This html article is produced from an uncorrected text file through optical character recognition. Prior to 1940 articles all text has been corrected, but from 1940 to the present most still remain uncorrected. Artifacts of the scans are misspellings, out-of-context footnotes and sidebars, and other inconsistencies. Adjacent to each text file is a PDF of the article, which accurately and fully conveys the content as it appeared in the issue. The uncorrected text files have been included to enhance the searchability of our content, on our site and in search engines, for our membership, the research community and media organizations. We are working now to provide clean text files for the entire collection.
T
JL he story begins in mid 1944 when the U. S. government, concerned over the unsatisfactory conditions existing in Japanese prisoner of war camps, contacted the Japanese government through Swiss intermediaries for the purpose of furnishing relief supplies to these camps.
With the severing of the sea lanes between the Malay Peninsula and the Japanese homeland, the Japanese government received these initiatives with favor. In exchange for the transfer of a relatively small amount of relief supplies to the prisoner of war camps under a guarantee of safe passage, the relief ship could be loaded with thousands of tons of war materials and, on her return, transport hundreds of stranded Japanese merchant seamen as well as a full load of desperately needed raw materials to feed the Japanese war industry. The evidence of these motivations was the assignment of the huge Awa Maru for the transfer of about 2,000 tons of relief supplies.
Another, more insidious, motivation may be attributed to the Japanese government. The homeward route initially described for the Awa Maru took her through waters between the Ryukyu Islands and the coast of China which U. S. intelligence sources had known for months were heavily mined. When the Japanese subsequently amended this return route, a period of almost a month had elapsed. Richard Voge wrote: "It is impossible to conceive that the authorities responsible for laying out the original route were ignorant of this mined area, and the only reasonable conclusion is that the false route was prescribed as a ruse to convince us that the area concerned was safe for navigation. Had our intelligence service been less efficient, it probably would have worked and many of our submarines might have been lured to their doom.”1
Consequently, in November 1944, the Japanese took delivery of 2,000-odd tons of relief supplies which had been sent from the United States via Siberia. Through an exchange of diplomatic notes with Japan on 13 December 1944, and again on 30 January 1945, the U. S. government agreed that the ship designated by the Japanese for the transport of relief supplies to prisoner of war camps in the East Indies would be accorded safe passage.
In early February 1945, the Japanese informed the United States that the Awa Maru had been designated to transfer the relief supplies and furnished a detailed itinerary of her transit to the East Indies and return to the Japanese home islands. The Japanese requested and received from the U. S. government a reconfirmation of the guarantee of safe passage on 13 February 1945.
1 Richard G. Voge, "Too Much Accuracy,” United States Natal Institute Proceedings, LXXVI (March 1950), p. 262.
In the interim, the U. S. Navy had dispatched a message concerning the Awa Maru to all submarines at sea in the Pacific. Whereas it was standard procedure to encipher nearly all radio messages, this particular dispatch was sent in plain language to ensure timely and accurate reception by its addressees. The message specified the exact route and schedule of the Awa Maru, gave her description, and directed all submarines to allow her to pass unmolested. Specific details concerning her identification were provided:
AWA MARU WILL BE PAINTED WITH A WHITE CROSS ON EACH SIDE OF FUNNEL X CROSSES TO BE ILLUMINATED ELECTRICALLY AT NIGHT X WHITE CROSS ON TOP OF BRIDGE X WHITE CROSS ON SECOND AND FIFTH HATCHES X TWO WHITE CROSSES ON EACH SIDE OF SHIP X ALL NAVIGATION LIGHTS TO BE LIGHTED AT NIGHT . . .
As was the case with all important messages to submarines, this dispatch was broadcast three times on each of three successive nights—a total of nine transmissions. Thus, it would seem reasonable for higher authority to presume that the necessary precautions had been taken to ensure the Awa Maru’s safe passage. It was at this point, however, that circumstances existing on board the Queenfish were to provide the first link in the incredible chain of events which resulted in the sinking of the Awa Maru.
The Queenfish was a highly regarded submarine. Commanded by Commander Charles Elliot Loughlin, she had three very successful war patrols to her credit prior to the Awa Maru incident. Loughlin was a graduate of the Naval Academy, class of 1933, where he was a two-time All-American basketball player and a ranking intercollegiate tennis player. His class annual described him as ". . . the ideal classmate.”
Following battleship duty, Loughlin received submarine training in 1938 and served in the older S-boats for the next five years, ultimately commanding the USS S-14 in Panama in 1943. Ordered to the Portsmouth, New Hampshire, Navy Yard in October 1943, Loughlin supervised the fitting out of the newly-constructed Queenfish and, upon her commissioning in March 1944, assumed command.
By any set of standards, the crew of the Queenfish was a superb assemblage of trained submarine professionals. In the words of Captain Harold E. Rice, USN (Ret.), then a lieutenant attached to the Queenfish and a veteran of 11 submarine war patrols: "Queenfish had one of the truly outstanding submarine wardrooms of World War II in terms of professionalism and sheer experience.”
By the time of her fourth war patrol when the sinking of the Awa Maru occurred, the officers repre-
Let Pass Safely the Awa Maru 71
sented a collective total of 42 submarine war patrols among them—an impressive figure even at that late stage of the war. The enlisted personnel were of similar makeup in terms of experience. Not only was there assigned to the Queenfish a significant number of veterans from previous Pacific action, but Loughlin had succeeded in bringing nine top-flight fellow crewmembers with him from Panama when he was detached from the S-14.
What sort of commanding officer was Loughlin? As his performance on the Queenfish's first three war patrols was to attest, Loughlin was one of the fine submarine skippers of World War II. He is described by Captain Rice as ". . . an athlete, capable, aware of his own abilities ... a master of submarine tactics . . . spent 25 hours a day on his job . . . possessed all of the elements of a wartime leader . . . high-strung but sensitive . . . observed everything going on, was everywhere all the time, essentially never slept . . . evinced great confidence in his crew . . .” In short, Elliot Loughlin was the sort of wartime submarine commander from whom great things could be expected.
Loughlin was quick to prove himself. After the Queenfish's first war patrol, Loughlin was cited for sinking 48,000 tons of enemy shipping and rescuing 18 British and Australian prisoners of war who were survivors of a Japanese ship which had been sunk by U. S. submarine action. For these efforts he was awarded the Navy Cross. On the Queenfish's second war patrol, Loughlin succeeded in sinking 55,000 tons of hostile shipping and for this action was awarded a second Navy Cross. On his third and fourth war patrols, Loughlin won the Silver Star and Bronze Star medals, respectively. The Queenfish received the Presidential Unit Citation for her accomplishments during her first war patrol. This truly impressive record of performance of duty was soon to be called into question as a result of the sinking of the Awa Maru.
Returning to the circumstances surrounding the sinking of the Awa Maru, it will be recalled that a plain-language message was dispatched by the Com- mander-in-Chief, U. S. Fleet on 7 February 1945, which provided information concerning the Awa Maru’s itinerary and appearance and stipulated that she would be granted free passage throughout her transit. At the time of the transmission of this message, the Queenfish was at sea en route from Hawaii to Saipan prior to the commencement of her fourth war patrol. Loughlin relates that atmospheric conditions during the three-day period of this message’s transmission were so bad that the Queenfish was unable to obtain a version of the plain-language message ungarbled sufficiently to make sense. Not much concern was evinced since, throughout the war, experience demonstrated that almost all
messages of import were encrypted. Consequently, a garbled, plain-language message was not a great cause for excitement on board the Queenfish during her relatively tranquil transit from Pearl Harbor to Saipan. Loughlin was confident that his communications officer, Lieutenant (j.g.) J. T. Geer, would be able to procure a copy of it upon arriving in port at Saipan prior to commencing patrol. The first link in the sealing of the Awa Maru’s fate had been forged.
In early March, the Queenfish arrived at Saipan where she received another message which never came to the attention of the commanding officer. Subsequent to the initiation of the original message concerning the track of the Awa Maru, the Japanese government dutifully informed the U. S. Department of State of a change in her homeward route, conveniently taking her clear of the Japanese mine field alluded to earlier.
The revision to the itinerary of the Awa Maru was the subject of a message to all U. S. submarines in the Pacific which was duly transmitted three times nightly during the period 6-8 March 1945. Throughout this time, the Queenfish was in-port Saipan alongside the submarine tender Fulton. A plain-language copy of this message which amended the Awa Maru’s return track to Japan was received on board the Queenfish from the communications section of the Fulton and was filed. For reasons still unknown, Loughlin was never informed of the contents of this message. The second link in the chain of circumstances leading to the Awa Maru’s demise had been forged.
The Queenfish’s fourth war patrol was to take her to the area of the Taiwan Strait where she would conduct wolfpack operations in company with the submarines Spot and Sea Fox. As was customary, a briefing team from the staff of Commander, Submarine Force Pacific Fleet (ComSubPac) flew into Saipan and briefed the three commanding officers on the operations to be conducted. At no time during the briefing was the subject of the Awa Maru raised. In later years Loughlin was to regard this omission as an inexcusable mistake which was a contributing factor in the sinking of the Awa Maru. The third link in the chain was forged.
The Queenfish departed Saipan on 9 March 1945 to commence her fourth war patrol. The ensuing weeks were largely uneventful. At this stage of the war, Japanese shipping was extremely sparse, and the Queenfish was chiefly occupied with avoiding hostile aircraft operating out of Taiwan. On 17 March, the Spot, having expended all her torpedoes during an attack the previous night, departed the area to proceed to Saipan for reload. Loughlin assumed command of the wolfpack now consisting of the Queenfish and the Sea Fox. The
next few days continued to be uneventful.
On 28 March 1945, in order to refresh the minds of his submarine commanding officers at sea, ComSub- Pac sent another message concerning the Awa Maru. This message, in encrypted form, stated:
... LET PASS SAFELY THE AWA MARU CARRYING PRISONER OF WAR SUPPLIES X SHE WILL BE PASSING THROUGH YOUR AREAS BETWEEN MARCH 30 AND APRIL 4 X SHE IS LIGHTED AT NIGHT AND PLASTERED WITH WHITE CROSSES . . .
Unfortunately, the message, addressed to all submarines in the Pacific, did not stipulate the track of the Awa Maru during the period 30 March-4 April. The Queenfish received this message, but her reaction to it was simply derisive. Loughlin discussed the message with his officers, stating: "This is the most stupid dispatch I have ever seen in my life. It’s addressed to every submarine from Australia to the north of Japan. How the hell are we supposed to know where Awa Maru is?” In the absence of the information contained in the two previous messages concerning the Awa Maru, the message failed to make the desired impact upon Loughlin. A fourth link was forged.
Subsequent to receipt of this message, the Queenfish was diverted north of Taiwan for operations in the area of Shanghai which took her out of immediate contact with the Sea Fox. On 1 April 1945, the Queenfish received a message from the Sea Fox at 1940 hours which reported an attack conducted by the Sea Fox against a Japanese convoy at 1300 hours that day. Noting the position, Loughlin altered the Queenfish’s course to intercept the predicted position of the convoy. Loughlin was later to be critical of this turn of events. A
basic tenet of wolfpack operational doctrine was to inform fellow submarines immediately of initial contact gained upon the enemy in order to bring augmented, coordinated force to bear as quickly as possible. The more-than-six-hour lapse between the time of the attack by the Sea Fox and its subsequent contact report was to have a significant impact upon the fate of the Awa Maru. Loughlin states: "Had Sea Fox let us know immediately when she had contact on the convoy, as she should have, we would have headed for that spot immediately. Had she let us know, we might have been 100 or more miles away from the Awa Maru and never made contact with her.” Link five.
That very night at 2200 hours, the Queenfish gained radar contact on a single ship at a range of 17,000 yards. This ship, proceeding in a dense fog which limited visibility to less than 200 yards, was soon established as making 16 knots on a non-zigzag course. The Queenfish went to battle stations and commenced tracking the target. The Queenfish's expert fire-control party soon established the target’s course and speed which, coupled with the radar ranges, were the essential ingredients in conducting a successful attack. The operator of the torpedo-data-computer, which melds these ingredients into the gyro angle which is fed into the torpedoes, recalls that when the speed estimate momentarily varied by one tenth of a knot, he commented to the radar operator: "That Japanese helmsman must have gotten off course for a few seconds.”
The Queenfish's attack was conducted entirely on the surface with Loughlin on the bridge the entire time. The target was presumed to be a combatant, destroyer- type ship from the very onset of the attack. This assumption was adduced by the initial radar range gained
on the target coupled with the operational circumstances'prevailing. The consistent experience of the Queenfish's commanding officer and fire-control party had been that radar contact on Japanese destroyers was customarily established at a range of 16,000-18,000 yards while that of a merchant ship the size of the Awa Maru would normally be made at a range of more than 25,000 yards. Additionally, the high speed of the target as opposed to the eight- to ten-knot speed which characterized the typical Japanese merchantman influenced the Queenfish's fire control party in its analysis. A final factor in the equation was the direction of the target which took it to the location of the convoy action initiated by the Sea Fox earlier that day. All circumstances indicated that this was a warship bent upon antisubmarine action.
At no time during the attack did any of the Queen- fish's crew observe the target. Thus, bad visibility was to be the sixth and final link in the chain of circumstances resulting in the end of the Awa Maru. After one hour of tracking, the Queenfish closed the range to less than 1,500 yards, reversed course, and fired four torpedoes from her four stern tubes.
Three factors were of significance here. First, the torpedo depth setting ordered by Loughlin was three feet. This was appropriate for a destroyer-type, shallow- draft ship but hardly proper for a ship the size of the Awa Maru.
A second critical factor was the spread of the torpedoes. A customary procedure was to spread the torpedoes to provide an overlap to account for errors in the fire-control solution. A 150% coverage or overlap was standard doctrine at this point in the war. As ordered by Loughlin, the torpedoes were fired with a
total divergent spread of four and one-half degrees. At the range involved, the four torpedoes subtended a total of 290 feet as testified by the assistant torpedo- data-computer operator at the ensuing general court martial. As the length of a typical Japanese destroyer was about 300 feet or slightly longer, and the Awa Maru's length approached 600 feet, the torpedo spread would appear to have been induced by the belief that the target was, in fact, a destroyer-type ship.
A third factor which contributes to the assessment that Loughlin presumed the target to be a destroyer- type ship was the tactic of reversing course immediately before initiating a stern-tube attack. As Loughlin later related: "At a range of less than 1,500 yards, I wanted to be in a position to get away from that guy in case the torpedoes missed.” Moving away in the opposite direction was obviously the best way to escape.
In any event, the Queenfish's attack was extraordinarily successful. Four torpedoes were fired, and within two minutes four explosions were heard. At no time was the target observed. Within four minutes of the firing, the radar pip which represented the target disappeared. Loughlin reversed course again to close the scene of the sinking in order to interrogate survivors for intelligence-gathering purposes—standard operating procedure at this phase of the war. It was hardly the procedure, however, for a commanding officer of a submarine bent upon trying to absolve himself from mistakenly sinking an enemy ship under free passage.
The Queenfish quickly reached the site of the sinking where a number of survivors were seen in the oily water together with a great number of rectangular boxes floating in the vicinity. Repeated efforts were made to rescue survivors, but, in all but one case, the Japanese resisted the rescue attempts. Many were observed to dive under the water and drown themselves.
The lone seaman who was persuaded to come on board was initially too groggy to provide any information. It was not until some six hours later that this man, Kantora Shimoda, had recovered sufficiently to identify his ship as the Awa Maru. This was the first realization anyone on the Queenfish had that their recent victim was a ship on safe passage which they had been directed to let pass unmolested.
The Queenfish immediately informed ComSubPac of the details. Upon receipt of the message, Vice Admiral Charles A. Lockwood, ComSubPac, dispatched a reply which directed the Queenfish and the Sea Fox to return to the scene of the sinking, search for survivors, and recover any evidence of contraband cargo. Lockwood’s immediate and principal concern was that the Japanese might wreak barbarous reprisals upon captured American submarines.2
Although they remained in the area for the next day and a half, neither submarine located any other survivors. The Queenfish did, however, recover several bales of rubber and some tins containing a dark, granular substance. Shimoda later confirmed that the Awa Maru was fully loaded with a cargo of rubber, tin, and lead.3 In addition to her crew, she was also carrying some 1,700 passengers, largely merchant seamen stranded when their ships had been sunk in Malayan and Indonesian waters.
Reaction in Washington was swift. Admiral Ernest J. King, Commander-in-Chief, U. S. Fleet, wasted no time. He directed a message to Admiral Nimitz in Hawaii which left no room for doubt or argument.
2Charles A. Lockwood, Sink 'Em All: Submarine Warfare in the Pacific (New York: E. P. Dutton and Co., Inc., 1951), p. 502.
3Theodore E. Roscoe, United States Submarine Operations in World War II (Annapolis: United States Naval Institute, 1949), p. 460.
". . . order the Queenfish into port immediately . . . detach Loughlin from his command and have him tried by General Court Martial . . .”4
The Department of State delayed in telling the Japanese of the incident until after the Queenfish had returned to port and all details surrounding the sinking were known. On 17 April 1945, the U. S. government officially informed the Japanese government of the complicity of a U. S. submarine in the sinking of the Awa Maru and stated that the commander of the submarine was being tried by general court martial to determine the question of primary responsibility for the disaster. The diplomatic note stated, however, that the U. S. government would not accept prime responsibility for the disaster prior to a judicial determination.
Meanwhile, upon orders from higher command on 7 April, the Queenfish terminated her patrol and proceeded to Guam. While en route, she was diverted by ComSubPac to search for survivors of a downed Navy patrol aircraft. In the early morning hours of 12 April, the Queenfish located and rescued 13 exhausted aircraft crew members who had spent 81 hours in a raft. For this skillful operation, Loughlin later received the Bronze Star.
The Queenfish arrived in Guam on 14 April 1945 where Loughlin was met by Admiral Lockwood and members of his staff. To Loughlin’s complete surprise, he was informed of his relief of command of the Queenfish and his subjection to trial by general court martial. As Loughlin later related: "My feeling about the incident was not one of remorse but rather that of ag- grievement. I did not feel that I had been given the necessary information. If I knew now only what I had known at that time, I would do it again.”
Within a matter of minutes, however, Lockwood’s communications officer located in the Queenfish's communications files the plain-language copy of the message which had amended the Awa Maru's track. Upon learning of this and being made aware of the extreme gravity of the incident from the standpoint of international law, Loughlin recognized the necessity for trail by court martial. He regarded the court martial as a formality, however, and one which would exonerate him completely.
On his part, Lockwood sent a message to Admiral Nimitz pointing out that the tragedy was owing partly to his own error for having addressed the warning message of 28 March to "All Submarines” rather than to the limited number of submarines concerned. He asked that he be held equally responsible. While in Washington in April, Lockwood called on Secretary of the Navy James C. Forrestal and Admiral King to
4 Richard G. Vogc, "Too Much Accuracy,” p. 258.
Let Pass Safely the Awa Maru 75
explain the situation and asked that Loughlin be given every possible consideration and clemency.[1]
The court martial convened on 19 April 1945. Comprised of two vice admirals, two rear admirals and two captains, it was the most senior court martial convened by the Navy to that date. The board was equally divided between naval aviators, submariners, and surface officers. Prior to the Queenfish's return to Guam, Admiral Lockwood made an intensive search for the best legal talent available to undertake Loughlin’s defense.[2] Captain Henry C. Bruton, U. S. Navy, a former submariner himself, and Lieutenant Colonel John H. Coffman, U. S. Marine Corps, were selected and flown from Hawaii to Guam.
Loughlin was brought to trial on three charges:
► Charge I. Culpable inefficiency in the performance of duty.
► Charge II. Disobeying the lawful order of his superior officer.
► Charge III. Negligence in obeying orders.
The'key decision made by the counsel for the defense was for Loughlin to exercise his constitutional right of not testifying in his own behalf. As accepted Navy dogma has long held that the commanding officer is responsible for everything that happens on board his ship, if Loughlin were to testify that he had never seen the vital dispatches, he would automatically convict himself of inefficiency. So a stipulation was entered to the effect that all messages had been received on board the Queenfish. Loughlin’s defense would be based on the fact that the Awa Maru, by carrying contraband, had forfeited her right to safe conduct.
In retrospect, Loughlin regrets not testifying in his own behalf. "I wanted to take the stand because I thought that I was being unjustly accused of something. Under the circumstances, I thought I shouldn’t be the fall guy. However, my counsel said no, and that was that.”
Although the lone survivor, Shimoda, testified that the Awa Maru carried munitions and aircraft parts as well as the relief supplies on her outward trip and tin, rubber, and lead on her homeward trip, the court promptly dismissed the evidence as irrelevant on the dual grounds that Loughlin had no way of knowing the type of cargo carried by Awa Maru and, even had he had access to that information, it was not within his province to disregard the safe conduct agreement granted by the U. S. government.
With their main line of defense gone, counsel for the accused then shifted their tactics to prove lack of
intent. This was to prove successful as defense witnesses consisting of the Queenfish officers and enlisted personnel denied to a man any knowledge of the Awa Maru’s track. Especially convincing was the testimony introduced concerning the shallow depth setting on the torpedoes, the narrow torpedo spread employed, and the tactic of using the stern tubes to facilitate a quicker escape in the event the torpedoes missed their mark. Commander Russell Kefauver, U. S. Navy, an experienced submarine commanding officer, a veteran of 11 submarine war patrols, and a Naval Academy classmate of Loughlin, was introduced as an expert witness for the defense. Kefauver confirmed that the depth setting, spread, and stern-shot tactics were those that would be employed against a destroyer-type ship. His testimony also confirmed the defense’s contention that a ship the size of Awa Maru would normally be detected at a range far in excess of 17,000 yards—the normal initial detection range for destroyer-type ships. It appeared to Loughlin that Kefauver’s testimony had particular impact upon the court martial board.
Two points which could have been of considerable benefit to the defense, however, were never brought out in the court martial. Although early in the trial the defense stipulated that all messages concerning the Awa Maru had been received on board the Queenfish, no one on the court martial board inquired whether Loughlin had ever seen them. Another argument might have been advanced by the defense. The Japanese themselves had no definite information as to how, when, or where the Awa Maru had been sunk. Her loss might have been caused by a number of circumstances: attack by aircraft, striking a submerged reef, hitting a floating mine, or being attacked by any one of a number of submarines operating between Taiwan and Japan. Without the testimony of the sole survivor rescued by the Queenfish, it would have been nearly impossible to have proved that her victim was the Awa Maru. Had Loughlin deliberately sunk the Awa Maru in violation of orders, would he have gone to such efforts to rescue and bring back the one witness who could implicate him?7
In any case, a sufficient argument had been made to clearly exonerate Loughlin of the charges of culpable inefficiency in the performance of duty and disobeying the lawful order of his superior officer. And so the court found.
On the third charge, however—that of negligence in obeying orders—Loughlin was found guilty. This finding was obviously based on the fact that the Queenfish had received the pertinent messages and had failed to act upon them. Initially disappointed by the finding
7 Richard G. Voge, "Too Much Accuracy,” p. 260.
76 U. S. Naval Institute Proceedings, April 1974
of guilty on the third charge, Loughlin recounts that he subsequently recognized the finding as appropriate and felt that he had received a fair trial.
Loughlin was sentenced to receive a letter of admonition, a sentence sufficiently light to prompt Admiral Nimitz’ dissatisfaction, and rightly so. By choosing a middle course, the court had really decided nothing. By finding Loughlin guilty, they had cast a stigma not only on him but on the entire Submarine Force; whereas, by the lightness of the sentence, they had nullified their own finding.
The impact on Loughlin’s career was to be negligible. Following the war, Loughlin served efficiently in a number of top-flight assignments and eventually achieved promotion to rear admiral in 1961. In fact, it is Loughlin’s opinion that the Awa Maru incident had a favorable effect upon his career. "My name became well known and a lot of veteran submariners sympathized with me on the basis that they would have done the same thing if they had been in my shoes.”
Following the findings of the court martial, a further exchange of diplomatic notes took place between the U. S. and the Japanese governments. The U. S. government expressed its formal apology, stated that the commanding officer of the submarine involved was being punished, and offered to replace the Awa Maru with a similar type ship for the purpose of continuing the delivery of relief supplies to Allied prisoners of war.
The replacement ship was not to be construed as indemnity, however. Indemnity would be the subject of postwar adjudication.
Hostilities came to an end before the subject of a replacement ship could be negotiated. On 14 April 1949, the Japanese government foreswore indemnification for the Awa Maru.
So the tragic incident of the Awa Maru came to an end. A weird chain of events had occurred. The absence of any one link could have prevented the incident from happening. Instead, there were unfavorable atmospheric conditions; the filing of radio messages without informing higher command; an incomplete operational briefing; an improperly drafted warning message; a tardy contact report from a fellow wolfpack member; and, finally, low visibility conditions on the night of 1 April 1945.
Of such stuff are tragedies at sea made.
A graduate of the University of Minnesota in 1950, Commander Speer received his commission at OCS Newport in 1952. Following duty on board the Yorktoun and at Fleet Intelligence Center, Pacific, he attended Submarine School in 1956 and subsequently served in the submarines Razorback, Sea Fox, and Diodon, commanding the latter from 1964-67. After attending the Armed Forces Staff College in 1967, he served in the Strategic Plans Division in OpNav until 1969 and as Operations Officer on the staff of Commander Submarine Flotilla Two until 1971. Following a tour of duty at the Arms Control and Disarmament Agency from 1971-1973, Commander Speer is now head of the Ships’ History Branch at the Naval Historical Center.
He Opened His Big Mouth and . . .
My son limped into the naval hospital to have his injured foot examined and he was told to wait for the results of the tests. A few minutes later, the nurse came back and handed him a large pill. Just then, the admiral’s wife rushed in with her son who was in need of immediate attention. After the nurse disappeared with the two of them, my son got himself a glass of water, swallowed the pill, and sat down to wait. The nurse soon reappeared carrying a bucket of water.
"Okay,” she said, "let’s drop the pill into this bucket and soak that foot.”
—Contributed by John Starr
Just Another Ensign
During World War II, as a freshly caught ensign, I was traveling to New Orleans for my first active duty, dressed out in my new khakis.
Since I was Supply Corps, a friendly salesman had included in the uniform package a pair of "porkchoppcr” collar insignia, and not knowing any better, I put one on each tab of my new khakis.
My seat-mate on the Kansas City Southern Railroad was an older Army Colonel, and I was flattered by his apparent interest in me. After some small talk he got to the point.
"Say, young fellow,” he asked. "Would you mind telling me whether you’re a warrant officer or just another damn ensign?”
—Contributed by Capt. R. S. Sullivan, USN (Ret.)