Stories From the US Submarine Force
Back in early September, I stumbled on a small piece in the Standard Speaker (PA) from September 2, 1944. It was nothing more than a picture of Ensign Sylvester Kohut shaking hands with Admiral Nimitz and a line about him receiving the Silver Star. That was it. No details, no story.
San Pedro Harbor, late September 1921. The Pacific Fleet’s new base was a place alive with the restless energy of a Navy in transition. Battleships and destroyers filled the anchorage, while a cluster of small, dark-hulled submarines rocked gently in their moorings beside the big tender USS Camden. The sun had set, but the harbor was far from quiet. Ashore, the city of Los Angeles was swelling into one of the nation’s fastest growing metropolises, and the Navy’s presence was both a symbol of American reach and a reminder of unfinished business after the First World War. For the sailors aboard USS R-6, the night of September 26 began as another routine round of preparations for training exercises. Within hours, however, it would end with their boat lying on the harbor bottom and two of their shipmates dead.
In Ava, Missouri, Mrs. Hutchinson walked into the office of the Douglas County Herald with a request that surprised the editor. She asked them to stop sending her the papers. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to read the news, she read every line about the war as closely as any mother with a son in uniform. Her worries were different. She had been faithfully forwarding the paper to her boy, Fireman Second Class E.E. Hutchinson, serving on a submarine somewhere in the South Pacific. But letters had been few, and she had no way of knowing if the papers ever reached him. More than once, she wondered if stacks of unread issues were piling up in some forgotten postal bag while her son remained cut off from the world back home. In the end, she decided there was no sense in continuing the subscription if she couldn’t be sure he was receiving them.
Patrol Reports 