Chapter 61 Chapter 61

For military experts, "Clark Field" is the code name for an American failure, as serious as Pearl Harbor.Once the main air force base of the Army on Luzon Island was destroyed, the Philippines lost its air cover, and the Asian fleet had to flee south.There has never been a reasonable explanation for what happened there.Yet Congress has not investigated and not a single person has been removed from office.History still ignores Clark Airport and only remembers Pearl Harbor.It is indeed distressing that two catastrophes, five thousand miles apart, occurred on the same day, so history, like a skilled editor, cuts out the duplication.

The Clark Airport incident was half a day later than the Pearl Harbor incident, because although the Japanese planned very cleverly, it was impossible to arrange that all places would be dawn at the same time.They gave up hope of raiding the Philippines because it would take five hours for the sun to cross the ocean from Hawaii.Their bombers waited for good weather to take off from Taiwan, and just before noon they rumbled all the way to the sky above the main island of Luzon, where fierce resistance was expected.After the news of the bombing of Pearl Harbor came, it was transferred to the ground observation post of the wartime system, followed the attacking aircraft fleet flying across the coast to the destination, and sent a large number of reports to the headquarters.However, the bombers met no resistance, and found a huge fleet of fighters and bombers of the Far Eastern Air Force lined up on the airfield.The humiliation remains a mystery.This time, it was the Japanese who were surprised; but the surprise was very pleasant.They wiped out General MacArthur's air force and flew away.Thus, within fifteen minutes, any hope of stopping the Japanese advance to Nanyang was dashed.There is nothing left for the local U.S. military, but desperation and surrender.

The Japanese seized this stunning victory right away.The first step is to make the U.S. Navy untenable in Manila Bay.Two days after the Clark Field incident, a swarm of bombers arrived and destroyed the Cavite Naval Base in meticulous detail.They took it easy, because they didn't have to worry about American air defenses. The Squid and Byron Henry bore the brunt of the Japanese bombing: hence the first One false positive.Another submarine of the same class, the Sea Lion, was sunk in Cavite. When the attack first started, Byron was ashore, leading a working party to lift the torpedo.The dreadful wailing of the air-raid sirens blared near the big roof of the torpedo factory.The overhead crane clicked to a stop.The rumbling and screeching of the repairing machines were also silenced.Foremen, torpedomen, and mechanics in oiled overalls ran from their seats and lathes to their combat posts.

Byron's team had loaded four torpedoes onto the truck.He decided to load two more before leaving.Because the order he received was six, and since the Clark Airport incident, false alarms have often occurred.But the overhead crane stopped, and moving an assembled Mark XIV—a one-and-a-half-ton steel cylinder packed with explosives, propellant, and motor—was slow work.The sweaty sailors of the "Squid" were attaching a torpedo to the chain of a lift truck crane. Byron's top torpedo crew glanced at the sky and said, "Mr. Henry, they are flying over." On the "Squid", Hanson's eyes were the sharpest.Byron watched for half a minute before

Seeing the neat V of silver-gray dots, shining in the blue sky, much higher than the German planes he had seen over Poland.The old feelings in Warsaw--fear, excitement, and the need to be quick-sighted--clung to him again. "God, really, there's always fifty or sixty," he said. "I'm counting fifty-seven. Coming this way, sir. Target angle zero degrees." "That's not it. Hey, let's install it quickly." The sailor driving the heavy truck started the motor, and the iron chain on which the torpedo was hung was tightened. "Stop!" Byron yelled, hearing an explosion in the distance.More flower bombs exploded, the sound getting closer.The concrete floor trembled.For the first time since he had left Warsaw, Byron heard the familiar sound again—a shriek that grew louder and harsher.

"hidden!" The sailors ducked under the truck and a nearby unwieldy workbench.There was an explosion near the open shed, followed by a series of sounds from around, the ground trembled, and Byron also threw himself on the rough concrete floor covered with a layer of oily mud under the workbench.The place is very narrow here.His face was squeezed into someone's rough overalls.Byron has not been bombed like this.Hearing one after another of the cracks that shook the ground, he felt the heart-wrenching pain again and again, and gritted his teeth.He felt that the chances of life and death were half to half, as if he would be killed by the bomb in the next minute.But the uproar finally died down, and the bombing moved to other parts of the base.He crawled out and ran outside.There was a turbulent sea of ​​smoke and fire everywhere, and walls began to collapse one after another.In the clear blue sky, flecks of anti-aircraft fire exploded feebly far below the bomber.Through the smoke, the bombers were clearly visible. The sailors of the "Squid" gathered around Byron in a disorderly manner, dusting off their bodies, and staring at the fire.

"Well, Mr. Henry, it's not looking good, is it?" "Shall we go back to the boat?" "Wait a minute." "Should we finish loading the torpedoes?" Byron hurried through the smoking shed to check the situation on the other side.Hanson followed him.Hanson was a capable submarine veteran, a stout Oregon Swede over six feet tall, with a big blond beard and a tight belt under his paunch.Henson didn't make the first sergeant because three Coast Patrol Marines who resisted his arrest in Honolulu once gave one a concussion and the other a broken arm.He liked Byron and taught him a lot without seeming to be teaching.Byron grew a beard, partly out of sympathy for Hanson, for the captain had been making trouble with the stubborn Swede, telling him to either trim it or shave it off.

On the other side of the torpedo factory, the sea breeze was blowing the fire, which was rumbling and crackling.In the street, a bomb had blown a large crater; water sprayed up from a ruptured main.Dense blue sparks shot out from the twisted and broken underground cables.Three Navy heavy trucks were parked on the edge of the smoky pit, and three Filipino drivers peered into the hole, talking in Tagalog. Byron's voice overwhelmed the noise, "It looks like we're going to be stuck here, Hanson, what do you think?" "I can't tell, Mr. Henry. If these trucks can be moved, we might be able to get around Headquarters."

A driver greeted Byron and said, "Hey, can we drive through this factory? Is there a way to get to the dock?" Byron shook his head, raising his voice above the blare of sirens and the shouts of firefighters dragging hoses down the street. "The roads over there are all blocked! The fire is burning, and many walls have collapsed!" Hanson narrowed his eyes, looked up at the thick smoke and fire billowing in the wind, and said, "Mr. Henry, the fire is about to spread to this factory, and all these torpedoes are going to die." Byron understood what the torpedo soldier said. Complaints included.What good is a submarine squadron without torpedoes?Not enough torpedoes are known to be a big problem.

He said, "Well, if you know how to drive an overhead crane, we might be able to pull a few more out." Hanson scratched his bald head. "Mr. Henry, I'm not a crane driver." A thin civilian in overalls and a brown hard hat was standing by the puddle and said, "I'm a crane driver. What do you need?" Byron turned to the Filipino driver and said, "How about you guys help us out? We're going to get some torpedoes out of here." After a quick exchange of ideas in Tagalog with the other drivers, the Filipino said, "Okay! Where are you going?"

"Come on," Byron said to the common man. "In this factory. It's an overhead crane." "I know, boy." At this time, in the bay of Sangley Point, a gray speedboat quickly approached the "Squid" on its way to the Bataan submarine base.This is Rhett Tully's speedboat, and he brought the captain of the "Squid" back from the base to the boat.As Branch Huban jumped from the speedboat onto the submarine's forecastle, Colonel Tully yelled over the bridge into a loudspeaker: "Ahoy, 'Squid'! What's up 'Sea Dragon' and 'Sea Lion' La?" Esther put her hands around her mouth and said, "They were all right when we left, sir. But they're sitting side by side and can't move. No power." "Oh, God. Tell Branch to park the sub near here. I'll go and see." "Want to dive, sir?" "No, unless you're under attack." When Huban reached the bridge, the speedboat chugs away. "How are Braney and his team doing, 'Ma'am?" Esther pointed to the naval base behind him, where there was a raging flame, and pillars of smoke shot straight into the sky. "They never showed up. I thought I'd better get out of there, captain." "Exactly. Luckily one of us is on board." After a while, the speedboat came back.The helmsman leaned in with it, and Tully boarded the Squid; pale and hoarse, he said, "Oops. They've had the bombs. I think the Sea Lion is doomed—it's on fire." Yes, the aft engine room is flooded and sinking rapidly. The Dove is trying to tow the Sea Dragon aside. You'd better go back over there, Branch, and see if there's any way." "Yes, yes, sir." A dirty whaling motor boat dallyed towards the "Squid". "Who could it be now?" Tully said.Huban covered his eyes with his hands. "Hello, 'ma'am, is that Pius?" "It's him, it's Pierce, sir," said Captain Esther, looking through his binoculars. The sailors ran up the forecastle and helped the young sailor climb aboard.When he got to the boat bridge, his eyes were white and his mouth was red, like a singer with blackface and black face. "Colonel, Mr. Henry sent me to tell you that the working group is safe and sound." "Oh, thank God! Where are they?" "They're taking torpedoes out of the torpedo factory," Tully called. "The torpedo factory? You mean it hasn't collapsed yet?" "No, sir. The fire seemed to blow the other way, so Mr. Henry and Hanson got some trucks and—" "You come with me," Tully said. "Blanche, I'm going back there." But by the time the squadron commander and the sailor reached the burning naval base, there was no road leading to the torpedo factory.Collapsing buildings and smoking debris blocked every route through the docklands.Tully drove a requisitioned jeep through billowing smoke, dodging craters, rubble, and screaming ambulances, circling in vain. "Colonel Tully, I think I saw those trucks," said Pierce.He pointed to a grassy field across the small bridge, which was crowded with vehicles, ambulances and pedestrians. "See it? It's next to the water tower." "The big gray truck?" "Yes, sir. There they are, I think, sir." Tully pulled the jeep off the road to a stop and squeezed across the bridge.He found Byron Henry sitting on top of a pile of torpedoes in the truck, drinking Coca-Cola.His hands, his face, his beard were so covered with soot that he was almost unrecognizable.Three trucks were loaded with torpedoes, as were two lift trucks.A small army truck was piled high with printed crates and boxes.Filipino drivers sat on the grass, eating sandwiches and telling jokes in Tagalog. Everyone in the "Squid" working group was exhausted and lay there in a mess. Only Hanson sat there smoking a pipe, leaning against the big tire of the truck that Byron was sitting on. "Hello, Byron," Tully called. Byron turned and tried to jump up, but couldn't do it on top of a pile of long cylinders. "Oh, good afternoon, sir." "How many did you get?" "Twenty-six, sir. Then it was necessary to leave. The fire was approaching." "I saw you also dug up a truckload of parts." "That was Hanson's idea, sir." "Who is Hanson?" Byron pointed to the torpedo soldier, who jumped to his feet as soon as he recognized Colonel Tully. "What level are you?" "Torpedo First Class, sir." "Then you are wrong. You are the torpedo squad leader." Hanxun's big beard parted, and he smiled beamingly.He looked at Lieutenant Henry with bright eyes.Tully looked around at the salvaged torpedo treasure. "Is there a detonator?" "Yes, sir." "That's good. You take the batch to Mariveles." "Yes, yes, sir." "Byron, I want a report on this matter, with the names and ranks of the members of your working group and these drivers." "Yes, sir." "Is there any way to get some more torpedoes out of there?" "That depends on how much the fire lasts, sir. The mill wasn't burning when we left, but now—I don't know." "All right. I'll take care of that. You go." The next morning Byron went to see Colonel Tully.The squadron commander sat at his desk in a mobile home on the beach in Puerto Mariveles.This harbor is a small deep bay on the mountainous Bataan Peninsula.Behind Tully's bald, tanned head, a large map of Manila Bay in blue and yellow nearly filled the whiteboard wall.Byron handed him a two-page report.Tully looked it over and said, "This material is too short." "Facts and all names and ranks are there, Colonel." Tully nodded and put the report in the file basket. "Blanche told me you hate paperwork." "I'm sorry, sir, but I'm not up to that." "So, did he tell you why I wanted you?" "It's about salvaging supplies, sir." "Byron, the Japs will be landing soon. We probably won't be able to hold Manila. As long as MacArthur holds on to Bataan, this squadron can continue fighting from Mariveles. This damn place is much better than what we have now." Or any other submarine base there might have been for a long time much closer to Japan." Tully stood up, pointing at the wall. "So, the idea is to get every last item we need, from Cavite and Manila, and bring it here. You seem to have a knack for being a scavenger." Leigh smiled.Byron also smiled back politely. "You'll do this before the Squid goes to sea. Major Percival is in charge of the job. You report to Admiral Hart's headquarters in Manila now. He's waiting for you." "Yes, yes, sir." "When you get there, go see Admiral Hart. He's a veteran on submarines, you know. I told him about the torpedoes, and he's admiring it, and he's writing a letter of recommendation." "Yes, Colonel." "Well, by the way, I wrote your father a letter about your meritorious deeds, but God knows when and how that letter will get to him." Colonel Tully took it off hesitantly. Glasses, looking at the second lieutenant who was standing straight and expressionless, turning around on the swivel chair. "Well, Byron, we've got such a mess here, do you want to go to the Atlantic?" "Yes, sir, I want to go." "Now only our squadron is fighting the Japanese devils at sea, and this is the only battlefield. At this time, you still have to leave?" Byron said nothing. "As for your wife and children in Italy, it's bad luck, but you know she's going to be an enemy now." "Sir, we haven't been at war with Italy yet." "Ah, that's inevitable. You know, Hitler is due to give a speech today, and he's going to make a big deal about it. No one expected him to declare war, and Mussolini would follow in no time. Your wife's going to be detained, It's nothing to be afraid of, though. It'll come back in a while. Italians are civilized people. I bet nothing will happen to her." "Colonel Tully, my wife is Jewish." The squadron commander seemed taken aback and turned a little red.He avoided Byron's gaze. "Oh, then I don't know." "My captain knows. I told him. Those Italians, or more specifically, those Germans would classify my little boy as a Jew." Tully took a long breath and said, "Well, that's a problem. But I still don't know what you can do? The military activities of our submarines in the Atlantic have been secondary for quite a long time. Yes. This is where you are needed." He looked up at the second lieutenant who was standing at attention with no expression on his face. "Anyway, Byron, I'm sending a letter proposing your transfer to the Atlantic Submarine Fleet, but not until the Squid finds a replacement for you." Byron Henry didn't show any relief in his heart. "Thank you, Colonel Tully." The squadron commander opened the desk drawer. "One more thing, your commander agreed to send it to you, congratulations." He placed a gold pin on the table in front of Byron, the Dolphin medal given to submariners.