"TYPHOON"

(By Lt. (jg) J.A. Buehler)

At 0330 on June 5th 1945, I was awakened by the quartermaster with the mid-watch to relieve the officer-of-the-deck on the U.S.S. MITCHELL (DE-43). At this time the quartermaster said there was a drizzling rain falling so that I should bring my foul-weather clothing with me, which was about as I expected because that afternoon when I had had the watch there had beer several clouds in the sky and it looked as if there might be a bit of bad weather during the night.

Upon awakening sufficiently to dress and get ready for the watch, I realized it was fairly rough. Usually at this time of night I have a cup of coffee before going on watch, But tonight the silex pot was so full that it would not heat-up by the time r had to be topside. I decided that I would have a cup of coffee in the sound hut as they usually have coffee about 0400 on this watch.

Of my foul-weather clothing I took only a raincoat, because I didn't believe there would be a necessity for more; walked up two decks to the radar shack. I stopped long enough to piece together the general situation, as is usual, before going to the flying bridge to relieve the 0.0.D. The ship appeared to be rolling considerably, but it wasn't

very much more than it has been in some heavy weather that we had been in previously. I buttoned on my foul-weather raincoat and climbed the one remaining deck to the open bridge.

I opened the door and was immediately met by the most violent wind that I had ever felt. The wind was coming from astern and it very nearly blew me out the door and onto the bridge. I could see the 0.0.D. whom I was to relieve and walked over. to him. He shouted Into my ear a few words that I could not hear and walked off the bridge. I made clear only one statement to him, - "For gosh's sake, send up my life belt". Besides the regular personnel on watch, the Captain was on the deck directing the activities. The C.I.C. taEker, the T.B.S.and the 21 .W.C. were all inaudible because the wind was blowing the sound into space before it could reach my ears. I tried to ask the Captain a question, but immediately knew that be could not hear me because my words were lost, so that I could not even hear them myself. To add to the general confusion over all, diesel fumes were blowing from the stack past the bridge giving a sort of sickly feeling to us all. At this time the ship was rolling between forty and fifty degrees to either side on course 300 degrees. Immediately after realizing the situation of the typhoon, I took a position at the vice tube to the pilot house so that I could readily call my commands to the helmsman. As it was, there were no commands to be given for over 15 minutes, so that all I had to do was to stand there and wait for something to happen. While I was standing-by, I attracted the quartermaster's attention and requested him to lay below to my room and bring my life belt to the bridge.

While standing by the voice tube I began to realize that the ship was in a dangerous condition, one that could easily cause serious damage or her loss. In a few moments the ship could no longer be held on her course. She was drifting left rapidly and it was only after reaching course 230 degrees that I could get the Captain's attention and tell him of this. The only possible way to get the ship back on course was to use a combination of rudder and screw steering which we did by going ahead 2/3 on the port engine and ahead 1/3 on the starboard engine using full right rudder. This brought the ship back to her heading in a few minutes and by maintaining right standard rudder she could be held on her heading. It was now about 0415 and the ship had been pitching and rolling so violently that the gyro compass had gone out of commission. It became necessary, therefore, to resort to steering by magnetic compass. At this time we were on course 240 degrees by gyro and 215 degrees by magnetic compass. Just a few moments otter this a signal came over the ship's T.B.S. for all ships to turn on their running lights. The Captain informed me of this and I called to a helmsman to turn on our running lights. When the masthead lights came on, I jumped about a foot. It created an eerie glow forward of the bridge and I had forgotten all about having the lights turned on. My actual thought was that perhaps a canister of 2OMM ammunition had broken loose and exploded. It was only a moment until I realized that it was only the running lights that was causing this glow. It was pitch dark, so up to now I had not noticed how dense the visibility was, but with the lights showing into the heavy fog surrounding us, I could see how impossible it was to see another ship at any distance. However, you could see the water as we rolled and the running lights came close to the surface. There was a ship on our port quarter that was staying about where she belonged, 2000 yards away, and another ahead of us about the same distance that should have been more to the right of us, thereby causing a minor amount of worry. The wind had now shifted so that it was striking us more on the starboard quarter than before and it made the situation more tenable because we could hear the talkers and the 21 M.C., but still could no hear the T.B.S. In this manner I had a better understanding of the situation.

At 0445, the storm stopped, the sea became quite calm, the wind was reduced to just a whisper. It was apparent in just a few moments that we were not out of the storm, but we were in the eye of the typhoon in which this calm situation prevails. We took advantage of this lull to do the following things: put split plant operation into effect, secured a 2OMM gun that had been freely swinging, and the Captain talked on the inner-communication circuit to the entire crew. His words were of a reassuring nature. Also, the Captain said that there was an object, quite heavy-sounding, which seemed to. be rolling freely about the main deck. I called for a couple of volunteers to investigate and dispose of it, If possible. It turned out that this was an oxygen bottle and it was thrown over the side by two of the men. This was a risky job well done. We were now much better prepared to go into the next phase of the storm than we had been coming into the storm. We had a feeling of confidence this time but we still had a healthy fear of what the storm could do to us, remembering only too well what had happened to three destroyers in the typhoon in this same area in the fall of 1944.

About this time my room-mate came up on the bridge hunting for his life jacket. It turned out that the 0.0.0. whom I had relieved, had brought one from my room and so had the quartermaster. When my room-mate awakened and saw this he immediately sought me out to get his and I didn't blame him a bit. The dawn was just breaking about this time and within a period of ten minutes every officer aboard ship came on the bridge. No one had to ask why they were there, the looks on their faces answered that question. They soon left, however, because they were only in the way and as we were still in the eye of the typhoon, the situation did not appear doubtful to them.

At 0515, a strong gust of wind hit us from dead ahead. At his time we were steering 260 degrees magnetic. In five minutes time this wind had blown up to eighty knots, perhaps more. The quartermaster called to me that the barometer read 28.1 which, when you realize that 29.9 is average, was indeed a low reading, so much so as to be noticeable to some by a popping'' of the ears in the less dense air. The sea was now more on our beam than our bow and with the wind from ahead created a very turbulent water. It was at about 0530 that we took our greatest roll to starboard. This roll started out only as an ordinary roll of about fifty degrees, but when we reached this point, a wave, that must have been forty feet h9gh, struck us broad on the port beam, rolling us to seventy degrees where the ship hung momentarily before returning to an up-right position. It was at this point during the watch that I was most afraid of the ship capsizing. It was not long after this that radar gave us the information that a ship was closing from right to left at about 700 yards ahead of us. It was impossible to see this ship and she finally opened up to about 1500 yards on the port bow. She stayed there for some time, then came down our port side at a distance of 400 yards, at which time we could see that it was a tug. She seemed to be riding the storm exceptionally well, going up and down with the waves but not rolling to any great extent. I remember being quite surprised at this, but later it was explained to me that a tug rides a storm just about as well as any ship. Now at about 0600 the direction of the sea changed to ahead to that we were pitching considerably, as well as rolling. One roll, which stared out to starboard, picked up intensity going to port and when we were on an even keel, we were lifted into the air so that the bow, for at least fifty feet, was out of the water. A large wave was coming from ahead and we were still rolling to port, so that we were on a roll of about forty degrees at the same time that we dropped into the wave ahead. It felt as if the ship might break in two. We hit the water with a crack that was deafening to the ears and continued on under the wave. The Captain said later that he would swear that the blue water was up over the signal bridge, almost to flying bridge level. The storm continued in somewhat this same manner but with ever decreasing intensity. At about 0800, it could no longer be considered a typhoon. At least we were out of danger, but discomfort was still present.

In the afternoon I was to learn of many more things that happened during the storm that I could not know while on watch. Immediately after lunch, which consisted of Spam sandwiches, I took a walk about the ship. Upon stepping out I noticed a fire home torn away, stanchions caved in, float nets washed out of their racks, metal lids torn off boxes, ventilation screens caved in and at least tree Inches of water in the after compartments. I talked to some of the crew, and got their reactions to the storm. Only three of them that I have talked to were not afraid during the storm. One was not aware of the intensity, the second is sometimes given to prevarication and the third remained sound asleep. The greatest help to the morals of the crew, they all agreed, was when the Captain reassured them that everything was going to be all right. I was told that this had more to do with the settling down of the crew than anything else could have had, and I must confess that it also made me feel much better, even though I had been with the Captain on the bridge for nearly two hours at that time.

One incident that I remember hearing of and which may sound amusing but was not so at the time, occurred as the storm had just started about the time the watch was relieved. Three men were making their way back on the upper deck to the after compartments and just the few moments as they were walking along, the storm increased to such an intensity that they could no longer continue. They stopped off in one of the clip snacks where they found a fourth man. The water tight hatch creaked considerably, allowing water to drip on them in the compartment and occasionally a few rounds of ammunition would break loose, which together with the fact that the ship was regularly rolling fifty degrees or more, made quite an uncomfortable situation. Of the four, one was reading the Bible, the second was just sitting there and the third was begging the fourth to please not let him drown, but to shoot him In the head with the .45 that was lying near by if the ship should capsize.

One other incident that I recall was related to me by one of the more boisterous men of the crew. He walked back to the after-steering where the man on watch was kneeling, praying. The fellow mentioned above stated that when he saw this he didn't know what to do, but certainly felt "like a Gosh damned fool" and also felt very much like kneeling down beside him.

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