In the cold gray dawn of July 5, 1942, the crew of USS Growler (SS-215) was deep in the fight. She was five miles northeast of Kiska Harbor, patrolling the rough waters of the Aleutians as part of the silent service’s early wartime thrust into the North Pacific. The island, then held by Japanese forces, was a linchpin in the enemy’s bold move to stretch their Empire’s grip eastward across the Aleutian chain.

For the men aboard Growler, the day began as it often did on patrol. Visibility had improved since the previous night, and the morning hours were spent submerged, listening. At 0413 hours, at a quiet periscope depth, the boat’s sonar picked up a formation of enemy ships. The contact was sharp and clear—three vessels bearing 240 degrees true, estimated at 8000 yards and closing. The estimated course of the targets was 090 to 110 degrees true. Their size and profile suggested something more serious than patrol boats. It looked like cruisers leaving Kiska.