THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1994, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, November 6, 1994 TAG: 9411051050
SECTION: COMMENTARY PAGE: J3 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: Book Review
SOURCE: BILL RUEHLMANN
LENGTH: Medium: 74 lines
The Norfolk Marriott Hotel was swarming with submariners. The occasion was the recent 40th National Convention of U.S. Submarine Veterans of World War II. There was a certain genial grandeur to the lobby crush of silver heads, straight postures and bright patches that bespoke not only survival but enduring allegiance to the all-volunteer silent service. Three thousand septugenarians-plus registered from 50 states.
Shipmates.
They remembered absent friends. Of the 16,000 submarine crewmen of WWII, 3,505 died in battle. That represents 52 subs sunk, 22 percent casualties.
``In a submarine,'' said Capt. William J. Ruhe, USN (Ret.), ``you're either dead or alive. You don't get injured. You either go down with the boat or live through harrowing experiences.''
Ruhe, 79, who resides in McLean, completed his WWII duties in command of the Sturgeon, receiving three Silver Stars and the Navy Unit Commendation.
He commanded vessels in the Korean and Vietnam wars as well.
After retiring from the Navy, Ruhe became corporate director of marine programs for submarine manufacturer General Dynamics.
A still-spare salt with the kind of commanding baritone that continues to require no amplification, the captain edited Submarine Review for 10 years and even acted as technical adviser to writer Tom Clancy on his thriller The Hunt for Red October.
Now Ruhe has written a crack thriller of his own, but it's all true. War in the Boats: My WWII Submarine Battles (Brassey's Inc., 303 pp., $22.95) recounts eight grueling patrols guaranteed to raise hairs on the back of a reader's head. Clancy wrote the foreword.
``There is information here that most historians leave out,'' Clancy noted. ``A skilled observer for whom every day was something new, Bill tells us what it was like.'' And this is what it was like:
``Water poured into the room through a large jagged crack in the thick bronze door of number-four tube. Dazed, I fought my way through a heavy stream of water and pushed past the captain to help the chief crank shut the outer door and stop the flooding. With loud grunts and using all the muscle we could muster, the two of us slowly closed the badly damaged outer door. . . . ''
Death deep down.
Ruhe sat at a signing table before the top of an escalator entry like a steamboat skipper poring over charts in a pilot house. He sold 80 books on the spot to men who had been in harm's way. Testified Capt. Edward L. Beach, author of the legendary Run Silent, Run Deep: ``Here is how it felt.''
War stories.
It figures Ruhe would be well-qualified to report these experiences. His father was the editor of the Allentown (Pa.) Morning Call. As a youngster, Ruhe would be routinely sent out on assignment with Pulitzer Prize-winning photographer ``Rocky'' Rockmaker.
``He never took a picture he didn't pose,'' confided Ruhe. ``Rocky would go to an accident and drag the body out of the car for a better shot. What a schooling that was.''
Ruhe kept an illegal diary during his WWII patrols. He retained an eagle eye and a critical mind. After his former superiors departed for that realm from which no lawsuits can be forthcoming, he wrote up his notes, and the results are gripping.
Ruhe's big lesson, aboard ship and in life:
``Damage control,'' he said. ``Always figure out what might happen. Then take action to prevent it.'' MEMO: Bill Ruehlmann is a mass communication professor at Virginia Wesleyan
College. ILLUSTRATION: Photos
William J. Ruhe, above, second from right, in World War II with the
crew of the Red Dragon, and today, left.
by CNB