Читать книгу The USS Flier - Michael Sturma - Страница 11

Grounded

The Flier’s stopover at Midway, intended as a brief visit to refuel, turned into a weeklong ordeal. Waiting outside the Midway Channel, the Flier prepared to take a pilot on board from the tugboat YT-188. The tug pulled alongside the submarine's lee side, but the seas were too high to contemplate transferring personnel. Someone shouted through a megaphone from the YT-188, but he could not be heard over the roar of the wind and the ocean. The tug then signaled by semaphore for the Flier to follow it into the lagoon.¹

At about 3:00 P.M., some half a mile south of the entrance buoys, the Flier began trailing the tug from a distance of about 750 yards. With Crowley conning the submarine, they proceeded at two-thirds speed, or ten knots. Crowley feared overtaking the tug if he ran at standard speed, which was fifteen knots. The Flier passed between the channel entrance buoys about twenty minutes later. In addition to Crowley, the men on the bridge included Lieutenant James Liddell, acting as officer of the deck. The chief quartermaster on the bridge was Albert Leightley; he communicated orders through a voice tube to the helmsman in the conning tower. Seaman First Class James D. Russo had been the helmsman since the Flier’s commissioning, but he had only a few months on the job. As they passed the entrance buoys, Leightley jumped down to the conning tower to check on Russo. Leightley had been to Midway before and knew from experience that steering in the channel could be tricky. The executive officer, Lieutenant Commander Benjamin Ernest Adams Jr., acted as navigator. The rain and sea spray made it too wet to use a chart, so Adams alternated between the bridge and the conning tower, where he checked navigational aids through the periscope. As the Flier entered the channel, a rainsquall reduced visibility, and Adams tried to take bearings through the periscope.

Just as it passed the entrance buoys, the submarine yawed suddenly to the left as it was hit by heavy swells. Part of the problem seemed to be the Flier’s reduced speed. Without enough momentum, the vessel was being lifted and thrown off course by the surf. An order was given to change course to the right, but then the submarine yawed sharply to the right. Lieutenant Liddell relayed an order to the helmsman for full left rudder; in the heavy seas, though, the vessel responded lethargically. As they swung to the left, the crew could feel the submarine hit bottom with a sickening shudder. Rising swells lifted the Flier momentarily before it slammed into the reef again. Crowley tried to maneuver the submarine to the west, and when the seas lifted the boat again, he ordered all ahead full. Again the submarine struck the bottom.

Belowdecks, Earl Baumgart had recently finished his watch in the engine room. He had cleaned up a bit and then went to lie on his bunk. Suddenly he found himself thrown on the deck with a number of other men. They knew immediately that they had either run aground or collided with something, and they headed toward the control room to find out what had happened. As they passed through the crew's mess, they found it in disarray, with pots, food, and drink strewn about.²

In the maneuvering room, the shock of the grounding knocked a large tool chest from its mounting, and a screwdriver flew from the chest into the main terminal of the number four motor. This caused a short circuit, which ignited a pile of rags in the corner of the motor room. The maneuvering room was soon filled with smoke, and the crew had to deal with a fire on top of their other worries.

Meanwhile, Crowley tried to use the propellers and rudder to winch the submarine free of the reef. In addition to the fire, there were now reports of flooding in the torpedo room and the motor room. The situation looked grim enough for Lieutenant Liddell to ask Crowley whether they should evacuate the men from belowdecks. Crowley replied, “Not yet,” but he gave an order for all the men below to put on their life belts.³

Standing ready topside, the anchor detail was ordered forward. It was hoped that dropping anchor would prevent the Flier from being pulled back farther onto the reef. Members of the anchor party, stationed on the after 20 mm gun platform, were wearing rough-weather parkas and overalls, but they had no life belts, and this would have dire consequences.

Ensign Herbert Albert Baehr, nicknamed “Teddy,” was acting as junior officer of the deck. He led the three-man anchor detail down the starboard ladder of the gun platform to the deck. Baehr was then ordered back to the platform, and a short time later he was sent to get a report on the fire in the maneuvering room. He found that the men below had managed to extinguish the fire in about ten minutes, which was good news. When Baehr returned to the bridge, however, he was told that there were men overboard.⁴

While Ensign Baehr was investigating the fire below, Crowley had ordered the anchor detail forward to stand by the anchor gear. Just as they reached the forward section of the conning tower, a massive wave broke over the deck. Waite Hoyt Daggy, fireman first class, managed to grab the doghouse door of the conning tower but suffered a bad gash on his chin. A short, muscular man from the state of Washington, Daggy would carry the scar for the rest of his life.⁵ Kenneth Leroy Gwinn, chief torpedoman's mate, was also sent sprawling back into the conning tower. He managed to claw his way back to the bridge and the gun platform. The third man, James Cahl, last seen carrying an anchor wrench, was swept overboard.⁶

Lieutenant Liddell had initially been watching as the anchor detail moved forward on the forecastle, but his attention had been diverted elsewhere when he heard the cry, “Man overboard.” From his vantage point on the bridge, Crowley could see a man in the water about twenty yards off the port side, adjacent to the forward capstan. Another crewman, Joseph Antoine Lia, would later describe Cahl as having “a hopeless look on his face” as he treaded water with his arms outstretched.⁷

There were, in fact, two men overboard. Clyde Gerber also ended up in the raging sea, about twenty yards off the submarine's port side, parallel to the four-inch deck gun. A life ring and three life belts were heaved into the ocean, but none of them landed close enough for either Cahl or Gerber to grab on to. Liddell called for a strong swimmer from among the men gathered on the gun platform. George Joseph Banchero, motor machinist's mate second class, came forward and stripped off his clothes. Wearing an inflated life belt and carrying a cork life ring, he went over the port side near the engine air induction. By this time, Gerber had drifted back more or less even with the conning tower. Cahl, however, had been swept about fifty yards off the bow and already looked beyond help. He could be glimpsed through the waves periodically, but soon after Banchero went into the water, Cahl disappeared from view entirely.

In the turbulent water, Banchero was soon stripped of the life ring, and he had difficulty spotting Gerber over the waves. From the conning tower, Liddell motioned both men to head for the beach rather than try to swim back to the Flier. Banchero finally reached Gerber, and the two men struck out toward Eastern Island. They spent the next three hours struggling in the water but were eventually discovered standing together on a sand spit.

Apparently on his own initiative, Joseph Lia, torpedoman's mate third class, also went into the water to try to assist his crewmates. Lia had initially been on deck as a line handler when the plan had been to dock with the pilot tug. Upon seeing the men in the water, he put on an inflated life belt, and Kenneth Gwinn from the anchor detail secured a line to him. Ensign Baehr tended the line as Lia jumped over the side and struck out toward Cahl and Gerber. He was unable to make any headway, though, and drifted back toward the stern of the submarine. Lia was hauled to safety and sent below to be checked out by the pharmacist's mate.

As these events unfolded, orders were given to lighten the submarine in the hope that it would float off the reef. Baehr was again ordered below to get a report on all variable ballast. Finding no one available to help him, Baehr blew overboard two of the fuel ballast tanks and two of the regular fuel tanks. He also pumped out all the variable ballast tanks inside the pressure hull, but the Flier still would not budge, and the current continued to drive the submarine east into shallow water.

At 3:45 P.M. normal steering was lost, and the helmsman had to shift to emergency steering by hand. The continual pounding of the rudder on the bottom, however, made it impossible to regain control. Fifteen minutes later the crew tried to release the anchor, but it was jammed. The packing glands around the propeller shafts were also leaking badly by this time, and water poured into the maneuvering room.

Suddenly, the hope of rescue appeared. The USS Macaw made its way toward the floundering submarine, anchored a short distance away, and signaled that it would try to pass the Flier a line.