The crew transfer was agonizingly slow. At approximately 0439, the last of the crew was safely aboard. And then, only then, did David McClintock reluctantly abandon his crippled ship with a heavy heart. Everyone was silent; nobody smiled.
Now the overcast sky was gray and lightening gradually, dawn was set for 0500 and approaching fast. Flashlights and lanterns were switched off, to save precious power they might need later. Everyone was facing the dawn horizon with a grim certainty that an attack would come, as Darter was sitting high and dry and they were no longer hidden in the protective safety of darkness. At 0442, Dace cut loose her moorings and started to reverse away from the doomed ship. Some men had tears in their eyes as they stood on deck and saluted their stricken vessel.
Some of the electricians had wired up the fifty-pound explosive charges at key places throughout the ship. The work was completed at 0420 and the timers were set for 35 minutes. The wiring was strung over pipes with all the charges hooked up in series. It led backward to the engine compartment and forward to the torpedo room, where the warhead of one of their last live torpedoes was wired as the booster charge that would ensure total demolition of the vessel. The fires aboard the ship were still burning, as they saw black columns of smoke were still billowing into the air from the open hatch and every vent opening. The men quietly hoped the intense heat from the fire wouldn't melt through the wires.
The crewmen and the Captain nervously stared at their wristwatches. It was 0449, less than a minute to go. Every second felt like forever and there was a dead, expectant silence. At 0450, the men shut their eyes and braced for the shock of the explosion, and none came. There was only a few unsatisfying “pop” noises, like a kid's toy gun. The sub was still there. A collective groan came up from the men. Faces drooped and spirits sank as men palmed their heads. The stubborn boat just wouldn't die. What went wrong? Were the charges defective?
It wasn't determined until some time later that the fire the men had started in the fore torpedo room, which had become hot enough to eat away the paint as far back as the officer's shower, had likely melted the wire insulation and fused it to the pipes it was wrapped around, thus grounding the current, shorting out the series circuit and making them useless. Many of the men aboard Darter felt a sick and empty feeling, knowing that their exposed sub was a target for bombers and gave away their position. A search would be started in the surrounding area by daylight, and they would be goners now for sure. Unless they could find another way to destroy her, the crew of both ships was doomed.
Tough submarine sailors that they were, these men were doggedly determined not to go down without a fight. Down below, Claggett sounded battle stations and ordered Dace's four remaining Mark-23 torpedoes loaded and readied to fire. In a sad twist of fate, these deadly fish intended for the Jap heavy cruiser which got away would now be trained on their own sister ship. No range finding or angle solution was necessary; they were firing almost point-blank. The torpedomen shoved the slender underwater missiles into their tubes, they slammed the hatches and spun the wheels. Skipper gave the command: “Fire tubes one through four!” They flipped the launch switches and one by one, the torpedoes were fired at their friendly target. They were just barely out of range to escape the shock of the impacts. The crew watched in horror as they hit the reef below the submarine, taking huge chunks out of it...but not harming the invincible Darter. The ship still wouldn't die.
Dace sped up past the reef and tried firing the torpedoes in the stern tubes. These also missed the sub, now high up out of the water as if she was in drydock. The men's faces fell so low their frowns were nearly in their shoes.
Claggett ordered the Dace deck crew to uncork and load the big four-inch deck gun. When it was ready and the sights trained on the hapless twin, the order was given. “OPEN FIRE!” they let 'er rip. Shell after shell pounded the craft, punching big holes in the outer hull. Still no orange fireballs. Maybe if they hadn't drained the fuel and oil tanks...
Figuring "what the heck," the guys on the machine guns opened up and raked the side of the boat, peppering it with tiny holes. A bucket brigade was formed within the Dace from the gun locker all the way to the hatch, as the men handed shell after shell up to the deck gunners. The deck became littered with so many hot shell casings that they had to be kicked over the side to avoid trip and fall hazards on the slippery topside of the craft. As the deck gun pounded away about a shell every few seconds, the surface crewmen cheered as they saw a fuel cell rupture and a large cloud of smoke rose up. There was some orange flame, then it fizzled out.
The men on watch urged them to hurry up, as an enemy airfield was less than fifty miles out. Aircraft would soon spot the pillars of black smoke and hear the gun blasts. Claggett shouted for the men idly standing around to man the anti-aircraft guns and sweep the gray sky. Sure enough, one of the watchmen poked the captain in the shoulder and said “aircraft sighted!”
The call echoed around the deck and down below. “Dive! Dive!” Ahooga! Ahooga! said the sub. The sound of rushing air from the ballast tanks coming up through the deck boards made the men frantically scramble to the hatch. The men fought each other and squeezed down the hatch two or three at a time. One man said he remembered standing there with a shell in his hands, and then the next he was down in the control room. He couldn't remember doing anything, and figured he was “just sucked down.”
A Japanese 'Betty' bomber zoomed in low and started his bombing run just as Dace slipped below the waters. He was targeting the beached whale of Darter instead! Two bombs fell on the abandoned ship, but they missed. The crew decided that the tough old boat had made up its mind: no explosive shell, tracer round, torpedo or Japanese bomb was going to destroy her that day. They had done the best they could. Dace had no choice but to leave the Darter behind.
At 0710 the bomber was still seen circling the Darter. Apparently puzzled at its inability to dive, they seemed to be scanning it for signs of life. The enemy pilots must know the ship was stranded and were no doubt going to radio their base about it. The Dace would have no choice but to leave and return to finish off her sister ship after dark. The idea was brought up of transferring the Dace demolition charges and TNT to the Darter.
Three hours passed, and the bomber flew off. The Dace stayed hidden, and it was a smart choice. Another tin can was approaching on the radar. A Japanese submarine was sent to investigate. Claggett and McClintock watched through the periscope from a good distance away. The sub fired the guns at the Darter for about three minutes, and then pulled up alongside the reef and moored to her. Tiny figures were seen climbing up on to her deck, and some went below. Darter had been boarded by the enemy, and her twin didn't want to stick around. As they sped away on full power, Clagg rotated the periscope and watched the tiny men climb back out on the deck, get down into their sub and it pulled away. They weren't aboard long. They had apparently found nothing of serious value and left.
At least the gallant crew of Darter had done their job. They made sure the ruined sub would be useless to the enemy except as scrap metal.
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