Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ Category

Take me out to the ball game…

Uncategorized | Posted by Rebekah
Sep 06 2010

Never one to waste a good afternoon (especially in an era before television, computers, video games, internet and when their mothers would release them to play unsupervised outside in the neighborhood with their friends…good grief how did these boys survive to adulthood?) the Redfins decided to have a game of pickup baseball the afternoon before heading out on patrol.  The photos are some of my favorites.

Quickly dashing back to boat before she left, the Redfin, all refueled and reloaded, headed back out to sea.

The Fliers, meanwhile, were boarding a plane for Fremantle, where they were supposed to get their clothing allowances, collect their pay, and resupply their uniforms and anything else.  They were also given medical checkups.  Donald Tremaine was already down with malaria, and Wesley Miller was also in the beginning stages of malaria.  To my knowledge, no other Flier survivors were afflicted with malaria, but I have yet to meet all the family members of the Flier survivors.   Due to the condition of their feet, however, all eight were classified unfit for duty and were given rest and relaxation as a part of the cure.

Earl Baumgart found rooms with a family he had met when they were in town just a month before.  Captain Crowley, anticipating an investigation, stayed at Admiral Christie’s residence while both worked on their defenses.  (They were to be investigated together.  Crowley to see if he had any part in his boat’s loss, Christie to see if he had provided all the pertinent information and the latest intelligence to Crowley to assist with the crossing.)  The rest, when not under a doctor’s direct care, stayed at one of the four hotels in the Fremantle area the Navy had completely rented.

And now to wait…

HOME!

Uncategorized, Where was Flier 66 years ago today? | Posted by Rebekah
Sep 05 2010

It was a boring journey back which I’m sure everyone was grateful for.  Sixty-six years ago today, Redfin pulled into Darwin to discharge her human guests.

Rounding the eastern side of Timor Island, they were finally in friendly ocean.  Just after dawn, several planes flew overheard.  Austin, knowing Redfin was supposed to receive aerial escort to port, didn’t dive as was standard practice, but rather gave a recognition signal, which was quickly responded to correctly.  They were finally safe.

The Track of Redfin from the moment she was told to head to the area near Brooke's Point for an unknown mission to the day she arrived in Darwin.

The refugees and Fliers were allowed out on deck to see the sun.  A Redfin hand, whose name has been forgotten, had a camera, and started taking more photos.  (I say more because if you look at the Redfin’s website, you’ll see a lot of photos taken aboard Redfin during the course of her WWII career.)  The first photo was likely the photo taken on the aft bridge deck of the two sub commanders, Crowley and Austin, then the seven Flier survivors (Donald Tremaine was bedridden with malaria, so only seven were on deck) then all the survivors.

The Redfin was not met with the usual bands and other trappings of a victorious returning submarine.  Her entrance to harbor was quiet, and in fact, the men soon found out that officially, their fourth patrol was not over, they were expected to leave on the new second leg of patrol in 24 hours, as soon as Redfin was refueled and resupplied.

There were jeeps on the dock.  The non-Flier survivors were loaded up and whisked away, never to be seen again by the Fliers and most of the Redfins.  For the rest of his life, Al Jacboson wondered what became of these people.

The Fliers were put up in a hotel in Darwin for the night.  Captain Crowley and Lt. Liddell had to know that there would be an investigation into the loss of Flier and whether or not they were partially or wholly responsible for the loss of her crew.  All of them faced the choice of whether or not they would want to continue on in the Submarine Force.

The men of Brooke’s Point

Uncategorized, Where was Flier 66 years ago today? | Posted by Rebekah
Aug 29 2010

To play catch up as the main part of our story draws to a close:

There were several souls trapped at Brooke’s Point.  In addition to Mr. Edwards, who had married an Filippino woman and therefore, had some family connections. there were other people there too.

Mr. Harry Garretson was convelesing at the Edward’s home.  A salvage diver before the war, he used his skills behind enemy lines during WWII to salavage equipment from sunken boats before the Japanese could get to them.  In one case, while he was on Negros Island, he helped salvage the SS Panay, a ship heading to the guerillas full of ammunition, rifles, gas masks and other equipment for the Allied war effort.  The Japanese caught on and torpedoed the ship before it could reach them.  The Panay tried to beach herself, but it was too late: she sank innearly 100 feet of water and Garretson and his soon-to-be business partner salvaged as much as they could.  They got most of it, and today, the wreck is a popular tourist dive, and you can see the gas masks and ammo boxes scattered around where Garretson left them.

After the Panay, they kept traveling, helping the guerilla movement whenever they could, though always behind the scenes since their pale skin would give them away as foreigners to the Japanese.  They eventually came to the sparsely populated Palawan Island, where Garretson fell ill with malaria, and now, over a year later, he was suffering some severe complications, and was mostly bedridden.  With the addition of the Fliers, he and the Edwards were hoping Garretson at least could go with them on the rescue boat if it came, because he soon would either die, or have to be left behind if the Japanese invaded.

There were also three military men at Brooke’s Point, hunting, fishing, helping all the while waiting fo ra chance to get back to Allie dTerritpory where they could formally fight.  Two of them, George Marquez and William “Red” Wigfield, were Army men stationed at Nichols Air Base near Cavite Navy Base in Manila.  While stationed together, they did not know each other at the time.

On the morning of December 8 (December 7 in Hawaii, across the International Date Line) both men were on duty at the Air Field when the Japanese attacked.  An attack from the Japanese was suspected, but the military was convinced if they did something so foolish, it would happen at Manila, or Hong Kong, not Pearl Harbor.  No one suspected the Japanese would strike all three and more over 48 hours.

They spent the day running around, trying to protect the airplanes at the field, and after the initial fight was over, helped with the cleanup and salvage.

But the Japanese were still coming, and coming hard.  The Air Base was evacuated further south, but when the Japanese conquered Corregidor on May 6. 1942, the surrender tacitly included the surrender of all American Military men in the Philippines.

Red and George decided surrender wasn’t for them, and with many other American military stationed at that base, took to the hills and the seas, trying to get south, or hide behind enemy lines as a part of the new guerilla forces hassling the Japanese forces bit by bit.

At first, they took off for Panay Island, but since it was large, heavily populated and obviously going to be in the path of the Japanese advance, they built rafts and took off for tiny Cuyo Islands.  That worked for about 18 months, though early in the war, the Japanese military sent an officer and enlisted man to the Islands looking to “recruit” the locals.  George claimed to have killed and buried them, but apparently, no one ever showed up to figure out what happened to these guys.

Eventually, however, the time was up.  One morning while George and Red were hunting in the hills, they saw an invasion force land on the beaches and round up the Americans and a number of natives.  These two hid for most of the day and were missed in the round up.  That night, they grabbed one of the rafts and headed further west for the island of Palawan.

They made their way down the spine of mountains that makes up that island until crashing until Charlie Watkins and the guerillas one night in the vicinity of Puerto Princesa.

Charlie was a navy boy who had been on Corregidor Island and was forced to live through the horror that was the Battle of Corregidor.  After the surrender (the one that sent George and Red scurrying for the hills,) he was rounded up and marched to Camp Cabanantuan, and subsequently shipped to Puerto Princesa  to the POW camp there.  During the day, the prisoners were forced to build an airstrip out of the jungle using only crude hand tools.  When the call of nature could no longer be ignored, the guards would permit the men in small groups to go into the jungle to relieve themselves then return.  One day in late 1942, Charlie and a buddy were granted permission to go.

And they took it literally.

They were quickly found by the local Filipinos, who, though formally forbidden from assisting the Americans (death to all who tried) still hung around the camp adn work areas, leaving food, encouraging notes, whispering messages back and forth, to keep the men’s spirits up.  Charlie and his friend, Joel Little, were smuggled beyond the reach of the Japanese.

Whether a direct result of this, or other escapes, soon afterwards, the Japanese counted their work gangs into groups of ten.  The rules were simple:  Ten men go out, ten men come back.  If less than ten men come back, the rest are summarily executed.  It put an end to more escapes.

George and Red's journey and Charlie's journey from the morning of December 8, 1941 to the Flier's arrival. Each man covered well over 500 miles between land and sea travel. To put things in perspective, despite what the Flier's have undergone, they've traveled a realtively short distance. The white-rimmed dot near the Balabac Area is the approx. location of the sinking. You can see the great scale of each man's journey to Brooke's Point, on the off chance they may (someday) be picked up.

The three men stuck around in the area until December 1943.  Unknown to a lot of the locals, the war had started to turn badly against the Japanese, and the rules they were being handed from the Imperial Headquarters were getting more and more strict and severe.  The guerillas near Puerto Princesa decided for everyone’s safety, the group of three Americans should move to Brooke’s Point and wait for evacuation, if it ever came.

Then of course, there were the Sutherlands.   Sandy Sutherland and his wife Maise were Scottish missionaries living in the Palawan area.  They returned to Palawan right before the attack on Manila and suddenly found themselves stranded in Palawan with no way out, a two year old girl and five year old boy, and death warrants on all their heads.  Despite their trust in the local people, the Sutherlands took to the mountains, living a subsistence lifestyle, never sleeping or living in the same place for more than a few days, in case their location was tortured out of someone.  With no airstrips, no harbors and no allied ports nearby, their son Alastair began praying for a submarine to come and take them away, because only a submarine would be able to get in and be able to sneak through the enemy lines to take them to safety.  Sandy Sutherland heard his son praying to God for a submarine to rescue them all, and started to pray too.  It was a two years long prayer.

In the meantime, despite the danger, the Sutherlands helped out wherever they could, with medical expertise, religious services, or anything else needed.

All these people needed a way out.

And Perth decided that the eight Fliers were important enough to retrieve, but they would need time to think about the civilians and the Army boys.

Before the Fliers arrived, a local village was going to throw a party for the Coastwatchers and the refugees to keep up their spirits and the Fliers were quickly included.  The Mayors were coming up the mountain with their children which Mrs. Edwards was going to watch for the evening, and so the Fliers and most of the Coastwatchers were sent ahead while a few waited for the Mayors.

They had just left the clearing when they heard a gunshot.  Dashing back, they discovered that while Palacido was greeting the Mayors, Corpus, unable to deal with his depression any longer, had shot himself in the chest with his .45.  It was a hot evening, and no time could be spared.  The men, all of them, quickly went to various groups, some prepared Corpus in his best coveralls for his burial, some dug a simple grave in the woods, and others built a quick coffin.  Due to the more detailed description of the coffin detail that Jacobson gives in his memoirs, I think that he must have been on this duty.  He said after all the years being cut off from the world, there was hardly any cut wood left,a dn they had to creatively join many pieces, and in the end, Corpus fit, though barely.

It was a hard blow to them all, and as anyone who has lived through the suicide of a friend or family or coworker can attest, each man probably went back over the last several days wondering, ‘What could I have done better?   Could I have said something or done something differently?’

But life had to continue.  Perth called back saying that they had sent a submarine to pick up the survivors.  That night, by arrangement, Crowley radioed the rescuing submarine (he had been told one was being sent, but not who it was) and was shocked to hear his friend Cy Austin, commander of Redfin, who had been parked next to Flier most of the time in Fremantle.  After arranging signals (three lanterns hung in a row from the abandoned light on the point) for safety and a rendexvous point, Austin started to sing “Sweet Adeline” into the radio.  This confused Crowley a bit, but since both had been in the same barbershop quartet, he quickly joined in, singing his part.  Austin was satisfied that Crowley was the real deal and that he wasn’t being set up again.

Crowley told him about the civilians needing a space on the boat, and the desperate straits they were in.  Austin said he would contact HQ but for now, his orders were to pick up the submariners and keep on patrol.

So where was the Redfin all this time?  Off the western coast of Borneo, merrily hunting anything that crossed her path. She was actually sitting at the western entrance to Balabac Straits on August 24 when she was told to head fro Tuabbatha Reefs to wait for a Special Mission.  The quickest way there was through the Balabac Straits, which they were told was strictly closed.  Redfin would have to go all the way around Palawan Island.  And now Austin knew what he was supposed to do.  The rescue was set for August 30.  If something happened that night, like rough weather, that prevented rescue, they were to try again on August 31.  If they STILL could not meet, Redfin was to call HQ for further orders.

A kumpit with and outboard motor and a second one to drag behind were standing by.  All they had to do was motor out and be picked up by a friend.

But things were never that easy.

A video taken of the wreck of the SS Panay in 2006.  Personally, I think whoever did it was more interested in playing with their video editor than showing the wreck, but there you go if you’re interested in seeing the wreck of the Panay as Garretson and his partner left it.

For more information of the Puerto Princesa Prison Camp and the men who lived through it, read “Last Man Out” by Glenn McDole, Survivor of Puerto Princesa.

As an aside, the landing strip the American POWs were forced to build is still in use: it is the international airport of Puerto Princesa.

One more Kilometer!

Uncategorized | Posted by Rebekah
Aug 20 2010

The men woke to the aroma of a chicken, simmering in coconut milk and rice over a fire.  The village had few chickens, and according to Jacobson “[they were] so thin and run-down that in the United States, you probably couldn’t have even given it away.”

But in this village, reliant of farming rice, fishing, and hunting for their food, the serving of these chickens was a huge sacrifice and an indication of the status they accorded the Flier survivors.  The dinner was amazing (especially after a diet of rice and coconut for so long) and they were served wild honey for dessert.

Captain Crowley discovered that even here in the wilderness of the Philippines, he wasn’t free of military paperwork.  Paper was so valuable in this area since no more had been delivered since the fall of the Philippines, but Sarmiento had to make his own report to his military superiors, so the names and serial numbers of all the Flier swere duly recorded and sent ahead, but not the name of their boat.

After a drink from the local creek, and a gift to the guerillas of some rice from the villagers, the group set off, continuing north.  Sarmiento had already sent people ahead to arrange lunch at another village.  He told the Fliers this, hoping to encourage them to move a little faster.  After a couple hours staggering around on their ruined feet, someone asked “How far is it to this village?”  “About a kilometer” was the answer.

After yet another hour of limping along, someone else asked, “How far?”  “Just another kilometer”

And again,  “HOW far?”  “Just another kilometer!”

They got the next next village and they had another new experience: blue rice.

Googling Blue Rice leads to some pictures of overly vivid dyed blue rice. But naturally blue rice is real, and apparently native to Indonesia, Malaysia and, according the Jacobson, southwest Philippines. This photo has not be colorized on altered by me, and the recipe you're looking at can be found here.

Al, by this time, was enjoying the different rices he was being fed: with fish, with chicken, with honey, brown, white, blue, there seemed to be no end to it.  For the rest of his life, while he couldn’t stand the smell or taste of coconut, he still loved rice.  The never ending rice had a different effect on at least one other member of the survivors though.  Lt. Liddell never ate rice again for the rest of his life.  His son Kirk recalled hearing his father say, “I ate that stuff enough during the war, I won’t eat it again.”

After thanking their hosts, they left again and kept going north, with the typical question “How far?”  receiving the now-expected reply.  It was becoming a joke among the group.

They stumbled on a village of one hut and one man later in the afternoon, and he insisted that they stop and share a meal with him.  Sarmiento was worried about the time, but they stopped and ate with him, and excused themselves as soon as it was polite.

They finally reached the mouth of Bugsuk’s river near sunset, and had just enough time to board and push off.  Sarmiento was not intending on accompanying them past Bugsuk, but Sula LaHud, the owner of the boat, spoke no English at all, and the Fliers didn’t speak the local dialect.   At the Flier’s request, Sarmiento decided to join them to act as a translator.

So they pushed off and headed out to sea again, bound for Palawan, the major island in this area.  The one the Japanese had established (what would become) one of the most notorious prison camps in the Pacific.

Time’s Up

Uncategorized | Posted by Rebekah
Aug 13 2010

Today’s the day.

At 10 am EDT in America, it will be 10 pm in the Balabac Strait area of the Philippines.  Flier will vanish today, not to be seen again for over six decades.

The day started out like any other.  The men were maintaining their torpeodes, studying for qualifications, writing letters home, talking, sleeping, trying to keep their minds and hands busy.  Several were supposed to have a birthday over the next couple of weeks.  It’s possible that the galley crew were planning on cakes for those days, especially since one of those men was Alvin Skow, a cook onboard.

They cleared Bancoran, giving her a nineteen mile berth around that rocky and coral infested water, and lined up to the entrance to Natsubata Channel.  They were due to clear that and get on their patrol area by August 14.

At some point during the late morning or mid afternoon, they were issued an Ultra.  An Ultra was the most top secret encryption for submarines.  It was so top secret, only the COs of each boat were taught the code, and only the CO was permitted to be in the radio room when one was received, and only the CO could destroy it.  It was jokingly called the, “Burn before you read” code.

Often, these were messages from HQ about a convoy headed straight for that submarine, provided the information was good.  Most of the time, Ultras lead to wild goose chases, but they did account for nearly half of the late wartime successes, so COs of boats were always willing to consider them.

This one said the Puffer, another sub, attacked a southbound convoy along the western coast of Palawan.  If that convoy stayed on her course, she should be approaching or passing the western entrance to Balabac Strait around 2:30 am the following morning.  Flier was the only submarine in the area in a position to catch that convoy.  Would they?

To help them transit the Straits more easily, HQ sent them a detailed description of the route sister sub Crevalle had used to go through the Straits about eight weeks earlier.  HQ said it Flier was not ordered to use Crevalle’s track but it was sent to be helpful if that would help Flier go through the Straits faster.

Some information was missing though, like the tides and times that Crevalle went through Balabac.  The moon was at a quarter, so the tides were weaker and lower than a strong Spring Tide caused by a full or new moon.  There were dangerous currents already here, so Flier might have to deal with those changing strength or direction due to the tides.

In the end through, they decided to go for it with a modification to Crevalle’s route.  Crevalle was heading sharply north, so her track would have takan Flier hours to catch, so they decided to keep on their east approach.  Secondly, Crevalle passed very close to Natsubata Reef, and Crowley wanted more space between him and a reef.  (Not shocking after Midway).

They decided to go a little south, keeping to the known deep water, taking continuous depth soundings to keep Flier in deep water, and put double the lookouts on deck to watch for the Japanese encampments which were known to be on Balabac Island and in the area.

From my book, "Surviving the Flier" this map shows what, according to the later investigation into Flier's loss, was Crevalle's track (solid line) and Flier's proposed track (dotted line).

Al Jacobson was paired with Ensign Herbert Baehr that night.  To keep the lookouts sharp, they were rotated every four hours from above decks to below.  Al and Beahr were  to rotate four hours each on the map table in the Control Room and the After Bridge (Cigarette) Deck outside.  While on the Bridge, he would be the Junior Officer of the Deck, watching the stern for danger and also have the “Conn” or be in charge of the speed and direction of the engines.   While in the Control Room he would be the link from the Bridge and Radar ahead to the helm and men in the Control Room

Baehr took the first shift on the Bridge while Al took the Control Room maptable.  (For those visiting with us this weekend–or any weekend–the maptable was removed from Silversides’s Control Room years ago to help tourists get through.  It sat in the dead center of the room though, where the compass and the silver chrome sealed pipe are located.)  A half hour before going outside, Al wore Red goggles over his eyes to dilate them and help him see immediately once emerging out into the rapidly descending night.

Around 8 pm, Al went outside to take his Bridge Watch until Midnight.  He relieved Ensign Baehr using an age-old ceremony for relieving someone on watch, and commenced his shift.

There were four enlisted men over his head in the Lookout Deck, each watching a quarter of the horizon.  His friend, Lt. John Casey, was Officer of the Deck, watching over the bow, and, in a slightly unusual turn of events, Captain Crowley was also on deck that night too.

After an hour or so, someone spotted the light on Comiran Island.  Captain Crowley ordered two more officers out onto the bridge deck to cover the port and starboard watches.  In a strange move, since this is considered highly improper in most cases, he took the Conn away from Jacobson.  This was probably because he thought that since he was sitting only feet away from Liddell, just below him at the Maptable, it would be easiest and quickest to have the Conn in case of trouble.

Time ticked by.  Jacobson decided to sit down on the after bridge gun, a 40 mm Bofurs, to watch the stern.  He did take the opportunity to admire the scenery around him, scenery he later said was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen.

Then it happened.

On or around 10 pm, Flier’s starboard side smacked a mine.  It blew, tearing open the starboard side in the Control Room.  Still going full speed, she gulped water, blasting the escaping air out the open Bridge Hatch in a furious tornado.  Lt. Reynolds was blown into Al, injuring himself in the process.  Lt. Liddell, standing directly beneath the Bridge Hatch the moment it happened, was blown bodily into the sky.  When he landed, Flier was gone, and so was his shirt.  Captain Crowley was thrown from the starboard side to the aft port quarter of the deck, and Flier was gone before he could get back and sound the alarm.

Al remembered seeing Ensign Mayer run past him and jump over the guardrail an instant before he went under with Flier. He was sucked down 15-20 feet before  he was able to push himself off the sinking deck and pull for the surface.  He swam as fast as he could, terrified that Flier’s propellers, still running at full speed, would tear him apart if he didn’t climb fast enough.

It was over.

For seventy-one men, it was over.  Some, perhaps most, never knew what happened.

But on the surface, fifteen souls were gathering in the thick, oily sludge that had been Flier’s blood: her scorched oil and diesel mix.  Some were uninjured, some were badly wounded.

And all were miles from the nearest land.

USS Flier passes through Lombok

Uncategorized, Where was Flier 66 years ago today? | Posted by Rebekah
Aug 08 2010

Is it a bad thing that I’m now DREAMING about the Flier? Strange dreams too, like putting her in a giant fish globe complete with giant fish so people can see her to say good bye.  Or that I find a photo that shows she was painted some odd color or strange design, like plaid.

Today, Flier passed through Lombok Straits and headed into enemy territory.  Al mentioned in his memoirs that is was a passage of the usual kind where they eluded two sub chasers who gave chase but with their radar they escaped them easily.

I was lucky enough to ask Al what he meant by that phrase in one of our last interviews.  It was tape recorded, but I’m not posting it here because when my husband and I got together with Al and his wife, there was a lot of laughing and a lot of tangents.  That man loved to laugh and tell stories.  Maybe if I can edit it down to something coherent after the ceremony, I’ll post it.

Al explained what he meant by that though, and I’ll post the summary here.

Lombok was a difficult strait to navigate.  It is still one of the largest passageways for water exchange between the Pacific and Indian Oceans, so Lombok has very strong currents that switch direction with every tide.  With Lombok Island to the east and Bali to the west, the volcanic mountains were covered with Japanese anti-ship artillery.  Two sub chasers, usually small wooden boats pressed into service with minimal weaponry and no armor, patrolled the Strait, one generally staitioned on the narrow souther mouth, and another stationed somewhere in the middle.  The northern mouth was over 40 miles wide, and was more difficult to effectively patrol.  If these chasers hadn’t been armed with a radio to call in for the mountain backup, it would have been easier to sink them.

To add insult to injury, during these months of the year, there tended to be pockets of phosphorescent algae in the water.  So if you were going on at a high speed and hit one of these pockets, the sea around you would flare a brilliant greenish light saying “Hit HERE!” to anyone looking to shoot at you.

It was difficult, but three to four subs made that crossing every week, and only one, USS Bullhead, ever came to grief.  (Sadly, Bullhead was sunk there just a few DAYS short of the end of the war.)

Crowley waited until just before slack high tide which was due to occur around 2 am on the 8th.  Slack tide is the time period near the height of high tide or the lowest point of low tide.  At this point, the currents would slow, stop, then gradually reverse and gain speed.  By crossing at slack high tide, Flier bought herself a few more feet of clearance between her and the bottom and lessened the impact any currents would have on her navigation.

She had to go through surfaced.  Lombok was not deep enough to go through submerged, between the topography of the bottom and all the other factors listed above.

Captain Crowley, like many captains before her, took her through the strait as quickly as he could while sweeping for the sub chasers using radar.  When they found one, they stopped, waited until it passed in front of them (sometimes more than a mile ahead), watched it turn, then cross back before starting back up again and passing through the chaser’s stern wake.  When they found the second one, they repeated the process until they were completely crossed.

In order to pull this off, there were no lights on outside.   In an era where a significant proportion of American adults smoked, smoking was likely banned on the Flier this night, so no eagle eyed lookout might see the glowing butt high in Flier’s bridge or lookout deck.  Due to the fact that the moon was supposed to rise around 11, Crowley probably crossed Lombok closer to Lombok than Bali in order to keep her hiding in the shadows the mountains cast into the strait, but also to confuse the radar of the submarine chasers.  A submarine next to land blends into the land on a radar screen.  (A ship too, for that matter, a fact that was exploited by both sides)

After a couple of hours, Flier was finally “free” in enemy territory.  From now on, she’d run on surface at night and dive during the day to avoid the aircraft patrols.  She’d be on alert at all times, both for targets and for threats.  She was on her own.

Taking a short leave

Uncategorized | Posted by Rebekah
Jul 03 2010

When I started this blog, I told myself that I would keep it as professional as possible.  That’s why I’ve kept it devoid of any personal information.  But since my personal life took a tragic turn today, I need to tell you:

I probably won’t be posting for a few days.

This afternoon, my beautiful Vizsla, Starry Night Kairey my Joy (we called her “Kairey”) escaped  our house, our yard, and was struck and killed by a firetruck on its way to try to save the life of a 6-year old girl who had been struck by a car.   Neither survived.

I’m heartbroken, and can barely see for the tears right now.It’ll be all I can do to finish the book in time,.

For those following the blog, I’m sorry.  Please give me time, I hope I can start again in a few days.  But right now, my heart is with the little soul who lies under that freshly turned earth behind our barn.

RIP Kairey  (January 2, 2004-July 3, 2010)

Robalo’s last known position, and Redfin’s unexpected return

Uncategorized, Where was Flier 66 years ago today? | Posted by Rebekah
Jul 02 2010

Two things occurred today that impact our story, and neither of them involve Flier. She’s still puttering her way south, in the neighborhood of Exmouth Gulf, though she’ll skip re-fueling and just head strait for Fremantle.

Also today, the condition of Torpedoman Pluta on the Redfin is serious enough that HQ ordered the Redfin to terminate her patrol early, and make for Darwin using the Sibutu Passage head SE and exit the war area east of Timor Island.  Apparently, there was no one else near enough to take him aboard, so they had to head for the nearest Allied medical facility, which happened to be 1,600 miles away, as the crow flies.  Poor Pluta.  It was going to be a hard five day run.

The Solid Green line indicates Robalo's prjected path based on the three known points at which she was seen or detected using radar, plus her last reported position. Everything from here on out will be dotted, meaning, conjectured. Some of her track will be guessed at based partially on Flier's orders and Crevalle's path through the strait. The dotted yellow line is the rough path that Redfin has just been ordered to take to get Pluta to Darwin. Good thing they'll remember it, it'll come in handy before they know it.

Most importantly, today is the last transmission from the Robalo, revealing her location.  Her orders were to take Lombok, Makkasar, to the Celebes Sea to Balabac Straits (the same route Captain Crowley would be given in a month).  She radioed her position, as you see above, just off the eastern coast of Borneo, having just spotted a 3-ship convoy made up of a battleship and two destroyers with air cover.

What happens to her from this point forward will be mostly conjecture.  Until someone finds her wreck, we may not know what happened.  For all we know, the convoy that she just reported (and I cannot find any reference saying that she intended to attack said convoy) found her and took her out right there near Borneo, though the evidence strongly suggests she at least made it to Balabac.  If she stayed on schedule, she would have reached it within 24 hours from this point.

Homeward and Outbound

Uncategorized, Where was Flier 66 years ago today? | Posted by Rebekah
Jun 30 2010

Flier is still working her way slowly homeward.  She continued through the Sulu Sea, the Sibutu Passage and is currently in the Makkassar Strait, and crossed the Equator today, officially landing her in the Southern Hemisphere.

Flier is heading for the exit of the war at Lombok Straits and about to run across a native fishing vessel.  More on that another day.

Red is Flier heading for Fremantle, Yellow is Redfin, patrolling in the Philippines, Green are the two confirmed hits on Robalo as she leaves Fremantle and heads to her patrol area.

Redfin, meanwhile, was in the midst of patrol aound the Visaya Islands in the Philippines, and  had been fairly successful, sinking two ships.  Today, a new wrinkle came up:  Torpedoman Leonard Pluta was diagnosed with acute appendicitis.  Some cases will heal themselves, and the sub Pharmacist’s Mates were under strict instructions to not attempt any more appendectomies.  Pluta was treated with Sulpha drugs and ice packs and put under observation for 24 hours to try to keep the infection under control, and wait and see for more direction.

Today, the Flier and the Robalo met for the last time.  I found two references to the Robalo on 6/28 when she was sighted by the crew of the Gunnel, returning from patrol.  Since they met on the friendly side of Lombok, the Gunnel reported that they closed with the Robalo closely enough that Captain Kimmel and Captain John McCain of the Gunnel could talk in the open air.  (And if you’re wondering, yes, that particular Captain McCain is the father of recent presidential candidate and current Arizona Senator John McCain III)

Two days later, sixty-six years ago today, the Flier made a ship’s contact, which they decided was a submarine, most likely a Robalo, though the two vessels were already far apart from each other when Flier’s radar picked up on Robalos’ presence and since they were moving in opposite directions, they soon lost each other.

These are two of the last contacts with Robalo, and strangely enough, as far as I can tell from the records, this is the last time Robalo will be seen by another US naval vessel.    The last contact will be from Robalo herself, and everything we know about her from that point forward will be a matter of conjecture.

Flier’s Final Bite

Uncategorized, Where was Flier 66 years ago today? | Posted by Rebekah
Jun 25 2010

Flier has been busy patrolling the entrance to Manila Harbor for the past two weeks.  Since the plans to invade the Philippines were well underway (though, as far as most of the military was concerned it was just scuttlebutt, which, as usual, turned out to be right) the Navy needed their submarines in strategic positions to watch the traffic, since they had to know where any minefields might be, and to attack convoys, in order to strike fear into the hearts of the enemy.

By this time in WWII, the submarines, which comprised less than 2% of the Navy in terms of number of personnel involved, had had a devastating effect on the Japanese.  As of the end of June, 1944, the submarines had destroyed 712 freighters, warships and submarines, totaling 3,109,998 tons.  (By the end of the war, they would have taken 1,1150.5 ships totaling 4,850,624 tons.)  In 1943, the Wahoo snuck  into the Sea of Japan, which was supposedly impregnable, and destroyed ships in there, scaring the Japanese military and government.

Now Flier lurked outside the entrance to Manila harbor, merrily tracking convoys that went in and out.  It was a dangerous mission, partially because convoys going to Manila had no problems using up their entire inventory of depth charges on sub hunting because they could get more just a few miles away. After a week an a half of this, they moved off to the south, heading to the Sulu Sea.

Flier at this point had reached her patrol area, and was going back and forth, covering as many traffic lanes as she could. If she could attack, she did, but she was also supposed to track convoys for other submarines, find out what was going on and reporting on the strength of the Japanese installations if she could. Good luck following that red line. It took me a while to draw it.

It was here, late on the 22nd of June, that Flier ran across a nice large convoy, and their final victim.  It was  a large convoy of nearly nine freighters and six escorts.  They were traveling slowly enough that Crowley decided an end-around attack starting at night was going to be their best bet.

They sped ahead, and settled in their quarry’s path.  For whatever reason, they were not zig-zagging as radically as usual, and were traveling four miles from the shore.  The forward escorts whipped past Flier, who sitting low in the waves.  It was just past a new moon, and the slender crescent had already set, so Flier was all but invisible.

She took aim and fired six bow torpedoes at the first two ships in the closer cloumn, nailing both twice.  They dropped out of formation and made for the beach, even as their sterns started sinking beneath the waves.  The ships behind them scattered, trying to avoid both their sinking comrades, and getting out of the way of the hidden submarine.  As cruel as it sounds, they were not about to hang around and try to help the stricken ships and their crews, not as long as the submarine was still in the area.  Thankfully, they were near an island a short swim away, but that would be true even in the certain death of open ocean.

The escorts meanwhile, roared to the vicinity dropping depth charges in their wakes, which Al Jacobson found rather funny, since Flier was surfaced, not submerged, and the only way the depth charges would have worked would have been if one landed on the deck (and even not then).  Some even passed close to the stern, not seeing their quarry.

It was too dark to see the ships they’d crippled, since there were no fires, and the lights had gone out, but sonar called up saying the ship had disappeared from radar.  The lookouts scoured the area, but couldn’t see the further ship either.  There were two possibilities: she had gone down, or she had sucessfully beached herself, and Radar couldn’t distinguish her from the bulk of the island.  Only dawn would be able to tell the difference.

Flier had eight torpedoes left: four  in her bow and four in her stern, so Crowley decided to try again on the same convoy, and raced around them for another end-around.  An hour later, in the early hours of the 23rd, , they were in position again, only a few miles from the first attack.  A couple of the escorts remained to guard the cripple, but the rest were on high alert.  Flier repeated her trick, floating in the waves passively as the escorts passed, then, getting bearings from the bridge, and using Radar to establish range, Crowley fired the last four bow torpedoes at the two lead ships, or so he thought.

Al, watching from the aft bridge, counted down the time to detonation, then…nothing.  Four duds.  Earlier in the war, that had been disturbingly common, but those problems were fairly well fixed by now.

The convoy's approximate path is in the white.

Suddenly, there were two flashes and the stern of the second ship lit up, and the bow of the THIRD ship was hit.  Turned out, Crowley was giving coordinates of the first two ships, but Radar was giving the ranges of the CLOSEST ships.  The lead ship of the convoy was saved by a stroke of luck and miscommunication.

Flier turned around, ready to fire her last four torpedoes in her stern at the third ship which, while damaged, was not bad enough to sink, when the escorts started racing around.  This time, whether by sheer chance or design, they were going to run Flier over, and there was no time to get deep enough to pass under the escort, and certainly not enough to evade the depth charges they were sure to drop.

Captain asked Liddell for the coordinates widest gap between the escorts, and moments later, Flier’s four engines went to full speed, and she whipped between two of the escorts, all but waving as she passed by.  Larger, slower, and clumped together, the escorts were unable to safely fire deck guns, or drop depth charges, even if they did see Flier, or turn to pursue.  Crowley decided the escorts were too alerted now to try again for the large pack, but decided they would maybe re-visit the victim of their first attack.  As they retreated south, Jacobson watched the shp that took two torpedoes sink beneath the waves.  One more for Flier.

The escorts that were guarding the dead-in-the-water victim were on high alert.  Whatever she was carrying must be valuable to keep guarding a dead ship that would normally be abandoned.  Crowley approached from the north, but the escorts were running Sonar and Radar sweeps constantly, and heard them coming.  Flier retreated, and circled around to the south.  Same thing.  They approached submerged, and were found.  Crowley was about to try slipping between two of the escorts, like he had earlier, when their victim suddenly capsized, and sank quickly.

Two more for Flier.

The escorts, unable to help, ran for the remainder of their convoy.  Crowley called up the Jack, which had taken Flier’s place guarding the entrance to Manila Harbor, to tell him about that convoy.  Jack managed to destroy two more.  Of the nine freighters that Flier had seen, only four or five were able to make it to Manila.

Flier was unable to figure out what happened to their ship that was hit, and then vanished off the Radar screens.  She was only able to claim the two, and had to run south to keep up on their schedule.

Four ships in one patrol.  By now, it was almost unheard of. Flier was quickly shaking off her jinxed label.