Read Online Clear the Bridge! by Richard O'Kane - Free Book Online

been supplied by the Red Cross. Already, trash and garbage had accumulated and would have to be put in weighted sacks for disposal after dark. In the living spaces, aft of the messroom, some men were reading, but all was quiet. The crew’s washroom was crowded as hands scrubbed up for supper. The pinging rumble of No. 1 main engine greeted me as I went through the door to the forward engine room. Chief MacDonald, our leading motor machinist’s mate, was overseeing the watch. His brown hair, ruddy complexion, and pleasant smile bespoke his name, but gave no hint of the engineering skills he brought to
Tang
from patrols in
Halibut
. A standby watch was conducting general maintenance in the after engine room. First Class Electrician’s Mate Kivlen, from eight patrols in
Thresher
, was overseeing two strikers on the control levers in the maneuvering room. There the electrical output from the diesel generators or the batteries was directed to the four main motors, or from the generators to the batteries when on charge. On occasion, the frightening figure of 5 million watts would pass through this control cubicle. Someone else might have been surprised to see crates of oranges lashed in out-of-the-way places. But this was a trick I had brought from
Wahoo;
our crew was sure to snitch them, and that was the reason for stashing them equally throughout the boat. Satisfied, I went forward. Walker had just brought me a cup of freshly brewed coffee when a messenger came forward from the control room.
    “The officer of the deck reports that the sun has set, Captain,” he said, pronouncing each word carefully, as if he had memorized the report. This was probably the case, for he held a small slip of paper at his side. The important thing was the conciseness of the report. He would soon be at ease and would need no prompter. To help this along, I thanked him for his report and sent back word to man the SJ (surface-search) radar now, and to secure the SD radar and high periscope search at dark.
    Blessed darkness would follow sunset in less than a half hourat this latitude, and then a submarine could feel almost as secure as when submerged. We would follow the night cruising routine we had used along the Mexican coast. The evening meal, movies, and other activities would most likely continue uninterrupted.
    About 2000, the OOD requested permission to open the messroom hatch to dump trash and garbage. It was a good opportunity for me to go topside into the cool night air and judge for myself if the hatch should be opened. Though the seas were from the starboard quarter, they were barely rolling into our superstructure, and I nodded to Ed Beaumont, who had the deck. The hatch was opened, the weighted sacks went up and over the side, and everything was secured again in seconds. Somewhat envious of Ed with his topside watch, I went below for a game of cribbage with Fraz and then my stack of reports.
    On the second day out, we checked Bill’s compensation with a midmorning dive. He held the boat up at periscope depth with negative still flooded by keeping an up-angle on the submarine. Then he blew negative slowly until we were leveled off at one-third speed and thus established a new mark on the gauge, which would serve as a guide to whoever dived during the next few days. Our routine would now include daily dives, though at no scheduled time.
    When two days from Wake Island, we were within possible range of enemy search planes, so our lookouts had to cover the sky as well as the water to the horizon. This they did in horizontal sweeps above the horizon, then searching a triangular area to overhead. As before, after each sweep the glasses were lowered to permit a rapid view of the whole area with the unaided eye. We thus expected to sight any plane while it was still many miles away, before it saw us. Should a plane get by the field of the binoculars, the rapid search with the unaided eye must spot it in time for us to dive before it could