October 23, 1944 ~0540 Hours
The men anxiously pleaded for a look in the periscope, but McClintock chose to describe what he saw instead. He said the whole first cruiser was on fire and trailing dense billows of black smoke from the forward turret to the stern. It looked like a fireworks show coming out of the boiler smokestack. The cruiser was driving fast as if they were escaping, but it was plowing beneath the water and the bow was already submerged, the first turret was going under. He wondered if its engines would keep propelling it straight to the bottom.
A call came from the forward torpedo room. “Five hits out of six!” The sub echoed with shouts and war whoops. Men were slapping each other on the back in congratulation. The Skipper came over and personally thanked the radar crew for the contact that led to the hunt of a lifetime.
Darter had done her job, and a spectacular job at that. Now it was Dace's turn.
What followed was the sound of more explosions as the Dace scored her hits on the fleet ships, which were now turned and high-tailing it out of there. The crew heard a crinkling sound through the hull, like beer cans being crumpled in a trash compactor. Over the next few minutes it grew to a staggering volume, so loud the men had to cover their ears.
These were the sounds of the doomed ships breaking up and being crushed as they went down. Veterans would describe it as a horrible shrieking, tearing sound, like fingernails on a chalkboard magnified a hundred times. Muffled thuds were heard as some softer objects fell on the sub from above, no one wanted to talk about what those were. Then there were shock waves from more explosions that rocked their tiny boat. These must have been the fires lighting the ammo magazines.
Hugh peered into his radar scope, the only link to the outside world available to him, as he watched a big blip on the screen disappear when the ship went under. The Skipper at the 'scope wouldn't describe the huge fireballs that he saw, but he mentioned that the enemy ships must be shooting in all directions in a panic. The tracers from shells were flying out like sparks, and the destroyer turrets were firing at the open sea, trying to scare away the unseen attackers as the cruisers drew in closer to the main force. They knew it was only a matter of seconds until the depth charges would be rolled out.
...Surely enough, it began. They heard the unmistakable muffled splashes of heavy metal drums hitting the water, and then silence. The sonar picked them up, and started to ping. The sound wave returns became closer and closer together, and men all over the sub visibly began to sweat. They were close.
Depth charges were another terrifying matter altogether, because nothing is more helpless than being trapped in a closed steel tube with metal drums of explosives raining down on your fragile boat. Direct hits were unnecessary; the force from the shock waves alone could shake a sub apart or turn the men inside into mincemeat.
After a few long seconds of eternity...the first rupture. This one was muffled. The next one burst just a bit closer, and louder. A few more bursts in quick succession, these sounded almost like knocks. The angel of death was knocking on the outer hull. A young sailor, in a panicked voice, said “For the love of God, somebody let that man in!!” Everybody jumped as each one grew louder than the next.
For the next few minutes, the tiny vessel felt like it was inside a giant paint mixer. The vibration from the shock of the bursts was almost continuous. The men lost count, but it had to be around thirty charges strung together. About one explosion every two or three seconds.
One cannot imagine the utter Hell that occurred inside the sub. Men were tossed about, rebounding off walls like rubber squash balls. Lights flickered and bulbs shattered. Leaks sprang up. The lights and gauges on the instrument panel couldn't be made out, the boat shook so violently. A few glass dials shattered, sending splinters of glass flying.
The men shut their eyes, gritted their teeth and rode it out. Showers of sparks sprayed out of the control panels. All they could do was hold on to something for dear life. The hull of the sub seemed to bend and twist. The men's hearts were pounding like the depth charges relentlessly pounding on the hull.
Another minute or two of the devil's grip trying to break the helpless boat in half, and then it abruptly stopped. It was over. The sub was tilted slightly from the shock of a last close one, then it righted itself.
Dave ordered ahead full on batteries, and they outran the last of the depth charges and sped away silently. He told everyone to sound off, to make sure no one was seriously hurt. He heard 79 voices say their last names. Nobody was unconscious. Amazingly, they were all still alive. Well, what a small price to pay for having sunk one ship and crippled another.
Nobody on the sub knew it yet, but they had sunk the cruiser Atago, and most of its crew was on their way to the bottom. Admiral Kurita was picked up by one of his own ships a few hours after dawn. He was alive, but very cold and wet and was none too happy. The cruiser Takao, heavily damaged and smoking, was limping on with the rest of the fleet as sailors tried to get her boilers going and her deck fires under control, and Darter knew she would have to go back and finish off her prey.
But the Dace and Darter had fulfilled their mission, and started the most epic sea battle in history with a shot heard around the Pacific.
--Miracle In The Pacific, by J.D. Batt. 2012
references:
-Battle Stations Submerged by R.C. Benitez
-Cruisers for Breakfast: War Patrols of the USS Darter and USS Dace by John G. Mansfield. 1981
-4th War Patrol Logbook of Darter SS-227 transcribed by Hugh Siegel
-Silent Service: Two Davids and Goliath. California National Presentation, 1952 film
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