Darter's Lost Ship Log at US Navy Memorial

 

Darter

Ship Designation: 

SS-227

Date Lost: 

Tuesday, October 24, 1944

Abandoned after Running Aground on Bombay Shoal

On 1 September 1944, DARTER, commanded by Cdr. D.H. McClintock, left Brisbane for a period of training en route to her fourth war patrol. She topped off with fuel at Darwin on 10 September and left that place on the same day to perform routine reconnaissance duty in the Celebes Sea from 14 September to 24 September.

Proceeding thence to the South China Sea with DACE commanded by Cdr. B.D. Claggett, DARTER formed a coordinated attack team with that vessel. The period of 12 October to 24 October was productive of many targets and attacks for DARTER, and she sank 9,900 tons of enemy shipping and damaged 19,990 tons in this time.

In the early morning of 23 October 1944 both DARTER and DACE contacted and tracked a large enemy force heading north through Palawan Passage en route to engage our forces in the Battles for Leyte Gulf. They attacked while the enemy were unable to alter course appreciatively, and in brilliant pre-dawn submerged attacks, sank the heavy cruisers ATAGO and MAYA, and so severely damaged the heavy cruiser TAKAO that she was useless for the rest of the war. During daylight, DARTER tried a submerged attack on TAKAO, which had been stopped, but was driven off by screening destroyers. Thus a night coordinated attack was drawn up by the two boats.

Since she could not surface to takes sights, DARTER was forced to navigate on a 24-hour-old dead-reckoning plot. At 2200 TAKAO got underway, and Darter began a surface attack. Detecting two radars sweeping, she decided to do an end round, and then make an attack at radar depth. At 0005 on 24 October 1944, DARTER grounded on Bombay Shoal at 17 knots and rode up to a draft of nine feet forward. Efforts to get off the reef were unsuccessful and a message was sent to DACE requesting assistance.

DACE closed DARTER and, after confidential gear had been smashed and classified matter burned, the men of DARTER were transferred to DACE. This was all done before dawn, and there were no losses of DARTER personnel.

DARTER’s demolition charges failed to go off properly, and DACE used her remaining torpedoes in trying to destroy her without success, the torpedoes hitting the reef and exploding before they reached their target. She did, however, score 21 4-inch hits on DARTER. ROCK was called in and fired ten torpedoes at DARTER, with similar lack of success due to their hitting the reef.

NAUTILUS, on her thirteenth patrol, arrived on 31 October 1944, and scored 55 6-inch hits on DARTER. Her report states, “It is doubtful that any equipment in DARTER at 1131 this date would be of any use to Japan- except as scrap. Estimated draft of DARTER- 4 feet.” Apparently the Japanese got no use out of her, for an American naval officer recently (1962) was amazed to see her hulk still intact, appearing to be indestructible.

It must be understood that Commander McClintock understood fully the dangers involved in the end around maneuver in which DARTER grounded—indeed, the incident is a classic example of calculated risk, and he was not in any way held at fault in the incident. It was simply one of those unfortunate tactical losses which must be expected in wartime, but which, in this case, was minimized by the fact that the full complement of DARTER’s personnel was saved. In order to keep this fighting and successful crew together the entire DARTER crew was ordered to take over the submarine MENHADEN, then building at Manitowoc, Wisconsin.

DARTER’s four patrols (including her last) resulted in 23,700 tons of enemy ships being sent to the bottom, and 30,000 tons being damaged. She began her patrolling career south and west of Truk in January and February 1944. She damaged a freighter on this first patrol. In the second patrol of this vessel, she covered an area in and around the Celebes Sea; she sank a freighter here. DARTER’s third patrol was again in the eastern Celebes Sea, and she sank the large minelayer TSUGARU on 29 June 1944. She was credited with sinking the heavy cruiser ATAGO and damaging the heavy cruiser TAKAO on the night of 23 October 1944, shortly before she stranded. DARTER was awarded the Navy Unit Commendation for the last patrol.

Source: https://navylog.navymemorial.org/darter

Welcome back, shipmates!

After a long hiatus, I'm back and blogging again because at last, I have some fresh content. My Dad brought home a few more folders of papers I can scan through to add to my knowledge base. 

To the new cadets who just came aboard, welcome to a virtual museum dedicated to a man who I barely knew when he was alive.
 

Grandpa lived the kind of epic life the rest of us can only read about in books. He was born in 1919, the year after the First World War ended. As a baby, he survived the first influenza pandemic. He kept himself busy during the Depression by teaching himself how to build radios from spare parts. In 1942, he enlisted in the Navy and went to war, overcoming his fear of confined spaces to be in the submarine service, about the most terrifying job imaginable. He became a radio crewman and radar operator on a diesel submarine named the USS Darter, where he had an experience that changed him forever.

The Darter story is a Navy legend. The night before the battle for Leyte Gulf, his submarine made a surprise attack on the entire Japanese fleet that could have turned the tide of the Pacific war. (They almost sunk an Admiral)  Trying to escape, the sub went off course and plowed into a reef, and as the radio operator he sent a distress signal that rescued his crew from enemy capture. Thanks largely to him, all of his buddies made it home.

His military career spanned three decades and two wars. I wish I could have heard the stories he used to tell, but I was too young to understand.  Hugh loved history, especially Navy history. He had quite a library of books about Navy ships and maritime subjects, dating back as far as the Civil War. He attended every crew reunion and helped to launch several boats. They say you never really get out of the Navy, you're in it for life.

I wanted to serve when I was the right age but my health never allowed it. But I think --I hope-- he'd have been proud of what I do. By attending WWII reenactments and volunteering on museum ships like the USS New Jersey, I try to keep his memory alive any way I can, because it brings him a little closer to me. 

True, my grandfather is long gone, as are most of the people who knew him. There is an ocean of time that separates me from him. He's buried so far away I can't visit his grave. All his shipmates he served with are gone too. His old boat is a wreck on a coral reef on the other side of the world, and 80 years of weather has eroded it away to nothing. Only his memory remains.

If I don't remember him, who else will? He was a great man and he deserves to be remembered.

That is why we are here. Welcome aboard.

Thank You To Our Veterans

Group photo of all the surviving DARTER & DACE crew with both Capt McClintock and Capt. Claggett at the dedication of the Darter-Dace memorial in Marquette, Michigan. Taken in 2000.

 THANK YOU TO ALL OUR VETERANS AND THE GREATEST GENERATION

October 24, 1944: The Boat That Wouldn't Die

 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.

 

10-24-1944 - The Rescue Operation Begins

 At 0245 hours, the men cheered as their sister sub Dace was in sight and she was closing to within 50 yards. McClintock warned the Dace to keep her distance; there were many submerged rocks and parts of the reef were hidden. Undaunted, the Dace kept moving and closed enough to throw a line over. He had known the Darter was unaware she was on a reef until she grounded, so the safest way to approach her was from the stern. When they were close enough, the Dace crew tossed over a mooring rope. Claggett ordered reverse full engines to fight the current that was drawing them closer to the reef.

It should be noted here that US submarines had orders from the Admiral to leave their mooring ropes in port. Both Skippers had disobeyed those orders and kept them aboard, for emergencies. This was a classic example of ship captains using their better judgment in spite of orders for the sake of their crew. So these thick, sturdy and illegal ropes were brought topside and it made the rescue operation much easier. The entire operation might have failed if these ropes were not in their possession.

Once this line was secure, about fifteen minutes later the Dace's rubber raft was inflated and put over the side, and the crew transfer began. It was very slow work, as a rubber dinghy could only hold two men. But it helped that they could use Darter's as well, so men were able to get off the sub in half the amount of time. The crew gathered at the very back of the boat called the turtleback, where the stern tapered off between the propellers. By now the high tide was long gone; it was about a 20-foot drop from the stern to the water and the life rafts were bobbing up and down with the swells, as the sea was rough. A rope was knotted and lowered down to five or six feet from the highest swell. The men took turns clambering down this rope and waiting for the raft to rise up to a level they could let go.

 

 It was a harrowing experience and even with both the Dace's and Darter's rubber rafts, the crew transfer took more than two hours.

 

10-24-1944 - Darter Tries to Break Free

Darter on Bombay Shoal
October 24, 1944
Approximately 1:00am Pacific Time

Captain McClintock quickly weighed the options in his head. If they stayed there helpless on the reef, they were goners for sure. If a plane came along and dropped a bomb or strafed the boat, they'd be history. If they continued to signal for help, the Japs might intercept the message and bring the entire fleet down on their heads. If the Dace was still in the area, there might be a possibility of rescue. But could a submarine designed to accommodate eighty men hold double that? For weeks at a time? If they wanted to affect a rescue, they'd better do it before daylight. It seemed better than his best alternative, which was to abandon ship and jump into the water with life vests.

High tide was in just an hour or so. Should everyone stay with the stricken vessel and try to free her? Just how bad was the damage? Could damage to the outer hull and ballast tanks cause her to sink beyond any chance of rescue? Should they scuttle the ship and abandon it; take their chances on the high sea without any lifeboats? They only had one rubber boat, it held two men and no more. So many questions.

McClintock had made up his mind. They had to try to free Darter from the shoal with the coming high tide; failing that, they would have no choice but to scuttle her. But before doing so, they would have to render the sub so incapable of operation that nothing on board the ship would be of any use to the enemy if she were captured. They could rig up the explosive charges; they could light a fire below decks and burn the whole thing up from the inside out. They could disassemble the secret equipment and toss the parts overboard. Or maybe Dace could finish her off with her four-inch deck gun, or a few well- aimed torpedoes. Whatever they chose, time was running out. He was determined not to abandon ship and place the crew in danger until all other possible options had been exhausted.

The Dace had been contacted and confirmed on radar. She was 11,000 yards and closing on them. So if they had to abandon Darter and scuttle her, the crew would be recovered.

A good four or five hours remained until dawn; the darkness was still concealing their vulnerable sub from unwelcome eyes.

At 0146 hours, high tide commenced. The crew began a desperate attempt to free the mired submarine. The diesel engines would not start; the intakes were clogged with rock and bits of coral. The captain ordered reverse full on batteries. He ordered all the men to run to the back of the ship, to try and tip her off the reef. Then he had everyone run towards the fore torpedo room and back again, while the electric motors were tried in forward and reverse at full power. After three minutes of trying to see-saw the sub off the rocks, it had still not budged an inch.

With his careful supervision, the crew then set to work trying to lighten the ship any way they could.

The men's orders were to toss everything they couldn't carry with them overboard. Classified electronic gear, toolboxes, soup cans, meat, dry goods... anything not bolted down and on fire. They raided the galley first. Then the crew sleeping areas and officer's quarters.

The men hastily gathered whatever they could carry, and in their rush they left many things behind they would grow to regret later. Some sailors left loads of money from gambling winnings and their paychecks aboard the ship, and did not realize it until later. One man had two wallets; he grabbed the empty one by mistake and left six hundred dollars in cash behind. Some of the sailors, when they ran out of life preservers, began tying knots in their extra pairs of pants for use as flotation. It was a hopeless formality, with the shark-infested and freezing waters they wouldn't stand much of a chance. (Miracle in the Pacific)

 

The garbage that was piling up in the trash compactor was emptied. The ballast tanks were blown and drained away. Everything that could fit in the torpedo tubes was flushed out. Commissary Officer Skorupsky had on board a wardrobe of fine tailored dress suits, which he pulled off the hangers and tossed into a duffel bag to be passed up the ladder out the hatch. The men on deck said “Sure, we can take those,” took the bag and immediately heaved it overboard, then asked if he had any more. He gave up a few more cases of belongings and these too went over the side. Then the man came up and said “Hey, where are all my clothes?” The men pointed at the water, and he looked down and saw the fins of sharks swimming around. Then they pointed to the ship's one tiny rubber boat. He understood and kept his mouth shut from then on. (Cruisers or Breakfast)

 

The food and meat being thrown overboard attracted sharks to the floating wreckage. The officers on deck warned the men to stay out of the water, as those above prayed silently for signs of their sister sub, supposedly come to rescue them. To some of these men it appeared they were finally free as water was seen rushing past the sides of the ship, but these were only currents spinning the propellers.

At 0230 hours, the last attempt to free her was ceased. The electric motors were shut down for the last time, the fuel and lube oil tanks were emptied and the batteries were drained.

Darter was dead, but at least her crew was still alive.

 

 

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.