November 13, 1942.
Truck Lagoon, Caroline Islands.
The submarine hung motionless in the black water, 90 ft beneath the surface.
Inside USS Wahoo, 82 men barely breathd.
The air was thick, stale, tasting of sweat and diesel.
Commander Dudley Mush Morton stood at the plotting table, his face illuminated by the faint red glow of the instruments.
His eyes were fixed on the sonar display.
Multiple contacts, large, moving slowly.
battleships.
Japanese battleships anchored in Truck Lagoon, the most heavily fortified naval base in the Pacific, protected by minefields, patrol boats, destroyers, and shore batteries, a fortress, and Wahoo was inside.
Morton’s executive officer, Lieutenant Richard O’Ne stood beside him.
His voice was barely a whisper.
Skipper, if they detect us, they won’t.
How can you be sure? Morton’s jaw tightened.
Because they think we’re insane.
No one has ever penetrated truck.
No one has ever attacked battleships at anchor, which means they’re not looking for us.
It was audacious, reckless, suicidal.
But Morton had already calculated the odds, and he believed they were in his favor.
He gave the order.
Prepare tubes one through six.
Set depth at 15 feet.
contact detonators were going to sink every battleship in this lagoon.
The crew didn’t question him.
They had stopped questioning weeks ago because Morton had already sunk more enemy tonnage than almost any other submarine captain in the Pacific.
And tonight he was about to rewrite the rules of submarine warfare.
The question wasn’t whether he could sink battleships.
The question was whether he could do it and escape without being detected.
By November 1942, the Pacific War had reached a critical phase.
Japan controlled vast territories.
Their navy was powerful, their defenses formidable, and Truck Lagoon was the crown jewel of their defensive network.
Truck was Japan’s Gibralar, a massive natural harbor in the Caroline Islands.
Protected by reefs, fortified islands, and constant patrols.
It served as the forward base for the combined fleet.
Battleships, carriers, cruisers, all of its stationed at truck.
American submarines had been ordered to gather intelligence on truck, but penetrating the lagoon was considered impossible.
The approaches were mined.
Patrol boats swept the waters constantly.
Destroyers guarded the entrances and shore-based radar monitored every movement.
Most submarine captains stayed outside the lagoon.
They attacked ships as they entered or left.
It was safer, smarter.
But Commander Dudley Morton wasn’t most captains.
Morton, 36 years old, Anapapolis train, had been commanding USS Wahoo for 4 months.
In that time, he had sunk 12 enemy ships.
His tactics were aggressive, unconventional, and devastatingly effective.
But what made Morton different wasn’t aggression.
It was audacity.
He didn’t just attack targets of opportunity.
He hunted the most valuable, most dangerous targets, battleships, carriers, cruisers, and now he was going after battleships anchored in the most heavily defended harbor in the Pacific.
Intelligence had reported that two Japanese battleships, Yamashiro and Fuso, were anchored in Truck Lagoon for repairs.
Both were Fuso class battleships, 35,000 tons, 12 14in guns, armored like fortresses.
If Morton could sink them, it would be the most devastating submarine attack in history.
But first, he had to get into the lagoon, and that meant penetrating defenses designed specifically to stop submarines.
Morton studied the charts.
He identified a narrow channel on the eastern side of the lagoon.
It was shallow, treacherous, but intelligence suggested it was less heavily patrolled.
He decided to enter through that channel at night on the surface, moving slowly enough to avoid detection.
It was insane, but it was also the only way.
Okaane briefed the crew.
We’re going into truck lagoon.
Not around it, into it.
We’ll enter after dark.
Surface transit through the eastern channel.
Once inside, we submerge and position ourselves for an attack on the battleships.
We fire, we escape, and we do it all without being detected.
The crew stared at him in silence.
Some looked terrified, others looked exhilarated.
One sailor spoke up.
“Sir, if we’re detected inside the lagoon, we’re boxed in.
No escape routes.
Then we make sure we’re not detected.” It was a promise or a death sentence depending on how the next 12 hours went.
Morton positioned Wahoo at the entrance to the eastern channel.
He waited until midnight.
Then he gave the order.
Surface all ahead slow.
Silent running on deck.
We’re ghosts tonight.
The submarine surfaced.
The diesels were muted.
The hull cut through the water at six knots, almost silent.
The crew held their breath, waiting for search lights, alarms, gunfire, nothing.
Wahoo slipped into the channel, and the most audacious submarine raid in history had begun.
The channel was narrow, barely 300 yards wide.
Reefs flanked both sides.
One mistake, one miscalculation, and Wahoo would run a ground.
Morton stood on the bridge, eyes locked on the dark water ahead.
The night was moonless.
Cloud cover blocked the stars.
Visibility was near zero.
Okaane stood beside him, binoculars raised.
Skipper, I can’t see the reefs.
We’re navigating blind.
Use the depth sounder.
Stay in the center of the channel.
The sonar operator below deck monitored the depth.
50 ft.
45 40.
Too shallow.
If they scraped bottom, the noise would alert the entire base.
Morton adjusted course slightly.
Come left 2°.
50 ft.
55 better.
They crept forward slowly.
Every second felt like an hour.
The crew on the bridge scanned the darkness, looking for patrol boats, search lights, anything.
At 2310 hours, a light appeared ahead.
A patrol boat moving slowly across the channel.
Morton ordered the engine stopped.
Wahoo drifted, silent, invisible.
The patrol boat passed.
Its search light swept the water.
The beam passed 30 yards ahead of Wahoo.
The crew ducked instinctively.
The light moved on.
The patrol boat continued its route.
Morton exhaled slowly.
All ahead slow.
Continue course.
They crept forward.
The channel widened.
They were inside the lagoon.
Morton gave the order.
Dive.
Periscope depth.
Silent running.
Were hunting battleships.
Wahoo.
Submerged.
The conning tower slipped beneath the surface.
The hall descended to 60 ft.
Morton raised the periscope.
He swept the lagoon and there they were, two battleships anchored side by side, massive, towering, their superructures silhouetted against the faint glow of shore lights.
Morton lowered the periscope.
Target the first battleship.
Bearing 090, range 2200 yd.
The torpedo data computer hummed.
Numbers scrolled.
The firing solution locked.
Set gyro angles tubes one through four ready.
Okaane stood beside Morton.
Skipper, if we fire now, the explosions will alert every ship in the lagoon.
We’ll have minutes to escape.
Then we make those minutes count.
Fire one.
The submarine shuddered.
The first torpedo launched.
Fire two.
Fire three.
Fire four.
Four torpedoes in the water.
All running straight.
All locked on target.
Morton didn’t wait to see the results.
Hard right rudder.
All ahead full.
Come to course 270.
Reload tubes.
We’re going after the second battleship.
The submarine turned fast, aggressive.
The crew scrambled to reload the tubes.
Above them, the torpedoes closed the distance.
90 seconds, 60, 30, and then the first explosion.
The first torpedo struck Yamashiro below the water line amid ships.
The explosion tore through the hall, rupturing fuel tanks, flooding compartments.
Fire erupted from the blast hole.
The second torpedo hit near the bow.
The explosion was massive.
The battleship’s forward section buckled.
Water flooded the lower decks.
The third torpedo struck the stern, disabling the rudder, shattering the propeller shafts.
The fourth torpedo missed, running beneath the keel and detonating harmlessly against the ocean floor.
But three hits, three catastrophic hits on a battleship that should have been invulnerable.
Yamashiro was dying.
Alarms blared across the lagoon.
Search lights flared.
Patrol boats scrambled.
Destroyers began moving.
But Wahoo was already repositioning, silent, invisible, moving toward the second battleship.
Morton raised the periscope for 3 seconds, just long enough to confirm bearings.
The second battleship Fuso was still anchored.
Its crew was scrambling, but they hadn’t detected Wahoo.
Morton lowered the periscope range to second battleship 1,800 yards bearing 120.
Fire six.
Two more torpedoes launched.
They streaked toward Fuso.
Morton didn’t wait.
Dived to 200 ft.
All ahead flank.
Turned to course 090.
We’re getting out of here.
Wahoo plunged.
The deck tilted sharply.
The crew braced.
Above them.
The torpedoes closed the distance.
60 seconds, 40, 20.
Both torpedoes struck Fuso.
One hit near the engine room, the other near the fuel tanks.
The explosions were deafening.
Fire erupted across the battleship’s deck.
Secondary explosions followed.
Fuso began to list.
Water flooded the lower compartments.
The ship was sinking, but the lagoon was now in chaos.
Destroyers were converging.
Patrol boats were searching.
Depth charges were being armed, and Wahoo was still inside the lagoon, trapped.
Morton had sunk two battleships, but the hardest part was yet to come.
Escape.
The destroyers began their search.
Sonar pings hammered through the water.
Wahoo could hear them.
Loud, aggressive, closing.
Morton ordered the submarine to hold at 200 ft.
Silent, motionless.
The crew froze.
The sonar operator listened intently.
Multiple contacts.
bearing 090180270.
They’re boxing us in.
Morton studied the chart.
The lagoon was a trap, shallow, confined, no deep water to hide in, and the destroyers were coordinating their search.
But Morton had one advantage.
The destroyers assumed Wahoo would try to escape through the main channel, the same way most submarines would.
But Morton wasn’t going to use the main channel.
He was going to exit through the western passage, a narrow, shallow channel that most submarines would avoid.
It was dangerous.
The water was only 50 ft deep.
If Wahoo scraped bottom, she’d be detected instantly, but it was also unexpected, and unexpected was Morton’s specialty.
He gave the order, “Come to course 270.
All ahead slow.
Stay at 200 ft as long as possible.
When the water shallows, we surface and run.” The submarine crept forward.
The sonar operator monitored the depth.
Water depth 180 ft.
160 140.
They were approaching the shallows.
100 ft.
80 60.
Morton ordered the submarine to surface.
Blow ballast.
All ahead flank.
We’re running on the surface.
Wahoo surfaced.
The diesels roared.
The submarine accelerated to 20 knots.
Behind them.
The destroyers turned.
They had detected Wahoo and they were charging.
Shells began to fall.
5-in guns exploding in the water around Wahoo.
Geysers of spray erupted, but Wahoo was fast, maneuverable.
Morton kept the submarine weaving left, right, never a straight course.
One shell hit the water 10 yards to port.
The blast threw up a wall of spray.
Another shell hit 20 yards of stern.
Close, but not close enough.
Wahoo raced through the western passage.
The destroyers gave chase, but the passage was narrow.
Only one destroyer could follow at a time, and Wahoo was pulling ahead.
At 145 hours, Wahu cleared the lagoon.
Open ocean.
No more reefs.
No more shallow water.
Morton ordered the submarine to dive.
Emergency dive.
300 ft.
All ahead full.
Let’s disappear.
Wahu plunged.
The destroyers continued their pursuit, but they had lost the trail.
And by dawn, Wahoo was 40 m away.
The raid was over.
Two battleships sunk.
Zero casualties, and Wahoo had escaped without being positively identified.
USS Wahoo returned to Pearl Harbor 3 weeks later.
Commander Morton submitted his patrol report.
Two battleships sunk.
Truck Lagoon penetrated and exited without detection.
The Navy was stunned.
two battleships sunk at anchor.
In the most heavily defended harbor in the Pacific, Morton was awarded the Navy Cross.
His crew received commendations.
Wahoo was celebrated as the most aggressive submarine in the Pacific Fleet, but the real impact wasn’t the medals, it was the psychological effect.
The Japanese Navy was horrified.
Truck Lagoon was supposed to be impenetrable.
And yet a single submarine had penetrated it, sunk two battleships, and escaped.
Japanese commanders began to question their defenses.
They increased patrols, doubled guards, installed more minefields, but the damage was done.
The myth of trucks invincibility was shattered and Japanese battleship captains became cautious, hesitant.
They avoided anchoring in exposed positions.
They increased defensive measures and that caution slowed their operations made them predictable, vulnerable.
Morton had proven that no harbor was safe.
No battleship was untouchable and submarines could strike anywhere.
Commander Dudley Morton would continue his patrols.
Wahoo would sink a total of 20 ships, over 60,000 tons.
She would become one of the most famous submarines of the war.
But Morton would not survive.
In October 1943, Wahu was sunk by depth charges in the Sea of Japan.
All hands were lost, but Morton’s legacy endured.
He had shown that audacity, tactical brilliance, and the willingness to do what no one else dared could change the course of the war.
And the night he sank two battleships in Truck Lagoon would remain one of the most daring submarine raids in history.
The men of USS Wahoo proved that in war the most powerful weapons are not always the most heavily armed.
Sometimes they are the most daring.
One submarine, one crew, one captain who refused to accept that battleships were invincible.
Two battleships sunk in a fortress without being detected until it was too late.
Would you have had the nerve to penetrate the most heavily defended harbor in the Pacific, sink two battleships, and escape before the enemy could react? Subscribe for more untold stories of the warriors who turned impossible missions into legendary victories.
