The wait for the board's findings was mercifully brief. The board members deliberated on Sunday morning and again on Monday, and on Tuesday, 8 February, they handed down their decision.
The board concluded that Crowley's decision to enter Midway Channel had been correct. In their opinion, reduced visibility due to the weather had not been an important factor, but the missing channel buoy and the sea conditions had made controlling the Flier “exceedingly difficult.” They did, however, fault Crowley for entering the channel at the relatively low speed of ten knots. In addition, the board considered it proper for Crowley to order the anchor detail to the submarine's deck and did not find it “blame worthy” that the men in the detail had not been wearing life belts. With some ambiguity, the board of investigation concluded that Commander Crowley “is responsible for the grounding of U.S.S. Flier,” but “the grounding was not due to the culpable negligence of any person.”11
Vice Admiral Charles Lockwood had to sign off on the report, and he was not quite as forgiving. Lockwood was one of the icons of the U.S. submarine service, having served since World War I. As such, he had played a significant role in the evolution of both its equipment and its ethos. Among the men under his charge, he was popularly known as “Uncle Charlie,” and although he could be tough when warranted, he had a reputation for fairness. For all these reasons, Lockwood's opinions were highly regarded.
In his cover letter on the board's findings, Lockwood noted that there was no evidence that the Flier had been “ordered” to enter Midway Channel. Even if such evidence existed, it remained Crowley's responsibility as skipper to exercise his own discretion in safeguarding his vessel. Lockwood further implied that, given the sea conditions, the anchor detail should have been wearing life preservers. Although Lockwood believed that Crowley had “committed an error in judgment,” he found the decision to enter the channel “excusable.” Lockwood concluded, “No further action is recommended nor contemplated.”12
The controversy over the lack of life preservers would have an intriguing postscript. Earl Baumgart later claimed that one of his crewmates had been pressured to testify that the men who went topside had been wearing life preservers. The crewman alluded to was Donald P. Tremaine, a veteran of the Pearl Harbor attack while serving on the USS Maryland. Just who pressured Tremaine to give false testimony is unclear, but Baumgart claimed that Tremaine “was very bitter about the whole incident.”13
Tremaine never appeared before the board, but the testimony of other Flier crewmen was somewhat ambiguous on the issue of life preservers. James Liddell, officer of the deck when the Flier grounded, was questioned at length about the use of life belts. He stated that he did not know whether any of the men in the anchor detail had been wearing them. Although he had given the order, at the captain's direction, to send life belts to the bridge, he could not be sure whether this had been before or after sending the anchor detail on deck. Liddell conceded that as officer of the deck it had been his responsibility to equip the men with life belts, but before the grounding, he had not believed that conditions warranted doing so.14
Ensign Baehr, who had been in charge of the anchor detail, testified that the men had not been wearing life belts. The board also interviewed Kenneth Gwinn, chief torpedoman's mate and part of the anchor detail. Gwinn indicated that although life belts had been available when they first tried to drop the anchor, he “did not figure we would need them.” George Banchero, motor machinist's mate second class, stated that he had not seen any of the men from the anchor party taking life belts.15
This evidence seemed to be contradicted by the testimony of Joseph Lia, torpedoman's mate third class. He told the board that although James Cahl had been wearing a life belt, he was unsure whether it had been inflated. Waite Hoyt Daggy, fireman first class, also testified that he had been wearing a life belt and that they had been handed out when the submarine went aground. He did not know, however, whether Cahl had been wearing one. Under further questioning as to whether life belts had been made available before Cahl and Gerber went overboard, Daggy stated that although there were plenty of life belts to go around, he did not know which men took advantage of them.16
In summary, the evidence suggests a good deal of confusion, but it is not sufficient to indicate an attempted cover-up. There seemed to be a reluctance to wear life preservers not just on the Flier but throughout the navy. In the northern latitudes there was little point, since even a short time in the icy waters meant certain death. More generally, some sailors took the view that donning life belts was tantamount to admitting defeat. Or perhaps their reluctance was simply indicative of a broader fatalism, with many submariners assuming that all would survive or all would be lost. Indeed, many of them doubted that they would make it through the war alive.17
John Crowley thus survived the investigation and would command the Flier another day. His first patrol in the new submarine, however, had come at a high price. One member of his crew was dead, and five men from the USS Macaw lost their lives as an indirect result of the Flier’s grounding.
Eventually the findings and recommendations of the board of investigation would find their way to the secretary of the navy, who approved them on 1 September 1944.18 By that time, the Flier and most of its crew were at the bottom of the sea.
7
Resumed Patrol
The work required to restore the Flier was beyond the scope of the navy yard at Pearl Harbor. After the submarine's starboard shaft and screw were repaired, the Flier limped to Mare Island off San Francisco, arriving on 25 February 1944. It would be more than two months before the Flier was ready to resume duty.1
Workers at the Mare Island shipyard had been recruited from all over the United States to staff continuous shifts that ran seven days a week. The population of adjacent Vallejo had increased fourfold following the attack on Pearl Harbor. Indeed, the population of California grew a staggering 50 percent during the 1940s. Wartime San Francisco became crowded not only with uniformed men but also with their wives, girlfriends, and families, who wanted to remain in close proximity to their loved ones in the military.2
For many submariners with rural or small-town backgrounds, San Francisco was a much more cosmopolitan and vibrant environment than they were accustomed to. New recruit George R. Wells recalled being shocked when the stage performers in a San Francisco nightclub turned out to be men in drag.3 Calvin Moon, sent to California for training, characterized liberty in San Francisco as being “pretty great.” He remembered, “We had a favorite bar and a restaurant we went to all the time. Met lots of girls, went to a lot of dances.”4 Service clubs and canteens proliferated, sponsored by such agencies as the United Service Organizations and American Women's Voluntary Services.
While in San Francisco, John Crowley kept a close eye on the Flier’s progress at the navy yard. More so than other ship captains, submarine commanders carefully monitored the quality of any repairs or alterations made to their vessels.5 During the Flier’s repair, Crowley and executive officer Benjamin Adams had what writer Clay Blair describes as an “irreconcilable dispute.”6 Adams, originally from Wilmington, North Carolina, had gained a reputation at the Naval Academy for his sense of humor and for being a ladies’ man. According to one crew member, the problem was that Adams “was not willing to work.”7 In the end, Adams was transferred to the Albacore, commanded by Jim Blanchard. The Albacore was in San Francisco for an overhaul at the time, and its executive officer, Ralph Loach, was being reassigned to a new submarine. In January 1945 Adams would be given command of the Rasher for its sixth patrol.
On the Flier, James Liddell took Adams's place as executive officer. Liddell, originally from Pennsylvania, had been an all-American football player