ISBN 1-882810-41-4
230 pages

Foreword; Introduction; Preface/Acknowledgements; photos; maps; Postscript; Glossary; Bibliography; Index

Appendices: Statement of the Commanding Officer, USS Extractor; Silhouettes

   Some of the most exciting and compelling WWII memoirs have come from the submarine service, and this is another engaging story of the human face of undersea warfare.
   Claude Conner was a ham radio enthusiast as a youngster. When the United States entered WWII, it wasn't long before he dropped out of high school, joined the Navy, and ended up in radio and electronics school where he learned about operating and maintaining radar systems. In May 1944, just as he was about to ship out of Mare Island as part of a "relief crew" aboard the sub tender USS Fulton, his step-father, who worked at the sub base, introduced him to the base commander. As a result of that meeting, Conner was unexpectedly transferred to the USS Guardfish just as the sub was leaving for the Pacific. At that point in his life he had never before set foot on a submarine.
   The author tells his story in a fast-paced, breezy style. His enlistment happens on the third page of the book. By the ninth page he's sailing under the Golden Gate Bridge aboard Guardfish. Then he gives readers a tour of the boat and explains its inner workings: "blowing the head", becoming sub qualified, scuttlebutt, field days, food, watch stations, shipboard routine, lookout duty, and more. Each of these descriptions is personalized by his own experiences. For example, Conner explains that on all his patrols he only stood a single lookout watch.

   Suddenly there were fourteen simultaneous claps of thunder and I saw steam-filled air-streams blasting out of the boat, high into the air. I remember screaming to myself, "We are submerging, and I did not hear the diving alarm!" I rushed down as fast as I could [from the crow's nest], jumped to the bridge deck, and ran to the conning tower-hatch-- just as it closed in my face. I called and banged on the hatch-cover with my binoculars, and to my eternal relief it quickly opened wide. The officer of the deck said, with a sheepish look on his face, "What are you doing up there?" I jumped down through the hatch, and the water splashed over it as it closed.
   "Hey guys," I jubilantly proclaimed to my shipmates in the conning tower, "I almost went for a swim."

   Having described the workings of an American fleet sub from a sailor's perspective, Conner moves on to two chapters of "sea stories" about previous patrols by the Guardfish. These are an amusing combination of yarns as told by other crewmen and more factual offerings from other sources and include the "horse race" story, the "harbor entry" stories, the "native rescue" story, the "Marine landing" story, and the "ramming" story, all of which add up to a considerable reputation for the Guardfish and her crew.
   As Conner finishes these tales, Guardfish arrives at Pearl Harbor -- still filled with wreckage and damage from the Japanese raid in 1941 -- and sets out for its eighth war patrol, the first for Conner. This turned out to be the sub's top patrol of the war in terms of ships sunk and tonnage accounted for: seven ships claimed for 58,200 tons, plus one ship damaged; the postwar JANAC survey credited Guardfish with four confirmed sinkings for 20,400 tons. Time after time Conner found himself in the thick of the action as enemy convoys sailed into Guardfish's waiting arms. The book mixes the dramatic tension of carefully setting up to take shots at the convoys with explanations of the shipboard activities and Conner's part in the action.
   In one situation, Conner screwed up radar bearings during a night attack. When Guardfish returned triumphantly to Midway to celebrate its successes, the young sailor found out how unforgiving the submarine service could be.

   I was proud to be a member of Guardfish's crew and looked forward to going ashore for R&R with the gang. We were ordered to turn the boat over to a relief crew late in the day and debark for Camp Gooneyville. Lieutenant Howarth found me as I prepared to wash some clothes. Normally he was a very friendly, cool-headed guy, so his demeanor surprised me. He seemed rattled and would not look me straight in the eye.
   "Conner," he blurted out, "the captain said, 'Get that kid off the boat.' So pack up your gear. You're being transferred to the relief crew." Without another word he turned and quickly walked away.
   The news was a crushing blow, but I figured I had it coming to me. The exec had reported to the captain my radar bearing foul-ups that had occurred during the night surface attack. Captain Ward's professional response was to get rid of me at the first opportunity.

   Like any young sailor, Conner concocted a face-saving lie about his transfer and ended up aboard the sub tender Fulton, the boat to which he had been originally assigned before his sudden posting to Guardfish. Fulton sailed to Guam and Conner spent the next few weeks repairing radar gear on subs and other vessels while Guardfish conducted its ninth wartime patrol. While on Guam, Conner ran into his step-brother, a crewman aboard the sub Salmon. The Salmon had just been battered by a severe depth-charge attack, so it was with mixed emotions that Conner found himself unexpectedly transferred back to Guardfish.
   The chief in charge of Guardfish's radar systems had, upon arrival of the boat's new skipper at the end of the ninth patrol, taken the opportunity to get Conner back on board. After a long flight from Guam to Pearl Harbor, he found himself back among his old pals and ready for his second war patrol, Guardfish's tenth.
   Results of the tenth patrol proved disappointing. What made the patrol memorable was an unfortunate accident. Through a long chain of mistakes, oversights, equipment failures, and coincidences, after being notified "there is nothing friendly known in the vicinity" Guardfish because of a recognition error torpedoed and sank the USS Extractor. Six members of the Extractor's crew were killed; the remainder were rescued from the water by Guardfish as soon as the mistake was recognized. Upon docking at Guam, a court of inquiry was promptly convened.
   Conner tells the story of the sinking, the rescue, and the court of inquiry in considerable detail, including long passages quoted from interviews with survivors and the court transcript. Due to problems with the radar systems which contributed to the mistaken sinking, Conner himself was called briefly before the court, but the proceedings mostly concerned the two skippers. The transcript and Conner's useful annotations make an interesting counterpoint to the events as seen by the author and the sailors of Extractor.
   In the end, the sub's skipper was exonerated and he took Guardfish out for its eleventh patrol with a somewhat nervous crew aboard. Among new additions to the crew was a young sailor named Clay Blair, Jr. Blair was soon the focus of attention when, in freezing weather and rough seas, a Japanese plane was spotted and Guardfish was ordered to crash dive. It was Blair's job to dog the conning tower hatch shut, but he was unable to seat the hatch and torrents of water cascaded into the sub.

   It poured down on us and across the deck like a river, and plunged through the lower hatch into the control room. As we submerged the force of the inrushing water increased. Repeatedly Clay tried to snug the wheel tighter but the rush of water overwhelmed him and threw him back. Lieutenant Howarth climbed through the ice water to try and tighten the wheel, to no avail. The situation was critical. If we continued to dive we were going down for good, but if we surfaced the Japanese plane might get us.
   Hammond [the skipper] took command of the situation. "Close the lower conning tower hatch!" he yelled down to the control room....
   ...the spring loaded [lower] hatch cover [dropped] down to its closed position with a bang, in effect, sealing us in a small flooding compartment. The icy seawater quickly covered the top of the [lower] hatch cover and began slowing creeping up the sides of the conning tower.

   Sealed off with Conner, Blair, and the rest of the men in the conning tower while water poured in from above, the skipper ordered the men below in the control room to continue submerging to evade the Japanese plane, an action which would mean certain death for everyone in the conning tower. They survived -- allowing Conner to write this book and Clay Blair to write Silent Victory, Hitler's U-Boat War, and many other books -- only because, apparently unable to hear the skipper's orders, the men in the control room surfaced the boat. Later it was discovered another crewman had accidentally dropped a piece of equipment which wedged under the hatch and prevented it from closing completely.
   After that nearly disastrous patrol, Guardfish put to sea for its twelfth and final effort and then returned to the States via the Panama Canal for training duty.
   Conner closes his book with a postscript about the post-war lives of some of the men of the Extractor and Guardfish as well as a couple of pages about himself.
   This is a great memoir of submarine service. Conner survived through plenty of exciting experiences, and he brings those wartime events to life with a simple, straight-ahead style. Highly recommended for anyone with an interest in WWII submarines or first-hand stories from WWII vets.
   Available from online booksellers, local bookshops, or directly from the US distributor for Savas, Stackpole Books.
   Thanks to Savas and Stackpole for providing this review copy.