The date is 1943, and just a little under a year ago the United States was rocked by
a surprise attack against its most important naval base in the Pacific, Pearl Harbor.
Many ships were destroyed, more were seriously damaged, and while the Japanese failed in
their objective to destroy the US Pacific carrier fleet, they did succeed in knocking
the US Navy out of the fight for the foreseeable future.
Unable to muster a surface fleet large enough to challenge the Japanese navy, the United
States has instead dispatched the one part of its Pacific fleet completely unaffected
by the surprise attack- the American silent service, a submarine fleet made up of dozens
of silent killers.
For months they have enacted their own revenge on the Japanese, slipping past their pickets
of destroyers and corvettes to strike at the vulnerable merchant shipping fleet that all
too often travels unaccompanied by armed escorts.
The US has sunk tens of thousands of tons of shipping in the first six months of the
war, and the undersea campaign has only just begun.
Aboard the USS Seawolf, Captain Frederick B. Warder keeps his eyes glued to the submarine's
periscope.
This is his seventh patrol since the war started, and technically will be his last as a submarine
commander.
After this final patrol he'll return back to a US naval station somewhere and be placed
in command of a portion of the US's submarine fleet in the pacific, giving orders from a
safe office somewhere rather than the bridge of a sub deep in enemy territory.
Warder could have finished his patrol quietly, having finished his assigned patrol route
and on his way back home.
However he still had several torpedoes in his hold, and going back home with live fish
didn't sit right with any submarine commander in the US Navy.
On a hunch, he decided to investigate a deep water anchorage on a small island near the
Philippines, hoping to run into a stray japanese ship and expend his remaining torpedoes before
sailing for home.
What he finds the opportunity of a lifetime.
Sitting at anchor are four Japanese cruisers, lined up side by side next to each other.
The Japs have built a small naval station here, which will be good intel to share with
command later, and along with the cruisers are several merchant marine ships.
By now he's sunk many merchant marine ships, ensuring that the vital flow of fuel, ammunition,
and food would fail to reach stranded Japanese troops across the Pacific.
The cruisers are the real target here, and with four of them lined up in a row he knows
he'll never have an opportunity like this again.
A fitting end to his final patrol.
Submarines rarely ever attack Japanese combat ships, as the risks are simply too great.
Destroyers, cruisers, and especially corvettes simply have too shallow a draft, and torpedoes
need to be aimed perfectly or will more often than not miss their target and detonate too
far away to do any damage.
That's if the damned things even worked right in the first place.
On his first combat patrol, just a single day after the attack on Pearl Harbor, Warder
and his USS Seawolf took on a load of torpedoes from a Philippine base.
The day after that he fired on a Japanese vessel, getting two direct hits- which did
absolutely nothing.
Both torpedoes failed to detonate, and one managed to get itself lodged in the ship instead.
The third torpedo he was grateful hadn't detonated, as it had suffered a malfunction common to
early American torpedoes and swam back around to its launch point, making a big circle.
If he hadn't given the order to dive the torpedo would have rammed his hull as well, though
with the luck he was having this one probably would have actually detonated.
The torpedo problems were hardly unique to Warder- the American Mark XIV torpedo had
one of the best propulsion systems in the world at the time, but suffered from a great
many other defects that made it all but useless in battle.
Two of the biggest problems was its electromagnetic detector, which was designed to sense the
magnetic hull of a ship and explode when the torpedo arrived at its closest point to the
hull.
In order to do this the detector would track a series of electronic signals that would
fire more and more rapidly the closer the torpedo came to the hull, and then slow down
as it traveled away from the enemy ship's hull.
That way as soon as the signals began to slow rather than increase, the detector would order
the warhead to explode.
Unfortunately while this had worked perfectly in testing on the Great Lakes, anomalies around
the equator and in the Pacific severely compromised the detector.
The second major problem with the Mark XIV torpedo was its depth gauge, which would incorrectly
read water pressure to tell the torpedo it was traveling at a depth greater than it really
was.
This caused the torpedo to dive by as much as twenty feet, completely missing its intended
target.
While problems plagued the torpedo, naval command was reluctant to accept something
was wrong with the weapon.
To help pressure a decision to overhaul the weapon, early in the war Warder had held his
sub's position even while under enemy fire in order to record the effects of two of his
dud torpedoes on an enemy ship.
The footage nearly cost him his life, but it would help ensure that many more American
submariners wouldn't be going into combat with duds in their hold.
Today though, Warder is not carrying duds.
His fish are live and primed, and combat tested.
Any submariner would still prefer to avoid attacking enemy combat vessels who can fire
back, as they are difficult targets to hit versus slow, broad-keeled merchant ships,
but even just a year into the war Japanese merchant ships are already becoming rare.
The American submarine campaign against Japanese shipping has been devastatingly effective.
The ships before him though are at anchor, and to his surprise there is not a single
vessel on patrol looking out for American subs.
Warder decides to take the opportunity, knowing he would be poking the hornet's nest and that
any one of those ships, or the many Japanese destroyers nearby, could blow him out of the
water with a single depth charge.
Warder lines up his attack against one of the cruisers and fires off two torpedoes.
The fish run straight and true, and through the periscope Warder watches the line of bubbles
speeding directly at the enemy ship.
Moments later there are two explosions on the ship's stern- two direct hits.
The crew give an excited shout, and then quickly quiet back down as the ship immediately dives.
Above the waves the Japanese ships are coming to life, and already small patrol boats are
looking for the intruding American sub.
As the Seawolf slowly sneaks out of the small cove, ships above begin to drop depth charges.
Warder orders the boat forward at low power, he doesn't want to risk accelerating and giving
his position away to any sonar operators aboard the Japanese ships.
This does mean that he's exposed to the deadly rain of depth charges for longer though, and
a few near-misses shake the sub.
Eventually though he manages to escape to open ocean and safety.
Warder carefully considers his next move.
He still has a hold that's half-full of torpedoes, and incredibly the Japanese have still not
dispersed their fleet.
The three surviving cruisers remain and after an initial flurry of activity, other Japanese
destroyers seem to have resumed their normal patrols.
The ships inside the cove are still incredibly vulnerable, probably figuring that no American
submarine commander would be insane enough to risk his life a second time.
For Warder, there's no option.
He orders the men to rest.
Tomorrow before dawn they will return and strike once more.
There are now more Japanese ships on the lookout for subs, but the defensive screen is still
surprisingly light and easy to penetrate.
Silently, the Seawolf slips into a comfortable range of under a thousand yards, takes her
time to line up her shot, and fires two more torpedoes.
Another Japanese cruiser is struck, and this one too will sink.
Warder orders the Seawolf to dive once more, and once more the Japanese fleet begins to
saturate the area with depth charges.
There's more ships this time, and more depth charges, but for a second time the Seawolf
manages to avoid being destroyed and makes for the safety of the open ocean.
Two days, and two Japanese combat ships destroyed- in just this short campaign Warder is already
more successful than some submarine captains over the course of multiple patrols.
Sinking merchant ships is one thing after all, but sinking full-size combat ships is
another entirely.
Especially those armed with depth charges.
He has two torpedoes left now, and Warder agonizes over his next choice: does he press
his luck, attempt another attack, or does he simply go home with two live fish in his
hold?
The opportunity to sink another Japanese combat ship weighs heavily on his mind, but so does
the look on his men's faces.
Most of them have accompanied him on all seven patrols through the most dangerous waters
in the pacific.
They've sunk many ships together, and they've cheated death on more occasions than he'd
care to remember.
Just like this is his last patrol, it will also be the final patrol for many of his men.
Warder can't let the Japanese go though, not after what they did at Pearl Harbor.
He decides to return and resume the hunt, determined to expend his last two torpedoes.
The Japanese patrols are heavy on the third day, having learned their lesson.
Warder attempts to maneuver the Seawolf into the cove but has to abort numerous times-
the water's practically boiling with japanese ships zipping back and forth, every one of
them looking for Warder and his sub and eager for revenge.
Warder decides to back off and put out to sea once more.
Now on the third day of this campaign he has to decide if he is going to try again tomorrow,
or let this go.
His men are veterans, stalwart men of courage- the only type of man fit for a life beneath
the waves, where any mistake could cost you your life.
But he sees the fear edged on each man's face, he can see the exhaustion.
The men are nearing their breaking point, they want to go home.
But they believe in their captain.
Warder decides to press the attack once more.
The Japanese patrols have slacked only slightly, but this lapse is enough to give Warder the
opening he needs.
He maneuvers the Seawolf into the cove once more, surely no Japanese sailor would ever
believe that an American would be crazy enough to attempt a third attack.
What Warder does next though is insane even by his own standards.
There, slowly steaming along is a large Japanese cruiser, and from its mast is flying the pendant
of a Japanese squadron commander.
The flagship of this detachment.
Warder has his target.
He spends thirty minutes slowly maneuvering into position, narrowly avoiding detection
by the swarm of ships above.
Ever Japanese sailor in a hundred miles has their eyes peeled and ears glued to a sonar
it seems.
Warder risks raising the periscope, hoping that as it breaks over the waves some sharp-eyed
sailor won't spot it.
He lifts it only long enough to confirm the target, and then gives the order to fire.
Two fish scream through the water, closing range to the Japanese squadron commander's
flagship.
In less than half a minute, twin detonations rock the big ship, secondary explosions from
stored munitions further adding to the chaos and destruction.
Warder however is already deep beneath the waves, putting as much distance between himself
and the Japs as possible.
The Japanese fleet is furious, and a dozen destroyers and cruisers scour the ocean for
the Seawolf.
They drop seemingly endless barrages of depth charges, and the Seawolf is subjected to an
incredible nine hour depth charge barrage- the longest of any American submarine, perhaps
longest of any submarine ever.
Many of the hits are close enough to rock the small sub, some are close enough to rattle
the teeth inside Warder's skull.
The men hold, though Warder knows that he's driven them very close to the breaking point.
The mission is over, and in his final patrol Warder has scored his greatest victories.
Warder's men would go on to give him the nickname of Fearless Freddie for his stunt in that
small cove in the Pacific, a name that he would distinctly dislike.
As he would explain in later interviews after the war, he was never fearless, he was just
as afraid as any one of his sailors, and implying he was fearless he felt took away from the
courage of the men he served with.
That attitude would perhaps best exemplify the character of Rear Admiral Frederick Warder
though, a man brave in combat, but humble in victory.
Not only did he care deeply for the men under his command, but would often show compassion
even to the Japanese who's ships he sunk, ordering his sub to surface and offering to
take in the stranded sailors.
Thanks to a loyal fanaticism to the emperor and the shame of defeat, not a single Japanese
sailor took him up on that offer, and so instead Warder ordered his men to toss the stranded
sailors supplies and life jackets.
To Admiral Warder, all men were ultimately brothers, even if they happened to be on opposite
sides of the battlefield.
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