Part 1

At 0600 on January 24, 1943, Lieutenant Commander Dudley Morton stood in the cramped conning tower of USS Wahoo and watched a Japanese destroyer swing toward him at 12 knots. Through the periscope, Harusame was turning with steady precision inside Wewak Harbor, already moving to where its crew believed the American submarine would be. Morton was 35 years old. He had completed 2 patrols as prospective commanding officer. Under his command, Wahoo had sunk 0 ships.

The Japanese had stationed Harusame and 3 submarines at Wewak specifically to protect the supply base that sustained operations across New Guinea. Until December 31, 1942, American submarines did not meet destroyers at close range unless they had no choice. The numbers alone explained why. A destroyer could make 35 knots. A submerged submarine struggled to make 9. Standard doctrine called for evasion, a deep dive, silent running, and patience. Every submarine commander in the Pacific Fleet knew what Japanese destroyers could do once they found their target. Between December 1941 and December 1942, Japanese destroyers had depth-charged 23 American submarines. 15 survived. 8 did not.

Morton had already decided that this doctrine was wrong, and he reached that conclusion before he ever took command. On December 10, during Wahoo’s 2nd patrol, he had stood in the conning tower beside executive officer Richard O’Kane and watched the previous captain, Lieutenant Commander Marvin Kennedy, break off an attack after a single depth-charge run. The convoy they had been stalking still had 2 cargo ships and 1 destroyer within reach. All 3 escaped. Kennedy was 38 years old, experienced, and cautious. Morton was 35, aggressive, and furious. He watched opportunity sail away and never forgot it.

3 weeks later, Morton relieved Kennedy as commanding officer. Before Wahoo left Brisbane on January 16 for her 3rd patrol, he assembled the crew on deck and told them exactly what kind of command this would be. Wahoo, he said, was expendable. Reasonable precautions would be taken, but the mission was not survival for its own sake. Their mission was to sink enemy shipping. Anyone who wanted a transfer had 30 minutes. The yeoman had Morton’s verbal authority to process requests immediately, and no negative word would be said about anyone who stepped ashore. Morton waited the full 30 minutes. Not 1 sailor asked to leave.

Wahoo had been the worst-performing submarine in the Pacific Fleet. After 2 patrols she had 2 failures and only 1 damaged tanker to show for them. Kennedy’s caution had drained confidence from the boat. Morton promised the crew something else: aggressive attacks, surface running at night, maximum speed, and a determination to hunt the enemy instead of hiding from him.

5 days later, Wahoo received orders to reconnoiter Wewak, a Japanese supply base on the north coast of New Guinea. The order brought with it a serious problem. The United States Navy had no charts of Wewak Harbor. There were no hydrographic surveys, no depth soundings, no reliable navigation references. Motor Machinist’s Mate Dalton Keer had bought a cheap school atlas in Australia. It showed a small indentation labeled Wewak. That was the chart Morton took into battle, a $2 school atlas.

Morton interpreted “reconnoiter” in the most direct way possible. He would enter the harbor and destroy what he found there. At 0530 on January 24, Wahoo submerged and crept into Wewak Harbor at periscope depth. Morton placed O’Kane at the attack periscope while he stood back to study the wider tactical picture. Captains were supposed to keep the periscope themselves during attacks. Morton ignored the convention. He wanted his own attention free for movement, timing, and decision.

At 0600, O’Kane found the target. Harusame lay anchored between 2 submarines. She was a destroyer of 1,250 tons, armed with 4 5-inch guns and 8 depth-charge racks, built for exactly this kind of work. Morton fired 3 torpedoes from 1,200 yards. All 3 missed. Their wakes pointed straight back to Wahoo.

Harusame’s crew reacted at once. Men ran to battle stations. The destroyer’s engines came alive, and in the periscope Morton watched the ship gather speed and turn directly toward him. The range closed with alarming speed. 800 yards. 600. Sailors lined the destroyer’s deck and pointed at the periscope wake. Morton fired a 4th torpedo. It missed as well. Harusame kept coming.

Now there was 1 torpedo left in the forward tubes, and every man in Wahoo’s conning tower understood the choices available to the destroyer. Harusame could ram them. She could cross overhead and drop depth charges directly onto their position. Either option might finish the submarine. The time to collision was measured in seconds.

Morton ordered the last torpedo fired down the throat, straight at the destroyer’s bow. The tactic existed in theory, but theory was all it was. Submarine officers throughout the Pacific knew the concept: fire directly at an attacking warship, then dive beneath her keel before she can strike. If the torpedo missed, the destroyer would ram the submarine or drop depth charges on top of it. If the submarine dived too late, the result would be the same. The idea had never carried the reassurance of tested success. It was a desperate calculation.

The torpedo left Wahoo’s tube at 46 knots. Travel time to target was 39 seconds. Morton ordered an emergency dive. Wahoo’s bow fell at the maximum angle toward 300 ft. Harusame passed directly overhead. Inside the boat the crew heard the destroyer’s propellers tear through the water. Then came silence. Then a detonation so violent it lifted Wahoo’s stern 12 ft and slammed it down again. Light fixtures shattered. Cork insulation rained from the overhead. Men seized handholds and braced against the shock.

90 seconds later, Morton brought the submarine back to periscope depth. Where Harusame had been, there was only debris and an expanding oil slick. The destroyer had broken in 2. Both sections were sinking. Morton had done what most submarine commanders in the Pacific regarded as suicidal. He had fired a torpedo point-blank at an attacking destroyer, and the destroyer had died first.

Wahoo withdrew from Wewak Harbor at maximum speed. The success had proved a point, but it had also cost 5 torpedoes. Wahoo carried 24 in all. 5 were gone. 19 remained. From that point on, every shot mattered.

2 days later, on January 26 at 0715, Wahoo’s lookouts saw smoke on the horizon north of New Guinea. Morton surfaced immediately and gave chase at maximum speed. By 0930, Wahoo had closed to visual range. Ahead lay a convoy of 5 ships: 2 freighters, 1 large transport, 1 tanker, and 1 escort. They were moving at 8 knots and zigzagging according to a pattern Morton judged predictable. He shadowed them for 6 hours, studying their movements and calculating firing solutions.

Standard doctrine favored a submerged attack, followed by a deep dive and evasion. Morton had no intention of following it blindly. He intended to attack on the surface at night, close the range hard, fire multiple spreads, and sink everything he could reach. At 1500 he submerged into attack position and placed Wahoo directly across the convoy’s path. Then he waited.

At 1720, the lead freighter, Fuku Maru, entered range. Morton fired 2 torpedoes from 1,500 yards. Both hit. Fuku Maru began sinking at once. He swung Wahoo toward the 2nd freighter and fired 1 torpedo. It hit as well. The freighter slowed but did not sink. Then Morton saw the largest target in the convoy, the transport Buyo Maru, 8,000 tons and loaded with troops and supplies.

He fired 3 torpedoes at Buyo Maru. The 2nd and 3rd struck amidships. The transport went dead in the water, damaged but still afloat. Morton shifted again and fired 2 more torpedoes at the wounded 2nd freighter as it tried to ram Wahoo. Both hit. The freighter exploded. Then he turned back to Buyo Maru.

The transport remained afloat. Troops were already abandoning ship and climbing into lifeboats. Morton surfaced to finish the work with deck guns. What followed became the most controversial action of his career, and later many believed it was the reason he never received the Medal of Honor despite a final record of 19 ships sunk.

For 90 minutes, Wahoo’s crew fired on the lifeboats with machine guns and the 4-inch deck gun. Morton directed the fire himself. His reasoning was plain and brutally utilitarian. Every Japanese soldier who reached shore, he believed, was a soldier who would one day face American troops in battle. Better to stop them in the water than fight them later on land. But the Hague Convention of 1907 prohibited attacks on shipwreck survivors under any circumstances.

The results were catastrophic. Approximately 87 Japanese soldiers and 195 Indian prisoners of war who had been aboard Buyo Maru were killed. Morton did not know the Indians were prisoners. He believed he was firing on Japanese troops. By the time Wahoo’s crew understood their mistake, the lifeboats had already been destroyed and the survivors were in the water. Morton broke off the attack and withdrew.

In 2 days Wahoo had expended 17 torpedoes. 7 remained. Yet Morton had also sunk 4 confirmed ships—1 destroyer and 3 cargo vessels—more than any American submarine had achieved on a single patrol to that point, and he still had time left to find more targets before returning to base.

On February 7, 1943, Wahoo surfaced 3 miles off Pearl Harbor. Before entering the naval base, Morton ordered the crew topside. They lashed a straw broom to the periscope shears to signal a clean sweep. From the signal halyard, 8 small Japanese flags fluttered in the wind, 1 for each ship Wahoo claimed sunk.

When the submarine tied up at the pier, Admiral Chester Nimitz was waiting. Nimitz came aboard personally and presented Morton with the Navy Cross. The citation credited Wahoo with sinking 8 enemy ships totaling 32,000 tons in 23 days. It was declared the most successful patrol in the history of the Pacific submarine force.

Morton’s patrol report circulated quickly. Every commanding officer in the submarine force read it. Some called him reckless. Others called him brilliant. Admiral Charles Lockwood, Commander Submarine Force Pacific, called him exactly what the fleet needed. Lockwood ordered Morton to brief every submarine captain at Pearl Harbor on Wahoo’s tactics.

For 2 weeks, Morton explained his approach. Put the executive officer at the periscope so the captain can study the whole engagement. Make decisions faster. Attack more aggressively. Do not wait for perfect firing solutions. Close the range. Make every torpedo count. His arguments were not abstract. He could point to results.

On February 23, Wahoo departed on her 4th patrol. Her destination was the Yellow Sea, the northern waters off Korea. No American submarine had operated there before. The sea was shallow, heavily patrolled, and close to Japanese air bases. It was precisely the sort of place where Morton believed aggressive tactics offered the best chance of success.

Wahoo topped off at Midway on February 27 and continued northwest. On March 19, she sighted a 5,000-ton freighter, Zogan Maru, steaming south along the Korean coast. Morton fired 1 torpedo from 1,800 yards. It hit. The freighter sank in 7 minutes.

4 hours later, Morton attacked another freighter, Kamaru. The 1st torpedo malfunctioned. Kamaru began evasive maneuvers. Morton fired a 2nd torpedo. It missed. The freighter escaped.

2 days later, off the Korean coast, Morton found 2 more freighters traveling together for Japan, Hosen Maru and Nitsu Maru. He closed to 2,200 yards and fired 3 torpedoes. 2 struck Hosen Maru. The ship exploded and sank. He immediately swung Wahoo toward Nitsu Maru and fired 2 more torpedoes. Both hit. Nitsu Maru went down stern first.

For the next week, Wahoo hunted through the Yellow Sea. Morton sank 3 more confirmed ships. Patrol boats, fishing trawlers, anything carrying the Japanese flag became fair game. Wahoo operated almost entirely on the surface, diving only when aircraft appeared. Morton’s lookouts usually saw planes with enough time to spare. Wahoo could crash-dive in 45 seconds, and 45 seconds was usually enough.

By March 25, Wahoo had expended all 24 torpedoes. Morton’s next request surprised almost everyone who heard it. He wanted to enter the Sea of Japan.

The proposal was extraordinary. The Sea of Japan was the most dangerous body of water in the Pacific available to an American submarine. It was almost completely enclosed by enemy territory, with only 2 narrow straits offering entry and exit. Both were believed to be heavily mined. Both were patrolled constantly. No American submarine had yet penetrated the Sea of Japan and returned. Not 1.

Morton asked permission to try. Lockwood refused. The mission was too dangerous. There were too many unknowns. Intelligence on Japanese defenses was too thin. Morton would have to wait.

He did not like waiting, and he did not intend to do it forever.

Part 2

Wahoo entered refit at Mare Island Navy Yard on May 29 and remained there through July 20, 1943. She received new equipment, fresh paint, and a full torpedo load. During the refit, Morton received orders for his next patrol. He was to return to the Yellow Sea and attack the shipping lanes between Korea and Japan. It was, on paper, a standard patrol, in the same waters he had already dominated.

Morton departed Pearl Harbor on August 2. Wahoo topped off at Midway on August 5 and continued northwest. By August 9 she had reached her patrol area. For 2 days Morton searched and found nothing. The Japanese had learned from what Wahoo had done on the previous patrol. Convoys had been rerouted. Shipping lanes that had once carried frequent traffic were suddenly empty.

On August 11, Morton spotted a single cargo ship hugging the Korean coast. He closed to 800 yards and fired 2 torpedoes. Both hit. The ship sank. After that, he resumed the search and found almost nothing. For 8 days Wahoo roamed through clear skies and empty water. There were no worthwhile targets. The Japanese were no longer willing to send ships through waters Morton had turned into a killing ground.

On August 19, he made the decision that would shape everything that followed. He radioed Admiral Lockwood and requested permission to enter the Sea of Japan through La Perouse Strait. Lockwood’s answer came back within hours. Permission granted. Proceed with extreme caution. Report position daily. Good hunting. Morton brought Wahoo to the surface and turned her north.

La Perouse Strait lay between the northern tip of Hokkaido and Sakhalin. At its narrowest point, it was only 25 miles wide. Japanese patrol boats covered it constantly. Minefields blocked the most direct approaches. Any submarine attempting passage had to travel on the surface at night, submerge by day, and trust that Japanese radar did not find her before she could disappear.

Wahoo entered La Perouse Strait on the night of August 20 at 2200. Morton ran on the surface at maximum speed. Within the 1st hour, lookouts sighted 3 patrol boats. Morton avoided all 3 by changing course and diving briefly when necessary. By 0400 on August 21, Wahoo had cleared the strait. She was inside the Sea of Japan, the 1st American submarine to penetrate Japanese home waters successfully.

For the next 10 days Morton hunted there with the same methodical aggression that had become Wahoo’s signature. On August 22 he sank 2 cargo ships. On August 24 he sank a tanker. On August 26 he sank 3 freighters. The patrol was a success in practical terms, but the deeper he moved into those waters, the more another problem forced itself to the surface.

Wahoo’s torpedoes were failing.

The Mark 14 torpedo had troubled American submarines since December 1941. Magnetic exploders failed. Depth settings were wrong. Contact exploders misfired. During this patrol Morton fired 16 torpedoes. Only 7 worked properly. Targets that should have died escaped because weapons ran too deep, failed to detonate, or simply went wrong.

On September 1, Morton attacked a 4-ship convoy escorted by 2 destroyers. He fired 6 torpedoes. 2 hit. 1 freighter sank. The other 4 torpedoes either missed or failed to explode. The destroyers counterattacked immediately. Wahoo dived to 300 ft and rigged for silent running while depth charges exploded overhead for 2 hours. None detonated close enough to inflict serious damage. When the destroyers finally withdrew, Morton surfaced and went back to hunting.

By September 5, Wahoo had expended all 24 torpedoes. Morton claimed 13 ships sunk on the patrol. Post-patrol analysis credited him with 5 confirmed. The discrepancy infuriated him. He knew the boat had been handled well. He knew the tactics worked. He knew the opportunities had been there. What had failed them were the torpedoes.

Morton withdrew from the Sea of Japan through La Perouse Strait on September 7. He reached Pearl Harbor on September 17. Admiral Lockwood met him at the pier, and the debrief lasted 6 hours. Morton documented every malfunction, every failed detonation, every missed opportunity ruined by defective weapons. Lockwood sent the report on to the Bureau of Ordnance with strong recommendations attached. The torpedoes had to be fixed immediately.

Morton did not intend to wait for the fixes. He wanted to go back to the Sea of Japan, prove again that his methods worked, and sink more ships than any submarine commander in American history. Lockwood approved the mission. Wahoo would sail again within 2 weeks, and this time Morton would not be coming back.

On September 9, 1943, Wahoo departed Pearl Harbor for her 7th war patrol. Richard O’Kane did not sail with her. He had been promoted to commander and assigned to take command of USS Tang, then under construction. Morton’s new executive officer was Lieutenant Richard Henderson, competent and experienced, but the old partnership was gone.

Morton and O’Kane had worked with unusual ease. O’Kane at the periscope, Morton studying the larger tactical picture, the 2 of them had functioned almost as a single mind with 4 eyes. Together they had sunk 19 ships across 5 patrols. Now Morton meant to prove that Wahoo could keep striking just as hard with a new team.

Wahoo topped off at Midway on September 13. Morton’s orders were clear. He was to penetrate the Sea of Japan through La Perouse Strait, attack shipping between Honshu and Korea, report his position daily, exit through the same strait, and return to Pearl Harbor by October 21. It was a standard 42-day patrol on paper, but little about it was routine.

There was 1 advantage. USS Sawfish would enter the Sea of Japan 2 days after Wahoo. 2 American submarines operating in the same confined enemy waters promised coordinated pressure and doubled risk for Japanese shipping. Morton, however, still preferred to hunt alone. Wahoo and Sawfish would operate independently.

On the night of September 20, Wahoo entered La Perouse Strait again. Morton used the same method that had worked in August, a surface transit at maximum speed. Lookouts spotted 2 patrol boats. He evaded both. By dawn on September 21, Wahoo was once more inside the Sea of Japan.

Morton submerged to periscope depth and began hunting.

Between September 21 and October 5, he attacked every worthwhile target he found. Japanese records later confirmed that Wahoo sank 4 ships during this period. Among them was Conron Maru on October 5, an 8,000-ton vessel whose loss cost 544 lives. The other 3 were smaller cargo ships sunk between September 25 and October 2. Total tonnage reached 13,000 tons.

Morton’s aggressive methods were working. He was averaging 1 ship every 4 days. But while Wahoo moved through the Sea of Japan, Morton remained unaware of a serious change in the enemy’s response.

The Japanese had studied the consequences of Wahoo’s August penetration and altered their anti-submarine posture around La Perouse Strait. They added patrol boats. They committed more aircraft. They improved coordination between surface and air units. They also issued new standing orders. Any submarine contact in the strait was to be attacked with maximum force and pursued until destruction could be confirmed.

On October 11, Morton prepared to leave the Sea of Japan. Wahoo had remained submerged for most of the day, conserving batteries for the night transit through La Perouse Strait. At 1600 he surfaced to recharge and make final preparations. Lookouts scanned the horizon. The sky was clear. Winds were light. Conditions looked favorable for the passage.

At 1700 a Japanese patrol plane found Wahoo on the surface. The pilot was Warrant Officer Shigotaka Iicada, flying a Kawanishi E7K reconnaissance floatplane from Shirtori Naval Air Base. He had spent 6 weeks searching for American submarines without a single contact. Now, at last, he had one.

Iicada radioed Wahoo’s position to base and began circling overhead. Morton saw the aircraft at once and ordered a crash dive. Wahoo disappeared in 43 seconds. In most circumstances, that would have been enough. The submarine would remain underwater until the aircraft lost contact and moved on. After dark she would surface and continue toward the strait.

This time the plane did not leave. Iicada marked Wahoo’s position with smoke flares and kept circling. Within 30 minutes, 2 more aircraft arrived. Then surface units converged as well: patrol boats PB-37 and PB-39, and torpedo boat PB-102. Morton was trapped under 7 hours of remaining daylight, with aircraft overhead, 3 surface ships hunting him, and battery power that would force him to surface again within a matter of hours if he could not break contact.

He held Wahoo at 200 ft. Silent running was ordered. Speed was cut to the minimum needed to maintain control. Unnecessary systems were shut down. Men moved without speaking. No one made a sound that did not have to be made. Through the hull came the noise of Japanese propellers searching above.

At 1730 the 1st depth-charge pattern arrived. 6 charges exploded about 200 yards away. They were too far off to inflict damage, but they told Morton something important: the enemy already knew approximately where he was. The blasts shook the submarine and dusted the compartments with cork insulation. Morton changed course to the southwest and kept Wahoo creeping along at 2 knots.

At 1800 a 2nd pattern came down. This time it was 12 charges, and closer, about 150 yards away. The explosions lifted Wahoo’s stern and pounded it back down. Glass shattered in the control room. A hydraulic line burst. Men repaired what they could under emergency lighting and said nothing. Hand signals replaced speech. Morton could see the shape of the problem now. Battery power was dropping. He judged he had perhaps 3 hours left before he would be forced to surface. The Japanese almost certainly understood that as well. They could hold him below and wait for the batteries to run out.

At 1900 he made a calculation. Waiting promised a slow collapse. He would try to break through the cordon while some daylight remained. He ordered a head full. Wahoo accelerated to 8 knots and turned northeast, straight toward La Perouse Strait.

The Japanese heard the speed increase at once. All 3 surface vessels altered toward him. Aircraft overhead updated his position by radio. At 1915 the 3rd depth-charge attack came in, 20 charges dropped in a coordinated pattern from all 3 patrol boats at once. This time the attack was accurate. Several charges detonated within 50 ft of the hull.

Wahoo rolled 15° to port. Men were thrown across compartments. Equipment tore loose. The main electrical panel sparked and failed, and emergency systems had to take over. Damage reports came in from every section of the boat. There was minor flooding in the forward torpedo room. The hydraulic system was failing. Dive planes were responding sluggishly. Without full hydraulic power, Wahoo could not hold depth as she should. Despite full ballast, she began to rise.

200 ft. 180. 150.

Morton ordered emergency flooding, forcing water into every available tank to stop the rise. It worked. Wahoo stabilized at 160 ft. But the maneuver had cost compressed air he would later need for surfacing. The enemy still hunted overhead. The situation was narrowing toward its end.

At 2000 the sun set. Darkness spread over the surface. Morton now faced 2 obvious choices. He could try to continue escaping submerged with failing systems and weakened batteries, or he could surface immediately, where depth charges would be less effective, and attempt to fight through with deck guns. Both looked close to suicidal.

He chose a 3rd course. He would wait.

If the Japanese believed Wahoo had slipped away, perhaps the intensity of the search would drop. He could conserve what battery power remained, surface after midnight, and then run La Perouse Strait at maximum speed. Wahoo had made the passage before. She could still do it if the enemy relaxed even briefly.

At 2100, through the hull, Morton heard a new and unwelcome sound: additional propellers. Reinforcements were arriving. The Japanese had no intention of giving up. By now he was nearly out of time, nearly out of battery power, and still far from safety. 79 men were depending on whatever decision he made next.

Morton waited until 2300. The batteries were down to less than 20%, enough for perhaps 1 more hour submerged. After that, Wahoo would be compelled to surface whether the enemy was ready or not. Finally he made the decision. At midnight he would surface, go to flank speed, and try to fight his way through.

Part 3

At 2345, Morton brought Wahoo to periscope depth and studied the surface. 3 patrol boats were visible, 2 to the north and 1 to the south, all moving in search patterns. The aircraft had gone. Darkness had made effective aerial patrol impossible. It was the narrow opening he had been waiting for, and it would not stay open long.

At exactly midnight, Wahoo surfaced. Her diesels roared back to life and battery recharge began at once. Lookouts scrambled topside. Morton ordered course northeast and flank speed, 21 knots. La Perouse Strait lay 15 miles away. At full speed the run might take 43 minutes. If the Japanese did not detect him quickly enough, there was still a chance.

They detected Wahoo within 6 minutes.

Searchlights snapped on in the darkness. 1 patrol boat turned hard to intercept. Morton ordered the deck gun manned. Wahoo’s 4-inch gun crew rushed topside and prepared to engage at a range of 3,000 yards, with the distance closing quickly. The patrol boat fired first. Its 25 mm cannon sent tracers arching over the water. Most fell short.

Wahoo answered. The 1st round missed. The 2nd hit and destroyed the patrol boat’s searchlight. The 3rd struck the wheelhouse. The Japanese vessel slowed, turned away, and began trailing smoke. But the other 2 patrol boats were still closing, and there was another danger already on the way.

Wahoo’s radar operator reported aircraft inbound, multiple contacts about 5 miles out. The Japanese had scrambled night-capable aircraft from Shirtori Naval Air Base.

Morton did the math quickly. The planes would be overhead in 4 minutes. The patrol boats would be in position to strike in 8. Wahoo needed roughly 10 minutes more to reach deeper water beyond the strait. He ordered emergency power. The diesels screamed as the engines were pushed to 22 knots. Black smoke poured from the exhausts. It still was not enough.

At 0007 on October 11, the 1st aircraft arrived overhead, a Kawanishi E7K, the same type that had found Wahoo earlier in the day. The pilot was Sergeant Kazuo Takatsuka. His orders were simple: attack any submarine found on the surface. He armed 3 Type 97 depth bombs, each weighing 60 kg and designed to explode on contact with water, effective against surfaced submarines.

Takatsuka positioned his aircraft directly over Wahoo’s course and began his dive.

Morton saw the plane coming and ordered a crash dive. But Wahoo had been driving at flank speed. To submerge from that speed took time. Vents had to be opened. Ballast tanks had to flood. The submarine had to slow. There were too many steps left and too little time left to perform them.

Takatsuka released at 300 ft.

All 3 bombs fell close together. The 1st struck the water 30 ft ahead of Wahoo’s bow. The 2nd hit 10 ft to port. The 3rd landed directly on the forward deck near the conning tower. The explosion tore through Wahoo’s pressure hull. Water rushed instantly into the forward torpedo room.

The bulkhead between the torpedo room and the forward battery compartment failed. Seawater struck the battery cells and chlorine gas erupted. Men in the forward compartments died within seconds, killed by blast, flooding, or poison gas. Morton ordered an emergency surface. Blow all ballast. Get the bow up. Save whoever could still be saved.

But the compressed-air system had been damaged by the explosion. Only partial pressure remained, not enough to overcome the flooding forward. Wahoo’s bow dropped sharply. 30°. Then 40°. The submarine was going down bow first, and Morton could not stop it.

At 0015 on October 11, 1943, Wahoo passed through 200 ft. Hull plates groaned under the mounting pressure. Emergency lights flickered. Men in the after compartments felt the angle increasing and understood what was happening. There would be no recovery now.

At 300 ft, the forward compartments imploded. The pressure hull collapsed with devastating speed. Bulkheads failed in sequence—control room, conning tower, after battery—each compartment taking water within seconds of the one before it. The men inside died almost instantly, crushed by pressure or drowned in darkness before any escape attempt could even begin. There was no time for final messages and no possibility of rescue.

Wahoo struck the seafloor at 0017 in 213 ft of water in La Perouse Strait. The impact drove her bow into the mud. A moment later the stern settled as well. 79 men were dead: Commander Dudley Morton, Lieutenant Richard Henderson, and 77 officers and sailors. Not 1 survived.

Japanese patrol boats circled the area until dawn. Large quantities of oil floated to the surface along with debris, cork insulation, and fragments of wood. Patrol boat commanders reported a confirmed submarine kill. The wreck lay too deep to be verified directly at the time, but the evidence left little room for doubt. Wahoo was gone.

Admiral Lockwood declared Wahoo overdue on December 2, 1943. She was officially stricken from the Naval Vessel Register on December 6. The news stunned the submarine force. Morton had come to seem untouchable. Wahoo had come to seem unstoppable. The illusion lasted until it broke.

The loss changed American submarine operations in the region at once. There would be no more penetrations of the Sea of Japan until mine-detecting equipment became available. That did not happen until June 1945, 20 months later. By then the war was nearly over.

In postwar review, Morton’s combat record was reduced from his claims. He had reported more ships sunk than could ultimately be confirmed. Torpedo failures explained much of the discrepancy. His final credited total stood at 19 ships for 55,000 tons. That still placed him 3rd among American submarine commanders in number of ships sunk. Only Richard O’Kane and Eugene Fluckey ranked higher, and both men had learned from Morton’s methods.

Morton received 4 Navy Crosses, the 4th posthumously. Lockwood later wrote that Morton’s aggressive tactics had revolutionized submarine warfare. He described him as the 1st to penetrate an enemy harbor, the 1st to use the down-the-throat shot successfully, and the 1st to wipe out an entire convoy single-handed. In 10 months, Morton had done work that consumed the better part of many commanders’ careers.

In 1960, Lockwood wrote the foreword to a book about Wahoo. There he described Morton as a natural leader and a born daredevil. He wrote that when a man like Morton commanded a submarine, the result could only be a fighting ship of the highest order, crewed by officers and men who would follow their skipper to the gates of hell. In Wahoo’s case, they did.

In 2005, Russian divers discovered Wahoo’s wreck in La Perouse Strait. The United States Navy confirmed the identification in October 2006. The submarine rests upright on the seafloor, her conning tower still bearing damage consistent with aerial bombing. The site is protected as a war grave. No salvage is permitted.

Morton was declared legally dead on January 7, 1946. The destroyer USS Morton was later named in his honor. His decorations included 4 Navy Crosses and the Army Distinguished Service Cross. He never received the Medal of Honor. Some historians have believed that the Buyo Maru incident prevented that recognition.

But medals alone do not explain why Morton endured in the memory of the submarine force. He proved that submarines could hunt aggressively, attack on the surface, and even charge destroyers instead of fleeing them. Tactics that had once seemed reckless became doctrine. Commanders who followed him studied his patrols carefully, learning from both his victories and the circumstances of his loss.

By the time Wahoo disappeared into La Perouse Strait, Morton had already changed the way American submarines fought. His final patrol ended in oil, wreckage, and silence, but the methods he forced into service outlived him. On the seafloor where Wahoo still lies, the cost of that transformation remains fixed in place with her: 79 men, a shattered hull, and the end of 1 of the most aggressive commands in the history of the Pacific war.