The sub that sank the train, part one

The following is one of the most gripping accounts of high adventure I've read in a long time -- and it's all true. Because this is such a long story, it is being printed in two parts. If you are interested in the story, I suggest clipping out this part to keep as reference for next week's exciting conclusion. My thanks for subscriber Jerry Matheny for sharing this with us.

In 1973 an Italian submarine named Enrique Tazzoli was sold as scrap metal for $100,000. The submarine, given to the Italian Navy in 1953 was actually a veteran of World War II service with a heritage that never should have passed so unnoticed into the graveyards of the metal recyclers.

The U.S.S. Barb was a pioneer, paving the way for the first submarine launched missiles and flying a battle flag unlike that of any other ship. In addition to the Medal of Honor ribbon at the top of the flag identifying the heroism of its captain, Commander Eugene "Lucky" Fluckey, the bottom border of the flag bore the image of a Japanese locomotive. The U.S.S. Barb was indeed the submarine that sank a train.

In July 1945, shortly before the end of the war in the Pacific, Fleet Admiral Chester Nimitz looked across the desk at Admiral Lockwood as he finished the personal briefing on U.S. war ships in the vicinity of the northern coastal areas of Hokkaido, Japan.

Of course, no one suspected when he had struck that deal prior to his fourth and what should have been his final war patrol on the Barb, that Commander Fluckey's success would be so great he would be awarded the Medal of Honor.

Commander Fluckey smiled as he remembered that patrol. "Lucky" Fluckey they called him. On Jan. 8 the Barb had emerged victorious from a running two-hour night battle after sinking a large enemy ammunition ship. Two weeks later in Mamkwan Harbor he found the "motherlode" -- more than 30 enemy ships. In only 30 feet of water his crew had unleashed the sub's forward torpedoes, then turned and fired four from the stern. As he pushed the Barb to the full limit of its speed through the dangerous waters in a daring withdrawal to the open sea, he recorded eight direct hits on six enemy ships. Then, on the return home he added yet another Japanese freighter to the tally for the Barb's 11th patrol, a score that exceeded even the number of that patrol. What could possibly be left for the commander to accomplish who, just three months earlier had been in Washington, DC to receive the Medal of Honor?

He smiled to himself as he looked again at the map showing the rail line that ran along the enemy coast line. This final patrol had been promised as the Barb's "graduation patrol" and he and his crew had cooked up an unusual finale. Since the eighth of June they had harassed the enemy, destroying the enemy's supplies and coastal fortifications with the first submarine launched rocket attacks. Now his crew was buzzing excitedly about bagging a train. The rail line itself wouldn't be a problem. A shore patrol could go ashore under cover of darkness to plant the explosives -- one of the sub's 55-pound scuttling charges. But this early morning Lucky Fluckey and his officers were puzzling over how they could blow not only the rails, but one of the frequent trains that shuttled supplies to equip the Japanese war machine. Such a daring feat could handicap the enemy's war effort for several days, a week, perhaps even longer.

It was a crazy idea, just the kind of operation "Lucky" Fluckey had become famous for. But no matter how crazy the idea might have sounded, the Barb's skipper would not risk the lives of his men. Thus the problem -- how to detonate the charge at the moment the train passed, without endangering the life of a shore party. Commander Fluckey's philosophy had always been "We don't have problems, only solutions."

11:27 a.m. "Battle Stations!" -- No more time to seek solutions or to ponder blowing up a train. The approach of a Japanese freighter with a frigate escort demands traditional submarine warfare. By noon the frigate is laying on the ocean floor in pieces and the Barb is in danger of becoming the hunted.

6:07 p.m. Solutions! -- If you don't look for them, you'll never find them. And even then, sometimes they arrive in the most unusual fashion. Cruising slowly beneath the surface to evade the enemy plane now circling overhead, the monotony is broken with an exciting new idea. Instead of having a crewman on shore to trigger explosives to blow both rail and a passing train, why not let the train blow itself up?

Next week, part two.