The USS SKATE SS 305 was commissioned at Mare Island Naval Shipyard on
April 15, 1943. I reported aboard in May, as an Ensign and Junior Officer.
By the time we completed underway training, fitting out and torpedo firing
exercises, it was late September. It was then that we finally reported to
Commander Submarine Pacific for duty, and started paying for ourselves. After
rigorous training by Com Sub Pac to determine our readiness for war patrols we
were finally ready to get underway for our first war patrol. After we were
underway for two days, the Captain, Cmdr. E.B. McKinney, finally told us of
our mission. A Task Group of surface ships made up of six carriers, (including
the Lexington, CV-16 and the Cowpens CVL-25), battle ships, some cruisers and
destroyers would be making an attack on Wake Island. Our duty was to
reconnoiter for any unusual activity on the island and to rescue any of our
aviators who were forced or shot down at sea. This was destined to be the
first successful mission called The Lifeguard League.
Now this is my story and how I remember the course of events. First of all,
the Task Group was well informed that a U.S. Submarine would be present and
not to attack it, or any submarine, be it friend or foe, in the vicinity of
Wake Island. (Thank God) Early on the morning of 5, October, the first group
of U.S. Navy planes sighted us and since they were unable to see the island,
due to mist, asked us where it was. We were in voice communication with them
and we gave them the course and distance to the Island, then we proceeded at
full speed to close the distance.
On the bridge was the Captain, Cmdr. McKinney, the Executive Officer, Lt.
Cmdr. Arellano, the Officer of the Deck, Lt. Overton, the Junior O.D. Lt. (jg)
Willie Maxon and three lookouts. They were all enjoying the sight of our
planes bombing the island. The Exec. was announcing to the crew just what was
happening via the 1 M.C. It wasn’t very long before we heard a message by our
air boys that they were in control of the air, which allowed us to relax some.
About that time, the Skate received a radio message that had to be decoded.
Since Willie Maxon was the Communications Officer, the Captain ordered me to
the bridge to relieve Maxon so he could go below and attend to the message. I
was happy to relieve him as it gave me an opportunity to see the action.
Willie must have decoded the message in record time…it seemed like only
minutes that he was back topside, at which time I turned the duty back to him.
After doing so, I remained on the bridge until the Captain said, "Frank, we
have too many people up here, you better go below."
As I was passing down the upper conning tower hatch, the Captain said,
"Frank, why don’t you raise the No. 1 periscope and see what is going on." I
was elated at his suggestion, and did so. It seemed like only seconds from the
time that I had left the bridge, to the time I had the periscope up and
trained on the island, when I heard what sounded like someone throwing a
handful of pebbles on a tin roof. Immediately I heard the command "clear the
bridge!" and "dive, dive!" followed by the diving alarm. As I lowered the
scope, I was counting the people passing down from topside, and saw that
everyone had gotten below. Willie Maxon made it to the control room where he
collapsed. It was then that we realized that he had been hit. He was carried
to the ward room table where Doc Florshinger, the Pharmacist’s Mate, Lt. Q.R.
Thompson, the Engineering Officer and I cut his clothing away to see where he
had been hit. Willie was in great pain and Doc gave him a couple of shots of
morphine. The wound was in the upper left hip and as I tried to probe the
wound for a bullet, Willie would scream in pain. We had to give up, but we
saturated the wounds and area with sulphur powder, and Willie was taken to a
lower bunk in the Chief’s quarter. We all took turns caring for him. Early
morning of the 8th, Willie succumbed to his wounds. At midnight,
Willie was prepared for burial at sea, and with all the officers and Willie’s
radio gang in attendance, the Captain gave the eulogy and we then lowered
Willie over the side.
The afternoon after Willie was hit we received word that two aviators were
down and we proceeded to the area. The Captain was alone on the bridge
maneuvering to the area of the downed pilots. He ordered the boat to be
flooded down to protect the pressure hull from gunfire. Since everyone else
was below, we had no knowledge of our position in relation to the island.
Soon after, the Captain passed the word that he wanted two volunteers and
me to the bridge. He wanted me for two reasons, I was the least valuable
officer on board, and I was a deck sailor for as long as I could remember.
Arthur G. Smith, TM 3/c and W. Shelton, GM 3/c were the volunteers. Both
preceded me going down to the main deck. As I started down, the Captain called
me back. When I came forward, I looked over the ventura screen and I couldn’t
believe my eyes, all that I could see was one hell of a big island. I thought
we were going to beach on it.
When I was alongside, the Captain said, "Frank, if we get hit, I’ll have to
take here down, but I’ll try to get back to you." What the Captain told me was
still trying to sink in when I got down to the deck, where the water was
almost up to my knees (which were rubbery). The after part of the deck was
submerged, the bow was low but dry. Minutes after we reached the bow, we saw
the first shell hit the water about 25 to 50 yards off the port bow. After it
hit the water, it started to tumble which made one hell of a noise. I ordered,
"Hit the deck!" At the time, it sounded right, but wouldn’t have helped. Other
shells hit the port side when the Captain yelled for us to get in position to
rescue the aviator who was in the rubber raft. One of our planes circled until
he knew we had him alongside. I kept trying to signal him to get back to the
island and harass the gunners firing at us, but he was waving back, "nice
work".
The first aviator picked up was Lt. Harold Kicker, who immediately went to
the bridge and down the hatch. After puncturing his rubber raft so it would
sink, we started for the bridge. Smitty and Shelton went below, and I stayed
on the bridge until again, the Captain said, "Frank, you better go below." As
I started down, the Captain said, "No, you better help me look for other
aviators." Binoculars were handed to me and I began covering the port side.
Some minutes passed when suddenly, all hell broke loose as the Jap gunners
must have trained and fired all the guns that could aim at us, unbelievable, the
hits again that I could see were off the port bow and beam. I was unable to see
if any were on the starboard side, but I’m sure there were, because the next
word from the Captain was, "Take her down!" All the while that we were going
under, we were still exposed and I was expecting that we would be hit but we
were not. I’m sure, to this day, that the Man Upstairs shielded our boat knowing
that we were trying to do good.
I realize now, after reading Paul Bonilla’s story about his rescue that it
was he and his pilot, Bill McCarthy, at 12,000 feet above us, that noticed us
being shelled, and after locating the gun, pushed over, diving at and striking
the gun and strafing the area as we were getting Lt. Kicker aboard. We sure
owe them. Unfortunately they were hit and managed to get about 50 miles away
before they crash landed. Three days later they were rescued by us, very close
to Wake, because the current had brought them back to Wake Island.
The third downed aviator was sighted the next afternoon. The three of us
again were topside and coming alongside the aviator when a lookout sighted a
Jap plane making a dive on us. We submerged and were neither strafed nor
bombed. Later, we surfaced and rescued Ens. R.G. Johnson, a fighter pilot from
the Lexington. He told us that he heard the plane, covered himself with a
tarp, and that the plane came over our position, made a circle and moved on.
Early on the third day, at dawn as the sun was coming up over the horizon,
a flare was sighted directly where we had just been, about seventeen miles
away, by Lt. Cmdr. Arellano who happened to be looking in that direction and
saw it just break the horizon. We reversed our direction 180 degrees and a few
minutes later reached, threw a life ring to them and picked up Lt William E.
McCarthy who was injured in the water landing, and his gunner Paul T. Bonilla
from the Lexington, who wrote the story of their interesting flight, bombing
run and rescue by the Skate.
Later that same day, as we continued our search for fallen aviators, we
sighted a seemingly empty life raft, but as we approached it we saw a body and
the Captain yelled, "Liferaft ahoy" and up came a pair of arms and feet. His
first words were, "Do you have any water aboard?" When we answered yes, he
downed what little water he had from his survival kit. He was Lt. Cmdr. Mark
Grant, who was the Air Group Commander from the Cowpens and was shot down the
first day. After four days of salt spray, tropical heat and sun, he was quite
a sight with skin sores and sunburn, but with a wonderful sense of humor.
After coming aboard, his next words were, "I didn’t care if you were friend or
foe, I wanted to get the hell out of that rubber boat!" As I led him aft, he
looked up at the captain and said, "Captain, my teeth, my teeth are in the
boat, in my shoe, if you can’t get em, f---em." Before sinking the boat, we
found them in one of his shoes, secured in a strap. When he recovered, he was
great to have aboard with his wonderful sense of humor. He was the final
aviator recovered on our first Life Guard Mission.
After searching for several more days, getting strafed and bombed by Jap
planes, we were ordered to leave the area to try and intercept a Japanese
Convoy. We pursued it for a week or so and were unable to locate it, so we
headed for Midway Island to deliver our very appreciative guests, so they
could proceed with their mission of helping to defeat the Japanese.
After our success in rescuing the six airmen, at least one or more
submarines were deployed around the area of future targets. As a result, our
submarine rescued a total of 504 airmen, who may have perished at sea or been
taken prisoner.
The Skate went on to fight the war. Her highlights were, damaging a carrier
and torpedoing one of the two largest battleships in the Japanese Navy, the "Yamoto",
which was later sunk by aircraft. She also sank a new light cruiser, a
destroyer, submarine and eight merchant ships, plus several small vessels by
gunfire.
Tom Brokaw did a wonderful job with his "Greatest Generation" but when he
gave credit to all of the services, he failed to give credit to the Submarine
Navy and their many accomplishments. I guess that is why they called it The
Silent Service. The Submarine Force was made up of less than 2% of our Navy,
yet they were officially credited with the sinking of over 55% of all enemy
ships sunk by all of the other forces together, including those of our allies
in the Pacific. The Submarine Service lost a total of 52 submarines, with 374
officers and 3,031 enlisted men.
