Submarines Have Homes
Submarine Tenders Played an Important Part in the War
By R.P. Black
Our Navy, November, 1945
June, 2005

The band was playing "There'll Be a Hot Time in the Old Town Tonight," and the port side of the submarine tender was lined with its crew and its submarine relief crew as the sleek submarine in its battle-scarred dress of grey paint, with its battle flags flying, slid into the slip and made the turn to the end of the "bend" preparatory to coming alongside. On the main deck, at the forward gangway, where a sign read "Bridge Here," stood the Submarine Squadron Commander, the Captain of the tender, with his heads of departments, ready to welcome once again one of their boats after a long, hard patrol.
Nosing its way through the blue-green water-now a dirty ash-black, covered with slime, grease, and oil from the other subs and the tender, the USS Euryale
finally made its way close aboard and began tying up. As the lines were being secured, the squadron commander and the captain went aboard. The tender's band broke out with "Roll Out the Barrel" and "Hail, Hail, the Gang's All Here," which seemed to put new life into the boys on the deck of the boat in dungarees, with tired eyes, and one could sense a great change take place in the faint expressions on their faces, for after fifty-nine long, hard, danger-filled days at sea -battling the elements of war, time, and the unknowns of the deep, the USS Euryale had at last come "home."
This is only one of the many incidents taking place daily out in the far reaches of the vast Pacific as the war takes us closer to the steps of the far-flung Japanese empire, and as the submarine tenders- the AS's of the vast Auxiliary fleet -care for, refill, refit, and watch over their broods of the mighty undersea fleet of submarines.
After hands have been shaken, congratulations have been passed around, and backs have been slapped, life gradually assumes its normal trend aboard both the tender and the boat (as submariners are prone to call their fighting craft).
First aboard goes the mail, and there is quite a bit of it, for all during those long weeks that the USS has been at sea, mail has been accumulating. And now as the tender's mail clerks come aboard the boat carrying sacks of mail, there is an instant scramble and rush toward them. That is a happy moment for any mail clerk--for all of his hard work, time, and labor spent on that mail is now paying dividends. Yes, it's a happy experience!
The next day, after the excitement has slackened and life has assumed its normalcy once again, the boys pack their personal gear in their bags and it's off to the beach where the tender has built a rest camp and recreation center on an island near by. Or if it is located far enough in the rear of zones and theaters of operations, and if the tender is lucky enough to be tied up at a city of any size, it's off to town for a two-weeks leave to rest up and recuperate after a long, hard time at sea.
After the crew has departed, a conference is held in the wardroom of the tender between the squadron engineer and the heads of departments of both the boat and the tender. At this conference the work scheduled to be done on the boat is read, outlined, discussed and then routed to that department of the jobs are allocated to the relief crew, but most of the refit goes to the tender's repair department.
This department is made up of all rates that could possibly be of benefit in refitting a boat--shipfitters, yeomen, torpedomen, storekeepers, photographers, etcetera. All these men are in the one department, but in all respects they are in ship's company.
If there are parts necessary to the refit, and these parts are not available, blueprints are drawn and sent to the tender's machine shop where men turn out special parts--depending upon the urgency of the job. Often the machine shop works night and day-men working until they are too tired to go on, a few hours' rest--another cup of hot joe and they are at it again.
Meantime on the boat the gunner's mates and fire control men check the gunnery. If the periscope is in need of repair, it is hoisted aboard the tender and taken to the optical shop-an air-conditioned compartment where most any repair needed to optical or precision instruments can be expertly handled by men who have spent years on the outside in civilian life equipping themselves with the knowledge which now pays off in more than monetary value.
If there are any unfired torpedoes aboard the boat, they are hoisted aboard the tender and sent to the torpedo shop to be overhauled, and are replaced with fish "ready to go" --some bearing the names of civilians who have bought enough war bonds to purchase a torpedo, and a small notation such as "Sink a Jap for John Q. Public."
The engines are torn apart and sent to the submarine engine overhaul shop where they are taken apart and given a thorough going-over. If special tools and parts are needed during the refit they are drawn from a department known as "Sub-Spares." If Sub-Spares doesn't have it, and it cannot be procured from the beach, then the machine shop again turns to.
G.S.K. is open for anything they may have in stock--from a pencil to large sheets of metal to a bucket of paint. The tender's ice boxes and commissary department storerooms are stocked with fresh fruit, vegetables, and meat--with additional specialties in can foods added and drawn only by the boats. If fresh milk is available, first and foremost priority is given the boats, also on fresh eggs and anything else that is considered a little bit of a luxury or a bit better than the ordinary--and who can blame them?
Before the crew leaves for the rest camp, if they desire to draw pay, the tender's paymaster and his assistant go aboard the boat and the crew is paid, and with their accumulations of fifty per-cent for submarine duty, their paydays are not usually small ones.
But life aboard the submarine tender is not all hard work and dull. There are also the lighter moments. If the tender is in the islands, the only entertainment will most likely be swimming in the day and movies at night. Often the crew sits for several hours in the tropical downpours watching movies they had probably seen a long time ago in that almost-but-not-forgotten age known as civilian life. But the men do not mind the rain, because the few hours it takes for the movie to unwind is taking those soaked sailors back home. The men do not like war pictures or the ones full of propaganda or flag waving, they know full well for what they are fighting.
Also, on the days they are in the liberty section, the men go over to a small island, known as "Recreation Center," to drink two cans of beer each, or swim, or just laze and loll in the fine white sand. Or maybe they prefer to
search in the sand for "cat-eyes," a beautiful little circular shell with different colors that greatly resemble cat eyes. Sometimes the Exec gives them
permission to take a whale boat and go on an all-day fishing trip. The galley
fixes a lunch for them and oftimes they have wonderful results. And, too, some
times, some of them just stay aboard.
Aboard the tender is a group of men of all rates who can play different musical instruments, so they banded together and formed a small band. They practice during their "off" hours, giving up their movie time, and sometimes their liberties, in order to get in a little extra practice. They play hot and they play sweet. The skipper thought a brass military band might be a good thing so he purchased more instruments, including two bass horns. Sometimes before the movies the crew has a concert of swing and sometimes it is a concert of Sousa, King, and other popular military numbers that the boys like. When in port, and the submarine crew wants to have a dance, the tender's band goes along and furnishes the music. The ship's two bands are voluntary, and the ship is proud of the fact that as far as is known, it is the only tender in the submarine fleet to have both the military and swing band.
When the crews receive their medals and their awards for meritorious achievements and the boats receive the Presidential Unit Citation for "missions completed above and beyond the call of duty," the tender is right alongside them and feels more than rewarded for all their hard work, labor, sweat, and time spent refitting the boats. The men feel that at last their efforts are paying off. They know that the things they have done, the time they have spent out of the States, all of the inconveniences they have experienced, were not in vain and that they, too, have caused the war to be shortened.
Rear Admiral James Fife, Commander Submarines Seventh Fleet, recently disclosed in his first press interview since the Navy Department partially lifted its ban on the activities of the "Silent Service" that the undersea war in the Southwest Pacific areas is drawing to a close for American submarines due to a lack of Japanese ships to sink, that American submarines have nearly finished their task because the enemy has already lost most of his shipping.
America, too, lost part of her undersea fleet in bringing this about, but the ratio is low; and from Washington comes the good news that the latest sinkings of fourteen more Japanese ships bring the final total of enemy ships sunk by our submarines in the Pacific ocean areas, since 7 December, 1941, to 1142 ships.
In this report of Admiral Fife's, and the news from Washington, our submarine tenders also glory--for they are the homes for our submarines.
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