“Thornton! Go let the captain know he’s needed in the conning tower.” Nineteen-year-old Quartermaster Third Class Ed Thornton from Three Notch, Alabama, scurried to the conning tower hatch and slid down the ladder into the control room. Through the control room and into the forward battery, Thornton hustled along the dimly lit narrow passages to Lt. Cmdr. Eli Thomas Reich’s small stateroom. The 31-year-old captain was sleeping off the bouts of frustration afflicting him and his crew on the Balao-class USS Sealion (SS-315). For 10 days, Sealion had patrolled the northern section of the Formosa Strait—an expressway for Japanese merchant and war ships—without any action except for a surface gun battle with a trawler, which Sealion failed to sink. The mood aboard USS Sealion was about as gray as the bulkheads that confined the submariners.
As Thornton approached Reich’s stateroom, he could see that the green privacy curtain was closed. Thornton remembered being told to never wake the captain by touching him. Pulling aside the green curtain, Thornton quietly poked his head in. “Captain…” Reich was propped up on his elbow before Thornton could get the words out. “You’re needed in the conning tower.” Without hesitation, Reich sprang from his bed, stepped into his slippers, and headed for the conning tower.
