This study examines the significance of friendly fire in U.S. naval surface and submarine operations during World War II and argues that the occurrence of self-inflicted casualties is a function of the frequency and intensity of naval combat. Additionally, the causes and factors contributing to naval fratricide are identified and discussed to naval fratricide are identified and discussed using historical cases. The crucial result of this thesis is that even the most technologically advanced and highly trained force is subject to surprisingly high rates of friendly fire.
Friendly fire in naval warfare is a virtually unstudied phenomenon. In order to prepare future U.S. naval forces for the inevitable losses that will occur as a result of fratricide, we must look to the past to discover the role it has played in this century's wars at sea. This study examines the significance of friendly fire in U.S. naval surface and submarine operations during World War II and argues that the occurrence of self-inflicted casualties is a function primarily of the frequency and intensity of naval combat. Additionally, the causes of and factors contributing to naval fratricide are identified and discussed in detail using historical cases. The crucial result of this thesis is that even the most technologically advanced and highly trained force is subject to surprisingly high rates of friendly fire. Only when the vulnerability of every navy to fratricide is officially acknowledged can technology and doctrine be developed to reduce the risk of accidentally engaging one's own forces.
Scholarly studies on the Battle of Midway are prolific, yet few have examined the pivotal role American and Japanese submarines played. Fewer still have challenged the prevailing wisdom held among historians that US airstrikes on vulnerable Japanese fleet carriers marked a turning point in the war, essentially prohibiting Japan from further major naval operations. Midway Submerged presents detailed arguments regarding the tactics employed in the US strategy for the Battle of Midway and effectively argues that submarine warfare played a greater role in the battles outcome than previously thought. Through meticulous research, military historian Mark W. Allen examines the tactics, performance records, American and Japanese naval doctrine, and each participating submarines actions. He concludes that the Japanese defeat should not be blamed on ineffective submarine tactics; instead, Allen advocates a closer inspection of the overall Japanese strategic plan. Furthermore, he creates a compelling and engaging new argument that Admiral Chester W. Nimitz made an appropriate decision to use submarines defensively. Allen shows that Nimitz correctly used his available assets to defend Midway against a Japanese amphibious assault, reigniting a need for more scholarly debate on this subject. For scholars of military history, this is a worthy and much-needed addition to the body of work on the Battle of Midway.
The classic problem of when to depend on lessons learned from previous conflicts and when to employ new tactics and technology always confronts military leaders. At the beginning of World War II, for example, Allied naval strategists were prepared to do battle using traditional tactics against surface vessels, but - this study contends - not against submarines; because the strategists failed to appreciate either the damage done by submarines in World War I or the tactics that had worked successfully against them. Consequently, from the beginning of World War II to mid-1943, German U-boats were able to mount a devastating campaign against Allied shipping. In Slide Rules and Submarines, Montgomery Meigs describes how the allies learned to counter the U-boat threat. Using new technology - and new tactics derived from scientific methods - they devised countermeasures to defeat the German submarine menace. Then, continuing to apply those successful measures, they went on to negate the Japanese submarine threat in the Pacific. The author cites the crucial role of civilian scientists - the "outsiders" - who worked with military staffs and operational commanders of the campaign at sea. Their open minds and objective methods were essential for the application of such tactical advances as sonar and radar, acoustic torpedoes, depth finders, and code breaking to the battle. As this study illustrates, the importance of such timely and innovative cooperation among scientists, the research and development community, and military commanders in bringing technological knowledge to bear for operational and strategic advantage cannot be overstated. Meigs study of how such cooperation succeeded in the crucible of wartime crisis is itself an example of how the lessons of the past can serve us well today. J. A. Baldwin Vice Admiral, United States Navy President, National Defense University
The fate of the USS Flier is one of the most astonishing stories of the Second World War. On August 13, 1944, the submarine struck a mine and sank to the bottom of the Sulu Sea in less than one minute, leaving only fourteen of its crew of eighty-six hands alive. After enduring eighteen hours in the water, eight remaining survivors swam to a remote island controlled by the Japanese. Deep behind enemy lines and without food or drinking water, the crewmen realized that their struggle for survival had just begun. On its first war patrol, the unlucky Flier made it from Pearl Harbor to Midway where it ran aground on a reef. After extensive repairs and a formal military inquiry, the Flier set out once again, this time completing a distinguished patrol from Pearl Harbor to Fremantle, Western Australia. Though the Flier's next mission would be its final one, that mission is important for several reasons: the story of the Flier's sinking illuminates the nature of World War II underwater warfare and naval protocol and demonstrates the high degree of cooperation that existed among submariners, coast watchers, and guerrillas in the Philippines. The eight sailors who survived the disaster became the first Americans of the Pacific war to escape from a sunken submarine and return safely to the United States. Their story of persistence and survival has all the elements of a classic World War II tale: sudden disaster, physical deprivation, a ruthless enemy, and a dramatic escape from behind enemy lines. In The USS Flier: Death and Survival on a World War II Submarine, noted historian Michael Sturma vividly recounts a harrowing story of brave men who lived to return to the service of their country.
At last count, more than 80 U.S. submarines recorded some type of actual "friendly fire" incident in which they were involved during their WWII war patrols. From being attacked by Allied bombers, depth-charged by U.S. ships or fired upon by armed Allied merchant ships, submariners quickly came to understand the bitter truth of the maxim: 'The submarine has no friends.' While the majority of submarines and their crew escaped with little more than bruised egos or minor injuries, three submarines and their crews were lost to friendly fire. For the first time in book format, a serious and most comprehensive research effort has gone into capturing all such "friendly fire" incidents involving U.S. submarines during World War II. Compiled through relentless research by the co-authors, their stories of loss and survival by "other than the enemy" is presented within these pages.
This volume traces the career of the submarine the USS Puffer from the laying of her keel and her commissioning on April 27, 1943 until her departure for the scrap yard on June 27, 1946. Compiled from interviews with former crew members as well as other contemporary sources, it follows the crew of the Puffer through nine war patrols, emphasizing the connection between the physiological and the psychological as it relates to submarine service. Events recollected include the First War Patrol which resulted in a record-setting 38 hour submergence because of enemy fire; the amazing transfer of torpedoes while surfaced in enemy waters; and the wild bombardment of Japanese shore installation with the 5th deck gun.
The thunderous roar of exploding depth charges was a familiar and comforting sound to the crew members of the USS Barb, who frequently found themselves somewhere between enemy fire and Davy Jones's locker. Under the leadership of her fearless skipper, Captain Gene Fluckey, the Barb sank the greatest tonnage of any American sub in World War II. At the same time, the Barb did far more than merely sink ships-she changed forever the way submarines stalk and kill their prey. This is a gripping adventure chock-full of "you-are-there" moments. Fluckey has drawn on logs, reports, letters, interviews, and a recently discovered illegal diary kept by one of his torpedomen. And in a fascinating twist, he uses archival documents from the Japanese Navy to give its version of events. The unique story of the Barb begins with its men, who had the confidence to become unbeatable. Each team helped develop innovative ideas, new tactics, and new strategies. All strove for personal excellence, and success became contagious. Instead of lying in wait under the waves, the USS Barb pursued enemy ships on the surface, attacking in the swift and precise style of torpedo boats. She was the first sub to use rocket missiles and to creep up on enemy convoys at night, joining the flank escort line from astern, darting in and out as she sank ships up the column. Surface-cruising, diving only to escape, "Luckey Fluckey" relentlessly patrolled the Pacific, driving his boat and crew to their limits. There can be no greater contrast to modern warfare's long-distance, videogame style of battle than the exploits of the captain and crew of the USS Barb, where they sub, out of ammunition, actually rammed an enemy ship until it sank. Thunder Below! is a first-rate, true-life, inspirational story of the courage and heroism of ordinary men under fire.
Details the American victory in the Coral Sea and the US Navy's stunning defeat of a far superior Japanese force at Midway, as well as the events leading up to the six months' struggle at Guadalcanal.
