I Was a Yank on a Japanese Sub

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ow could that be? In Yokosuka, in 1945, ^ere were lots of Yanks on the Imperial / ^s aircraft-carrying submarines 1-400,

14rt' ?^nt* But when the CO of the 00 (inset) surrendered his ship, he could _H°t have imagined that a Yank would be ^{he s}ub’s next XO.

ⁿ 16 September 1945, 1 was on board the USS Euryale (AS-22) as she set sail for Kyushu, via Okinawa. On arrival, we took care to enter Sasebo the ^W'¹^ ^aH watertight doors dogged shut, steaming in j^i ,^^a^^e °f our escorting minesweeper right down the oil h °^{f tlle swe}P^l channel. The wretched, burnt city and 8en- _K^ark°^r Uttered with wrecked naval vessels were unfor- for J ^s'£hts, underscoring the tragedy of World War II ^sh_att^Upan • ¹ wondered what insanity led the leaders of that Iln-.^erec* ^nation to believe that they could defeat the ^{01 ed} States.

seij, ^{anded at} the naval base in the first boat with orders to pIef^{C Sam}P*^es °f every model of Japanese torpedo, com- \y_e? ^w'lh chests of spare parts and special tools for each. _sta ^ac* learned to respect Japanese torpedoes, which sub- {V^a"y out-performed our own. y torpedo-collecting was just a sideline to our primary _rtla ^Sl0n’ which was to locate and disarm the Japanese sub- and ^{06 fleet}’ interrogate the crews, study the material, boa' ,^W*^len ordered, scuttle the boats. We rotated the p ^{r ln}8 officer duty for incoming submarines, and I hap­ped ^to be on watch when the giant Japanese 1-402 ap- th_e h °H Sasebo from Kure requesting clearance to enter ⁽oId ^arb°^r *^{n accordance} with U. S. Navy orders. She was b_n heave to, and a group of us shoved off in a whale- TK⁰ k°^afH ber.

^ls Was my first experience on board an /-400-class

submarine. We pulled alongside her towering hull and scrambled up her superstructure, over the degaussing gear, and onto her foredeck. A grim-looking Japanese of­ficer conducted us across the catapult, up the port ladder to the top of the hangar, aft and onto the bridge, whose bi­zarre offset position surprised me. I exchanged proper sa­lutes and introductions with the captain, then pointed to the gold dolphins on my blouse and said slowly in what I hoped was impeccable Japanese: “Watakushi wa Beikoku no Kaigun no Sensuikan shoko, Painu Tai, des!” He looked surprised and unhappy, mumbling something in reply which neither I nor our interpreter caught. Eventu­ally, we made ourselves understood, though, and arranged for his petty officers to conduct our specialists to the des­ignated compartments, with our interpreter to facilitate communications and report back. This left me surrounded by the non-English-speaking officers and bridge watch, who clearly did not realize that I was speaking to them in Japanese. This was disheartening after all my hours on board the Euryale studying the language, but I just raised my voice and plunged on.

The 7-402’s navigator kept repeating insistently some­thing that sounded like “Hobby Sea Toy,” which I strug­gled to link to some English or Japanese nautical phrase. Then it came to me: “Haben Sie deutsch?”—he must have made one of those long I-boat voyages from Penang to Germany. “Ja, Ja, Herr Leutnant, aber mein deutsch ist nicht sehr gut! Konnen Sie mein nippon verstehen, bitte?” I asked, before trying again in Japanese: "Anata wa Watakushi no Nihon go wakarimaska, kudasai? I asked hopefully. “Ah, so! Sehr gut, sehr gut! he replied, bowing and telling me nothing, but conveying to everyone else on the bridge the impression that two great linguists had established communication.

Fortunately, word came from below that all was secure, and we managed to muster enough fractured Japanese/ English/German among us to bring her safely in to her moorings. Later, when I got to know the Japanese officers better, I learned that part of our problem had been that our

and

While we were at Kure, I borrowed an Army jeep

Before assuming his duties on the 1-400, the author boarded the 1-58 and met with her com­manding officer, Com­mander Hashimoto, who had been in command when the sub sank the USS Indianapolis at war’s end.

come on board specifically to issue disarmament instruc­tions and to learn about the 1-58's operational career, h^e said proudly that of course he had been expecting us, since “this is the submarine that sank the U. S. Navy warship that carried the atomic bomb.”

We were thunderstruck at this statement and exchanged looks of consternation—what was he talking about- Atomic weapon information was ultrasecret; we had never been told which ships transported atomic bombs. As ^we fired questions at him he drew out a chart for us and de­scribed precisely how he had recently sighted, ^aP' proached, attacked, and sunk the USS Indianapolis (CA' 35). He told us that he had manned his Kaiten torpedoes, but with a clear moonlit night, a calm sea, a target p^r0' ceeding at moderate speed without zigzagging, an advan­tageous position forward of her beam, and no sonar trans­missions or escorts detected, he decided that conventions torpedoes were adequate.

We knew of the sinking of the Indianapolis, and the tragic loss of life that ensued when a bungling staff fu'*^e to note her absence while her dwindling survivors battle exposure and sharks for days. But we had no idea that the Indianapolis had carried the fissionable core for the fi^rst atomic bomb to the Tinian B-29 base. How did Com­mander Hashimoto know this? Did an American prisoner of war from one of the final B-29 raids reveal it? Had we missed a relevant news release? Or could the 1-58 have picked up and interrogated an unknown survivor from the Indianapolis? This still remains a mystery to me. To Com mander Hashimoto’s dismay, we later sent him back to Washington to testify in the court-martial of the skipp^{er 0} the Indianapolis, Captain C. B. McVay, U. S. Navy- Commander Hashimoto considered this highly improp^er' drove over the hill to see Hiroshima. Both Kure and Hu^-0 shima were utterly devastated, with rubble and gray ash^cS extending as far as you could see. Each was a chill*ⁿ§ sight. I wondered whether their destruction had resulted m a net saving of lives by ending the war without a bloo y invasion—it probably did. I could not see how it b^a made much difference to the populations of the two cities how the flames had been lit; the A-bomb and fire bom destruction looked the same. The principal difference wa^s the number of bombers employed—and the frightening implications for the future.

By 2 November we had gathered together in Sase enough operational Japanese submarines to require som^c administration. On that date I received Memorandum ^ ' 4-45 from Command Submarine Division 131, Cod' mander James E. Stevens, U. S. Navy, organizing ^{[1] [2]} boats for which we were responsible into four Japane submarine divisions, numbered one through four.

I later became acting Division Commander Subman ^t- Division 2—the peak of my naval career! A short bo. ride each morning took me to my nest of seven subma fines. Since lieutenants Murayama and Takezaki spon some English, and my Japanese was improving with pn*^c tice, our daily joint inspections proceeded smoothly- orders were to keep the boats demilitarized, but to op^er all equipment periodically and maintain readiness to g

^; you were at Sasebo I was in Yokosuka with the Was d _t ®‘^0UP- • ■ • When the 1-400 entered Yokosuka I sq_Uad ^ai,ed, along with a few marines, to accompany the Wa_{s Q}^{r0n doctor} for a medical inspection of the boat. This in yon/^{16 an ex}P^ericnce—as you so eloquently described °f g ^rePort. The sub was incredibly filthy, with a layer ^Se and left-over food on the decks and rats running

_nictf^{r on} four hours notice. After each boat had been the ° ^ICa^ checked, the seven skippers and I sat around le!^^³^¹⁰⁰⁰¹ table in one of the boats to settle any prob- other’^{1 3t ar}'^scn- O^ur extreme curiosity about each j_nj.. .^{s su}hmarine combat experiences soon overcame our boats ^reserve' f learned a lot about the war patrols of the does ^{m t}^^e harbor, emotions on launching Kaiten torpe- runs'™¹^⁶¹ submarine effectiveness, hazards of supply rend * ^ ^never suspected that we were decoding their _Con.^ezvous messages), their respect for U. S. radar and 1 rea^'^T1^^t *°^r °^{ur tor}P^edoes, and more. Within a few days, subm'²' ^^{at w}hen the Japanese officers and I discussed term ^{annC tact}'^cs and antisubmarine warfare (ASW) coun- to sub^aSUreS’ ^{WC used terms} “^us” and “them” to refer •cans ^{mannes anc}* surface ships respectively, not to Amer- bonds ^atlf' ^^aP^anese- 1 was surprised how quickly close _ex ^S. ⁰ mutual interest developed based on our shared lences i_{n a} demanding, hazardous profession, suhm ^mid~bJ°vember, most of the operational Japanese Moored ^{nCS S}'^{atcd t0} be scuttled off Goto Shima were ^UsUal \ ^m ^^aseb° harbor awaiting final orders. The un- tions f ^CS'^ⁿ Matures of the giant boats and their implica- °^r the atomic and missile era merited a more de- ^rtle 1-400

w_ere .^S,^tudy in the United States. U. S. Navy prize crews I-4qj ^eref°re ordered to prepare the 1-14, 1-400, and P_eari .j^{1 a} transpacific voyage to the submarine base at bring- ^3rb°^r- The Euryale was to follow in January, I _rec ^ln® ^tw° of the high underwater speed boats with her. the te'^Vf^ ^orders to leave my roomy stateroom on board U. § ^r[_M^er and report to Commander J. M. McDowell, USs Vp ^3V^’ ^lb^e current captain of the prize crew of the and m ^X."^HIJMS) 1-400, “for duty as Executive Officer ^av*gator of that vessel.”

on Americans took the 1-400 over from the Japanese cl_ean ^Way home from patrol, she required a massive “Joe’^,Uv ^^r°m ^{stem t0 stern}- My friend, Admiral L. R. fice_r ^asey’ ^wh° was “Junior” McCain’s executive of- tion nf⁰ T1SS Gunnel (SS-253), sent me this descrip-

‘‘U/u-, ^e ^OO's condition: t, whii_e'

^r°^teus group.

freely in every compartment. The stench was almost un­bearable . . .

“Despite the unhygienic conditions we witnessed, the physical appearance of the crew was remarkably good. Everyone seemed to be lean and alert. I think that in the closing weeks of the war, the Japanese submarine crews realized the collapse of the empire was imminent and mo­rale dropped sharply. Incidentally, when we questioned the ship’s officers as to the total complement, the reply was 187. By our count it was 213, I believe.

“The next morning, the crew was ordered on deck and the fumigation commenced. If my memory is correct it was conducted under Joe McDowell’s supervision and re­sulted in about a dozen gunny sacks full of dead rats.”

Sailing across the Pacific to Pearl Harbor (or through outer space to the moon) requires a sound plan for fitting out, manning, and supplying your ship. The 1-400 had no blueprints or machinery history describing her equipment, no crew’s watch, quarter, and station bill, and no standard allowance lists of tools, spares, and supplies. Clearly, we had to improvise, so our superiors vested us with great latitude in readying and supplying our boat for the transpa­cific voyage. The Euryale's workshops and stores were at our disposal, and we were authorized to salvage any Japa­nese spare parts and supplies we needed from the ware­houses and caves around the Sasebo Navy Yard.

The 1-400 quickly became history’s first underwater in­terisland trader. Overnight, our cavernous hangar became an armory suitable for a major gun-running operation, with stacks of rifles and bayonets from a relatively dry cave I had found in the yard. Japanese uniform buttons and rating badges, rubber stamps and a sampan, went down our capacious hatches to stock our “submarine war surplus store.”

The prize crew that brought the 1-400 from Yokosuka had maintained her well, and it did not take us long to put her in shipshape seagoing condition, with vital machinery inspected, overhauled, and tested by a responsible crew member. Since we had no plans to dive the boat before a complete overhaul at Pearl Harbor, we did not worry about her malfunctioning snorkel, stiff diving gear, or minor defects like leaky hatch gaskets or inoperative auto­matic trim system. To conserve the Euryale's supplies, we loaded provisions for only 14 days to carry us through the first leg of our passage to Guam, where we would reprovi­sion for the rest of the voyage to Hawaii. At the end of November, we reported the 1-400 “in all respects ready for sea.”

Our squadron of three giant I-boats got under way for Pearl Harbor on 11 December 1945, escorted by the sub­marine rescue vessel USS Greenlet (ASR-10). She had shepherded them from Sagami Wan a month before and was well equipped to support us, including deep sea tow­ing gear—just in case. The minesweeper that escorted us to the end of the channel blinked a jaunty “Bon Voyage!” instead of the traditional wartime “Good Hunting!” The Pacific was indeed again pacific.

Astern of the 1-14, we made turns for an easy 12 knots on a southerly course clear of the unswept minefields west of Kyushu. We kept a sharp lookout for floating mines, but the officer of the deck’s main concern was precis² station-keeping. It seemed unnatural not having to be con­stantly alert, sweeping the horizon for enemy masthead or smoke, the sky for ASW aircraft, and the sea for p^er1' scopes. When I climbed up to the bridge at twilight to g^et my evening star sights, I stifled the urge to douse the run­ning lights. My unease soon passed, however, as the pl^e®' sures of peacetime submarine cruising began to sink in- was perfectly safe to be running so casually here on the surface—we owned it!

The shallow East China Sea grew choppy, and we found that the 1-400’s high freeboard, broad beam, deep draft, and ample bow buoyancy tank gave her a dry bridge and an easy roll and pitch. Her 130-foot-long gun platfom¹ atop the hangar created a promenade deck worthy of¹ RMS Queen Mary, while our small prize crew spread °u luxuriously below in the spacious twin hulls. For peace time surface cruising, this submarine could not be beat- but as the 1-13 demonstrated, when submerged in comba such a huge, low-speed, low-endurance target with a sha low test depth could not last long against a modern AS team. Her best tactic would probably have been a bo offensive against ASW vessels, staying at periscope dep ¹ and taking her chances with aircraft, while rapidly fi^rin^ and reloading her eight torpedo tubes. But such “down the-throat” shots at charging escorts are dangerous an you can understand why the Japanese turned next to sma ¹ fast, deep-diving submarines.                                                       j

We passed uneventfully through the Tokara Gunto- enjoyed contrasting this cruise with my last tense wartim passage, when I was constantly on the lookout for vigda ASW patrol craft and planes equipped with radar and mag netic airborne detectors. Our 1-400’s 1,900-horsepowe diesels now pounded steadily, driving us southeast on 1,200-mile leg of our voyage across the Philippi^ne We sailed through tropical seas, where we discovered culinary drawback of the 1-400: fewer fresh flying fish ⁰ deck each morning for breakfast than we would have c lected on a fleet submarine with a lower freeboard.

The 1-400's 23-foot draft was not so handy, either- when we led the division up the harbor toward the subm^a rine base at Guam. We had no pilot on board, and I unpleasantly surprised by a new pipeline from a Scab dredge crossing the shallow channel under our route- was not marked on our charts, and I grew increasing > nervous about our clearance. 1 assured my skeptical skjp^ per that I knew every inch of that muddy bottom, havi ? strolled down there with lead shoes, canvas suit, and bra helmet to get my deep sea diver’s rating. He hissed tha had damn well better be right, as he gripped the bring coaming with white knuckles. It was too late to take way off our ponderous bulk, but we managed somehow slip across.        _{

I quickly forgot my piloting worries when we docke the submarine base. We received a tumultuous welcome whistles blowing, bands playing, and VIPs lining ^UP board our colorful squadron. In the six months since end of the war, Guam had again become a dull backwa as “Operation Magic Carpet” ferried its large U. S. and Air Force population back to the States. For the re

ft 1                                                                     JAPANESE NAVY

ing^¹¹ P^ersonnel still there, the arrival of the I-boats fly- in ^^{tars an<}J Stripes was an exciting diversion, that h^6Vi^{ery COmer of the l}~⁴⁰⁰' we had Japanese artifacts irig _e.^a ^^ecn “liberated” by our crew from the deteriorat- G_Uur^,^Ves °f Sasebo. The receding tides of war had left as Sy u^^Uonset huts as crammed with unneeded supplies flea ^et>° ^{S caves}' and our crew quickly opened a floating fl^ealin'^ar^^{et on}             Of course, this wheeling and

on h₍y^ *^ec*^{to tr}°uble. An irate Marine lieutenant stormed s_C00t^ard °^ne day to demand that the 1-400 return his motor tH_0tor^r- fhe real culprit was actually his double-dealing m_e ji, sergeant. But our chief of the boat reassured [our| u’ nobody [was] going to find any motor scooter in Sc_0ote ^oat- He did not say that the lieutenant’s motor W_as ^Was not on board our labyrinthine craft, but—I Clo_UH^aSSUred by ^lbe chief—nobody was going to find it. b^aar ^tmic had come to crack down on our I-boat in ^ ’ ,^{So we} lowered the boom on our pirates while we, one tradition of Queen Elizabeth I, enjoyed the

fruits of their buccaneering.

Future underwater archeologists diving to the 1-400 in deep water off Hawaii may wonder why every scuttlebutt was equipped with a General Electric refrigerated foun­tain, why gourmet cooking equipment (including ice cream machines) was in the galleys, and why deluxe por­celain plumbing fixtures were in the heads, and why bunks were wired for music from a jukebox with flashing colored lights.

I had hoped that the submarine command at Guam might help me to find a way to return to Perth to marry a young woman I had met there, but with all U. S. Navy operations in Australia being terminated, there was not a chance. She would have to come to the United States, so I had to get back stateside. I was happy, therefore, when we sailed from Guam for the next 1,000-mile leg of our trip to Eniwetok Atoll in the Marshall Islands. Running east by south we had fine tropical weather with occasional drench­ing rain squalls, which we took advantage of in submarine style, with a bar of soap and towel sent up to the bridge, even though the 1-400’s fresh water capacity was ample enough to provide showers for our crew.

Christmas Eve found us cruising through tropical seas approaching Eniwetok, relying on the Greenlet's radar to pick up low-lying atolls. Despite our superstructure’s rub­berized, anti-radar coating, Santa Claus had no trouble finding our little squadron, and small presents were dis­tributed to all hands. But the greatest gift of all for every­one was a world at peace. Our captain expressed his feel­ings in a “Christmas Greeting,” which he posted in the control room, to the 1-400 crew:

A Merry Christmas, which I know Is better here than in Sasebo!

Next Christmas, and the ones to come I hope all hands will spend at home.

Let’s hope and pray that ne’er again Must we spend Christmas killing men . . .

Commander J. M. McDowell, U. S. Navy Commanding Officer USS Ex-HIJMS 1-400

Our stop in Eniwetok was brief, but, paralleling our experience at Guam, it was not brief enough to keep us out of hot water. This time it was the mysterious disappear­ance of the island commander’s jeep on the eve of our departure that brought official wrath down on the I-boat buccaneers. Our crew was all innocence, and a thorough search of the three submarines and the Greenlet failed to turn up a clue. We were reluctantly granted permission to sail—and told not to come back or they would open fire on us. I still do not know what happened to that jeep, except that the 1-401 crew did acquire a newly painted one

77

^edln8s / September 1986

in Pearl Harbor. But they said they bought it with their welfare fund.

On the last leg of our voyage to Pearl Harbor, I had every petty officer prepare a list of the design features in his area that he considered superior to U. S. fleet subma­rine designs. The final list included a recording fathometer that facilitated navigation using soundings, and a shallow depth gauge that had a cross-section of the ship’s hull painted on the scale from keel depth to the tip of the peri­scopes, so you could see at a glance how much of your superstructure was exposed. We also prepared a list detail- tleship Row to moor at the submarine base. There, were given a warm reception by the submarine force, wi many officers showing lively interest in our mammoth ai^f craft-carrying submarine’s capabilities and potential- y of the senior staff officers of Commander Submarine Forces, Pacific was particularly curious about our Japn nese navigation gear. Although I never liked that guy 1 was a stuffed shirt who never made a war patrol), proudly demonstrated all of our equipment. Then, wn my back was turned, he walked off across the gangpU with my beautiful Japanese sextant. That SOB had no

Tom Paine

I received a bachelor’s degree in engineering from Brown Uni­versity in 1942 and joined the Naval Reserve. After “90-day wonder” midshipman training at Annapolis, I was commissioned an ensign and volunteered for the “silent service.”

My first submarine was the US'S R-14 (SS-91). When I joined the R-14, she was performing duties for the Fleet Antisubmarine Warfare School at Key West, Florida, diving and surfacing all day long to give sonar operators experience in submarine detection. In 1943, I was ordered to the fleet submarine USS Pompon (SS- 267). I reported on board the Pompon as radar and assistant engineering officer at the principal U. S. submarine base in the Southwest Pacific, which con­sisted of the submarine tender USS Pelias (AS-17), a converted merchantman moored to North Wharf in Fremantle, Western Australia.

Of course, the “Japanese” submar­iner and his Australian bride cut their wedding cake with a Japanese sword.

Two years later, I waved good­bye to the homeward bound Pom­pon as she left the nest of boats alongside the tender with a pro­longed blast on her whistle and streaming a long commissioning pennant held aloft by balloons. Although unconvinced that she

could dive safely without me, I was not ready to head back to the states because I was determined to marry and carry home with me the smashing WAAAF (Women s Auxiliary Australian Air Force), Barbara, I had fallen for in Perth.

After delivering the 1-400, I caught a homeward-bound fleet submarine to San Diego, enrolled for a doctoral degree at Stanford, and married my lovely WAAAF Barbara, cutting our wedding cake with my Japanese sword. Upon receiving my degree in Physical Metallurgy, I went to work for General Electric. I worked there 25 years, before serving as both Deputy and Acting Administrator for NASA under the Johnson Administration, and as NASA Administrator under the Nixon Administration.

From 1976-82, I was President of the Northrop Corporation. I am currently Chairman of Thomas Paine Associates, consultants in high technology enterprises.