The USS Batfish (SS-310) earned her place in history as “The Champion Submarine-Killing Submarine of World War Two.” But before she ever sent three enemy subs to the bottom in early 1945, she fought her way through tense patrols in the Central Pacific. One of her most daring actions came on August 23, 1944, during her Fourth War Patrol near Palau. It was a day when Batfish stumbled onto a Japanese flotilla trapped by reefs and shoals, and came out swinging.
Fresh from her Third War Patrol, Batfish pulled into Midway on July 8, 1944. She spent sixteen days alongside the submarine tender Proteus for a thorough refit and sound testing. The crew drilled on new torpedoes, including the electric Mark 18s, and fired practice shots from her stern tubes. By August 1, she was back to sea, prowling toward Palau under the command of Lieutenant Commander John K. Fyfe.
The early days of the patrol were filled with nervous false alarms. A periscope was sighted near Midway, forcing a quick turnaway and contact report. On August 4, a floating barnacle-crusted mine was dispatched with 20mm gunfire. A few days later, another submarine was sighted, and the crew played hide and seek for ninety minutes before losing it in the vast ocean. Rain squalls, phantom radar pips, and overflights by friendly and unfriendly planes kept the crew tense as Batfish closed in on Palau.
On August 23, a patrol aircraft reported a destroyer aground at Velasco Reef. Fyfe ordered Batfish north to investigate. What they found was not just a stranded ship but a whole ragtag Japanese “reef task force” pinned against coral and sandbars.
Through the periscope, Fyfe saw a surreal tableau. A 3,000-ton transport sat high and dry on a sandbar, utterly beyond the reach of torpedoes. A minelayer floated nearby, with small auxiliary craft fussing about. Two sea-going tugs pumped smoke into the sky, and patrol craft circled like angry wasps. Adding to the chaos, one destroyer, identified as a Fubuki-class, was grounded on Ngarkong Reef, while another destroyer — of Yanagi-class type, as Fyfe thought at the time — hovered south of Ngarkong Island. Air cover buzzed overhead, including a fighter, a bomber, and a floatplane tethered to a buoy.
It was a Japanese naval parking lot, and Fyfe had to pick his shot carefully.
At 2,670 yards, Batfish lined up on the so-called Yanagi-class destroyer. The crew set their torpedoes shallow, just five feet, and fired three from the bow tubes. The wakes smoked heavily, betraying their run. Then came three solid hits. Through the periscope, Fyfe saw the target listing hard to port, smoke pouring from her, the sea rushing up to swallow her bridge. Within minutes, she was gone.
Only later did intelligence show the “destroyer” was actually Minesweeper No. 22, a smaller but still dangerous warship. In the fog of battle, misidentification was common, and Fyfe had no reason to doubt his eyes in the heat of the moment.
The sinking threw the Japanese into confusion. A patrol craft charged toward the Batfish, forcing her down deep. The noise of waves crashing on the reef drowned out sonar, leaving the enemy groping in the dark. A sampan prowled nearly aground, planes circled overhead, but the Americans slipped away unseen. Fyfe considered taking a shot at the transport stranded on the reef, but he decided it would be suicide to press the attack. Prudence won the day, and Batfish withdrew, satisfied with her kill.
The August 23 strike was only part of the 4th War Patrol. Three days later, on August 26, Batfish returned to finish off the grounded destroyer Samidare, hammering her with torpedoes until the Japanese themselves blew her apart with demolition charges. After lifeguard duty off Peleliu, Batfish returned to Fremantle in September for a well-earned refit.
For her wartime service, Batfish earned nine battle stars and a Presidential Unit Citation, and she became immortal for sinking three enemy submarines in just 76 hours in 1945. Today, she rests far from saltwater, preserved as a museum ship in Muskogee, Oklahoma, where visitors can walk her decks and imagine the tense moments at Velasco Reef.
On August 23, 1944, Batfish proved herself a hunter. She found the enemy trapped, picked her moment, and struck with precision. And in the long, grinding submarine war of the Pacific, that counted for everything.
Patrol Reports 
Leave a comment