The Galloping Ghost by Carl P. LaVO Page A

people like that before everything becomes a hurried formality. Between the rum punch and the Scotch, I passed the hour talking with the old lady who really was one of the most unbelievable characters I’ve ever met. To portray her, imagine a lively old lady about ninety in a wheelchair with an endless sparkle in her eyes, a joy in living, and a scotch and soda in her hand.
    After the reception, Fluckey and his fellow officers adjourned to the hotel, where the orchestra off the New York and Wyoming battleships performed at a dance held at the hotel.
    By the fall of 1939, with the S-boats continuing to troll the Caribbean, Germany’s invasion of Poland had triggered war in Europe. Japan, meanwhile, was consolidating its conquest of China while threatening to overrun Burma, Thailand, Indonesia, Indochina, and the Philippines, the territorial possessions of Britain, France, the Netherlands, Portugal, and the United States. Tokyo also began a massive buildup of its navy and its bases in the Mariana, Caroline, and the Marshall islands inherited from Germany by the peace terms of World War I. President Roosevelt and the Navy looked with alarm on these developments since the bases were like a strand of pearls strung along vital U.S. sea lanes linking Hawaii with the Philippines. The president retaliated by ordering the Fleet to shift its headquarters from West Coast ports to Pearl Harbor in order to bring the warships closer to the Philippines and hopefully dissuade Japan from further expansion. The administration also stiffened defenses in the Canal Zone, believing Japan might stage a surprise attack to put the canal out of commission.
    The S-42 maintained its vigilance in the Caribbean through 1940 and the first half of 1941, with brief periods of liberty for the crew in Coco Solo. The boat was away for holidays, including Christmas and birthdays, the passageof which were marked in letters between Lieutenant Fluckey and his wife. By June 1941 Mrs. Fluckey and her daughter returned to New London to await Gene’s transfer back to the States, where he expected to assume command of his own submarine. Gene, along with his beloved Irish setter Penny, temporarily moved into a base dormitory and soon followed his family to New London—but not for long. Orders arrived for him to report as diving and engineering officer to the Bonita, one of the largest and most troublesome submarines in the undersea fleet.
War Fish
    Beginning with its V-class, the U.S. Navy began a tradition of giving many subs the names of fighting fish. Thus, the first three became the Barracuda (V-1), Bass (V-2), and Bonita (V-3). The Navy thought it was naming the Bonita after a fish with a streamlined, silvery blue body that must swim continuously because it lacks an air bladder and is migratory, often traveling amazingly long distances—an ideal name for the original promise of the V-3 as a transoceanic submarine. But that fish is spelled “bonito.” As it turned out, “bonita” is a Spanish adjective meaning “beautiful.” That, too, seemed an apt description for the startlingly large vessel as seen on the surface with its bulbous nose sweeping upward from the bow, its smooth white skin, and its tapered teakwood deck. In actuality the boat—like the rest of the V-class—was a miserable failure. Even later “improved” versions—the V-8 ( Cachalot ) and V-9 ( Cuttlefish )—were beset by so many problems that they were known to some as “Breakdown Division One.” The Navy had pinned its hopes on the V-class with its range of 10,000 miles without refueling and a design speed of 21 knots, fast enough to keep up with the Fleet anywhere it went. But the Vs never measured up. They were unable to go faster than 18.7 knots. They couldn’t meet the design goal of 9 knots submerged. And there were other problems. The fuel tanks often leaked, disclosing the sub’s location when diving. The main