June 3, 1944

Charles Andrews Lockwood was born on May 6, 1890, in Midland, Virginia, but came of age in rural Missouri. He did not rise through the U.S. Naval Academy with flair or distinction, graduating in 1912 near the lower third of his class. Yet, what he may have lacked in academic polish, he more than made up for in grit, instinct, and a deep-seated sense of duty to the Navy and to the men under his command.

Drawn to the submarines early, Lockwood began his undersea career aboard the tender USS Mohican in 1914. That same year, he took command of his first boat, the USS A-2, stationed in the Philippines. This marked the beginning of a lifelong bond between Lockwood and the silent service. He would later say he had submarines in his blood. In 1917, as commander of Submarine Division 1 during World War I, Lockwood tackled an early crisis head-on. A pair of deadly gasoline explosions on submarines A-7 and A-2 killed nine sailors. Lockwood led the investigation, ensuring that such disasters would not be repeated.

In the postwar years, Lockwood commanded a range of boats, including the UC-97, a captured German minelayer, and the newly built R-25 and S-14. He distinguished himself not just by surviving peacetime hazards—once saving R-25 from sinking after a sailor forgot to shut a main induction valve—but by advocating fiercely for better submarine design and tactics. During this period, Lockwood helped reshape the Navy’s thinking about submarines, arguing for a long-range fleet sub that could work alongside the battle fleet. He faced down internal opposition to get the Tambor-class boats approved, vessels that would prove critical in the war to come.

By 1941, Lockwood had become naval attaché to Great Britain, where he observed firsthand the limitations of magnetic torpedo detonators. That technical lesson would become central to his wartime legacy. Promoted to rear admiral in 1942, he was sent to Australia as Commander, Submarines, Southwest Pacific. Almost immediately, he began clashing with his superiors and fellow admirals over control, tactics, and torpedo reliability. The man did not suffer bureaucrats or broken equipment lightly. When his submariners repeatedly reported torpedoes that failed to explode, Lockwood pushed past the red tape. He ordered his staff to conduct live-fire tests. The results were damning. The Mark 14 torpedoes were running too deep and often failed to detonate.

Lockwood flew to Washington to confront the Bureau of Ordnance with a now-famous outburst. If they could not build a torpedo that worked, he said, then they had better build a boat hook to rip the enemy’s hulls apart. This moment marked a turning point. It led to both the disabling of faulty magnetic exploders and the creation of more reliable contact detonators. These improvements transformed the submarine war effort.

In early 1943, following the death of Rear Admiral Robert English in a plane crash, Lockwood took command of Submarine Force, Pacific Fleet, also known as COMSUBPAC. At Pearl Harbor and later Guam, he led with what can only be described as righteous intensity. He weeded out timid commanders and replaced them with aggressive, battle-ready skippers. He reformed R and R practices, ensuring that returning crews were met not with indifference but with crates of ice cream, fresh vegetables, and two-week stints at the Royal Hawaiian Hotel. He knew morale mattered as much as machinery.

It was under Lockwood’s command that American submarines came into their own. He directed the forward movement of bases, reducing turnaround time and allowing boats to operate closer to Japan’s vital shipping lanes. He authorized daring runs into the Sea of Japan through mined straits, and championed the limited but effective use of wolf pack tactics. Unlike the German model, Lockwood kept radio chatter to a minimum. His boats often coordinated attacks using radar interference, a clever adaptation that proved hard for the Japanese to counter.

Lockwood’s impact was profound. Under his watch, submarines sank more than 1,100 merchant ships and over 200 warships, including a battleship, several cruisers, and aircraft carriers. Submariners destroyed over fifty percent of all Japanese shipping losses during the war. These feats came at a terrible price. Of the 15,400 men who served in submarines, more than 3,500 never returned. Yet Lockwood never faltered in his commitment to them. He earned the nickname “Uncle Charlie” not from Washington brass, but from the men who knew he fought for them every day.

By war’s end, Lockwood had received three Navy Distinguished Service Medals and the Legion of Merit. On September 1, 1945, he stood aboard the USS Missouri in Tokyo Bay as Japan formally surrendered. The silent service had spoken loudly.

Postwar, Lockwood served as Naval Inspector General, a role he disliked. He lobbied for the creation of a Deputy Chief of Naval Operations for Submarines, but the Navy declined. Disillusioned and tired of fighting internal battles, he retired in 1947. He spent his later years in Los Gatos, California, where he wrote several acclaimed books, including “Sink ‘Em All” and “Down to the Sea in Subs.” He advised on numerous films, including “Operation Pacific” with John Wayne and “Hellcats of the Navy,” which starred Ronald Reagan.

Lockwood remained a passionate advocate for submariners long after the shooting stopped. He helped enshrine their stories, pushing for recognition of their sacrifices and maintaining friendships with the men who had once served under him. He hunted deer and quail with friends, and in a strange twist of fate, discovered that his predecessor, Robert English, had died on the very property where Lockwood hunted.

Charles Lockwood passed away on June 6, 1967, at the age of 77. He was buried with honors at Golden Gate National Cemetery, in the company of his wartime comrades Admirals Nimitz, Spruance, and Turner. Their graves form a perfect row, a final formation of men who led from the front.

Lockwood once wrote that the men he commanded were not supermen. They were simply well-trained, well-led Americans with good boats and better hearts. That is exactly how his own legacy should be remembered. He was not a grandstanding hero. He was a steady hand, a sharp mind, and a fighter who never forgot who paid the price for victory. For the submarine community, Charles Andrews Lockwood was, and remains, one of its most revered commanders. The USS Lockwood (FF-1064) was named in his honor, and the Naval Submarine League presents an annual award bearing his name. Uncle Charlie lives on, wherever submariners go to sea.