility that, during combat, some parts of the ship might not have communications. Our situation didn’t look good, and reports were coming in much slower. A lot of the areas from the forward part of the ship had not reported yet, and I should have heard from the engine areas and damage control by then.
“Captain, I want a report of what is going on,” the admiral said.
“I don’t have anything more to report to you at this time, sir; we are assessing the situation as rapidly as we can,” I told him as the first of my trained runners reported. “I need a report from damage control central. Anything you can tell me. Go!”
I looked out at the ocean. We were going much slower, and the list to starboard was still increasing. “Damn!” I thought. “I need more information to act on.” The second runner reported in. “Find out what’s going on in the forward fire room and engine room. Go!” I told him.
The admiral continued to fidget.
The third runner reported in. “Find out what is going on in the aft fire and engine room. Go!” I told him.
“Sir,” I said turning toward the admiral, “we have three destroyers with us in the task force. I propose that we have the two closest to where the torpedoes came from continue to hunt the Nip submarine and the third to pull in close to us and prepare for possible towing if we lose propulsion, or rescue if we have to abandon ship.”
“Do you think we will have to abandon, captain?” the admiral asked. I couldn’t help but notice the trembling in his voice.
Then I knew for sure he was going to lose his nerve to some larger degree. He was as white as a ghost.