CHAPTER TWENTY

NO ESCAPE

Ken and Gary are facing each other as they sit in a pair of lounge chairs on the backyard lanai. Ken appears to be staring into space as he slowly strokes his beard and Gary is without words. As his eyes close, Ken picks up the story from where he left off.

 

 

Following the sinking of the Oklahoma I found it necessary to spend a few moments meditating, but the continued vibrations coming through the hull as other ships were bombed and torpedoed quickly snapped me out of it. I mustered all the strength I could and began searching for an escape route.

“Lowering periscope,” I notice my voice is very subdued as is Kamita’s reply:

“Aye, lowering periscope.”

“Executing a hard turn to port.” I strongly desire to take the two of us out of the harbor and believe it a good time to escape, while confusion is our friend.

“Reduce speed to two knots.”

“Aye, Sir, two knots.”

We remain silent as I begin to steer a course into the main harbor channel which will lead us to the open ocean and escape. Suddenly our little sub shudders as a loud explosion shakes us to the bone. We look at each other in alarm, wondering what just happened.

“Was that a depth charge?” Kamita sounds anxious.

“I do not believe so, but perhaps I should take a look.”

I grab the view finder’s handles as the periscope rises into place and anxiously sweep in all directions. I breathe a sigh of relief as, for the moment anyway, the channel ahead is clear. But when I sweep to our port side I witness a tremendous ball of fire and smoke rising further into the sky than my viewer allows and appears to be originating where the Arizona should be moored.

“Kamita, the explosion came from the Arizona. She is ablaze as if a volcano!” Kamita stares at his feet as the thought of the sailors aboard the burning ship is very sobering. Neither of us take joy in the destruction of an enemy, for it is strictly a matter of duty, and one day it could just as easily be us under attack.

I swing the periscope around to scan the channel leading to the sea only to experience every nerve ending in my body suddenly on fire; a destroyer is rapidly bearing down on our position, clouds of black smoke billowing from her funnels and depth charges starting to explode in her wake!

“Lowering periscope, set us on the bottom and be quick, we are going to be depth-charged!” I am almost paralyzed by fear but manage not to allow emotion to sneak into my voice.

“Aye Sir” The words are barely out of Kamita’s mouth when the churning sound of propellers passing directly overhead sends chills up our spines.

“Hold tight Kamita, we are about to feel the wrath of the Americans!” Almost before I finish the words a vicious depth-charge explosion throws our little submarine into the bottom of the channel with such force we both lose our grips and are tossed against the iron hull as our submarine literally bounces off the channel bottom. We are lucky and do not pop to the surface where certain death would await. Instead, our submarine rights itself, allowing Kamita to quickly settle us onto the bottom. I believe surviving the attack is a sign from above.

“Kamita,” I whisper, “engine off, blowers off. I doubt the Americans can detect us if we are completely silent, especially with so many explosions rocking the harbor.”

“Aye, engine off, blowers off.” Kamita’s voice is barely audible.

In a few moments we hear, and feel, a sequence of four depth charge explosions, each one a little further away than the one before leading me to conclude the destroyer is hunting a different target. I speculate it may not even have seen us, but is actually in pursuit of a sister submarine for the destroyer does not return to finish us off.

To be safe we remain on the bottom and wait for the excitement up top to subside. I consider the situation of the Americans and decide they likely will open the submarine nets, allowing surviving warships to escape the harbor and am anxious to take advantage of the situation, but believe I must also exercise caution, and patience.

“Kamita, we shall on the bottom for a little while longer, just to be certain the destroyer does not return.”

“Aye,” he whispers.

Pointing to a gash on his forehead I say: “Can I bandage that for you?”

“Yes, thank you. I forgot about it,” is his almost sheepish response.

I carefully bandage his forehead and once finished we do our best to get comfortable. Between the stress of the day’s action and the suffocating heat, we are soon fast asleep. Only the sound of the ventilation system is audible.

When I finally wake and check my watch I am startled to discover it is well after eight in the evening. I also detect faint, acrid fumes originating from the batteries, a clear signal they have suffered damage as a result of the depth charge attack.

“Time to get our bearings!” I force myself to whisper and rub my face with a towel to clear the sweat from my eyes. At this point we have been submerged many hours and with the strong scent of the acid leak burning our eyes and lungs we urgently need to re-circulate our air supply, which means we must surface soon. But we cannot surface while in the open harbor.

“Three knots and periscope depth,” I whisper.

“Aye, three knots, periscope depth,” replies Kamita.

Our little submarine slowly rises from the harbor floor and soon reaches a depth of ten feet. I raise the periscope and seek to establish my bearings as I execute a three hundred sixty degree visual survey of the harbor, but there is nothing to observe, save for some distant fires. I begin to navigate but immediately discover the helm is not responding as it should. I can barely turn the wheel, no matter how much effort I exert.

“Something is jamming the rudder. I can barely steer!” I keep my voice calm though my heart is pounding.

“Sir,” responds Kamita, “it may have happened when we struck bottom. What do you propose?” Kamita’s voice is also calm though I notice blood oozing through the makeshift bandage I had applied to his forehead.

“We will activate my alternate plan and slip into West Loch. According to our intelligence it is only used to demagnetize ships so we should be able to safely surface and refresh our air. Matters could be worse, but we are fortunate as the rudder is forcing us to starboard and directly into West Loch”

I take a few moments to consider our situation and formulate a plan.

“Once we are safely on the surface in West Loch we can determine the extent of the damage. For the time being, however, we cannot expect to break out tonight with our rudder such as it is and we must also ascertain the condition of our batteries. In all events, we will remain in West Loch until after sunset tomorrow for we cannot risk a daylight escape. Fortunately, we loaded extra provisions.”

Kamita absorbs the information and considers which tools may prove most useful in repairing the rudder. “Aye, Sir. Maintain three knots?”

“No, reduce to two knots. At that speed it is more likely I can safely guide us into West Loch.”

“Lowering periscope,” my voice is just above a whisper, not for the reason I intended it, but because it is the most I can muster.

“Aye, two knots, lowering periscope,” confirms Kamita, also in a whisper.

“In the event we fail to repair the rudder then we must consider my emergency plan. I am going to refresh my memory of our local agents, friendly farmers and maps, as swimming ashore and making contact with them may prove to be our only chance to return home. The experience we have gained today will prove extremely valuable for future combat operations.”

“Aye. Sir, I have considered the rudder problem and believe I can repair it.” Kamita sounds confident, but I do not share his confidence as my instincts are telling me we will not be sailing out of here anytime soon.

“Of course, if it can be repaired I know you are the man who can do so,” I reply.

We slowly edge towards West Loch. Occasionally I risk raising the periscope to verify our course and review events that might be taking place in the harbor. When we finally arrive at the center of West Loch, it is after two in the morning which leaves us with precious little time to re-circulate our air and for Kamita to repair the rudder mechanism before daylight. I decide to waste no time and immediately surface.

“Stop engine.”

“Aye, engine stopped”

“Release ballast, but not too quickly as we cannot create a fuss when we break the surface, just in the event someone is patrolling the shoreline.”

“Aye, releasing ballast!” Kamita makes no attempt to disguise his nervous anticipation of what might await our emergence onto the surface.

Quietly our midget sub rises and meets the still surface waters of West Loch as the small conning tower slowly breaks through what proves to be a glass-like surface. I crank open the hatch and am greeted by a shower of cool water as I push it fully open with a dismayingly loud squeak.

“Ah, that feels good!” I quickly climb the ladder to the very small bridge and, realizing I must acclimate my eyes, call down to Kamita in as hushed a voice as possible: “Extinguish all the lighting. Use the candle and allow your eyes to adapt to the dark before joining me!”

It appears we are floating just about in the middle of the Loch. A light wind is gently pushing us to starboard, which suits me. There is some floating debris in the area and the nearest shoreline is overgrown with tall weeds, making shore patrols most unlikely. I smile as I realize our intelligence is, again, correct. This truly is an over-looked location, right in Pearl Harbor itself. Kamita squeezes up beside me, taking deep breaths of the cool air.

“I will allow us to drift closer to shore. Between the darkness and the debris floating nearby I plan to remain surfaced as long as possible. At the first indication of sunlight we will maneuver a little further out and proceed to spend the day on the bottom. We will remain submerged, hidden in the mud, and will bide our time until nightfall. If the rudder is repaired, we will seek to escape after sunset.”

“Aye, Sir.”

I remain on the bridge and observe Kamita as he carefully picks his way to the aft deck.

In a few moments he slips over the side and disappears. The upper half of the rudder is above the waterline and does not appear damaged. Unfortunately the damage lies below, where rendering repairs in the darkness is problematic.

It is a nearly pitch black, moonless night and Kamita experiences a great deal of difficulty locating the lower rudder on his first attempt. He can only hold his breath for about one minute, or so, at a time, severely limiting his effectiveness. He never claimed to be a good swimmer.

Time and again Kamita works his way underwater to the damaged rudder. After two exhausting hours he drags himself onto the deck, makes his way to the conning tower, hands me his tools and slowly climbs the ladder.

There is not room for us both on the conning tower, so he remains on the ladder, his hands bleeding and out of breath.

“Sir, I had much difficulty. It appears the depth charge caused a deep bend in the rudder housing, or perhaps it happened when we hit the bottom. In any event, I cannot repair it in the dark nor may I prove able to successfully repair it in daylight. My apologies.” His head droops and his breathing is heavy.

We stand for a few minutes, hunched together, me on the conning tower and Kamita grasping the uppermost rungs of the ladder. The orange glow of raging fires is visible over the horizon and I can only imagine the efforts going on at that very moment to fight them, while here in West Loch it is calm and quiet. But the problem facing me is to discover a way to return enough steering control so we can reach our rendezvous point with I-16. I make my way into the control room, followed by Kamita who lights two candles as the hatch remains open.

“I shall examine the batteries and make whatever repairs I can.” Kamita appears to be disappointed in himself. I watch him take a few swigs of apple juice and crawl towards the battery compartment. In an hour he has stopped the acid leaks and we take a few moments to assess our situation.

“Do you think you could repair the rudder if we risked remaining on the surface for an hour after sunrise?” I ask.

“Not likely,” Kamita slowly shakes his head side-to-side. “The lower rudder is damaged and I cannot free it from the housing. True, it is difficult to work in the dark, but twice I was able to place both my hands on it and exert all my strength, but met with no success. I believe both the rudder and the housing are damaged beyond repair.” Kamita pauses a moment.

“I have one possible solution. If we were to venture further out into the Loch, we could try reversing the engine and the reverse force might free the rudder enough for maneuvering.” Kamita sounds reasonably hopeful.

“We shall do precisely that! There is still an hour to first light, so let’s not waste time. Make ready for diving, but first I will attempt to radio I-16 our plan.” My voice conveys more confidence than I feel in my heart.

I begin to transmit a report, but discover there is something wrong with the transmitter. I frown as I examine the radio and can see it has been damaged. I am having much difficulty keying the transmission, but feel confident the I-16 will at least learn we are alive and well. Now it is only for us to exit this place and return to our fleet so we might report on our experiences.

While Kamita readies himself for the coming maneuver I begin to transmit, as well as I can, one last message for the night. Once I am satisfied the message is sent and the I-16 is aware our mission has been a success, I quietly give the order to get under way.

“Make two knots.”

“Aye, two knots!” Kamita’s voice is instilled with a newfound confidence.

I carefully time the hands on my stop watch, just as I practiced so many times back in the Inland Sea of Japan.

“Stop engine!”

“Aye, stop engine,” Kamita replies.

“Take us to thirty feet.”

“Aye, opening valves.” Kamita begins taking on ballast, his bloody hands sometimes slipping as he opens the valves allowing seawater to flood into the ballast tanks.

“Approaching twenty feet; twenty five feet; leveling at thirty feet.”

I take a deep breath. “This is it then. Full reverse!”

“Aye, full reverse!” Kamita does not seem to realize he has shouted his response which I consider a natural reaction under our circumstances.

We begin moving in reverse, but it is immediately evident something is seriously wrong as the submarine begins shaking, mildly at first, but more violently as we gain reverse speed. Suddenly we begin to list hard to port and I realize we are moments away from flipping over.

“Stop engine!” I shout.

“Aye, engine stopped,” replies Kamita with some trepidation apparent in his voice.

The submarine immediately rights itself and I am thankful for the recovery, but decide to chance one final maneuver.

“Make five knots, Kamita, forward motion!”

“Aye, five knots, forward motion.” In only a few moments the submarine begins to vigorously shake from stern to bow and I painfully conclude one of the propellers is seriously out of balance, making the situation even more critical than I anticipated. I fear the propeller noise can easily be picked up by any listening devices the Americans likely have, at least by now, placed at the harbor entrance, which is further reason to abandon any plans for escape.

“Stop engine and let her sink to the bottom. We will need to await nightfall.” I fail to disguise my frustration as I slip into my seat and let out an inadvertent sigh.

“Aye.” Kamita, without acknowledging my obvious frustration, stops the engine and slowly opens the ballast valves. We slip to the bottom of West Loch where we settle on an almost even keel.

“Sir, if only I had thought to bring additional tools, perhaps I could have repaired the damage.” Kamita stares at his feet, shoulders slouched.

“My friend, Buddha once said: ‘Do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment.’ I strongly suggest you concentrate on the present for the present builds the future, and the future will take care of itself. But now let us enjoy some sandwiches and sake, for it is time to consider our options.” While I sound optimistic I am fully aware a return to the I-16 is going to be difficult, perhaps impossible, and in all events we will not be returning in our little iron tube.

We wipe the sweat from our faces and make ourselves as comfortable as we can. “Keep the lights on as I need to study the maps of Oahu and enter these events into the log. It is becoming apparent we will not be escaping in our boat so there is no longer a concern for battery life.” I notice his hands are still bleeding. “And take care of your hands as you are going to need them.”

Kamita signals an acknowledgement by dipping his head. As he produces a bottle of sake, some fruit and two sandwiches, I reach into a canvas bag, retrieve two cups and offer one to him.

“I will pour and we shall toast the Emperor and Admiral Yamamoto!”

Ken suddenly opens his eyes and blinks, hard, several times. “Gary! This is taking much more strength than I have for one day. Please forgive me, but I truly need some rest now.” He reaches over and takes a long drink of his iced tea. “Breakfast would be good time to continue. Why not come back then and I can finish my life history, such as it is.”

Gary rises, walks over to his grandfather, leans forward and gently kisses him on the forehead. “It would be a true honor, grandfather. Would 7:30 be about right for you and Kapuna?”

“That would be perfect,” replies Ken.