Around the World Submerged (34 page)

Still, there
was
a risk that some notice would be taken of our presence, and I might have worried more had not some of our more perceptive conning tower crew unconsciously said exactly the right thing:

In the conning tower, the irrepressible Bill Marshall says aloud, “Wonder what he is going to tell his friends in Cebu tonight.” Quartermaster Second Class Russell K. Savage probably has the right answer: “They won’t believe a word he says.”

As
Triton
eases slowly out of the Bay, checking her position every two minutes or so because of the swift currents we have encountered, we are all aware that today will go down as one of the high points of our trip. We have come more than halfway around the world to see this spot.

While a midshipman at Annapolis, I had a classmate named Carlos J. Albert, a Philippine national, who has had quite a career since our Naval Academy days. He went back to the Philippines upon our graduation in 1939 and was commissioned in the Philippine Navy. During the war he was a thorn in the side of the Japanese, narrowly escaping death on several occasions. More recently, with the rank of Commodore, he was assigned to the post of Armed Forces Attaché at the Philippine Embassy in Washington, D.C. There, I came to know also his lovely wife, Mila, a charming, willowy Filipino girl with a beautiful and expressive face. Carlos is now in Manila—or was. Lately I have not heard what Carlos is doing, and the temptation is strong to write him a note for transmission by hydro bottle, possibly on the hydro paper itself, requesting the finder to communicate with Carlos and receive a reward. I even have the absolute authentication so far as Carlos is concerned, for all I need to do is write “What about ’39?” and he will know that it is genuine.

With a sigh, I am forced to the conclusion that this is one of those ideas which will have to be enjoyed only in the imagination. I can write Carlos a letter later on. When well clear of Magellan Bay, we release our second hydro bottle of the day, bearing
a paper in no way different from the earlier one except for the serial number.

1320 Entered Hilutangan Channel headed south. This time we will proceed well below periscope depth at higher speeds than before.

1324 With the outline of the channel clear as print on our sonar visual repeater, changed depth to 150 feet and ran down the channel at 10 knots.

1407 More blasting in the distance.

1434 Clear of Hilutangan Channel, set course down Bohol Strait, increased speed to 15 knots, increased depth to 200 feet.

1504 Increased depth to 300 feet, increased speed to 20 knots.

2035 Entered Sulu Sea. Will spend the rest of the night and tomorrow morning crossing the Sulu Sea enroute to the Celebes Sea and departure from the waters of the Philippine Republic.

I have in a way also fulfilled a personal mission in this trip to the waters of the Philippine Republic. In 1898, my father was a Lieutenant in the
Baltimore
when Admiral Dewey defeated the Spanish Fleet at the Battle of Manila Bay. Subsequently, Dad spent several years campaigning against the Filipinos in their hopeless and heroic insurrection. From their point of view, they were fighting an American imperialistic scheme to take over where the Spanish had been forced to leave off, and although he fought against them, Father’s personal sympathies were always with the embattled Filipino farmers and their high-minded leaders. He became, in fact, acquainted with the head of the Philippine insurrection, Emilio Aguinaldo. As a boy, I remember the arrival of occasional letters to Father from this quondam national hero.

Although I am not very sure of the details, my recollection of the story is that during the initial confused stages of the insurrection, Father in some manner had arrested or captured a party of Filipinos, among whom was a young woman who turned out to be the wife of Emilio Aguinaldo. The rest of the party were apparently her protectors and servants. I am sure the United States government has long since forgiven Father [if indeed it ever knew
of it] for the manner in which he handled this gratuitous “prize-of-war.” He escorted the entire party to the nearest Filipino post and bade Señora Aguinaldo a sweeping and courtly good-bye. Sometime later, Father was captured by Filipino guerrillas and detained for several hours, until peremptory orders arrived from some highly placed official that he be restored immediately to the American lines, which was done.

It should not be inferred from this yarn that the Filipino insurrection was a comic-opera war, for it was not. The Filipinos had been fighting the Spanish colonial government [a direct relic of Magellan’s landing] for several years before we got into the fight. They welcomed us with great joy, thinking our plans were the same for them as for Cuba, and that their independence was but a short time away. When they discovered that this was not our intention, at least, not at this time, with grief by some and fanatic fury by others, they commenced to fight against their erstwhile comrades. And yet, the Filipinos—most of their educated leaders anyway—knew that they were fighting the best friend their country ever had. If either war was a comic opera, it was the Spanish War, with its fake “assault” on the fortifications of Manila, not the Philippine insurrection, which was in deadly, pathetic earnest.

Saturday, 2 April 1960 0047 There is severe oscillation in our gyro repeaters, probably caused by something wrong with one or more synchro amplifiers. Shifted to direct gyro input to the helmsman and began to check out the synchro amplifiers. After some moments, the oscillations ceased and the situation reverted to normal. This may be a warning of trouble to come. With the oscillation gone, we are for the moment unable to determine what is the precise cause of the difficulty.

0135 Sonar contact on the starboard bow. A large ship, from the heavy beat of his propeller. Left him astern and lost contact after tracking him for some thirty minutes. He faded out as though a thermal sound layer had come between us.

0859 At periscope depth to fix our position prior to passing through the Pearl Bank Passage and then through Sibutu Passage
into the Celebes Sea. Locating and passing through Pearl Bank Passage is somewhat like threading a needle. There is a difference, however. Should we miss the deep water hole between reefs, we have an excellent chance of digging a groove in the coral with our bow. The land is very low-lying hereabouts and it is difficult to detect by periscope or radar. A complication develops when a ship is sighted hull down on bearing 076° true, approximately 8 miles away. From course and speed it is quite possible that this fellow may be the one we detected on sonar seven hours ago. If so, we have run right past him. Very likely
Triton
and he are trying to thread the same needle. Proximity of the ship prevents us from raising our periscope as high as we might like, or using our retractable radar to fix our position accurately. The sea is nearly glassy; any unusual activity in the water would attract notice. Went deep, increased speed and headed for the presumed position of Pearl Bank Passage.

1130 Periscope depth again, land in sight more clearly, and we are now obtaining a rough position. Changed course to head for the presumed location of Pearl Bank Passage when again we sight the same ship, range now only seven miles, bearing 030° true.

1245 This ship is going to give us trouble. He is much higher out of the water than we, therefore can see better, and very likely he knows this area thoroughly. Although we have the speed on him, we must proceed slowly and with extreme caution, to be sure of our position before we try to run through the narrow Pearl Bank Passage. With no such problems, he has been overhauling us for the past several hours.

We believe we have Pearl Bank Passage pretty well defined now, bearing due south; and we have been steering south for about 45 minutes. We should, however, remain at periscope depth as we pass through the channel because of variable currents which the
Sailing Directions
say we may expect. Besides, Will says he still is not fully satisfied with the accuracy of our position. After thinking things over, it is apparent that our best bet is to let the ship precede us.

We therefore reverse course to the north to let him go first, exercising extreme caution with our periscope and swinging wide. Commander Joe Roberts and photographer Ray Meadows are in the conning tower ready to take pictures should any opportunities develop. The merchantman, a Victory freighter of World War II with black hull, white superstructure and a black-and-red shape on his funnel, goes by at range 3300 yards. We are able to take a few pictures as he passes.

1311 Changed course to 180° true to follow behind the freighter. This makes it easy.

1417 Sighted Pearl Bank Light bearing 234° true and obtained the first really good fix of the day.

1436 Commenced transit of Pearl Bank Passage.

1450 We are inside Pearl Bank Passage, taking occasional checks on our position by bearings of the lighthouse on the right and a point of land on the left. We are well behind the freighter and can use our periscope with relative freedom.

The first indication of trouble came when Chief Quartermaster Marshall suggests the situation may be propitious for obtaining a sun azimuth. Will has been doing this every day he can. It is good business to check the accuracy of our gyros and determine their errors as often as possible. The error can vary and there goes your dead-reckoning capability.

A low whistle from Marshall. “This can’t be right,” he comments. “This shows the azimuth is 6° off.” Calling to the navigator in the forward end of the conning tower. “Mr. Adams, are you sure you read the bearing right on the bearing repeater?”

“I think I did,” calls back Adams. “Maybe it is not following freely. Helmsman, mark your head!”

The helmsman, one of our new men, answers immediately, “Mark! One nine one, sir.” With the periscope aimed dead ahead, the bearing repeater should read exactly the same—and it does. Suddenly the pieces fall into place. I shoot a quick look at the rudder angle indicator alongside the helmsman. He has 20° right rudder on, but the ship’s course has not changed!

“Our gyro has gone out,” I call out.

Lt. George Sawyer happens to be officer of the deck. He has reached the same conclusion. “Up periscope!” he shouts.

The handles at the base of the steel tube come up; he grasps them; shouts “Lighthouse—bearing, mark! Left full rudder!”

There is no need for me to look through the periscope to know what George is seeing. When he called “Mark!” he was looking dead ahead. We are at least 90° off our course already, in a narrow channel. George is understandably startled by seeing the lighthouse in front when it should have been on the beam. The urgency in his voice tightens us all up in the conning tower.

With the ship once more on approximately the right heading, we shift steering control to the control room where the helmsman can use the master repeater, the only remote gyro indication we can trust right now.

It is a good lesson to all hands, one which I take pains to expand on in night orders later that same day. It is our normal practice to check our gyro repeaters against the master and auxiliary compasses every 30 minutes. Yet the rapidity with which the situation developed shows us how much trouble we could have gotten into even with this procedure. We were fortunate that we caught the difficulty so quickly, but it was strictly accidental that Marshall thought of taking a sun azimuth at the time he did. Apparently he caught the incipient error when we had only gone six degrees off our course.

The real error was on the part of the helmsman, who should have realized that the ship cannot help turning if 20° rudder is put on. If you have 20° rudder on and you are not changing course, either your rudder or your gyro compass is not working, or something else very unusual is happening. The helmsman must become accustomed to seeing the ship respond ever so slightly to a tiny amount of rudder one way or the other; and if she does not, he should immediately initiate a check to see if anything is wrong.

In this instance the ship was never in danger, since we discovered
the difficulty so quickly, and because our sonar equipment has been indicating the shoal water on both sides of Pearl Bank Passage, as it did in Hilutangan Channel; thus we would have known that we were approaching shoal water long before we got in trouble. Even so, the episode has a sobering effect.

1517 Cleared Pearl Bank Passage heading for Sibutu Passage and entry into Celebes Sea.

1856 Entered Sibutu Passage.

2036 Passed Sibutu Island abeam to starboard at about 7 miles.

2200 Passed into Celebes Sea; departed from waters of the Republic of the Philippines.

Sunday, 3 April 1960 1147 Entered Makassar Strait. Departed Celebes Sea.

1330 Sunday Service on schedule, led by Will Adams. Our attendance has increased somewhat—an encouraging sign. Will’s talk, “Have Made Passive Search, Hold No Contacts,” refers to the sonarman’s report made just before we bring the ship to periscope depth. He uses it to illustrate the point that life demands more than a passive search, and the lesson sinks home.

1422 Crossed equator for the third time this voyage at longitude 119°—05.1’ E. We are old hands now, and King Neptune just waves us by as we speed through his domain.

Monday, 4 April 1960 0613 Sighted a sailing vessel to westward. Joe Roberts’ eyes glisten as he evaluates the report. This is the kind of sailboat he has been hoping to photograph, a Makassar inter-island merchantman. As he passes nearby, Joe obtains what should prove to be excellent pictures.

0930 Completed photographing the Makassar merchantman. The vessel in many ways resembles a Chesapeake Bay schooner of a type I had seen many times from my room in Bancroft Hall at Annapolis. It is about 50 feet long, painted white, low in the water with a cargo resembling deck lumber. She has two masts with heavy booms and gaffs. There was also a rather heavy bowsprit and two good-sized jibs—a topsail was rigged between mast and gaff on both fore and main masts. At the stern of the ship
was a rather strange outrigger affair, a sort of structure built well out from the stern to which the mainmast backstays are secured and from which the ship is steered. Two men could be seen aboard—one man standing aft on the outrigger, apparently steering the ship, and the other, evidently a deck hand, up forward. Neither one seemed to be aware of our presence, although during our photographic interlude they had passed rather closely and we were able to inspect them carefully.