US Navy Ship Stories about the Submarine, the USS Barb.
Navy Ships, Battleships, Aircraft Carriers, Japanese Ships.
Submarine Story: Eugene Bennett Fluckey retired from the Navy as a Rear
Admiral, and wears in addition to his Medal of Honor, FOUR Navy
Crosses...a record of awards unmatched by any living American.
In 1992 his own history of the U.S.S. Barb was published in the
award winning book, THUNDER BELOW. Over the past several years
proceeds from the sale of this exciting book have been used by
Admiral Fluckey to provide free reunions for the men who served
him aboard the Barb, and their wives.
Navy Ships
U.S.S. Barb
The Sub That Sank A Train. Story sent by Ken and
Annette.
Unknown Author.
In 1973 an Italian submarine named Enrique Tazzoli was
sold for a paltry $100,000 as scrap metal. The submarine, given
to the Italian Navy in 1953 was actually an incredible veteran
of World War II service with a heritage that never should have
passed so unnoticed into the graveyards of the metal
recyclers. The U.S.S. Barb was a pioneer, paving the way for
the first submarine launched missiles and flying a battle flag
unlike that of any other ship. In addition to the Medal of
Honor ribbon at the top of the flag identifying the heroism of
its captain, Commander Eugene "Lucky", the bottom border of the
flag bore the image of a Japanese locomotive. The U.S.S. Barb
was indeed, the submarine that "SANK A TRAIN."
July, 1945
Fleet Admiral Chester Nimitz looked across the desk
at Admiral Lockwood as he finished the personal briefing on U.S.
war ships in the vicinity of the northern coastal areas of
Hokkaido
Japan . "Well,
Chester, there's only the Barb there, and probably no word until
the patrol is finished. You remember Gene Fluckey?" "Of
course. I recommended him for the Medal of Honor," Admiral
Nimitz replied. "You surely pulled him from command after he
received it?"
July 18, 1945 (Patience Bay, Off the coast of Karafuto,
Japan)
It was after 4 A.M. and Commander Fluckey rubbed
his eyes as he peered over the map spread before him. It was
the twelfth war patrol of the Barb, the fifth under Commander
Fluckey. He should have turned command over to another skipper
after four patrols, but had managed to strike a deal with
Admiral Lockwood to make one more trip with the men he cared for
like a father, should his fourth patrol be successful. Of
course, no one suspected when he had struck that deal prior to
his fourth and what should have been his final war patrol on the
Barb, that Commander Fluckey's success would be so great he
would be awarded the Medal of Honor.
Commander Fluckey smiled as he remembered that
patrol. "Lucky" Fluckey they called him. On January 8th the
Barb had emerged victorious from a running two-hour night battle
after sinking a large enemy ammunition ship. Two weeks later in
Mamkwan Harbor he found the "mother-lode"...more than 30 enemy
ships. In only 5 fathoms (30 feet) of water his crew had
unleashed the sub's forward torpedoes, then turned and fired
four from the stern. As he pushed the Barb to the full limit of
its speed through the dangerous waters in a daring withdrawal to
the open sea, he recorded eight direct hits on six enemy ships.
Then, on the return home he added yet another Japanese freighter
to the tally for the Barb's eleventh patrol, a score that
exceeded even the number of that patrol.
What could possibly be left for the Commander to
accomplish who, just three months earlier had been in to
receive the Medal of Honor? He smiled to himself as he looked
again at the map showing the rail line that ran along the enemy
coast line. This final patrol had been promised as the Barb's
"graduation patrol" and he and his crew had cooked up an unusual
finale. Since the 8th of June they had harassed the enemy,
destroying the enemy supplies and coastal fortifications with
the first submarine launched rocket attacks. Now his crew was
buzzing excitedly about bagging a train.
The rail line itself wouldn't be a problem. A shore
patrol could go ashore under cover of darkness to plant the
explosives...one of the sub's 55-pound scuttling charges. But
this early morning Lucky Fluckey and his officers were puzzling
over how they could blow not only the rails, but one of the
frequent trains that shuttled supplies to equip the Japanese war
machine. Such a daring feat could handicap the enemy's war
effort for several days, a week, perhaps even longer. It was a
crazy idea, just the kind of operation "Lucky" Fluckey had
become famous...or infamous...for. But no matter how crazy the
idea might have sounded, the Barb's skipper would not risk the
lives of his men. Thus the problem... how to detonate the
charge at the moment the train passed, without endangering the
life of a shore party. PROBLEM? Not on Commander Fluckey's
ship. His philosophy had always been, "We don't have problems,
only solutions."
11:27 AM
"Battle Stations!" No more time to seek solutions
or to ponder blowing up a train. The approach of a Japanese
freighter with a frigate escort demands traditional submarine
warfare. By noon the frigate is laying on the ocean floor in
pieces and the Barb is in danger of becoming the hunted.
6:07 PM
Solutions! If you don't look for them, you'll
never
find them. And even then, sometimes they arrive in the most
unusual fashion. Cruising slowly beneath the surface to evade
the enemy plane now circling overhead, the monotony is broken
with an exciting new idea. Instead of having a crewman on shore
to trigger explosives to blow both rail and a passing train, why
not let the train BLOW ITSELF up. Billy Hatfield was excitedly
explaining how he had cracked nuts on the railroad tracks as a
kid, placing the nuts between two ties so the sagging of the
rail under the weight of a train would break them open. "Just
like cracking walnuts," he explained. "To complete the circuit
(detonating the 55-pound charge) we hook in a microswitch
...between two ties. We don't set it off, the TRAIN does." Not
only did Hatfield have the plan, he wanted to be part of the
volunteer shore party.
The solution found, there was no shortage of
volunteers, all that was needed was the proper weather...a
little cloud cover to darken the moon for the mission ashore.
Lucky Fluckey established his own criteria for the volunteer
party:
...No married men would be included, except for Hatfield,
...The party would include members from each
department,
...The opportunity would be split between regular
Navy
and Navy Reserve sailors,
...At least half of the men had to have been Boy
Scouts,
experienced in how to handle themselves in medical emergencies
and
in the woods.
FINALLY, "Lucky" Fluckey would lead the saboteurs
himself.
When the names of the 8 selected sailors was
announced it was greeted with a mixture of excitement and
disappointment. Among the disappointed was Commander Fluckey who
surrendered his opportunity at the insistence of his officers
that "as commander he belonged with the Barb," coupled with the
threat from one that "I swear I'll send a message to ComSubPac
if you attempt this (joining the shore party himself)." Even a
Japanese POW being held on the Barb wanted to go, promising not
to try to
escape.
In the meantime, there would be no more harassment
of Japanese shipping or shore operations by the Barb until the
train mission had been accomplished. The crew would "lay low",
prepare their equipment, train, and wait for the weather.
July 22, 1945 (Patience Bay, off the coast of Karafuto,
Japan)
Patience Bay was wearing thin the
patience of Commander Fluckey and his innovative crew.
Everything was ready. In the four days the saboteurs had
anxiously watched the skies for cloud cover, the inventive crew
of the Barb had built their microswitch. When the need was
posed for a pick and shovel to bury the explosive charge and
batteries, the Barb's engineers had cut up steel plates in the
lower flats of an engine room, then bent and welded them to
create the needed tools. The only things beyond their control
was the weather....and time. Only five days
remained in the Barb's patrol.
Anxiously watching the skies, Commander Fluckey
noticed plumes of cirrus clouds, then white stratus capping the
mountain peaks ashore. A cloud cover was building to hide the
three-quarters moon. This would be the night.
MIDNIGHT, July 23, 1945
The Barb had crept within 950 yards of the
shoreline. If it was somehow seen from the shore it would
probably be mistaken for a schooner or Japanese patrol boat. No
one would suspect an American submarine so close to shore or in
such shallow water. Slowly the small boats were lowered to the
water and the 8 saboteurs began paddling toward the enemy
beach. Twenty-five minutes later they pulled the boats ashore
and walked on the surface of the Japanese homeland. Having lost
their points of navigation, the saboteurs landed near the
backyard of a house. Fortunately the residents had no dogs,
though the sight of human AND dog's tracks in the sand along the
beach alerted the brave sailors to the potential for unexpected
danger.
Stumbling through noisy waist-high grasses, crossing a
highway and then stumbling into a 4-foot drainage ditch, the
saboteurs made their way to the railroad tracks. Three men were
posted as guards, Markuson assigned to examine a nearby water
tower. The Barb's auxiliary man climbed the ladder, then
stopped in shock as he realized it was an enemy lookout
tower....an OCCUPIED tower. Fortunately the Japanese sentry was
peacefully sleeping and Markuson was able to quietly withdraw
and warn his raiding party.
The news from Markuson caused the men digging the
placement for the explosive charge to continue their work more
slowly and quietly. Suddenly, from less than 80 yards away, an
express train was bearing down on them. The appearance was a
surprise, it hadn't occurred to the crew during the planning for
the mission that there might be a night train. When at last it
passed, the brave but nervous sailors extricated themselves from
the brush into which they had leapt, to continue their task.
Twenty minutes later the holes had been dug and the explosives
and batteries
hidden beneath fresh soil.
During planning for the mission the saboteurs had been
told that, with the explosives in place, all would retreat a
safe distance while Hatfield made the final connection. If the
sailor who had once cracked walnuts on the railroad tracks
slipped during this final, dangerous procedure, his would be the
only life lost. On this night it was the only order the
saboteurs refused to obey, all of them peering anxiously over
Hatfield's shoulder to make sure he did it right. The men had
come too far to be disappointed by a switch failure.
1:32 A.M.
Watching from the deck of the Barb, Commander
Fluckey allowed himself a sigh of relief as he noticed the
flashlight signal from the beach announcing the departure of the
shore party. He had skillfully, and daringly, guided the Barb
within 600 yards of the enemy beach. There was less than 6 feet
of water beneath the sub's keel, but Fluckey wanted to be close
in case trouble arose and a daring rescue of his saboteurs
became necessary.
1:45 A.M.
The two boats carrying his saboteurs were only
halfway back to the Barb when the sub's machine gunner yelled,
"CAPTAIN! Another train coming up the tracks!" The Commander
grabbed a megaphone and yelled through the night, "Paddle like
the devil!", knowing full well that they wouldn't reach the
Barb before the train hit the microswitch.
1:47 A.M.
The darkness was shattered by brilliant light and
the roar of the explosion. The boilers of the locomotive blew,
shattered pieces of the engine blowing 200 feet into the air.
Behind it the cars began to accordion into each other, bursting
into flame and adding to the magnificent fireworks display. Five
minutes later the saboteurs were lifted to the deck by their
exuberant comrades as the Barb turned to slip back to safer
waters. Moving at only two knots, it would be a while before
the Barb was into waters deep enough to allow it to submerge. It
was a moment to savor, the culmination of teamwork, ingenuity
and daring by the Commander and all his crew. "Lucky"
Fluckey's voice came over the intercom. "All hands below deck
not absolutely needed to maneuver the ship have permission to
come topside." He didn't have to repeat the invitation.
Hatches sprang open as the proud sailors of the Barb gathered on
her decks to proudly watch the distant fireworks display. The
Barb had "sunk" a Japanese TRAIN!
On August 2, 1945 the Barb arrived at Midway, her twelfth
war patrol concluded. Meanwhile United States military
commanders had pondered the prospect of an armed assault on the
Japanese homeland. Military tacticians estimated such an
invasion would cost more than a million American casualties.
Instead of such a costly armed offensive to end the war, on
August 6th the B-29 bomber Enola Gay dropped a single atomic
bomb on the city of Hiroshima, Japan. A second such bomb,
unleashed 4 days later on Nagasaki, Japan, caused Japan to agree
to surrender terms on August 15th. On September 2, 1945 in Tokyo
Harbor the documents ending the war in the Pacific were signed.
The story of the saboteurs of the U.S.S. Barb is one of
those unique, little known stories of World War II. It becomes
increasingly important when one realizes that the 8 sailors who
blew up the train at near Kashiho, Japan conducted the ONLY
GROUND COMBAT OPERATION on the Japanese "homeland" of World War
II. The eight saboteurs were: (L to R)
Paul Saunders, William Hatfield, Francis Sever, Lawrence
Newland, Edward Klinglesmith, James Richard, John Markuson, and
William Walker.
WEBNOTE:
Eugene Bennett Fluckey retired from the Navy as a Rear
Admiral, and wears in addition to his Medal of Honor, FOUR Navy
Crosses...a record of awards unmatched by any living American.
In 1992 his own history of the U.S.S. Barb was published in the
award winning book, THUNDER BELOW.
Over the past several years
proceeds from the sale of this exciting book have been used by
Admiral Fluckey to provide free reunions for the men who served
him aboard the Barb, and their wives.
Publisher: University of Illinois Press (July 1, 1997)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 0252066707
ISBN-13: 978-0252066702
Everybody rates this book EXCELLENT
except for one reviewer on this web site who must be one of
those sub skippers who kept his boat under at 60 ft day and
night. I've read about 20 WWII submarine books and Gene
Fluckey's book about the Barb is one of the best. It's the equal
to Dick O'Kane's book on the U.S.S. Tang. Both were outstanding
submariners and both later went on to become Admirals. BOTH
skippers won the Congressional Medal of Honor, something awarded
to only 7 WWII sub skippers out of more than 200, and 4 of the 7
were posthumous. Gene Fluckey was one of those who received the
medal for daring and successful action, not for going down with
his ship. They don't give the medal out lightly, especially in
the United States Navy.
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Starring Robert Mitchum and Curt Jurgens and winner of an Academy Award for
special effects, this is a study in submarine warfare from both sides of the
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Please note: The background picture on this page was taken when I
was stationed on the USS Kitty Hawk in 1977-1978 in the Western Pacific. C. Jeff Dyrek, Webmaster.
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