Читать книгу The USS Flier - Michael Sturma - Страница 13

Board of Investigation

The Flier’s tow back to Pearl Harbor was not without incident. The day after leaving Midway, 23 January 1944, the ships encountered a severe storm in the predawn hours. At 5:42 A.M. the towline to the Florikan separated, leaving the Flier wallowing in the rough seas. The Flier tried to regain some steerage using the starboard screw, but it continued to drift. It took five hours under “the most adverse circumstances” to shackle up a new towline. John Crowley praised the efforts of the Florikan’s commander, George Sharp, as well as the work of several of his own crew, including Ensign Herbert “Teddy” Baehr, chief gunner's mate Charles DeWitt Pope, and coxswain Gale Winstone Hardy. At one point Pope was washed overboard, but he was quickly hauled back aboard by his lifeline.¹

Despite such heroics, the Flier’s crew must have felt a profound ambivalence. When they reached the submarine base at Pearl Harbor on the afternoon of 30 January 1944, there was no brass band waiting dockside to greet them. This was an ignominious return from a patrol of self-destruction.

Sharp, at least, would get some recognition for his part in returning the Flier safely: he would be given a second chance at commanding a submarine. Sharp had been summarily relieved of command of the USS Spearfish after a bungled attack on a massive Japanese convoy in June 1943. Bringing the Flier back in one piece had wiped the slate clean, and Sharp replaced William Davis Irvin as skipper of the Nautilus. Soon he would be operating out of Australia on “special missions” to the Philippines.² Whether Crowley would be given another chance to command was still undecided, pending an investigation.

Charles Lockwood, commander of the Submarine Force Pacific Fleet, instructed Captain John Bailey Longstaff, commander of Submarine Squadron Fourteen, to convene a board of investigation to look into the Flier’s grounding at Midway. Also appointed to the board were Captain Frank Thomas Watkins, Captain William Vincent O’Reagan, and Lieutenant Commander Ralph B. Johnson. Watkins had distinguished himself by becoming the first division commander to skipper a submarine, taking the Flying Fish out on patrol in mid-1943. At the age of forty-five, he was also the oldest American to captain a submarine during the war. He was credited with sinking a ship off Formosa and received a Bronze Star for his trouble.³

The inquiry was held on the tender USS Bushnell (AS-15), which had been launched by the Mare Island Navy Yard in September 1942 and commissioned on 10 April 1943. Displacing almost 10,000 tons, the ship was more than 530 feet long with a 73-foot beam. Eventually the Bushnell would serve as a submarine tender at Majuro, Midway, and Guam. In the meantime, having arrived at Pearl Harbor in July 1943, the Bushnell tended Longstaff's squadron. With the squadron and divisional staff domiciled on the ship, the members of the board could virtually step from their bunks to the inquiry.⁴

Crowley was officially notified of the proceedings and of his “status of defendant.” By naval tradition, the skipper was ultimately responsible for all decisions, and Crowley was no doubt aware that his career and reputation were at stake. Next to a court-martial, a board of investigation was the most serious proceeding an officer could face. Before the war, any skipper who grounded his ship automatically and immediately lost his command, as well as any chance of future promotion. For instance, after the grounding of the submarine USS Razorback at Fisher's Island off Portsmouth, both the skipper and the executive officer were relieved of command and put on disciplinary leave.⁵

The Flier was certainly not the first craft—or even the first submarine—to come to grief on a reef at Midway. After a refit at Midway in mid-1943, the USS Scorpion ran aground during training for its third war patrol. It took a tugboat five hours to pull the submarine free of the reef, and then, because of rough weather, the Scorpion had to wait another three days before returning to the Midway base. From there it sailed back to Pearl Harbor for repairs and an immediate board of investigation. The Scorpion’s skipper, William Naylor Wylie, as well as executive officer Harry Clark Maynard, were subsequently relieved of command.⁶ That was not the outcome Crowley was hoping for.

The board of investigation met for the first time on Tuesday, 1 February. Crowley, who had arrived at Pearl Harbor less than forty-eight hours earlier, was present at 9:00 A.M. He waived his right to counsel and, at his request, was sworn in as a witness. After Crowley read a narrative of the events that he believed led to the Flier’s grounding, the board went to personally inspect the damage to the submarine at the navy yard dry dock. There was major damage to large sections of the outer hull plating; the flat keel, vertical keel, and bilge keels; the rudder, port strut, port propeller shaft, and both propellers; the main ballast tank; and the variable tank flood valves. There was moderate damage to part of the hull frames and tank bulkheads, the stern tubes and reduction gears, the liquidometer, and the Fathometer. In addition, the main engine saltwater cooling system was clogged with coral sand. The navy yard at Pearl Harbor estimated the cost of repairs at a staggering (by 1944 standards) $312,000.⁷

When the board reconvened at 1:15 in the afternoon, Crowley was questioned at length about the Flier’s grounding. When asked whether he had ever considered delaying the submarine's entry into Midway Channel due to the weather and sea conditions, Crowley replied, it “crossed my mind.”⁸ But since a pilot had been sent out and the Flier had been assigned a berth in the harbor, he believed that the channel was considered safe. Neither Crowley nor his navigator had been to Midway before, so he had relied on what he assumed to be more competent local knowledge.

The following morning the board interviewed the Flier’s executive officer, Benjamin Ernest Adams Jr. A defiant Adams told the board that he firmly believed the Flier had been in the channel when it grounded. When asked how he could reconcile this belief with the wreck, Adams suggested that the high seas combined with materials from dredging operations at Midway had created an obstruction.⁹

The board continued to interview other personnel, including officers from the navy yard who reported on the Flier’s damage. On Saturday, the fifth day of the inquiry, Crowley asked to be recalled to testify on his own behalf. He had clearly had time to reflect on the situation and his previous testimony, and he wanted to get his subsequent thoughts on the record. Crowley told the board that although he accepted responsibility for the decision to enter Midway Channel, he wanted to explain the factors that had influenced his decision. He noted again his lack of experience with local conditions and reiterated that if the authorities at Midway expected him to enter the harbor, he had to assume that doing so would be safe. He also assumed, once it became clear that a pilot could not be transferred to the submarine, that following the pilot boat into the lagoon was an acceptable alternative. Crowley also subscribed to the explanation offered by his executive officer: when the Flier struck the reef, he believed that it was in Midway Channel. This belief was fostered by the fact that one of the channel buoys was missing and another eastern buoy was out of position, presumably due to the rough conditions.¹⁰

The wait for the board's findings was mercifully brief. The board members deliberated on Sunday morning and again on Monday, and on Tuesday, 8 February, they handed down their decision.

The board concluded that Crowley's decision to enter Midway Channel had been correct. In their opinion, reduced visibility due to the weather had not been an important factor, but the missing channel buoy and the sea conditions had made controlling the Flier “exceedingly difficult.” They did, however, fault Crowley for entering the channel at the relatively low speed of ten knots. In addition, the board considered it proper for Crowley to order the anchor detail to the submarine's deck and did not find it “blame worthy” that the men in the detail had not been wearing life belts. With some ambiguity, the board of investigation concluded that Commander Crowley “is responsible for the grounding of U.S.S. Flier,” but “the grounding was not due to the culpable negligence of any person.”¹¹

Vice Admiral Charles Lockwood had to sign off on the report, and he was not quite as forgiving. Lockwood was one of the icons of the U.S. submarine service, having served since World War I. As such, he had played a significant role in the evolution of both its equipment and its ethos. Among the men under his charge, he was popularly known as “Uncle Charlie,” and although he could be tough when warranted, he had a reputation for fairness. For all these reasons, Lockwood's opinions were highly regarded.

In his cover letter on the board's findings, Lockwood noted that there was no evidence that the Flier had been “ordered” to enter Midway Channel. Even if such evidence existed, it remained Crowley's responsibility as skipper to exercise his own discretion in safeguarding his vessel. Lockwood further implied that, given the sea conditions, the anchor detail should have been wearing life preservers. Although Lockwood believed that Crowley had “committed an error in judgment,” he found the decision to enter the channel “excusable.” Lockwood concluded, “No further action is recommended nor contemplated.”¹²

The controversy over the lack of life preservers would have an intriguing postscript. Earl Baumgart later claimed that one of his crewmates had been pressured to testify that the men who went topside had been wearing life preservers. The crewman alluded to was Donald P. Tremaine, a veteran of the Pearl Harbor attack while serving on the USS Maryland. Just who pressured Tremaine to give false testimony is unclear, but Baumgart claimed that Tremaine “was very bitter about the whole incident.”¹³

Tremaine never appeared before the board, but the testimony of other Flier crewmen was somewhat ambiguous on the issue of life preservers. James Liddell, officer of the deck when the Flier grounded, was questioned at length about the use of life belts. He stated that he did not know whether any of the men in the anchor detail had been wearing them. Although he had given the order, at the captain's direction, to send life belts to the bridge, he could not be sure whether this had been before or after sending the anchor detail on deck. Liddell conceded that as officer of the deck it had been his responsibility to equip the men with life belts, but before the grounding, he had not believed that conditions warranted doing so.¹⁴

Ensign Baehr, who had been in charge of the anchor detail, testified that the men had not been wearing life belts. The board also interviewed Kenneth Gwinn, chief torpedoman's mate and part of the anchor detail. Gwinn indicated that although life belts had been available when they first tried to drop the anchor, he “did not figure we would need them.” George Banchero, motor machinist's mate second class, stated that he had not seen any of the men from the anchor party taking life belts.¹⁵

This evidence seemed to be contradicted by the testimony of Joseph Lia, torpedoman's mate third class. He told the board that although James Cahl had been wearing a life belt, he was unsure whether it had been inflated. Waite Hoyt Daggy, fireman first class, also testified that he had been wearing a life belt and that they had been handed out when the submarine went aground. He did not know, however, whether Cahl had been wearing one. Under further questioning as to whether life belts had been made available before Cahl and Gerber went overboard, Daggy stated that although there were plenty of life belts to go around, he did not know which men took advantage of them.¹⁶

In summary, the evidence suggests a good deal of confusion, but it is not sufficient to indicate an attempted cover-up. There seemed to be a reluctance to wear life preservers not just on the Flier but throughout the navy. In the northern latitudes there was little point, since even a short time in the icy waters meant certain death. More generally, some sailors took the view that donning life belts was tantamount to admitting defeat. Or perhaps their reluctance was simply indicative of a broader fatalism, with many submariners assuming that all would survive or all would be lost. Indeed, many of them doubted that they would make it through the war alive.¹⁷

John Crowley thus survived the investigation and would command the Flier another day. His first patrol in the new submarine, however, had come at a high price. One member of his crew was dead, and five men from the USS Macaw lost their lives as an indirect result of the Flier’s grounding.

Eventually the findings and recommendations of the board of investigation would find their way to the secretary of the navy, who approved them on 1 September 1944.¹⁸ By that time, the Flier and most of its crew were at the bottom of the sea.