World War 2 In Review: I Was Expendable: A Lookout on the Bridge of the Muskallunge (SS-262)

Lookout silhouetted on the bridge of a submarine studies the sky as well as the sea.

by Val Scanlon Jr.

Quartermaster with binoculars, lay to the bridge immediately!" ordered the Officer of the Deck (OOD).

That meant me. Quickly moving to the forward end of the conning tower, I lifted the cover to the binocular stowage locker, grabbing a pair of 7×50 powered glasses, and sped up the short ladder to the bridge.

"Request permission to come on the bridge," I asked as my head and shoulders passed through the conning tower hatch to the bridge level.

"Come up," replied the OOD.

With my entire body emerging, I cleared the hatch and stood erect, facing the OOD. "QM reporting as ordered, sir!"

"Very well. Man your aircraft lookout station. Conduct a careful continuous and thorough search for enemy aircraft. We are within their land-based range now and I do not want to be surprised and possibly caught on the surface today."

"Aye, aye, sir!"

Cautiously climbing to my lookout station atop the periscope shears, I passed within whispering distance of the starboard lookout. He said, "Watch your step up there. This gale is fierce and these side rolls could easily toss you overboard. If you did go over we would have one hell of a time trying to find you in this raging sea."

"Thanks, Bill. Keep an eye on me!"

Reaching my lookout perch, I sat down very carefully on the narrow, six-inch wide, 18-inch long strip of hard steel and tried to twine my feet into a holding-on position. There was no way to hold on with my hands. I had to use both hands for binocular support while conducting my aircraft searches. It was a very precarious situation at best and doubly perilous in the storm-like riding a wild, bucking bronco, with no hands! I was now approximately 25 feet above the bridge level and 47 feet above sea level. The submarine rolled continuously, 20 degrees to starboard, then back 40 degrees to port, with a quick, sharp, teeth-chattering motion.

The stormy day was dark and gloomy, with low-hanging, formless nimbostratus rain clouds. Visibility was limited to a few hundred yards.

The United States submarine Muskallunge was conducting a combat patrol in the vicinity of the Japanese-held island of Palau, in the Western Pacific Ocean. Assigned a "seek out and destroy" mission, "Muskie" with her ship's complement of eight commissioned officers and seventy-five enlisted men, was near the end of "on station" patrolling. Although Palau was noted for its rich, fertile contacts, for some strange reason not one enemy ship or plane contact had been made. Every previous patrol conducted in this area had disclosed a ripe and continuous flow of enemy shipping. Many of the larger convoys had been escorted by medium-sized bombers and a few of the U.S. submarines assigned the area had been attacked and successfully bombed. It was possible the severe storm had discouraged even the bravest plane pilots—I hoped!

Hanging on as best I could with feet and legs, time after time I first made a careful search with my naked eyes, covering the full 360-degree horizon area, then the entire sky area, before employing the use of my binoculars.

At last, during one of my searches with the binoculars, I sighted four columns of smoke! I made the report, "Four columns of smoke bearing 075 relative, hull down on the horizon!" (i.e., four ships without masts and hulls visible).

A sudden course change toward the smoke columns was then made and "Muskie" slowly but surely closed the distance.

My lookout perch was between the stowed positions of our Number One and Number Two periscopes. Without warning, Number Two periscope was suddenly raised, almost catching me in the rear end, and almost pitching me overboard.

I yelled, "What the hell do you think you're doing down there?"

"What happened?" asked the OOD.

"Someone raised Number Two periscope without warning and nearly knocked me over the side!"

"Sorry about that! Watch your step up there!"

Still in a rage and a state of shock, I shouted, "Thanks, you stupid clown! Why don't you come up here and try it for a while… the boat's rolling back and forth like crazy and me trying to hang on with my toenails…"

The distance between "Muskie" and the smoke contacts steadily decreased. The lower level starboard lookout reported masts and superstructures in sight. Excited and nosey, for the moment I forgot my aircraft searching to concentrate watching the contacts.

Then suddenly something made me turn my eyes toward the port side. I could hardly believe what I saw—a Japanese bomber, emerging from the rain squall, so close I could clearly see the nose gunner hunched over his machine gun, an amazed look on his face as he spotted us!

I panicked! Scrambling down from my perch and while passing through the conning tower hatch, I yelled, "AIRCRAFT!… CLOSE!"

I heard the OOD yell, "CLEAR THE BRIDGE!… DIVE!… DIVE!"

Then came two blasts on the diving alarm… "ARRRRUGGA! ARRRRUGGA!" and "Muskie" headed down… deep!

We had reached a depth of 150 feet when the blast came—WHHAAAOOOOMM! The bomb exploded close enough to be heard and felt throughout the submarine. The bomber had dropped a bomb into the water turbulence created by the submerging boat… right on target! Miraculously, "Muskie" was not damaged.

Still shaking, I went on down into the control room and turning aft, staggered into the crew's messing compartment. With trembling hands I drew a cup of scalding coffee from the 30-gallon urn and sat down at a mess table. I gulped hot coffee, trying to keep it from slopping out of the cup. Upset? You know it! Definitely!

I heard words passed over the submarine's general announcing system but I was too dazed to understand them. A shipmate at the table called out to me, "Hey, they want you in the control room at once."

I got up then and walked into the control room. When recognition had been made, the commanding officer made an announcement to the diving officer:

"If you are required to leave personnel on the bridge in order to save this ship and the other personnel on board, do not hesitate to do so!"

Still shocked by my experience and completely out of control with rage, I screamed, "So, I'm expendable… Well, let me tell you something… if you ever leave me up there, be prepared to go down forever along with everyone on board, because somehow, some way, I'll bust open that upper conning tower hatch and flood this sewer pipe!"

Muskallunge (SS-262) port side view underway, off Pearl Harbor 4 September 1943. She cleared Pearl Harbor 7 September for her first war patrol, taking station off the Palau Islands. Muskallunge carried the first electric torpedoes to be fired in the war by an American submarine.

LtCdr. John R. Madison prepares to go up ladder from control room of USS Muskallunge (SS-262) at Submarine Base New London, Connecticut. Lt. William B. Robb is at his station.