Left Pearl Harbor March 19 1945.

Arrived at Saipan. Tied up alongside USS Fulton anchored In harbor.

Marking time waiting on Admiral Lockwood's return from conference at Guam with Nimitz.

Made a beer party to island of S. this afternoon. Four cans of beer Beverwych. Drank It between two Jap pillboxes which had caught a Yank Amtrack in converging fire on D-Day. This "floating tank" was just what the name painted on its side stated - "Sad Sack." It got to the beach - just!

I noted with interest that Japs, in frantic haste to prevent Yanks landing, had evidently torn up fixed guns from the hills and set them up right on sandy beaches. They obviously would have to pick them up and reset them after each round. I don't recall reading of this in accounts of battle.

It was odd to know at 1100 in the morning that B-29's were going to hit Nagoya that night. Sure enough, next day we heard via KSFG San Francisco that they had struck with incendiaries. Oh! yes! We knew they were to carry them.

Met a soldier in engineers - name of Al, from San F. Has a cousin who is member of crew. Came aboard, and I showed him through the boat explaining as we went, how we were able to dive and surface. When I showed him the torpedo tubes and told in brief how we fire fish he displayed the usual layman's awe and bewilderment at the maize of pipes and valves strung between, above, and around the tubes. I wonder why?

Al told us his outfit would invade Okinawa Jima on or just prior to April 1. Dogfaces keep no secrets! We couldn't tell him (silent services you know,) but we were there on a special mission over Christmas and New Year's. Took pictures and plotted minefields. On completion of mission (61 days) we returned to Pearl Harbor to receive the plaudits of Admiral Brown (and to get an 18-day rest at the Royal Hawaiian.) The Ad (I always call him Ad) in a short address to officers and crew, told us that the 8th patrol was of greater value to the U.S. than the preceding seven combined. Whew! In seven runs the boat has 17 ships sunk totaling 90-odd thousands and 13 damaged totaling 1,109,000 tons. If the last run was valuable enough to over shadow this record, then what we did must have been pretty important. Brown also said that what we had accomplished would save many American lives. From all this we figured an invasion was near at hand. We didn't know when. I wonder if Al has straight dope.

Admiral came aboard the "T". He was wearing knee-length khakis which did not enhance his appearance. There can be little dignity when knobby knees and spindly legs are on display.

There was a great to-do and hubbub when the rumor that the Admiral would accompany us on two or three days trials, spread through the boat. Some even went so far as to say we'd have to wear whites while he was aboard. He won our hearts however; Commander Latham, our skipper, said it was the Admiral's desire that the crew dress and act as usual. We knew that would never do; so we changed our crummy dungarees for slightly cleaner ones and acted with decorum. I don't suppose he was aware of this, however it was a nice gesture on his part and we rose to the situation. We were nice, too!

It was strange to see fellows who ordinarily are blunt and direct in manners though a little crude, make an abrupt about-face and present a polished facade. In the Admiral's presence they were very polite. Instead of saying, "For Christ's sake, get the hell out of my way, " they would now tap softly on the shoulder and in the "Grande" and best Joseph Kennedy-at-the-Court of St. James-manner, murmur politely, "Pardon me, may I pass?" Submarine protocol. Tch! Tch!

We put to sea just prior to 1200 to demonstrate to the Admiral this new, piece of gear referred to only as the "unmentionable." It is super secret. We were the first submarine to use it and it has limitless possibilities - but only for war. It is risky business as we found out at Okinawa Jima and Iwo Jima last patrol. This noon, at lunch, Murphy, ship's cook 1/c apologized for serving ham (generally reserved for the end of a run when we get low on fresh meats,) but explained that when asked by the skipper what he would like for lunch, the Admiral expressed a desire for ham! Probably, tired of steaks, pheasant, Saipan grouse, leg of lamb, and roast beef. His palate shrieked for so plebeian a dish as ham and cabbage. We were all tempted to go into the "Joint next door," but being 20 miles at sea we didn't, and ate ham and cabbage.

Came in at night to deliver the Admiral safe and sound. A routine, humdrum existence but we don't mind. We aren't getting shot at!

It was March 17'

"Aha! Murphy," I said, the Top o' the Mornin' to ye."

"Sure, and the rist of the day to yerself, says he.

Thus we usher in the day. Yes, it's Saint Paddy's Day, but to us it's more, than that, it' s the day we leave for patrol. The new men are chattering among themselves buoyed up and expectant. We know what we can expect so are just a little cynical. We station the maneuvering watch and prepare to get underway. Last minute, handshakes from those men who were transferred grunting "Thanks" in reply to their "Good luck and happy hunting. "The usual amount of good natured kidding. We yell over at them, "We'll fight the way - you buy War Bonds" and "You'll rot in the relief crew."

Our Diesels have been running for ten or fifteen minutes, are sufficiently warmed up and "Doc" Garner relays from the Captain, "Cast off all lines." We are on our way.

We are running on the surface, but diving on all plane (aircraft) contacts. From time to time we pick up an indication on the SD Radar and when the range narrows to six, miles, down we go! We run submerged approximately a half hour and then come up for a look through the scope at 62 feet. "All clear," then up to 47 feet, "Raise the SD mast, turn on the SD." No indication. "Surface alarm. All ahead full, on four main engines."

We charged batteries in the torpedoes every six days; which is routine. We probably won't use them at all where we are going. Another special mission!

Near the island of Yokoate (Jima.), in an island group called Ryukyu's. It's just a rock. Can't afford to be seen, so we submerge. We must pass through a narrow strait between two Jimas. If we are spotted, they'll patrol the straits and make it tough for us.

Our bow planes crapped out on us this morning. What a break! During a depth charge attack we'll need all the skill at our command. It is hard enough to maintain our control of depth with all the equipment science has placed at our disposal but the bow planes have 80% of the control. Tonight, upon surfacing, my old dinkie die cobber, Warner Cross, Motor Machinist Mate, will be able to climb through the superstructure topside and find out what is wrong. He's a damn good man and he'll fix it if anyone can!

We haven't been looking through the scope because the water is quite calm and very clear. At a depth of 65 feet we would be clearly visible to a plane flying overhead. The water is about 200 feet deep so we can cruise at 150' nicely. I had the watch in the after torpedo room sitting in a camp chair reading Esquire. Everyone else was asleep back there. CHUMP'. BUMP! My God! What's that! Everyone woke up and I lurched out of the chair and ran to the bulkhead door ready to seal off the compartment. It felt as though we were rammed or rammed something. The boat bounced again and shuddered. No explosion! What the hell! Then the word. "We ran aground. All back full".

The Captain had dashed to the conning tower when we hit the first time and now he raised the scope. The word came down, "We are 400 yards off the beach of Yokoate Jima." So close that he cannot see the top of the island. The captain asked for the Kodak and took moving pictures as long as we were that close.

The current evidently was much stronger than the navigator figured. He has lost face with the crew, but as yet, hasn't committed hari-kari. We backed down and pulled away from there without being detected and got through the straits with no trouble at all. Funny isn' it? We were worried about patrol craft in the straits when our real danger lay in our own mistakes. Submarine warfare - never a dull moment - always the unexpected happening.

We know for certain what we shall do for Uncle Sam (and Admiral Lockwood) during this patrol. Chart a mine field - again! Most of us breathed a grateful sigh when the last run was over. We knew just how nerve-wracking this, kind of work gets. The mine field we are heading into is probably the most extensive in the world. It is 80 miles wide by 400 miles long running north from a point off the northern mouth of Formosa Straits to within a few hundred miles off southern Kyushu, a main island of Japan. It has been In existence since 1941, augmented from time to time. It affords ideal protection for Jap convoys plying between Japan and Formosa and Chinese coastal cities within the Formosa Straits. Until now, no American craft has been within its confines. It is a singular distinction for us.

Warner Cross worked on the bow plane rigging all night, both nights since the breakdown. Although they are not fixed, he has not given up on them. For eight to ten hours a night he was partly submerged in water, all the while working at dismantling the gearing. It is pretty cold; too - water temperature has been 60-65- and a stiff breeze blowing.

We shot at several drifting mines the next day. Sunk them with 20 mm fire. They did not explode. We merely hit the buoyant compartment, and sea water displaced the air, and they sank. Simple, isn't it?

We travel very slowly while on the surface making good five knots. When a mine is contacted it is from 150 to 250 feet away - usually off either bow, and necessitates immediate action to avoid it. Upon getting the word (range and bearing) the officer of the deck orders right or left full rudder, and port or starboard ahead full. We then pass the mine safely - we hope! They usually are about 15 feet below the surface , therefore, cannot be seen from the bridge. An eerie feeling indeed to know that somewhere about 50 feet away is a tool of destruction which would have done us in if we hit it, and we can't even see the damn things.

A plane (Jap) was sighted, and we dove before he saw us. On the way down a mine was indicated at 100 feet away. We had to keep going down, yet were not sure if we had distance enough to veer out of the way of the mine. We did.

A bit of scuttlebutt floated through the boat. We may possibly make a contact today or tonight! I hope so. Evidently we have permission during this patrol to accept engagements with enemy convoys. Last run we saw two ships but were prevented from making an attack until mission was completed. When mission was completed, we returned to Pearl. There was no contact!

The mine detecting gear broke down. Cannot be depended upon if fixed with what we have to work on. It has been operating. 24 hours a day since we entered mine field. It did a good job. The faith we place in it is evidenced by the expressions on the faces of the crew and officers. We are still about ten miles into the minefield, are on our way out - solely on luck.

While up in the mess, one must be careful not to drop dishes or bang pans noisily for the effect is calamitous on anyone who is close at hand. I prevented a fight while there. One man turned on the faucet with such ferocity that It gurgled water loudly. The offended told the offender to be more careful. He thought we'd sprang a leak. The other, a new and very green man -said, "For Christ's sake, quit play acting, you'll drive us all nuts." With that, they started for each other. No blows were struck, but they don't like each other. The new man probably will get transferred. What a life!

Well, we made It! My God did we sweat that one out! Frankly, we are a washed-out looking crew, limp as dishrags, weak as cats, but a good eight hours sleep will do wonders for us. No one, I don't see how anyway, has had more than a couple of hours sleep, in the last 60 odd.

We are on our way up to Nagasaki for normal patrol. We are all happy about it, save those of us who were up here once before in June-July, 1944.

Bong! Bong! Bong! Bong! It's the general alarm calling all hands to battle stations. I was in the after fish house when this started, so had no idea what was up there. We checked valves etc. on the tubes, built up impulse air. Everything in perfect readiness. This done, I went into the maneuvering room to relieve myself. Peculiar, this effect produced by going to battle stations. I've noticed it every time since I came aboard. I'm not the only one who takes a nervous pee" so I suppose it's a normal nervous reaction. When I came back, I found that the scuttlebutt had a battle wagon and a cruiser as our targets. Wow! If that's so, there'll be big doings in Tokyo tonight because we'll sure as hell get one of them!

As we close the range and time wore on our nerves, our anxiety became more stressing. "Why in hell don't they put out the dope?" Finally, the Captain spoke. "The twenty and forty mm and 50 cal. gun crews lay up to con. Battle Surface!" It was then we knew it was a small target. Very small for they did not call us (5" deck gun crew) up.

One has to witness a battle surface to appreciate it, and then actually participating, is so much better. We surfaced. The gun crews flew up the conning tower hatch and poured out onto the bridge. The target was a lifeboat. We did not fire. We took two prisoners aboard and barreled away on four main engines. Why the skipper let the other 15 or 16 bastards go, is more than I can fathom. When last seen they were pulling mightily for the China coast. They will be picked up, I think as we are only 80 miles off the coast.

One of the POW's was sent to each tube room so here we are with a prisoner to guard for the next 45 days. He is shackled to a torpedo skid which has a torpedo in it. Gross weight - 5,000 pounds, so I hardly think he'll go very far. His pallet consists of a piece of canvas and a blanket on deck. Not very comfortable, but a damn sight better than the lifeboat.

Before orders regarding the handling of prisoners were put out, I had quite a time trying to make him understand my questions. It went something like this. Pointing to myself, I would say, "Ben-ny, Ben-ny." He was quick to pick it up and said, "Ben-ny, Ben-ny" after me. Then I'd point to him with one hand cupping my ear with the other and lean toward him as If straining to hear. Shortly he caught on and said something that sounded like. "Hommy Oka" to my definitely untrained ear. I took this to be his Shinto name though it may very well mean, "I don't understand," or even, "You're crazy." He lived in Toyama, is 23 years old, was torpedoed enroute to Okinawa Jima with marine reinforcements. Toyama Is on Honchu. He looks 16. A plane launched the torpedo. The marines never did get to Okinawa. There was more questioning mostly in pantomime, and more answers accompanied by pre-Pearl Harbor smiles. Those that require much showing of teeth. When the above-mentioned orders came out, it sort of cramped my style, as from then on there could be no more questions.

Doc Garner shaved the prisoner's head and privates and sprinkled insecticide powder lavishly and indiscriminately. He then prescribed a rigid diet which we must see is adhered too. The POW had been adrift in an open boat for nine days, had not eaten in five. He was permitted about two ounces of tepid water at four in the afternoon and then fed a small to moderate ration at eight in the evening. A significant scene: After being without food for five days and seeing some placed before him, he bowed his head over folded hands in prayer before eating. Shintoism must exert a powerful influence over these people's conduct. Come to think of it, it was a damned short prayer! He has not said Grace since then - just "Ho Kay" with that infernal grinning. He is served one meal a day, is allowed one smoke directly after.

Prisoner, of course, is the center of attraction. I think every one in the crew has seen him and the compartment has been very crowded. I have been aware of someone watching me, and just now caught "Hommy's" eyes and held them. He motioned with his hands to his face that he was quite taken by my red beard. Such Idolatry! I wonder if I can handle it gracefully?

Mr. Oleson, one of our junior officers is quite shocked by my attitude toward the Jap. Mr. Oleson told me they thought both Japs to be officers and if so, they probably understood English, and we should be careful what is said in their presence. He said, too, that they might even be able to speak it. I suggested then that if they really wanted to find out, they clear the compartment of men, secure the bulkhead door, and give me 15 minutes to find out one way or the other.

The trouble with Oleson is he's never been fired upon by Japs who were after his ass. He's never heard a depth charge, nor aerial bomb. He didn't see that Yank pilot we picked up out of a life raft near Guam last July 21, who had been riddled by a brave Zero pilot as he drifted helplessly waiting to be picked up. Personally, I have no compassion in my heart for bastards like that. No one felt sorry for John Dillinger when he got it. He was an American, but he was a rat, too.

We are armed with a .45 while guarding the Prisoner. If he should make a break or a wrong move, I won't fire because by chance the slug might puncture a high pressure air line, a hydraulic line, or a torpex warhead. The warhead would probably detonate! I would, or will, however, gun-whip him to hell and back. He'll only do it once.

We are about ten miles off port of Nagasaki, island of Kyushu, one of the main islands of Japan. We are on the surface, but that won't last long if I know Nagasaki. Captain Weiss thought he could stay up, too, but our first day out here (June, '44) we were forced down seven times by planes. For the 29 days after that, we ran submerged. We are patrolling a certain stipulated areas, being careful not to extend into an area patrolled by another boat, lest we meet a fate similar to the Gudgeon.. She was sunk with all hands by another American sub. What a hell of a way to go out!

We've averaged five or six dives a day since coming out of the mine field. Night patrol planes equipped with radar make patrols much more hazardous than they used to be. Lookouts can't see them, so we must depend solely on our SD radar. We never used to dive between dark and dawn unless making an approach. Now it's commonplace.

We have transmitted to ComSubPac via radio a query as to what method to employ in getting the data on mines to them. Are standing by, waiting for instructions.

Answer from ComSubPac; make rendezvous with Trigger and give them the charts showing channel through minefield. They are leaving station in two days, returning to Guam. Meeting is set for 8 p.m. tonight. We contacted them on radio (wolfpack frequency.)

We were forced down by plane this noontime and upon manning sound gear picked up screws off port bow. Headed for them - shortly after, went to stations for Battle Submerged. Turned out to be six armed trawlers. Too many to Battle Surface on. They'd ram us before we could get all of them with the 5" gun.

It is 9 p.m. and we have not seen the Trigger. We'll hang around awhile longer. Probably they are having trouble trying to stay on surface. Planes are bad!!!

Well, here's the dope! We are leaving station. The Trigger did not make rendezvous with us. We radioed ComSubPac to that effect and they sent back "Come in yourself." We are on our way. Should only be a week to Guam.

This is a short patrol. If it is counted a successful one, then it's a break for us. It would be hard for a civilian to understand just how much the term "successful" means to us when applied to a war patrol. Pride in achievement, respect, and admiration of other men in the same racket - all hinges on whether or not ComSubPac thinks work done during patrol was of enough importance and value, to say "Well Done." One would think if a skipper took a 7-1/2 million dollar ship with 80-85 men aboard into enemy waters and patrolled an area, AND brought boat and men safely back to port, the patrol would be termed a success. However, to make it hard, they say you must sink at least 5,000 tons or accomplish a special mission with neatness and dispatch.

Actually, the captain is the only man aboard who has a pretty good idea of whether this is successful or just a waste of time. He alone knows what we were to do. We are to pass through the straits tonight. We must get east of Okinawa.. By the way, that dogface on Saipan was right. The marines and army landed on Okinawa today. We are not more than 150 miles from there now. Sky is probably full of Yank planes. Not good for us at all. Stupid Airedales never did learn to recognize Yank, submarines from Jap. The bastards are all too eager to claim a Navy Cross - "Sighted sub sank same." They leave a bad taste in my mouth.

Ran submerged all day. Too many planes to try running on surface. Very quiet day. Began field days to present spic and span appearance in port.

We did not run aground (again) at Yokoata Jima on trip back through straits. Profit by experience!

Captain came aft inspecting ship. He is very disappointed that we didn't sink anything since he took command. Wesner and I were the only ones back here when he came. He said the room looked good. Also told us he only wanted a short refit, just get the bow planes and a few other major jobs done and then come right out again.

I made the observation that this would likely develop into, all told, a 90 or 100 day run. The captain was quick to say that this would be a separate successful run. He also said we are the only boat in the fleet to have nine successful consecutive runs. Quite an enviable record. It is envied, too! There are a good many men trying to get this boat for duty.

Before the Captain left, he dropped a bombshell! Wesner said it was too bad we didn't see at least one ship, so that by sinking it we could virtually cinch the Presidential Unit Citation. With that, the Captain smiled and said, "Don't worry about that. We've got it'." God, I hope he knows. That is the finest award an outfit can expect. It is very hard to get. Ask the marines at Guadalcanal. There was even some hesitancy about giving it to them.

We changed course and now instead of heading for Guam, are heading NE. If we continue on this course, we will be off Honshu in 12-15 hours. This may mean we have been assigned a new area. Possibly we may make a long run and get a decent refit and a full two weeks rest period when we get in.

Later in the afternoon this news came out. We will lay off Honshu tonight standing by to pick up any B-29 crews that are knocked down in a big raid. These planes have sufficient altitude to make the open sea nine times out of ten. When one goes down, he or another one nearby, talks to us, by voice radio, giving position and other pertinent Information. We then make for that position and try to find them. We call this "lifeguard duty" and it isn't the choicest duty to be had.

We are on station. We have had several indications on the SJ or surface craft radar. There have been B-29's sweeping in close to the water. They are harder to detect by Jap night fighters from this position. Some have flown nearly right over us. The noise of their engines plain to the ear, and exhaust flames plain to see. I have just come from the bridge where I watched this procedure for a very few minutes. I know now of how the British must have felt when wave after wave of bombers took off over the channel headed for Germany. The captain evidently expects enemy planes attempting to intercept B-29's because he ordered all hands below except lookouts on watch.

And not too soon, either, for at 0100 SJ picked up a low flying plane at 11,000 yards. He came right in. Was at 2,2OO yards when the diving alarm went. On the dive the SD or aircraft radar. was switched on and it showed the plane to be directly overhead when we were still flooding down. He either did not have a bomb load or did not see us. The latter isn't logical, because they have radar too, and the way he came right in on us makes us think he knew just where we were. It was close and I really did sweat it out back here. If he had carried bombs, this story would have come to an abrupt end.

The radio shack is listening on a certain frequency, but as yet nothing concerning us has been heard, Interplane conversation is going on, though not to any great extent. I imagine they are busy checking equipment for final readiness much the same as we do just before making a torpedo attack. Too busy to talk much - and no need. We know what we're all thinking. Will we sink them, and then, will we get away, or will the depth charges crush the bulkheads like an eggshell, leaving steel decking to stand on and sea water to lean against. Who wants to think those thoughts out loud?

We have had no reports of planes down. We are definitely on our way in to Guam now. Evidently, If any B-29's were knocked down, it was over the Island and they were unable to make it to the sea,

"Hop-a-long" Boyd, navigator's assistant, says we'll make., port on the morning of the 8th. Sooooo! It won't be long before we can wrap our hands around a beer again. Just to walk off the "T" and step on solid ground again is really something to look forward to. I've called her "home" for 16 months now, and the novelty, long ago wore off. I've put in a good many hours work on this baby. When I came aboard, she had five ships sunk in four runs. Now after her ninth run, the score is 17 ships sunk 12 damaged. Captain Weiss got 12 in the three runs he was aboard for three Navy Crosses, Damn fine record, but I really do feel that Captain Latham in two runs has earned at least one Cross., ComSubPac has cramped his style by sending us on special missions both times he took us to sea. The work he's done on these mine charting expeditions merits some sort of award certainly. We haven't the details of course, but I'll bet no ship or landing craft hit mines at Okinawa in the invasion. They knew where they were because we found them. Mine sweeps were able to dash in and neutralize, mines in nothing flat. They didn't expose themselves to enemy fire for as long a period as usual.

During the days and nights spent fixing positions of mines on the chart, the Captain got little or no sleep. I don't know how they can do it for days on end, but most sub skippers have that ability to travel on nerve. That's why they only make four or five runs out here. Enlisted men and junior officers make twice that many because they don't carry the tremendous responsibility, don't burn out that fast.

Tonight, we learned that 300 or more B-29's were involved in last night's low-level attack on three cities of the Tokyo area.

Put in the last battery charge on all nine fish. As soon as we make port tomorrow we'll pull them. We are due to tie up at 1415, so we'll be working until midnight. The last four days we made better time that we'd hoped, thus enabling us to cut a day off traveling time.

I've trimmed by beard and showered in preparation for entering port. All of us are looking forward to the mail. Although it hasn't been very long since we got some, a couple of weeks without hearing from home seems an eternity. I don't suppose there is fresh milk on Guam, so we'll miss that. "Wag" and I are going to try and find a little Chamorro girl to do our laundry. Should be pleasant prowling about finding one.

I rather think our Jap prisoner, suspects we are nearing port. Twice in the last five days he has expressed the desire to exterminate himself. I use a word usually used in reference to rats. The other day when Wag used tin snips to cut his own toenails Hommy made motions as if committing hari-kari and reached out for the snips, Wag scowled fiercely, The Jap then motioned to me that he'd like the gun and when I patted the holster as if to say, "It's right here, and here it shall stay," he made like a gun with his thumb and index fingers vigorously waggling his thumb back and forth a sufficient number of times to blow his brains to hell and gone, It's all quite silly because if he really wanted to do it, all he'd have to do is smash his head against the torpedo in its rack alongside him.

However, I am tempted to hand him the .45 (which isn't loaded incidentally) just to see who he'd aim at. If he pointed at one of us, I could clout him unmercifully about the nose and jaw, but I'd have a devil of a time convincing the Captain that the Nippo took the gun away from me. The guy wouldn't weigh 100 pounds with a sea anchor in his pocket.

Tied up at Guam at 1030. Tender Proteus is to refit the boat. Received our mail and fresh fruit.

Leave at 1000 today for Camp Dealey, Submarine Recuperation Center! It is on the opposite side of the island from where we are now. Should see quite a bit of this rock while driving to camp.

The ten days spent at Camp Dealey were restful and relaxing. We slept in Quonset Huts which were breezy and cool at night - not in the daytime. Meals were very poor, but we didn't mind. We just did not eat. We drank beer every day, played in tournaments etc. Doc Garner and I played tennis quite a bit and represented the boat in the tournament as the tennis doubles entry.