two-six!'
'Two-two-eight.' Keith's answer differed slightly from Jim's.
I raised my voice for Oregon to hear. 'Steady on course one-nine-zero!' This would lead the target by a few degrees as he came toward us.
Nearly a minute passed. I was aware of a worried frown on the Commodore's face from where he stood between the periscope hoist motors.
'Steady on one-nine-zero, sir!' from Oregon.
I motioned for the periscope, took another look. Range and bearing were fed into the TDC. 'No change on angle on the bow,' I said. I caught Captain Blunt's increasingly puzzled expression; Keith also glanced at me uneasily. I would have informed Jim and Keith but could not; catching old Joe Blunt by surprise just once was too good to risk losing. I could see him itching to question me, and finally it was too much for hint to stand.
'Good God, Rich! What in hell are you trying to do?'
'Nothing special, sir.' A look of bland innocence. 'We are getting near the firing point and I'm getting ready to fire our salvo.'
'Tubes forward flooded. Depth set thirty feet. Speed high,' from Quin.
Jim made another check on the overhead, as I nodded to him.
'Open the outer doors forward,' he said.
Quin repeated the command over the telephone.
Captain Blunt seemed about to leap out from between the periscope motors.
'What did you say the angle on the bow was?' he growled.
'Port one-one-five, sir.'
'Range?'
'About four thousand.'
'Richardson, if you're playing games with me.'
'No, sir,' I said as blandly as I could, 'we will probably be shooting in around three minutes on this course.'
The puzzled look increased on Blunt's face. He was famed for his uncanny ability to retain the picture of a submarine approach and do practically all the calculations in his head without mechanical assistance. He had, of course, missed my low-voiced interchange with Hugh.
'Observation!' I rapped out, motioning with my thumbs to Rubinoffski to start the scope up as I squatted before it.
'Be ready to stop it short,' I told him. He nodded. The periscope handles hit my outstretched hands. I snapped them down. Rubinoffski put the scope on the target bearing, different now because of our course change.
'… Mark!'
'Zero-five-eight!'
'Range-Mark!'
'Three-oh-five-oh!'
I spun the periscope in a complete circle before letting it dart back into its well, lingered for barely an instant on the other two ships. We were well clear of both, and neither, so far as I could see, had seen us.
'Angle on the how, port thirty.'
Keith leaped at the handles of the TDC, commenced cranking them energetically with both hands.
Jim was hurriedly twisting the dials of his Is-Was. I Waited, shot the periscope up and down once more. 'Zero-two- five… one-eight-five-oh!' said Rubinoffski.
'Port sixty… stand by forward,' I barked.
Jim followed me up. 'Stand by forward.'
Quin picked up the phone. 'Stand by forward.'
'This is a shooting observation.' I tried to make my voice dry and unemotional. 'We will shoot three exercise torpedoes, set to pass beneath the target's keel. We are inside the screen.
Semmes will pass astern of us immediately after we shoot.
Falcon is on the far side and will be no trouble. Up scope!'
I had studiously avoided the use of the word 'Fire.' The handles of the periscope came into my palms. I went up with it, setting it on the target.
'Rubinoffski was watching the azimuth just as Keith had done for Jim several months earlier. The situation, in many respects, was very similar. A lot depended on Walrus being found ready.
'Mark!'
'Zero-one-two!'
'Set!'
This was Keith, indicating that the bearing from the periscope had been set into the TDC.
'Shoot!' I said.
Jim was watching the angle-solver part of the TDC where a red 'F' was plainly to be seen.
'Fire!' he shouted.
Quin had turned around, was now facing the firing panel, an elongated metal box with a series of glass windows in its cover through three of which red lights glowed, and below the lights a group of switches. Beneath the firing panel was the firing key, a plunger topped with a round brass plate curved to fit the palm of one's hand. At the word 'Fire' Quin reached up to the firing panel, turned the first of the line of switches with his left hand, pressed the firing key with his right.
'Fire One!' he said into the phone. He held the firing key down for a perceptible instant, then released it, flipped the first switch upright, and turned the second switch to the hori- zontal position. He waited another instant and then pressed the firing key once more.
'Fire Two!' he announced into the phone. 'Fire Three!'
The same process was repeated.
We could feel three solid jolts as our three torpedoes went their way.
I motioned for the periscope, swung it around. Semmes was still clear. Three torpedo tracks diverging slightly were fanning out toward Vixen's bow. It looked as though they would pass ahead.
'Down scope!' I turned to Jim. 'Have we fired the flare?'
'Yessir!' Tom Schultz shot the flare as soon as Quin fired the first torpedo.
Our instructions were to fire a submarine flare from the signal ejector in the control room at the instant of firing torpedoes. This would aid in marking the original point of release and assist in their recovery.
I kept Captain Blunt in his niche a little longer by motioning for the periscope again and taking another sweep around.
I had Rubinoffski stop a bit short of full extension and because of my bent-over position Blunt had to suck in his breath to allow my posterior to pass clear. I swung around twice an then fixed on the Vixen just in time to see our torpedo spread intersect her hull.
'A hit,' I announced calmly, collecting myself in time to avoid shouting. 'I think all three torpedoes passed under the target…. Range-Mark!'
'One-three-five-oh!' from Rubinoffski.
'That checks TDC!' from Keith.
I felt myself rudely shouldered aside. 'Let me see, damn you!'
Captain Blunt had pushed his cap on the back of his head so that its bill would not get in the way of the periscope eye- piece. He planted himself firmly in front of it, stared through it.
'This is the first time I have ever seen this kind of an approach, but there he is all right. Did you pull this one out of your hat?' His eyes remained at the scope.
'It was nothing at all, Commodore,' I said at his side. 'I just did what you said a while ago, pretended we were patrolling off the coast of Japan.'
Blunt gave forth with an unintelligible grunt.
'And of course,' I went on, 'I naturally took a good look at the chart of the Jap coast.'
The Squadron Commander jerked away from the periscope, glaring.
I pulled Hugh Adams aside to show his track chart. 'Here's the convoy's track and here's the coast,' pointing
