Turn 22: Barriers and milestones

16—24 May 1942

A straightforward, and reasonably successful week.

Higher command {i.e., the War Event table} directed the force to execute a barrier mission in and around the Straits of Makassar and Malacca—choke points on trade routes extremely vital to the Empire. Four boats were in position to take up this duty: USS Tambor (SS-198) and Shark (SS-174) came in from the east, while USS Sargo (SS-188) and Pickerel (SS-177) moved from their previously assigned patrol areas to the west. The combination of operations in restricted waters and the region’s high importance made the subs’ mission unusually dangerous. Three of the four boats were spotted at some point in the process, but all avoided significant mishap. Only Sargo conducted a successful hunt. On the night of the 21st, she brought down a 5,000 ton oiler, and weathered a vicious depth charging in return. She escaped unharmed, and is en route back to base to re-arm.

Elsewhere in the fleet, two other boats each sank 5,000 ton cargo ships. USS Flying Fish (SS-229) continued her excellent maiden patrol; after only three weeks, she is tied for seventh place on the tonnage leader board. The third boat to score this week, USS Seadragon (SS-194), is one of the subs with whom the Fish is tied.

Only one boat was damaged this week, and that did not come in combat. Early in her patrol in the Solomons, USS Seal (SS-183) suffered a major engineering casualty—her third bout of significant engine distress thus far in the war. (Somewhat paradoxically, she holds the record for longest war patrol.) Ops staff is urging that Seal replace one of the boats scheduled for major refit later this year.

Three kills for 15,000 brought the wartime total to 224,000 tons. That is enough to meet the end-of-May career longevity milestone—with a whole week to spare! [/sarcasm] The next is 360,000, due three months hence.

Turn 10: What exactly is a sargo?

15–21 February 1942

I am not making any of these up.

It’s a . . .

Wait for it . . .

A sargo is a . . .

[Dramatic pause . . .]

. . . .

A fish.  A sargo is a fish.

If Wikipedia is to be believed—and since it’s on the internet, it has to be true—the sargo, or Diplodus sargus, is a small “seabream” native to waters nowhere near America. If certain other sources are to believed, they wear dixie cups and ride fierce, psychedelically colored torpedoes (?) like mighty chariots on the surface of a twilit sea. Huh.

Anyway, the reason we care—beyond our general love and thirst for knowledge on all topics, of course—is that D. sargus was also the namesake of a United States submarine (an entire class of subs, actually) that fought in World War II. And our sargo, or USS Sargo (SS-188) to be precise, has been on an absolute two-week rampage in the Coral Sea.

Turn 9: All we have done is to awaken a sleeping giant

8–14 February 1942

Will this poster come true in the AL&SWverse?

The mood around ComSubPac’s offices has been decidedly grim for the last few weeks. Scuttlebutt among the staff has it that the admiral (i.e., moi) is under a tremendous amount of pressure from higher brass; the kind of pressure that uncomfortably juxtaposes the concepts of “do better” and “or else.”

And that pressure is understandable. America is fighting a new kind of war—on land, at sea, and in the air; seemingly everywhere on earth at once. And at this early date, it is still scrambling desperately to figure out how to do it. Our natural resources and national wealth are considerable, but certainly not limitless; every ton of steel that is put into new submarine construction is a ton of steel that won’t be available to build a new aircraft carrier, or a new bomber, or a new tank. So, the Silent Service is fighting not just its country’s enemy, but also fighting to demonstrate its basic viability in modern warfare. It has no tradition to fall back on; it can point to precisely zero previous successful submarine campaigns in all of history to bolster its case.

And this simple fact must be acknowledged:  it hasn’t exactly done a great job of it so far. So many near misses. So few emblematic successes. So many boats limping home with scarred hulls and mangled masts—with nothing to show for it. Perhaps—as the sentiment is already beginning to take hold in Washington—perhaps those tons of steel slated for submarines might be put to better use elsewhere. And perhaps you men with the gold and silver dolphin insignia on your chests can better serve by focusing on fishing up downed aviators, by transporting special forces—by, you know, supporting the real warriors.

Do better. Or else.