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.

Diving station in submarine control room.

Submarine control room diving station in action.

Control room during battle stations.

Torpedo room.

Lookouts above bridge on submarine.

View from lookout perch on submarine.

Night Attack: USS Sealion (SS-315) Sinks the Japanese Battleship Kongo

 

Sealion later in the war flying her victory pennants.

This story begins in the year 1944, almost at the end of that year. The submarine Sealion is in Pearl Harbor and I am an electrician's mate on board her.

We have just returned from our two weeks' rest and recreation at the Royal Hawaiian Hotel in Honolulu. The ship looks clean and ready to go after the relief crew worked over the machinery while we were relaxing from the last war patrol.

Everyone is running around like mad trying to get their personal gear stowed and also getting the machinery tested because we will be going out tomorrow for a test dive. We know we have two weeks of grinding work ahead of us, getting the ship ready to go to sea and also practicing for the time when our job really counts.

The two weeks have gone by fast, though of course not fast enough. Everyone is grouchy and tired, but even so all have tried to help one another as much as possible. The new men have come along fine in their assigned jobs. It has been a hard two weeks with diving, surfacing, battle stations, practice fire drills, abandon ship, and demolition. If you do not have work to do or are not on watch, you "hit the sack," as we say in the Navy.

Just about the time you fall off to sleep, you hear the general announcing system, "Station the Radar Tracking Party," then pretty soon, "Battle Stations Night Attack," with the general alarm sounding, then you and everyone else all run for your battle stations.

My battle station on the Sealion was Senior Controllerman in the Maneuvering Room. This goes on day and night: "Battle Stations Submerged… Battle Station Surface," "Battle Stations Night Attack."

During the two weeks of grueling preparation, just after we made a deep dive, word was passed, "Fire in the control room." Our drills paid off then—everyone did his job with dock-like precision. It was a bad electrical fire, but in minutes it was extinguished.

The boat filled with smoke from the fire and breathing was almost impossible. The surfacing alarm sounded, and in a few seconds we popped to the surface, and men could be seen streaming from the hatches, choking and coughing, with tears streaming from their eyes. It was wonderful to fill your lungs with fresh air again.

Now the training is over, all minor equipment failures are taken care of, the new men are accepted as part of the crew, the Captain is satisfied with the performance of the men, the fire is forgotten, and the ship and crew are ready for a war patrol. Everyone is anxious, high spirited, a little excited, awaiting orders; it is rumored we leave tomorrow.

We are up and busy this morning, it is a grand looking day. The crew is called to quarters, names called and answered to. Then the Chief of the Boat tells us if we leave ship, to give our names to the anchor watch and tell where we are going. We know now we will be getting underway shortly. We do not know just where we are going as yet. Just about everyone is busy checking his gear or getting a few things that were missed yesterday.

In a few hours we are called to quarters again, the last time until we hit our next port. A thrill goes through you. This is it; we will be putting out to the wide open sea in just a few minutes. The crew is all on board, the maneuvering watch is stationed, and then a car pulls up to the gangway. Everyone comes to attention as the Admiral comes aboard and orders are given to our Captain. The Admiral shakes hands with the Captain and wishes him and his ship good hunting. The Captain comes on the bridge and gives the order to get underway.

There are a few sailors on the pier, buddies seeing us off; there is no band or cheering, we just throw the lines off, and she slowly moves away from the pier. A few sailors give a kind of salute to their buddies, and maybe wonder if she will ever return, and I kind of wonder that myself.

Our first stop will be at Midway Island in order to top off with fuel. It is windy the day we pull into Midway, cloudy and cold. There is the usual commotion with coming into port. Fresh fruits are brought on board. The engineers are busy getting fuel on, and there are a few odd jobs that have to be done before we get underway again. We stay at Midway about a day and a half. In the meantime, a sub comes in off a war patrol with her battle flag flying.

The crew is called to quarters once again, and the Captain has a few words to say to us. His talk went something like this:

"Men, our orders this time takes us into a really hot area. There is a lot of enemy shipping and plenty dangerous. We will have to be on the job every second. We are in the big leagues now and cannot afford to make mistakes.

"I would like to read you a message from ComSubPac to all submarines. During the patrol of the USS Salmon she was being depth charged by three anti-submarine vessels; they had the Salmon pinned down between them. She was in very bad shape, her after torpedo room hatch was blown off, the main induction was flooded, one engine was out of commission, both air compressors were out, and she was taking on water. She did not stop fighting even when it looked like the end. They made a battle surface and threw everything they had at them, even to some spuds that was laying around. They think they may have sunk one of the enemy ships and damaged another. She made her escape into a rain squall, and three other subs fought a rearguard action for her, and planes came out and escorted her in to the nearest port.

"The fighting spirit and cooperation of that crew was the only thing that got them back. I want you men to have that fighting spirit, because if we get in a tight spot we are going to fight. We are going out to sink enemy ships, and if we do not sink ships we are wasting our time and should not even take this sub out."

That was the end of his talk and a cold chill ran down my spine. I was glad inside to know that we would not go down without a fight, and I am sure the rest of the crew felt that way, too.

We are on our way again. The next stop will be on our assigned station. We have been underway quite a few days now and are over half way to our station.

It is in the afternoon when the trouble first begins. There is a loud sound of air in the after torpedo room and the sub shudders. What has happened is that during the testing of the torpedo firing circuit a torpedo had been fired. It had taken the outer door of number eight tube off.

We wonder now if we will continue or if we will have to go back in. There is just one door between us and the sea now, and you can see daylight through the sight glass or the tube door. The Captain decides to go on to our area rather than turn back.

Two days pass and then we have a fire in one of our torpedoes forward and have to back down full and fire it. There are a few seconds when your heart seems to stop beating, for we do not know if the 'fish' (torpedo) will run or will explode and blow us all to kingdom come. It certainly looks dark for us, with things happening like this and not even on station yet.

It is windy today and the sea is a bit rough. The lookout sights something; looks like we will have some excitement. The crew is called to Battle Station Surface. We make our attack going in with all our guns firing. The next thing we know, shells are coming at us left and right. The small enemy ship has turned out to be the biggest gun boat we have ever seen. We make a very hasty retreat and are lucky to come out without a scratch. We continue on for our patrol station and look for something larger that we can hit with our torpedoes.

At last we have reached our area, the ship and crew is in fighting trim, and all we need now are some enemy ships. The sea has been pretty rough out in this part of the ocean, and we are patrolling along on one engine.

The days are slowly going by with nothing unusual happening. The fellows play cards or other games in the crew's mess, tell stories, and kid each other. The thing you do most is sleep when you are not on watch.

Today the weather is real bad, it is hard to walk through the boat. This is the fourth day now that we have been on station and nothing in sight. There is a feeling throughout the sub that we will be having a strike pretty soon now. Maybe tonight will do it…

It is a tough looking night on this 20 November 1944. It is getting dark now, and the ship is rigged for red so that no light will show topside. It will be a perfect night to meet the enemy, as it's going to be a really black night and storming like the devil.

It is not long after dark when the Radar Operator picks up a contact. The contact is so far off it must be land. The Captain is up and the Navigator checks: "No land there, Sir." It must be a big ship, maybe an aircraft carrier. We are all excited now; this is something to shoot at.

The Radar Tracking Party is stationed and four main engines put on the line. Whatever it is that we are tracking, it's traveling fast, and it takes all we can do to keep ahead of it. Midnight is drawing near, and pretty soon word is passed, "Battle Stations Night Attack." The general alarm is not sounded. Everyone has already gone to his battle station. This is it.

We are still having a job keeping ahead of our target, and we have to make flank speed in order to close the range. Soon the Captain says, "It looks like two battleships, a cruiser, and five destroyers." My God, a task force, and one lone submarine going in to attack.

We are closing the range and all tubes are made ready. The weather is getting worse, and you have to hold on in order to stand up. It is getting close to time to fire our torpedoes. The Captain changes course and is still getting bearings and ranges; otherwise it is quiet. You can just about hear your heart beating, and then the Captain says to the Executive Officer, "Fire when you are ready."

Then you hear, "Fire One," and the ship shakes as if angry, and you think to yourself, God, I hope they hit. The 'fish' are fired one after the other with so many seconds between. When all are fired forward we get all ahead full and swing around and fire aft.

About the time the last 'fish' was fired aft, there is a mighty explosion and another, and then others, the Captain yells, "We hit her… a big mass of flame and smoke came out of her… we must have hit her magazine."

Four torpedoes went into the first and biggest battleship and three went into the second one. We are going away at flank speed when the Captain asks, "Are the escorts chasing us?" to the Radar Operator.

"There is no one after us," the operator replies.

The Captain calls to the helmsman, "Right full rudder, we are going the wrong way."

We are still tracking them and they have picked up speed, but pretty soon we notice the biggest battle-wagon starting to slow down. We are getting ready to go in for the kill. Six tubes are made ready forward. We are about ready to fire, another minute will do the job.

Then all hell breaks loose, I hear the Captain shouting, "She's blown up, the whole area is bright as day." In a matter of minutes the battleship has disappeared below the surface of the ocean.

About a month later we were informed that this was the Japanese battleship Kongo (31,000 tons). The Sealion received the Presidential Unit Citation and our Captain the Navy Cross for this action.

USS Sealion Presidential Unit Citation

For outstanding performance in combat and distinguished service to the United States during the First, Second and Third war patrols in action against heavily escorted Japanese convoys and combatant units in the Pacific Area, and the performance of exceptional rescue services. Pursuing highly aggressive and tenacious tactics in the face of strong anti-submarine measures, and striking boldly despite severe enemy counterattacks, the USS Sealion inflicted severe damage upon the enemy; and by her accurate, intensive torpedo fire through brief periods of concentrated attacks, and eleven enemy ships, including a 2,300-ton destroyer and a 30,000-ton battleship, for a total of 101,400 tons and damaged an additional battleship of 30,000 tons. In addition, through outstanding skill and superb performance of duty the USS Sealion efficiently rescued from certain death, fifty-four British and Australian prisoners of war who were survivors of a torpedoed transport which had been transporting them from Singapore to the Japanese Empire when intercepted and sunk by U.S. submarines. In achievement attest to the Sealion's readiness for combat and gallant fighting spirit of her Officers and Men, and reflects the highest credit upon the United States Naval Service.

HIJMS Kongo, 1934.

HIJMS Kongo. Painting from the plastic model kit produced by Fujimi.

HIJMS Kongo, originally built as a battlecruiser by the British ship builder Vickers, seen in 1929-30 after being rebuilt as a battleship.

HIJMS Kongo.

Japanese Carrier Division Three under attack by Task Force 38 planes, 20 June 1944. The battleship in the lower center is either Haruna or Kongo. The carrier Chiyoda is at right. Photographed from a USS Bunker Hill (CV-17) plane.

USS Barracuda SS-163

USS Barracuda SS-163.

USS Barracuda (SF-4/SS-163), lead ship of her class and first of the "V-boats," was the second ship of the United States Navy to be named for the barracuda (after USS F-2).