Free Clear the Bridge! by Richard O'Kane

felt my teeth clench and my eyes mist up as I wished those men Godspeed.
    Flashes and flames on the atoll showed that their bombs were hitting, but there was no way for us to estimate the damage.
Tang
remained on station for 20 minutes so that any damaged plane would know where to find her and then headed down past Wake for possible rescue. About an hour after the strike, two enemy planes commenced dropping flares and searching the area, but neither came close to us.
    It was not until after midnight that we received the good news that none of the bombers had come down and only one was damaged. To our surprise, the message further read:
    TANG RELEASED FROM LIFEGUARD
PROCEED TO NEXT AREA
    Apparently the second Coronado strike was off, so we presumed Operation Flintlock had been a success. Three engines went on the line for propulsion, one on charge, and we were on our way. Our elation was short-lived, however; three hours and 60 miles later, the second part of the message was cancelled, and
Tang
was ordered back to Wake. The second strike, scheduled for February 5, was still on; someone on the staff at Pearl had just goofed.
    During the following days,
Tang
patrolled southwest of Wake during the night and closed the island each day. There were planes in the air during daylight, but no ships came to the atoll. We could not complain in one respect, for the air activity kept us on our toes and provided good periscope training, while the fish all about thereef gave our inexperienced sound operators conniptions with their grunting, whistling, and pseudo echo-ranging.
    The repeat performance by the Coronados was uneventful and lacked some of the zest of the first strike, partly because it was a duplicate, but mostly because the planes came over at high altitude this time. Though our reconnaissance did not disclose specific damage by either strike, Japanese planes were in the air daily, so they must have been shaken up.
    Finally, shortly after midnight, our call sign preceded a coded message received on the Fox, the nightly schedule of broadcasts from ComSubPac to his submarines. Before Mel Enos could decode it, a second diesel had fired and
Tang
was on her way. As expected, all planes were safe and we were released from lifeguard duties. This was no false start, and though the Fox hadn’t told us, this time we were sure that all had gone well with Flintlock.

3
    It was now February 7, for we had crossed the date line, and our course was southwesterly, toward the Caroline Islands. This archipelago, located south of the Marianas, stretches from the Marshalls in the east and includes the Palau Islands in the west. Consisting mostly of small islands, reefs, and atolls, the Carolines would not have been of great importance except for one large island atoll in about the center of the chain. Made up of several nearly sunken mountains, surrounded by distant reefs, and with deep anchorages, it was frequently called Japans Gibraltar of the Pacific; on the charts it is called Truk.
    The progress of the U.S. offensive in the Central Pacific, through the Gilberts and Marshalls, had been too costly in its initial stages; it was still unacceptably slow. To speed this up through bypassing the Carolines and moving directly on the Marianas would still require neutralizing Truk.
Tang
and other submarines would participate for the present by stepping up the attrition of shipping in nearby areas, and would later be positioned to intercept fleeing ships during Operation Hailstone, a carrier air strike on Truk.
    Pending final decisions concerning the strike,
Tang
did have a patrol area. About the size of the state of Connecticut, it was located north of the central Carolines and was essentially a holding area until just before the strike. No logical shipping lanes passed through it, but much in war is illogical and the unexpected frequently happens. At least we were on our own, and the problem was ours.
    Tang
would operate in such a manner that fuel would