😱 Japanese Couldn’t Believe One “Tiny” Destroyer Annihilated 6 Submarines in 12 Days – Shocked Navy 😱 – HTT

😱 Japanese Couldn’t Believe One “Tiny” Destroyer Annihilated 6 Submarines in 12 Days – Shocked Navy 😱

At 0150 on May 19th, 1944, Lieutenant Commander Walton Pendleton stood in the cramped combat information center of the USS England, intently watching his sonar operator track a contact moving at 6 knots beneath the dark waters north of Bougainville.

At 37 years old, this was Pendleton’s first war patrol as commanding officer, and he had yet to achieve any submarine kills.

The Japanese Imperial Navy had stationed seven submarines in a scouting line across the route to the Marianas, and the England was a Buckley-class destroyer escort, 77 feet shorter than a fleet destroyer.

Half of her crew was specially trained for one purpose: hunting submarines.

What set the England apart was a formidable weapon mounted on her foredeck: 24 spigot mortars arranged in rows, known as the hedgehog.

The British had developed this system, which fired projectiles 200 yards ahead of the ship in a circular pattern.

These projectiles had contact fuses, meaning they only exploded upon hitting something solid.

For decades, depth charges had been the mainstay of anti-submarine warfare, rolled off the stern of ships and detonated at an estimated depth.

However, the statistics told a brutal story.

British forces had launched 5,174 depth charge attacks during the war, achieving only 85 confirmed kills—one kill for every 60 attacks.

By the time the charges sank, submarines had often already moved, and the explosions disturbed the water enough to render sonar useless for 15 minutes, allowing submarines to escape in the chaos.

The hedgehog changed everything.

It allowed for forward-throwing attacks while maintaining sonar contact throughout the engagement.

Each 65-pound projectile contained 35 pounds of torpex, and silent misses meant no water disturbance and no loss of contact.

Yet, the numbers were still being proven.

The early trials had shown a 5% success rate, and crews were hesitant to trust it.

Captains preferred the familiar thunder of depth charges.

But Pendleton trusted the numbers.

He recognized that the hedgehog offered one kill for every five attacks compared to one depth charge kill for every 80.

The mathematics were clear.

Fleet Radio Unit Pacific had decoded a transmission from the Japanese submarine I-16 four days earlier, pinpointing its destination and arrival time.

With perfect intelligence, England and two sister ships positioned themselves along I-16’s route.

Now, the contact was real.

If you want to see if Pendleton’s new weapon actually worked against Japanese submarines, hit that like button right now and subscribe, because what happens next is insane.

Back to Pendleton.

The sonar operator called out the range: 1,500 yards.

I-16 was diving, executing the standard Japanese evasion tactics with radical turns and changing depth, fully aware that it was being hunted.

Pendleton ordered the first hedgehog attack at 1341.

Twenty-four projectiles arced through the afternoon sky, splashing into the Pacific and sinking to 23 feet.

Silence.

Miss.

I-16 had turned.

The second attack scored one hit at 130 feet.

The explosion lifted England’s bow, but it was not enough.

The third attack missed, and the fathometer revealed the problem: I-16 had gone deep, reaching a depth of 325 feet, deeper than Pendleton had estimated.

The fourth attack saw I-16 turn inside the pattern.

Another miss at 1433.

Then came the fifth attack, which resulted in four detonations, then six, followed by a massive underwater explosion.

The blast lifted England’s stern clear out of the water, knocking sailors off their feet.

Twenty minutes later, debris began surfacing—oil, wood, fabric.

I-16 was gone, with 107 men dead.

But Fleet Radio Unit Pacific had decoded another message: seven more Japanese submarines were stationed in a patrol line north of the Admiral T Islands, and England was sailing straight toward them.

Commander Hamilton Haynes received the decoded intelligence at Tulagi on May 20th.

The Japanese 7th submarine squadron had deployed seven Type KO submarines along a line designated NA, positioned at precise intervals from Truk Island to the waters west of Manus.

RO-104, RO-105, RO-106, RO-108, RO-109, RO-112, and RO-116 each carried 56 crew members.

Their mission was to detect American carrier task forces moving toward the Marianas or Palau Islands.

Admiral Soo Toyota needed to know where the Americans would strike next.

Haynes ordered England to join destroyer escorts George and Rabi.

Three ships, seven targets—the odds seemed impossible.

Yet Pendleton had proven something in that first engagement with I-16: five hedgehog attacks had resulted in one kill, a 20% success rate, four times better than the early trials.

The weapon worked.

The crew trusted it now; they had witnessed the explosions, watched the debris surface, and counted the oil slicks spreading across the Pacific.

The hunting group departed Pervis Bay on May 21st, maintaining a standard line of breast formation with 16,000 yards between ships during darkness.

Radar sweeps were conducted every 30 seconds, and sonar pinged continuously.

The Japanese submarines were now maintaining radio silence—no more transmissions to decode and no more precise coordinates.

The hunter-killer group would have to find them the old-fashioned way: electronic detection, patience, and mathematics.

Pendleton studied the charts in his cabin.

The NA line stretched across Admiral Halsey’s previously used routes, and the Japanese were predictable, stationing submarines where American forces had moved before, hoping the Americans would move there again.

However, Fleet Radio Unit Pacific had given the Americans an advantage that the Japanese did not know existed.

The Americans knew exactly where the picket line was positioned.

The question was timing.

Submarine patrol patterns were predictable: surface at night to recharge batteries, dive at dawn, run submerged during daylight, and surface again after sunset.

The window for radar detection was narrow.

Submarines were vulnerable on the surface, but they were fast; a submarine commander could dive in 60 seconds, reach a depth of 200 feet in 3 minutes, and disappear into the black water.

England’s crew had drilled for this.

Sonar operators could track a diving submarine, calculate depth, estimate speed, and predict position.

The hedgehog launchers could be loaded and fired in 90 seconds, delivering 24 projectiles in a 130-foot circle, 30 feet deep.

Every launch was a gamble.

Contact fuses meant certainty; if the projectiles exploded, they hit something.

If they stayed silent, they missed.

The mathematics were simple but brutal: seven submarines, 56 men per submarine, totaling 392 Japanese sailors.

One hedgehog attack could kill them all in 9 seconds.

At 0350 on May 22nd, George’s radar detected a surface contact at 15,000 yards.

The first submarine, RO-106, was recharging her batteries and never saw the destroyer escorts coming.

George’s searchlight caught RO-106 on the surface, and the submarine crash-dived immediately.

Seawater flooded her ballast tanks, causing her bow to angle down.

Within 90 seconds, she was submerged.

George fired the hedgehog at 0415.

Twenty-four projectiles splashed into the dark water.

Silence.

Miss.

England regained sonar contact at 0425, with a range of 1,400 yards.

RO-106 was running deep and making radical turns.

The Japanese commander knew the tactics: turn inside the attack pattern, change depth constantly, and make the Americans guess.

But Pendleton didn’t guess.

His sonar operator tracked every turn, called out depth changes, range, and bearing.

The data fed directly into the hedgehog firing solution.

The first attack missed; RO-106 had turned 30 degrees during the projectile sink time.

Nine seconds was enough for a submarine to move 150 feet.

The second attack at 0501 saw 24 projectiles form their circular pattern and sink through the darkness.

Three detonations were followed by a massive underwater explosion.

The pressure wave rolled across the surface, and England’s hull shuddered.

George and Rabi felt it from 4,000 yards away.

At sunrise, the oil slick was half a mile wide, with debris floating—metal fragments and wood.

There were no survivors.

Kill number two.

Twenty-four hours after I-16, the three destroyer escorts reformed their line, maintaining 16,000-yard spacing as they continued northeast along the NA line.

The next submarine was out there—RO-104, RO-105, or any of the remaining five.

Japanese submarine commanders maintained strict radio silence but surfaced on predictable schedules.

Batteries required recharging, electric motors needed power, and diesel engines needed air.

At 0600 on May 23rd, Rabi’s radar detected another surface contact at a range of 22,000 yards.

The contact dove before identification, and the Japanese commander had learned something from RO-106’s death: stay deep and make them guess your depth.

Rabi fired four hedgehog attacks starting at 0617, but all missed.

RO-104 was turning inside the patterns.

George tried next; the first attack missed at 0717, followed by the second, third, and fourth attacks—all misses between 0730 and 0810.

The Japanese submarine commander was good.

Every time projectiles splashed above him, he turned, changed depth, and made the mathematics impossible.

Division Commander Haynes watched as England approached for her turn.

Pendleton’s crew had two kills, while Rabi and George had none.

The pattern was becoming clear: England’s sonar operators were better, her hedgehog crews were faster, or Pendleton’s firing solutions were more accurate.

Whatever the reason, England was the killer in this hunting group.

Haynes radioed five words that would become Navy legend: “Oh hell, go ahead, England.”

Pendleton’s first hedgehog attack missed, but the second attack at 0834 scored 10 detonations, maybe 12.

The explosions merged into one continuous roar, followed by breaking-up noises and metal tearing as bulkheads collapsed.

Then came a major underwater explosion three minutes later as the submarine’s batteries ruptured.

Oil and debris surfaced at 10:45.

Kill number three.

In just 72 hours, three submarines had been sunk, resulting in 163 Japanese sailors dead, and England still had four more targets ahead.

At 0120 on May 24th, George’s radar detected RO-116 on the surface at a range of 15,000 yards.

The submarine dove at 0130, and England established sonar contact at 0150.

The pattern was repeating: radar detection, crash dive, sonar tracking, and hedgehog attack.

But RO-116’s commander had changed tactics; he went shallow, to 150 feet.

Most submarine commanders dove deep, to 300 or 400 feet, putting maximum water between them and the surface for a cushion against explosions.

RO-116’s commander did the opposite, staying shallow and making sharp turns, betting that the Americans would set their firing solutions for deep targets.

He bet wrong.

Pendleton’s sonar operator called out the shallow depth, and the hedgehog firing solution adjusted instantly.

The first attack at 0214 saw three detonations, maybe five.

It was not the massive explosion of previous kills; no battery rupture occurred, just the sound of 65-pound projectiles punching through the pressure hull at 723 feet per second, creating 3-inch holes.

At 150 feet depth, seawater enters a submarine at 400 gallons per minute through a 3-inch hole.

The breaking-up noises were not loud, just the groan of metal under pressure.

The submarine settled deeper, and more holes meant more water.

More water meant more weight, and more weight meant deeper.

At 300 feet, the pressure increased, and more water flooded in.

The temperature inside rose to 200 degrees, then 300 degrees.

The crew’s lungs seared.

Within six minutes, everyone aboard was dead.

The submarine continued sinking, and oil and debris surfaced at 0702 after sunrise.

A small quantity of oil slick expanded over the next 24 hours, covering several square miles.

Fifty-six more Japanese sailors were gone.

Kill number four.

In just five days, four submarines had been sunk.

Word reached Admiral Ernest King at the Navy Department in Washington, the Chief of Naval Operations who commanded every ship in the United States Navy.

King read the action reports detailing how one destroyer escort achieved four confirmed kills in five days using a weapon most captains did not trust.

He sent a simple, direct message to the Third Fleet: “There’ll always be an England in the United States Navy.”

This phrase spread through the Pacific Fleet within hours, and England was becoming famous.

However, fame brought attention, and attention brought new orders.

On May 25th, Admiral Halsey wanted England pulled from submarine hunting and reassigned to carrier escort duty, deeming her too valuable to risk.

With four kills, her crew had gained invaluable experience, and experienced crews were rare.

Protect the asset.

Commander Haynes refused to comply.

Three submarines remained on the NA line: RO-105, RO-108, and RO-109.

England had killed four in just five days, and the mathematics suggested she could kill the remaining three in three more days.

If they pulled her now, the mission would remain incomplete, and Japanese submarines would continue reporting American fleet movements, losing the intelligence advantage.

Halsey reluctantly agreed to one more patrol.

At 2303 on May 26th, Rabi gained radar contact on RO-108 at 15,000 yards, located 110 nautical miles northeast of Seadler Harbor.

The submarine dove, and England gained sonar contact at 1650 yards.

The Japanese commander made the same mistake as RO-116—he stayed shallow, making radical turns, believing the Americans could not track him.

Rabi vetoed in for the kill but missed with the hedgehog.

Division Commander Haynes gave the order again: “Go ahead, England.”

At 2323, England commenced her hedgehog attack on RO-108.

Four projectiles hit, maybe six.

The explosions came so close together that they sounded like one.

RO-108 broke apart immediately; there was no slow flooding or gradual sinking.

The pressure hull ruptured at multiple points simultaneously, and the submarine imploded.

Fifty-six men died in less than three seconds, faster than they could process what was happening.

Kill number five.

In just six days, five submarines had been sunk, resulting in 279 Japanese sailors dead.

At Japanese Imperial Navy headquarters in Tokyo, Admiral Toyota reviewed the patrol reports.

Seven submarines had been deployed to the NA line, but five were now missing.

There were no distress calls, no emergency transmissions—just silence.

One submarine had been lost every 24 hours, and the pattern was obvious: something was killing his submarines.

Something fast.

Something accurate.

Something the submarine commanders could not evade.

Toyota issued new orders to the remaining submarines.

RO-105 and RO-109 received the transmission on May 27th: new patrol depth, 400 feet minimum.

New surface protocol: no battery recharging unless absolutely necessary.

New evasion tactic: run silent at first detection.

No radical maneuvers.

Radical maneuvers made noise, and noise gave sonar operators better tracking data.

The Japanese were learning, but they were learning from the mistakes of dead men.

England, George, and Rabi continued northeast, still hunting the NA line, now with only two submarines left somewhere in 3,000 square miles of ocean.

The Americans had the advantage, as Fleet Radio Unit Pacific was still intercepting Japanese transmissions.

Every radio message provided position data, revealing patrol patterns.

However, the tactical situation was changing.

Five kills had depleted England’s hedgehog ammunition.

Each attack fired 24 projectiles, and with five attacks, that meant 120 projectiles expended.

England had a total of 240 rounds, leaving her with 120 remaining.

Five more attacks, maybe six if the crew was careful.

But the Japanese submarines were adapting.

On May 30th, George detected RO-105 on radar at 2145.

The submarine dove immediately, but this time the Japanese commander did something different: he went deep, to 400 feet, then stopped all engines.

Complete silence ensued—no propeller noise, no machinery vibration—nothing for sonar to detect.

England established contact at 2200 yards, but the signal was weak and intermittent.

The submarine was barely moving.

Sonar operators called it a knuckle, a patch of disturbed water that created false returns.

The submarine could be anywhere within 200 yards of the signal.

Pendleton faced a choice: fire the hedgehog at a weak contact and likely miss, wasting 24 precious projectiles, or wait for the submarine to move, giving up the tactical advantage and letting the Japanese commander choose when to run.

He chose to wait.

Four hours passed, and the submarine stayed silent.

Then, at 0230 on May 31st, the signal strengthened.

RO-105 was moving; battery power was running out, and the electric motors needed recharging.

The commander had no choice; he had to surface soon or die anyway.

But he had one more tactic—a final desperate gamble that might work.

RO-105’s commander surfaced at 0315 on May 31st, but not where England expected.

The submarine had drifted with the current during those four silent hours, moving 3 miles from her last known position.

George’s radar caught her at 13,000 yards, but it was the wrong direction and bearing.

The hunting group had been searching the wrong grid square.

By the time England turned toward the new contact, RO-105 had already crash-dived.

The Japanese commander had bought himself 90 seconds of battery charging—90 seconds of diesel engine time—enough to add 10% power to his depleted batteries and enough to run.

England established sonar contact at 0345.

RO-105 was running deep and fast, at 6 knots, heading northeast away from the hunting group.

The Japanese commander was good—perhaps the best they had faced.

He had studied the previous attacks, learned from five dead submarines, and knew that staying deep and running fast made hedgehog attacks difficult.

But the problem was mathematics.

Hedgehog projectiles sank at 23 feet per second.

At 400 feet depth, projectiles took 17 seconds to reach target depth.

In 17 seconds, a submarine moving at 6 knots traveled 170 feet.

The firing solution required predicting where the submarine would be in 17 seconds.

Predict wrong, and the circular pattern missed completely.

Pendleton’s first hedgehog attack at 0405 missed by 200 feet; RO-105 had turned during the projectiles’ descent.

The second attack at 0423 missed by 100 feet.

Better prediction, but still not enough.

The submarine varied her speed—6 knots, then 4 knots, then 6 knots again—making the mathematics impossible.

England had fired 48 projectiles; with 120 total, that left 72 projectiles remaining.

Three more attacks, maybe three and a half if the crew loaded carefully.

Three more chances to kill RO-105 before the ammunition ran out.

Division Commander Haynes watched from George.

This engagement was different; the previous five submarines had died quickly—two attacks, three attacks maximum.

RO-105 had survived two attacks and was heading toward a third, maybe a fourth.

The Japanese commander was winning the mathematics game.

At 0447, Pendleton’s sonar operator detected a pattern: RO-105 turned every 4 minutes—30 degrees to port, then 30 degrees to starboard, back and forth.

The pattern was consistent and predictable.

The Japanese commander thought he was being random, but humans are not random; they fall into patterns.

Pendleton adjusted the firing solution, predicting the turn and leading the target by 200 feet.

The third hedgehog attack at 0508 saw 24 projectiles splash into the Pacific, sinking into darkness.

Four detonations, maybe five.

It was not the massive explosion of previous kills; RO-105’s pressure hull was breached but not destroyed.

The submarine continued moving, flooding but not sinking.

The Japanese commander executed emergency procedures to blow ballast tanks, surface, and abandon ship, hoping to save the crew.

But England’s fourth attack at 0532 hit with eight detonations.

The submarine broke apart as the emergency blow failed; the crew never reached the surface.

Oil and debris appeared at 0615 after sunrise.

Kill number six.

In just 12 days, six submarines had been sunk, resulting in 335 Japanese sailors dead.

Admiral Halsey received the report at Third Fleet headquarters.

Six submarines in 12 days, one destroyer escort, and one weapon system that most captains did not trust.

The record was unprecedented, unmatched, and impossible to believe.

However, one submarine remained: RO-109.

Admiral Halsey issued new orders on June 1st: pull England from submarine hunting immediately.

Six kills were enough; the destroyer escort had proven the hedgehog system beyond any doubt.

Every destroyer escort in the Pacific Fleet would receive updated training, tactics, and firing solutions based on England’s action reports.

But RO-109 was never found.

The submarine had received Toyota’s warning after RO-108 died, abandoned her patrol station, and run deep and silent toward Truk.

She survived the war and surrendered in August 1945.

Her crew learned about the NA line massacre months later, discovering that six of their sister submarines had been destroyed in 12 days by one ship using a weapon they had never heard of.

The presidential unit citation arrived in July, one of only three destroyer escorts to receive the honor during the entire war.

The citation read simply: “For extraordinary heroism in action against enemy Japanese submarines.”

Yet, the words did not capture what England’s crew had accomplished.

The mathematics did.

British forces had launched 5,174 depth charge attacks during the war, achieving only 85 confirmed kills—1.6% success rate.

Hedgehog attacks before England’s patrol showed a 5% success rate, requiring 26 attacks for every kill.

England made her record with far better numbers: six submarines, approximately 15 total hedgehog attacks, and a 40% success rate, making her 25 times more effective than depth charges and eight times more effective than the hedgehog average.

The weapon system became standard on every destroyer escort by September 1944, with training protocols changing across the fleet.

Sonar operators studied England’s tracking techniques, hedgehog crews practiced her loading procedures, and fire control officers memorized her firing solutions.

In the Atlantic, the hedgehog sank 47 German U-boats by the war’s end, with 268 attacks resulting in 47 kills—a 17.5% success rate.

It remained the best anti-submarine weapon of the war, yet no ship matched England’s 12-day record—not in the Atlantic, not in the Pacific, and not in any theater.

Lieutenant Commander Pendleton received the Navy Cross in August, the single decoration for sinking six submarines.

The citation mentioned his tactical brilliance, his crew’s discipline, and the weapon system’s effectiveness, but it did not mention what mattered most: mathematics.

Pendleton had trusted numbers when other captains relied on tradition.

He calculated firing solutions while others relied on experience.

He predicted submarine movements while others guessed.

The numbers had been right.

England continued escort duty through the summer of 1944, providing convoy protection, carrier screening, and anti-submarine patrols.

However, she never found another submarine and never fired the hedgehog in combat again.

On October 31st, 1944, kamikaze aircraft struck England off Leyte Gulf.

The bomb penetrated the forward engine room, killing 37 crew members and wounding 25 more.

The damage was catastrophic; repairs would take six months and cost more than building a new ship.

The Navy decided England was not worth saving.

She was towed to Manus Island, stripped of useful equipment, and sold for scrap.

In November 1946, she was cut apart in a salvage yard, the ship that had sunk six submarines in 12 days ending her life as razor blades and tin cans.

Yet, the record stood; it still stands today.

No ship has matched it.

Eighty years later, England remains the greatest submarine killer in naval history.

Walton Pendleton survived the war, was promoted to commander, and given command of an escort division in Alaska, where he spent the final year of the war hunting Japanese submarines in the North Pacific.

He never found any.

The war ended in August 1945, and Pendleton retired from the Navy in 1961 after 34 years of service.

He died in 1973 at the age of 66 and was buried at Arlington National Cemetery.

His gravestone mentions the Navy Cross but does not mention the six submarines or the 12 days that changed naval warfare.

The Navy kept its promise—sort of.

In October 1960, the guided missile destroyer leader USS England was commissioned, hull number DLG-22, later reclassified as CG-22, serving from 1962 until 1994.

For 32 years, it lasted longer than the original England.

However, when CG-22 was decommissioned, the name England disappeared from the fleet.

Admiral King’s promise was broken.

There has not been a USS England since 1994.

The original hedgehog launcher sits in storage at the National Museum of the United States Navy in Washington, D.C.

Rusting and forgotten, most visitors walk past without noticing.

The placard mentions the weapon’s success rate but does not mention England or Pendleton or the 12 days that proved the system worked.

Japanese records recovered after the war confirmed the six kills: I-16, RO-106, RO-104, RO-116, RO-108, and RO-105.

Each submarine’s final position matched England’s attack coordinates exactly, confirming 335 sailors dead.

The Japanese Navy never understood what killed them so quickly.

Their action reports mentioned explosions above, flooding below, and death within minutes.

But nobody survived to describe the circular pattern of projectiles, the contact fuses, and the forward-throwing mortars that maintained sonar contact throughout the attack.

The British developed the hedgehog, the Americans perfected it, and England proved it.

Yet history remembers aircraft carriers, battleships, and fleet destroyers—the big ships with the big guns.

Destroyer escorts were expendable, cheap to build, and easy to replace.

Seven hundred were built during the war, with most scrapped within five years of peace.

England lasted just two years after the war ended, scrapped at age two and a half.

The ship that sank six submarines in 12 days was not considered worth the metal she was made from.