Mr. Roosevelt's Navy. Patrick Abazzia
Navy preferred to invest in the better ship, but lacked a cheap, easily produced, specialized antisubmarine type at the outbreak of war.24
Also, antisubmarine warfare was dependent upon World War I weapons. Depth charges had rarely been lethal in individual patterns, most submarines having been sunk by accumulated damage over long periods of attack; evidence of World War I showed that 1,000 depth charges had been expended for each U-boat sunk. Experience indicated that about 2½ hours of persistent attack were required to kill a submarine, and that it would require a pattern of forty depth charges to ensure the destruction of a located submarine. But of course, lack of means to drop depth charges as fast as that or to carry a sufficient number on ships made such huge patterns impossible.
Not only was sonar gear affected by the salinity and temperature of the water, ships’ wakes, currents, fish, and debris, but the beam broke contact in the crucial attack run because the angle of the sound cone passed above the target as it was neared. Furthermore, the echo increased as the target was closed, causing the operator to believe he was on target when actually the submarine might be edging to the outer limits of the sonar beam.25 But, as one officer noted:
Given a true contact and a skilled sound operator the problem is still only half solved. The conning officer of the destroyer must make an accurate “landing” on an object which he cannot see and which is attempting to evade him. He must “lead” the submarine about 15 degrees as he closes to 500 yards, then order flank speed, and decrease the lead as his speed increases. Conning and timing an accurate attack requires excellent teamwork between sound operator and conning officer, which can only be developed by practice against a submarine.26
But destroyer practices with “live” submarines were rare; and the Key West Sound School could not adequately prepare men for the dismal water and weather conditions of the North Atlantic. As late as 1938, some destroyers had not been fitted with depth-charge racks, indicating the casual, complacent approach to antisubmarine warfare.27 The CO of one destroyer division, noting that only two of his ships had depth charges and racks, observed, “The use of depth charges in time of war may assume great importance. . . . The theory of making depth charge attacks is well known . . . but until the practice is actually carried out, the details are usually not known and study of the problem is usually not attempted due to other more pressing work.”28
Depth-charge battle practices usually ended with the destruction of the submarine, but these successes were artificial. They were based on certain “knowledge that a submarine was actually present in the near vicinity,” and often pitted a team of five destroyers, unhampered by an array of slow, vulnerable merchant vessels, against a single submarine. It was noted that in problems where surprise was possible, the destroyers “have not shown corresponding proficiency.”29 In one practice, an attacking destroyer failed to measure the changing relative speed and bearing of the target and dropped depth charges well away from the submarine. Her companion destroyers dropped depth charges “apparently at random,” with one charge, the official report caustically noted, “accidentally dropped . . . on the submarine.”30
One prewar tactical exercise will illustrate the problems of antisubmarine warfare. In the spring of 1939, seven destroyer divisions exercised off Guantanamo Bay with “live” submarines.
The ships of Destroyer Division 2 failed to locate the S-42. They searched at too high speeds and thus did not hear the submarine. After slowing down, the Dale passed only 900 yards to port of the submarine, but was echo-ranging in the opposite direction at the time and did not detect her quarry.
DesDiv 3 located the Perch, but the submarine increased speed after the sonar gear lost contact, and the destroyers made their attacks too far astern; one destroyer attacked too soon and steamed into a predecessor’s dummy barrage. Then the submarine turned away to starboard, creating wake-turbulence under water; the destroyermen echo-ranged on the wake, the Perch soon passed beyond the sound beam, and the destroyers lost contact.
DesDiv 4 picked up the Seal quickly and pressed home successful attacks. This was an excellent division, consistently scoring well in gunnery, too; the good ships were the Smith, Cushing, Perkins, and Preston.
DesDiv 7 found Skipjack quickly, but the submarine reduced speed, and Blue passed ahead of her; the next destroyer attacked Blue’s wake. The Fanning’s pattern was closer, and the Blue then attacked on target; the Mugford’s pattern missed astern, and Patterson could not get an attack off in time.
DesDiv 8 turned in an average performance. The Cummings found S-43, and the Dunlap and Gridley made competent attacks, but the Bagley depth-charged Gridley’s wake.
DesDiv 11 found the Stingray, but the submarine increased speed, sending out “knuckles” of water turbulence, which two of the destroyers attacked. The Henley underestimated the target’s speed, and attacked astern; McCall failed to “lead” the target sufficiently, neglecting to allow for the time it took the depth charges to sink.
DesDiv 17 did not locate S-43 at all, because of excessive speed, sporadic echo-ranging, and deteriorating water conditions.31
But such valuable practices were too rare, and fear of accident and personnel losses precluded realistic night destroyer-submarine training. When in January 1941 five old, slow, and cranky “S” boats “sank” three destroyers in an exercise off Panama, it was partly because none of the destroyers had ever worked with submarines before.32 After another practice, the CO of a destroyer squadron reported that because of lack of training with “live” submarines and the newness of his skippers to their ships, his destroyers
had not received . . . the very considerable experience apparently necessary to enable them to detect, maintain contact and attack a submerged submarine with a high degree of precision. . . . Inability of sound operators to distinguish between authentic and false contacts was an outstanding feature of the practice. . . . The procedure to be followed after the initial sound contact is made . . . appears to be highly important. Evaluation, authentication and maintenance of the contact, designation of the first vessel to attack, time of first attack and operations in connection with subsequent attacks are subjects regarding which more information and experience than now available are needed.33
So, too much relating to antisubmarine warfare was left undone in the thirties. Such operations were difficult with the technology available, seemed unnecessary in light of World War I experience, and lacked glamour. As one destroyerman grimly remembered, “It was the Battle of Jutland. We spent too much time fighting the Battle of Jutland.”34
In general, then, the training cycles of the thirties reflected the expectation that naval wars of the future would be decided primarily by clashes between opposing battlelines. Technical limitations, inexperience, and conservatism hampered greater stress on aviation and submarine warfare, but the importance of the airplane was increasingly accepted, and it was understood that it was vital to achieve command of the air over the battle fleet. Gunnery was adequate, although all ships could have used more practice; antiaircraft gunnery was impaired by lack of effective short-range weapons. Results of carrier operations were impressive, but bomb and torpedo effectiveness was exaggerated by the fliers. Engineering and shiphandling were excellent. Tactics were deficient because of reluctance to train intensively at night and inexperience; the Navy had seen very little combat in World War I, and this lack of experience made it difficult to plan realistically for future war.35
Then, too, the promotion lag generated intense pressures in the various competitions and exercises, and the need to demonstrate efficiency sometimes took precedence over sound procedures. For instance, too many junior officers were assigned to battleships to help gun crews squeeze out a few extra hits for the ship, depriving enlisted gunners, who would have to do the job in wartime, of vital supervisory experience under pressure.36
Once, a ship lost her gunnery efficiency pennant because sailors from another ship, acting as umpires at a “shoot,” chose to interpret the rules with unusual stringency. To balance accounts, a contingent of men off the aggrieved