Book recounts strange episode in which crew had to improvise when fuel ran out

What does a Navy ship do when it runs out of fuel mid-ocean? That’s a question you don’t hear much because there are plenty of safeguards to prevent it.

But it happened at least once, to a submarine. What went wrong is hard to say, given the incomplete records that survive. But the incident is noteworthy for how those aboard responded.

A book by two former submariners recounts the improbable episode, which took place off Hawaii a century ago. Finding themselves dead in the water, the crew erected masts, rigged blankets, and sailed home.

The incident was a minor one in submarine annals but with high curiosity value and worth reading about. It reflects a perfect storm of problems and the creative thinking that prevailed.

“A Good and Favorable Wind: The Unusual Story of a Submarine Under Sail and its Cautionary Lessons for the Modern Navy” lives up to its lengthy title. It recounts not only the predicament of the USS R-14 but also the aftermath, which raised still-relevant questions about Navy leadership and discipline.

Authors David L. Johnston and Ric Hedman, both veterans of the Silent Service, use their knowledge and experience to fill gaps in the historical record. Their informed speculation brings the tale as close to completion as possible.

On May 2, 1921, the submarine base at Pearl Harbor was alerted that a Navy fleet tug, USS Conestoga, was overdue from San Francisco. Four subs were dispatched on a 10-day deployment in search of the missing vessel. (It had sunk, and the wreck wasn’t found until 2009.)

The book follows R-14’s crew as it prepares for the mission by stocking food and checking the diesel engines’ fuel supply.

Nine days into the search, the engines quit, and the crew learned to its disbelief that the boat was out of fuel, though the supply had been monitored as usual.

With limited battery power and not knowing whether their radio call had been heard, the sub’s officers and senior staff conferred. Someone suggested raising sails, which seemed ludicrous until everyone warmed to the idea.

The officers had sail training from Annapolis, and sailmaking tools were at hand to maintain canvas hammocks and awnings. These, along with wool blankets, could be turned into makeshift sails. To support them, there was a radio mast and two poles normally used as a crane to load torpedoes.

As the sails filled with the breeze, it became clear the unlikely scheme would work, and the boat made its way 140 miles to Hilo, the nearest port. After its arrival, another submarine transferred fuel, bringing the incident to a close.

There’s much for the reader to understand to put what happened in context. The book is a slender one and heavy on photos, but it’s rich with detail on the primitive state of Pearl Harbor and submarine technology.

For example, monitoring the fuel supply wasn’t a simple matter of looking at a gauge as you would in your car. There were seven tanks, which had to be “sounded” manually. The tanks were kept full with a mix of fuel and water so they wouldn’t collapse under pressure.

R-14 (SS-91) was designed by Electric Boat but built elsewhere in the days when the company contracted out construction. The diesel engines were Groton-made, products of the company’s local subsidiary, the New London Ship and Engine Co., which later became EB's main site. In the 1930s, R-14 was based in Groton as a training vessel.

While the story of the sub under sail has mostly survived, details of how it ran out of fuel have not. The Navy investigated, but most of the paperwork is gone.

The fuel question, its answer just out of reach, is the focus of the book’s second half. The investigator was the sub base’s commander, Chester W. Nimitz, who went on to be one of the top admirals in U.S. history.

In the absence of his report, Johnston and Hedman, co-creators of the submarine history website PigBoats.com, walk through the possibilities of what happened. It’s a thorough examination that resists easy answers.

Among the factors they cite are sloppy record-keeping; staffing problems (only two officers were aboard); and the absence of the commanding officer, who was assigned elsewhere. There was a minor fuel leak but not enough to drain the tanks.

There are also broader considerations, such as a relative lack of training urgency in the aftermath of World War I, which was thought to have ushered in lasting peace; and so-called paradise syndrome, or the relaxing influence of tropical surroundings on people normally driven by pressure.

One of the most insightful speculations is about how Nimitz chose to discipline the two young officers, who were ultimately responsible. Their culpability was tempered partly by conditions beyond their control and partly by their outside-the-box thinking, and both showed great promise.

Nimitz assigned the boat a new commander, an implicit rebuke of their leadership, but spared them a court-martial, which could have ended their careers.

The authors note that as a young destroyer commander, Nimitz had grounded his ship after not checking tide tables. Thanks to his spotless record, he escaped with a public reprimand and went on to greatness. That experience might have influenced how he dealt with the R-14 officers.

“A Good and Favorable Wind” has a natural readership in the submarine community, but for anyone interested in naval history or sea stories, it’s an accessible and interesting read.

j.ruddy@theday.com