Overdue and Presumed Lost: EM2C Howard J. Howe USNR

All boys have their heroes. For some it is sports figures; quarterbacks, boxers, big league sluggers. Others idolize characters in movies. The fortunate look up to their dad. In October, 1943, sixteen year old Leo Howe's hero was his brother Howard, an Electrician's Mate in the Navy.

As Leo recently recalled, "My brother was a reservist and as far as I know never intended to make a career of the Navy. He joined the Navy shortly after Pearl Harbor as many of the kids did. I believe his first ship was the Tennessee and then he was approved for Sub School."

While undergoing the course at New London, Electrician's Mate Howard James Howe sent pictures home to his brother and mother, Mildred. They were, naturally, submarine related; artist's renderings of sleek submersibles firing torpedoes, and photographs of famous boats plying the Thames River on their way to war patrol.

Completing the course, Howard received his first assignment. It was a billet in the most famous submarine in the country, USS Wahoo (SS-238), then completing an overhaul at Mare Island in California -- just hours away from his family in Los Angeles. As Leo recalled, "He never mentioned another boat so I assume he went directly to Wahoo from New London. He came home once after he was assigned to Wahoo. He was really wound up. He said he had never met such a great bunch of guys and said they were all gung ho. Many had brothers, sisters or wives at Corregidor or on the Bataan Death March and they wanted blood."

"He was also really impressed with the Skipper. Couldn't say enough about all of the officers. He was really proud to say that "his Skipper" was the only one that had ever "slow rolled" a submarine. Don't know if that was just talk or the real thing. But do know that he was with the people he wanted to be with, doing what he wanted to do, at that time. Guess we can't ask for much more out of life." Howard Howe enjoyed the camaraderie and sense of purpose inherent in serving aboard Wahoo under her famous skipper, Mush Morton, for two patrols. Unfortunately they were to be her last.

On November 30, 1943, cables began to be received by eighty families, including the Howes. Each had loved ones serving aboard Wahoo. The telegrams began with the words "The Navy Department deeply regrets to inform you..." and delivered the news each of them dreaded most, that the famous submarine in which their husbands, fathers and brothers served, was missing. It began for Leo, and his mother Mildred, a period of uncertainty and anguish which would last for many months.

Being one of the few boats whose exploits were reported extensively in the press, Wahoo's posting as "Overdue and Presumed Lost" made news throughout the country. Despite the coverage, the many articles could only recount the boat's previous actions. They offered no further insight into the true disposition of the submarine or her crew. All Mildred and Leo Howe knew was that Howard had gone on patrol and failed to return at the designated time.

A few weeks later, Mrs. Howe received further correspondence from the Navy, this time a letter from Captain Frank Watkins, Commander of Submarine Division 102. Offering his heartfelt condolences, Captain Watkins hinted at the one fact SubPac did know about Wahoo's final patrol: she had conducted at least one successful attack. Domei, the Japanese news agency, reported a sinking in Wahoo's area of operations in the Sea of Japan. Thus Watkins was able to write "On [Howard's] last patrol, his ship carried the fight to the very door of the enemy's empire." Mildred Howe also learned of the first of several awards her son would receive, the submarine combat pin (read the submarine combat pin citation).

Though officially listed as "missing in action", Captain Watkins' extensive use of the past tense pointed to the grim reality of submarine service. Though there was always a chance, hope was small for Howard's safe return. The letter closed with the simple advice of a military man to a mother during wartime, "It is my sincerest hope that you can bravely and resolutely face the future without your son as you know he would want you to do."

After a year of waiting and hoping, Mrs. Howe received a letter from the Bureau of Naval Personnel. Rather than relieve the tension concerning her son's fate, it prolonged it. Noting no new information had been learned concerning Wahoo's final disposition, the Navy advised her that she would be notified as soon as the situation changed.

By May 1945, though an official declaration of death had not been issued, most, if not all, hope had been lost. A new gymnasium and drill field were dedicated at the Submarine Base in Groton, CT. In honor and memory of Wahoo and her valiant crew the facility was named Morton Hall. Due to travel restrictions only Mrs. Morton and her immediate family attended the ceremonies. A commemorative newsletter was forward to the rest of the families.

Months passed which saw victory in Europe and Japan. The nation celebrated the war's end and mourned the lost. The families of the Wahoo continued to wait. In January 1946, letters began to arrive from Secretary of the Navy James Forrestal with the inevitable news: Wahoo's sinking, and the loss of her entire crew, was confirmed. The war over, the first details of Wahoo's final operations were revealed, including the successful sinking hinted at by Captain Watkins.

In September of that same year, the Howe family learned of the first of several posthumous awards Howard would receive. EM2C Howard Howe was awarded the Purple Heart "for military merit and wounds received in action resulting in his death." In addition, Howard Howe received the American Campaign Medal and Asiatic-Pacific Campaign Medal in July 1948.

With the end of hostilities, the United States stepped confidently into her role as leader of the postwar world. However, her newfound greatness came at a tremendous price, paid by families such as the Howe's who gave their best to ensure freedom for her people and whose son's demonstrated the true meaning of heroism.