10-24-1944: Darter Is Aground

October 24 1944 - 1:05 am Pacific

The radar scope confirmed the Takao was not a goner yet. She was still burning, but hadn't gone under and the engines still seemed to be driving. They had started to leave the area as the day drew to a close, at around 2200 hours, but McClintock was determined not to let the target escape. He figured they were there, it was the chance of a lifetime; so might as well go back and finish the job. Everyone's nerves were frazzled from the danger they had already been in. He ordered them to make  an  'end  around'  and  start  to  pursue  the  fleet  again,  maybe  hoping  to  use  up  the  last  of  their torpedoes in a stealthy night attack, and give the Japs another pounding for good measure.

An 'end around' was the term Navy commanders liked to use for turning to make a head-on attack, making the hunted into the hunter. It was used only in desperate situations. Turning around when pursued by an enemy vessel to make a last ditch, all-out attack was no longer considered a suicide tactic by 1941. It was thought of as honorable and courageous, darned near heroic. This was a military that honored bravery and defiance in the face of danger, and nobody was about to leave the ring before the knockout punch and the final bell.

No sooner had the crew obediently begun to turn the ship around, steeling themselves for the final blow...and something happened nobody ever could have expected. They heard a sickening crunch.
The ship jolted with a sudden impact, tilted up about twenty degrees, and the men lurched backward. The sound of shrieking, scraping metal being crumpled was heard beneath their feet. It sounded almost like the ship was being dragged across asphalt. The entire sub shook and vibrated from the impact. Dishes fell from the cabinets in the galley as their doors banged open; their shattering jolted everyone alert. Cups of coffee hit the floor, or spilled into men's laps. After sliding along something hard and bumpy, the ship settled back at a three-degree angle, but it still listed to starboard. Everyone's voice exclaimed almost in unison.

“WHAT WAS THAT?”

We must have hit something! A rock outcropping? Or a reef?  McClintock gave the command, echoed up from the control room.   “We've run aground. All engines stop! Shut all watertight doors, check for leaks!” The orders echoed back to the engine room, and the grease monkeys tending the turbines yanked the stop lever. The sub immediately fell silent.

A shout came from up from the control room. “We can't be Cap'n! The nearest land is nineteen miles away!” One thought entered Hugh's head. Then we must be off course. Way off course. When was the last time anybody took a sun or a star bearing for latitude? The navigator knew that knowledge of the currents was essential. If these estimates were off by a quarter of a knot, for example, the disparity would send the boat over nine miles off its course in just 36 hours. (Cruisers for Breakfast - Mansfield)

Darter had run aground. She was stranded now and they were a sitting duck for Japanese planes. They knew a distress signal had to be sent to inform Capt Claggett and the Dace what happened. But to send any transmission via radio would be picked up by enemy ears and it would broadcast their location. Luckily, the Darter's SJ radio dish could be pointed in one direction to send focused pulses that could be picked up only by another SJ radar. This was the best course of action, McClintock concurred.

The radar operator's hand moved for the code key, and tapped the following message:

 

.-- . / .- .-. . / .- --. .-. --- ..- -. -.. .-.-.-

W-E A-R-E A-G-R-O-U-N-D

 

On board the Dace, the radar operator saw Darter's radar return blink on and off.

 

Now, all they could do was wait.

 

To confirm everyone's suspicion, McClintock dared to open the conning tower hatch and go topside to have a look around. The periscope showed only sky. The boat was still tilted at an angle upward and to starboard, and they were definitely resting on something solid.

 

Men scrambled to grab the ladder up to the main hatch, to go up and look at the damage. The Skipper had to almost beat them away with both hands. McClintock was going up by himself.

 

A couple minutes later, the Captain came back down the ladder, and ordered the hatch closed. He still had a look of disbelief on his face, as he blurted out the immortal words. An ironically poetic statement that summed up Darter's situation better than anyone else could.

 

“Good grief...we're on a reef.”

 

Though they were not aware at the time, those six words would live forever in the minds of the crew as they sealed the Darter's fate.