Submarine Commander’s Diary Tells What Happened When Vessel Sank.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 18938, 7 December 1929, Page 8

Submarine Commander’s Diary Tells What Happened When Vessel Sank.

TO-DAY’S SIGNED ARTICLE.

(Written for the “ Star ” by

JOHN CORDERY).

Again and again the submarine has taken a toll of brave lives. The sea once more has proved that it can resist the best efforts of man. Each disaster emphasises anew that this arm of sea power remains one of extreme hazard. While mechanical ingenuity has intensified the submarine’s striking power to a high degree, the safety factor for the men in these steel shells has only slightly increased. The latest submarine, perhaps, holds some advantage over one of ten years ago in the margin of safety, but no combination of caution or mechanism can wholly end the danger of collision. Submarines have gained largely in numbers and deadliness since the war. Range of action and possibilities of destruction far surpass those of vessels used in the World War, in which the submarine took its place as a major weapon. The day has arrived when it is possible for large undersea cruisers to cross the Atlantic or Pacific at willThe Peril of Collision. Yet the peril of the submarine to itb own crew apparently grows, rather than diminishes. In an expanse so large as the ocean it might be thought that one vessel runs practically no risk of hitting another. But experience gained by submarine disasters indicates collision to be a fatal danger four times out of five, certainly more than three. Next comes the danger of running aground in shoal waters, a common cause of wreckage. Finally there is the danger of explosion, but this is much reduced compared with the other two. The modern submarine has reached a point of development where it ranks as a mechanism that seldom fails; its special perils lie outside the hull instead of inside. Now, what happens when a submarine sinks? It is not pleasant to think about. If rescuers could penetrate into the torpedo room of a sunken submarine they would find a narrow, cramped space as black as night. Intensify this blackness by the sort of cold that dulls the mind; add the fumes of gas and impure air, couple to all this the stress that comes from hunger and mental anguish, and there is a picture of suffering that men in a sunken submarine have to endure before death. A Japanese Officer’s Diary. If we may not know the thoughts of the men in the doomed submarine, we at least have a parallel, and all men’s thoughts are much the same in their last moments. In 1910, Lieutenant Sakuma and fourteen men were lost in a Japanese submarine. The officer left a diary, recounting his hours of trial. It began with an entry soon after immersion at 10 a.m., and ended at 12.40 p.m. Here is the terse, stark recital:— “Words of apology fail me for having sunk His Majesty’s submarine No. 6. My subordinates are killed by my fault, but it is with pride that I inform you that the crew to a man have discharged their duties as sailors wnuiKiniiiiiifniiuirnifiiiiHtiiiiiiiiunniiitimiiiiiiiiiiniiiuiiriiiuiminnninii

should with the utmost coolness to their dying moments. “We now sacrifice our lives for the sake of our country, but my fear is that the disaster will affect the future development of submarines. It ia therefore my hope that nothing will daunt your determination to study the submarine until it is a perfect machine, absolutely reliable. We can then i die without regret. “It was while making a gasoline dive that the boat 6ank lower than was intended, and in our attempt to close the sluice the chain broke. We endeavoured to stop the inrush of water with our hands, but too late; the water entered at the rear and the boat sank at an incline of twenty-five degrees. “When it touched bottom it was at an angle of thirteen degrees. The current submerged the electric generator, put out the light, and the electric wires were burned. “In a few minutes bad gas was generated, making it difficult for us to breathe. “It was at 10 a.m. on the 15th inst. that the boat sank. Surrounded by poisonous gas, the crew strove to pump out the water. “As soon as the boat sank, the water in the main tank was being pumped out. The electric light was extinguished and the gauge was invisible, but it seems the water in the main tank was completely pumped out. “The electric current is now becoming useless, gas cannot be generated, and the hand pump is our only hope. The vessel is in darkness, and I note this down by the light from the conning tower at 11.45 a.m. “The crew are now wet and it is extremely cold. It is my opinion that men embarking in submarines must possess the qualities of coolness and nerve, and must be extremely painstaking; they must be bra\ r e and daring in their handling of the boat. People may laugh at this opinion in view of my failure, but the statement is true. “We have worked hard to pump out the water, but the boat is still in the same position. It is now 12 o’clock. The depth of water here is about ten fathoms. “The crew of a submarine should be selected from the bravest, the coolest, or they will be of little use in time of crisis—in such as we are now. My brave men are doing their best. “I always expect death when away from home. My will is therefore prepared and is in the locker. But this is of my private affairs. I hope Mr Taguchi will send it to my father. “A word to his Majesty the Emperor: It is my earnest hope that your Majesty will supply the means of living to the poor families of the crew. This is my only desire, and I am so anxious to have it fulfilled. . . . “I thought I could blow out gasoline, but I am intoxicated with it. .. . Captain Nakano—it is now 12.40.” Here the record ended.

(Anglo-American N.S. Copyright)