Chippewa Flowage Resorts

Kennedy continues: “I later learned that one of the mess cooks had got to poking around looking for certain food ingredients. Like all subs, we had food stashed in every possible nook and cranny and the mess cook thought he might have moved the control switch by accident. So that’s what happened. But the captain somehow concluded I had intentionally altered the switch on the sly. And then while under attack, that I’d rushed over and reset the controls so I could appear the hero who saved the day.” Kennedy notes that none dared approach the captain with a plausible explanation, adding that “.. with all our ongoing engine troubles and various electronic malfunctions, the captain gradually became more and more distrustful of the crew. On more than one occasion he made that point pretty clear, and in salty language we all understood.”

Leland D. White, CMoMM(SS) Leland White served as motor machinist mate aboard Muskallunge from launch to layup — 40 months. Lee retired in 1960 — a half-century ago — as a chief petty officer after 23 years active duty. Post-war, he had duty tours on four other submarines. Now age 91 and active, he numbers among four known surviving crew members of Muskallunge. Image courtesy http://www.decklog.com

Despite his bizarre encounter, Kennedy is quick to note that the skipper went on to command other submarines, and eventually retired a deeply tanned rear admiral.

Prowling off the Palau Islands in her assigned sector, and using radar, Muskallunge detected a distant enemy convoy at 22,000 yards. Running surfaced in the dark, the boat set off at 20 knots on an intersecting course. A setup on various targets was calculated, followed by a spread of six fired torpedoes. Kennedy pitched in helping to reload the launching tubes.

“Below deck we could hear a series of distant explosions,” says Kennedy. “But except for what sounded like it might be an ammo ship blowing up, we couldn’t tell what other damage we’d inflicted.” The exploding vessel illuminated the night sky, Kennedy adds, and assorted debris rained down on the surfaced sub, including sections of the ship’s smokestack. The electrician spent 14 months and two war patrols aboard Muskallunge before being transferred. Kennedy later served on four other subs prior to ending his naval career as a commissioned officer.

Now meet Leland D. White, another Californian (Chula Vista), who says he goes to exercise class twice a week and is still adept at mixing a “just so” before-dinner martini. Approaching his 92rd birthday, Lee’s 24-year naval career began in 1937. “I’m a triple dipper,” he notes, having collected Navy retirement pay for close to half a century, plus a corporate retirement pension and social security. Lee helped commission and decommission Muskallunge, and sailed on all seven of her war patrols over a 40-month period.

Lee White joins electronic technician Steve Gillett at the 52 Boats Memorial, San Diego — all generational gaps aside. Gillett served aboard a number of Nuclear subs over a 20-year span, retiring in 2006. The ties that bind are reflected in the engraved names of 3,506 sub sailors “on eternal patrol” — lost in action and honored at this site.

We asked Lee a burning question: were there any musky fishermen aboard the boat?

“Well, yes.. .I’m certain of it. One would be Leonard Johnson, a chief torpedoman. We were tied up at Staten Island and the crew was given a month’s R&R. Do as we pleased, the war’s over. Len invited me to visit his home town, so we hopped the ferry to Manhattan and off we went by train from Grand Central Station to Eau Claire, Wisconsin for Thanksgiving. Besides carousing and terrifying the natives, we went deer hunting. Never got musky fishing, though. Too cold. And no venison as it turned out, but we drank lots of beer and ate platters of bratwurst. ” Lee even remembers – 64 years later — that the Wigwam Tavern was on Madison Street, “.. just before the bridge.” (And still is).

Lee had two close calls aboard Muskallunge. The first took place at Camranh Bay, Indo-China. The boat lay suspended well offshore at periscope depth as it waited for the departure of a convoy tracked the previous day entering port.

At 0800 hours, a mixed bag of 15 merchant marine and anti-submarine escort vessels got underway for Saigon. At 0952, a sharp-eyed Japanese lookout aboard transport Durban Maru gave the alarm. With its wheel hard over to port, the 7,163-ton vessel narrowly avoided the first of three torpedoes. Moments later a second “fish” lanced into Durban’s number four hold, causing serious flooding. Within an hour the order was given to abandon ship, and Durban sank stern-first in mid-afternoon. Unknown to the Muskallunge, a full regiment of Imperial Japanese Army troops – 3,354 men –was jammed on board, of whom 515 lost their lives. Long after the war, Lee would relive the events of August 21, 1944 in a fashion he never could have foretold.