The Submarine Crew That Blew Up a Train: USS Barb’s Secret Shore Raid

On the battle flag of USS Barb, among the symbols representing ships attacked and shore installations struck, appears something almost unbelievable: a train.

It was not placed there as a joke.

During the final weeks of World War II, eight American submariners left the relative protection of their boat, crossed dark coastal water in small rubber boats and stepped onto Japanese-controlled territory. Their objective was a railway running along the eastern coast of Karafuto—the southern half of Sakhalin, then administered by Japan.

They were not trained commandos. They were sailors: machinists, electricians, torpedomen, a signalman, a cook, a gunner’s mate and an officer. Their plan depended on improvised engineering, careful timing and the willingness of USS Barb to remain dangerously close to shore while they completed the mission.

Shortly after the men returned to the submarine, a train passed over the charge they had planted. The weight of the locomotive activated the trigger.

The resulting explosion destroyed the train and earned Barb one of the most unusual symbols ever painted on an American submarine’s battle flag.

But the popular description that USS Barb “blew up a train” hides the most remarkable part of the story. The submarine did not fire a torpedo at the railway. An eight-man volunteer party went ashore and built a trap that allowed the train itself to trigger the explosion.

This is the story of how they did it—and why a submarine crew was conducting a secret land operation at all.

A Submarine With an Unconventional Commander

USS Barb was a Gato-class fleet submarine, one of the long-range diesel-electric boats designed to operate across the enormous distances of the Pacific.

Commissioned in July 1942, Barb initially served in the Atlantic before transferring to the Pacific. By 1945, it had already developed a formidable combat record. The submarine had attacked Japanese shipping, penetrated defended waters and survived operations that demanded extraordinary control from its officers and crew.

At the center of Barb’s transformation was Commander Eugene B. “Lucky” Fluckey.

Fluckey encouraged his crew to question conventional methods. He expected discipline, but he also welcomed practical ideas from sailors regardless of rank. Under his command, Barb became known for aggressive operations supported by detailed planning rather than reckless action.

His approach was simple in principle: surprise the enemy, strike hard and avoid repeating a method once the enemy had learned to expect it.

During Barb’s eleventh war patrol, between December 1944 and February 1945, Fluckey took the submarine through heavily defended waters along the Chinese coast. The most famous action of that patrol occurred at Namkwan Harbor, where Barb penetrated shallow, mined and patrolled waters to attack a concentration of Japanese vessels.

Fluckey received the Medal of Honor for his leadership during that patrol.

That distinction is sometimes incorrectly connected directly to the train raid. It should not be. The Medal of Honor recognized Fluckey’s actions during Barb’s eleventh patrol, particularly the attack at Namkwan Harbor. The railway operation took place later, during Barb’s twelfth and final war patrol.

For that final patrol, Barb would carry another unconventional weapon.

Turning a Submarine Into a Rocket Platform

Before returning to combat in June 1945, Barb was fitted with launchers for unguided five-inch rockets.

Submarines were built primarily to attack ships with torpedoes. Deck guns could also be used against small vessels or exposed coastal targets, but firing a deck gun forced a submarine to remain surfaced and relatively close to its target.

The rocket launchers gave Barb a different option.

By approaching the coast at night, firing a rapid barrage and withdrawing before defenders could react effectively, the submarine could strike shore installations from beyond normal deck-gun range. The rockets were not modern guided missiles. They were relatively simple, unguided projectiles, and their accuracy was limited. Nevertheless, they provided a submerged warship with an unexpected form of shore-attack capability.

During its final patrol, Barb used rockets against targets in the Japanese home region and on Karafuto. These attacks reinforced the submarine’s reputation for operating in ways the enemy was unlikely to anticipate.

Yet Fluckey and his crew continued looking for other opportunities.

Their attention soon turned to a coastal railway.

The Railway Along Karafuto

In 1945, the southern part of Sakhalin was known to Japan as Karafuto. Railways linked communities, industrial sites and military facilities along the island.

From offshore, Barb’s crew observed trains moving along a section of track close to the coast. A train represented a logistical target: it could carry personnel, equipment, fuel or other supplies. More importantly, this particular railway appeared accessible from the sea.

Destroying it with naval gunfire would have been difficult. A torpedo could not reach it. Rockets might damage the general area, but they could not guarantee the destruction of a moving locomotive.

The only dependable method was also the most dangerous.

Someone would have to go ashore.

The concept reportedly developed from conversations aboard Barb after crewmen noticed the regular movement of trains. Fluckey invited ideas, and Electrician’s Mate Third Class Billy R. Hatfield proposed an ingenious triggering system.

Before joining the Navy, Hatfield had reportedly worked around railroads. He understood that a heavy locomotive caused the rail to deflect slightly under its weight. That small movement could be used to close an electrical circuit.

The shore party could install an explosive charge beneath or beside the track, connect it to a microswitch and position the switch so the rail’s movement would activate it.

The system offered two critical advantages.

First, the sailors would not need to remain close enough to detonate the charge manually.

Second, the explosive would not fire until the locomotive itself passed over the selected point.

In effect, the train would complete the circuit that destroyed it.

Choosing the Eight-Man Team

The landing party consisted of eight volunteers drawn from different specialties aboard Barb:

• Lieutenant William M. Walker

• Chief Gunner’s Mate Paul G. Saunders

• Electrician’s Mate Third Class Billy R. Hatfield

• Signalman Second Class Francis N. Sevei

• Ship’s Cook First Class Lawrence W. Newland

• Torpedoman’s Mate Third Class Edward W. Klingesmith

• Motor Machinist’s Mate Second Class James E. Richard

• Motor Machinist’s Mate First Class John Markuson

Walker led the party, while Hatfield’s electrical and railroad knowledge was essential to the trigger mechanism.

The selection reflected the practical demands of the operation. The team needed men who could handle explosives, wiring, mechanical problems, navigation and communications. Physical fitness and calm judgment were equally important.

There was another consideration. According to later accounts, Fluckey wanted men with different family circumstances represented in the selection process, reducing the possibility that one community or family group would suffer a devastating concentration of losses if the mission failed.

Whatever precautions were taken, every volunteer understood the danger.

If Japanese patrols discovered them, the sailors would be isolated on hostile territory. Barb could provide limited covering fire, but it could not safely remain surfaced indefinitely. A mechanical problem, navigational error or unexpected train could turn the raid into a disaster.

There was no guarantee the men would return.

Going Ashore

The mission began during the night of July 22–23, 1945.

Barb moved close to the Karafuto coast. Darkness helped conceal the submarine, but operating near land brought its own hazards. Shallow water limited maneuvering space, while coastal defenses or patrol craft could force the boat to dive or withdraw before the landing team returned.

The eight sailors transferred into small boats and paddled toward shore.

Noise discipline was essential. An outboard engine would have been faster, but it could also have exposed them. The men had to cross the water quietly, land without being seen and carry their equipment to the railway.

Their explosive charge weighed approximately 55 pounds. In addition, they carried tools, wiring, weapons and the equipment needed to dig beneath the track.

Once ashore, the team moved inland and located the selected section of railway.

The terrain and darkness slowed the work. The sailors had to place the explosive where it would damage the locomotive and track while carefully installing the microswitch trigger. If the switch was positioned incorrectly, the train might pass without activating it. If it was too sensitive, movement during installation—or vibration from a distant train—could detonate the charge while the men were still beside it.

The entire mission depended on a tiny mechanical movement being converted into an electrical signal at exactly the right moment.

Engineering the Trigger

The train trap was a striking example of field engineering.

A rail appears rigid, but it bends slightly when supporting the weight of a locomotive. Hatfield’s design used that momentary deflection to operate the microswitch.

The basic sequence was straightforward:

1. The explosive charge was positioned beneath or immediately beside the track.

2. Wiring connected the explosive system to the microswitch.

3. The switch was placed so the downward movement of the rail would close the circuit.

4. A locomotive passing over the installation would provide the weight needed to trigger the device.

5. The charge would detonate beneath the train without requiring a sailor to remain behind.

Simple concepts can be extremely difficult to execute under operational conditions.

The team was working at night, on hostile ground, using tools and materials carried from a submarine. They had no opportunity to conduct a full test. They had to trust their measurements, the electrical connections and Hatfield’s understanding of how the rail would move.

Then, while the sailors were still working, they received the most alarming possible warning.

A train was coming.

A Train Passed While They Were Still There

The landing party heard an approaching train before the device was ready.

The men concealed themselves and watched as the train passed near their position. Had it arrived slightly later—after the electrical system was connected but before the team had reached safety—the mission might have ended very differently.

The passing train also confirmed that the line was active.

Once it had disappeared, the sailors returned to the track and completed the installation. They concealed the charge as carefully as conditions allowed, checked the trigger and began moving back toward the coast.

Every additional minute increased the risk of discovery.

Barb had moved extremely close to shore to recover them. Accounts of the raid describe the submarine waiting roughly 600 yards offshore during the final stage. From that position, the crew aboard could monitor the coast, but they could do little to accelerate the shore party’s return.

The men reached their boats and started paddling back.

Behind them, the trap waited beneath the railway.

The Explosion at 1:47 A.M.

At approximately 1:47 in the morning, another train approached.

By then, the landing party was returning to Barb. The submarine’s crew could hear and observe the train moving along the coast.

The locomotive reached the prepared section of track. Its weight pressed the rail downward, activated Hatfield’s microswitch and completed the electrical circuit.

The charge exploded beneath the train.

The locomotive and cars were thrown from the track in a violent eruption of earth, metal and debris. The objective had been achieved without the landing party having to detonate the explosive manually.

According to the Submarine Force Library and Museum’s account, all eight sailors were back aboard Barb by approximately 1:52 a.m.—only minutes after the explosion.

Barb then withdrew from the coast.

The entire operation had combined the capabilities of a submarine, a small-boat landing party and an improvised engineering device. It was unlike the torpedo attacks that defined most submarine warfare and unlike the large amphibious operations occurring elsewhere in the Pacific.

Eight sailors had gone ashore, attacked a land transportation system and returned to their submarine.

What the Raid Did—and Did Not Accomplish

The destruction of one train did not change the outcome of World War II.

By July 1945, Japan’s maritime transportation network had already suffered catastrophic losses. American submarines had sunk merchant vessels, tankers and warships across the Pacific. Aircraft and surface forces were striking ports, factories, railways and military installations. The strategic situation was being decided on a scale far larger than a single section of track in Karafuto.

The train raid mattered for different reasons.

It demonstrated how far American submarines could project power by the final year of the war. Barb was no longer limited to attacking ships at sea. It had used rockets against coastal targets and then placed sailors ashore for a precision demolition mission.

The raid also revealed the importance of technical knowledge held by enlisted sailors. The essential idea did not require an exotic weapon developed in a distant laboratory. It depended on understanding how a railroad track behaved under a locomotive—and recognizing how that movement could be converted into a trigger.

Most importantly, the operation succeeded because the crew functioned as a team.

Fluckey created an environment in which unconventional ideas could be proposed. Hatfield supplied the core engineering solution. Walker led the landing party. Specialists carried, installed and concealed the device. The sailors remaining aboard Barb brought the submarine close to shore, maintained watch and recovered the team.

The train symbol belonged on the battle flag because it represented the work of the entire boat.

A Battle Flag Unlike Any Other

American submarine battle flags often used symbols to record wartime achievements. Merchant ships, warships and other targets could be represented through small painted emblems.

Barb’s flag became exceptionally distinctive.

It displayed symbols for ships attacked, shore bombardments and rocket strikes. The most memorable image was the locomotive placed near the bottom of the flag to commemorate the Karafuto operation.

The train symbol is visually simple, but it tells a complicated story.

It represents a submarine operating as a shore-raiding platform. It represents sailors leaving their vessel in enemy-controlled territory. It represents a switch built around the movement of a steel rail. It also represents the culture of experimentation that Fluckey encouraged aboard Barb.

The flag survives as a physical record of how unconventional the submarine’s final patrol became.

Barb’s Final Patrol

The railway operation was only one part of Barb’s twelfth patrol.

The submarine conducted attacks against Japanese shipping and used its deck-mounted rockets against shore targets. Barb’s crew also bombarded coastal facilities and continued operating in dangerous northern waters until the final phase of the war.

The patrol ended at Midway on August 2, 1945.

Less than two weeks later, Japan announced its acceptance of the Allied surrender terms.

Barb completed twelve war patrols during World War II—five in the Atlantic and seven in the Pacific. The submarine received the Presidential Unit Citation, a Navy Unit Commendation and campaign honors for its wartime service.

Official wartime assessments credited Barb with sinking 17 enemy vessels totaling more than 96,000 tons, although postwar evaluations of submarine claims can vary depending on the records and accounting methods used.

The submarine’s combat record included far larger targets than the Karafuto train. Nevertheless, the train became the achievement most closely associated with Barb in popular memory.

It was simply too unusual to forget.

Fluckey’s Leadership and the Limits of the Legend

Eugene Fluckey eventually retired as a rear admiral. His wartime career became a celebrated example of aggressive submarine command.

Yet the train raid should not be reduced to the story of one commander.

Fluckey authorized the operation and accepted responsibility for placing his boat and men at risk. But the mission existed because members of his crew were encouraged to contribute ideas—and because eight volunteers were willing to execute the plan on shore.

It is also important to separate documented history from later embellishment.

The raid is sometimes described as an “invasion of Japan.” That wording is dramatic but potentially misleading. It was a small, temporary demolition operation on Japanese-controlled Karafuto, not an attempt to seize or hold territory.

Likewise, Barb did not attack the train with a submarine-launched torpedo, deck gun or rocket. The train activated a land-based explosive device planted by the shore party.

These distinctions do not make the operation less impressive.

They make it more impressive.

The sailors could not rely on the armor of their submarine once they went ashore. They had to approach quietly, install a technically sensitive device and return across open water while Barb waited near a hostile coastline.

Their weapon was not a sophisticated new machine.

It was a practical solution assembled by sailors who understood electricity, explosives, machinery and railroads.

Why USS Barb’s Train Raid Still Matters

The Karafuto raid remains compelling because it brings together several different kinds of military history.

It is a submarine story, but much of the action occurred on land.

It is a special-operation story, but the participants were ordinary members of a submarine crew rather than a dedicated commando unit.

It is an engineering story, but the decisive mechanism was a small switch responding to the movement of a rail.

It is also a leadership story. Fluckey’s willingness to listen to an enlisted sailor’s idea allowed the crew to develop a method few submarine commanders would have considered.

Modern readers may be tempted to focus only on the spectacular result: a train thrown from its track and a locomotive painted on a battle flag. But the deeper lesson lies in the process.

The crew observed a pattern.

They identified a vulnerable system.

They matched a sailor’s civilian knowledge to a military problem.

They designed a trigger that allowed the team to escape before detonation.

They rehearsed responsibilities, selected volunteers, positioned the submarine and carried out the operation under darkness.

This was not improvisation without discipline. It was disciplined improvisation.

The Fate of USS Barb

USS Barb survived the war.

After later service and modernization, the submarine was transferred to Italy in 1954 and renamed Enrico Tazzoli. It remained in Italian service before being retired and eventually scrapped in 1972.

The physical submarine therefore did not survive as a museum ship.

Its battle flag and historical record did.

Today, Barb’s story is preserved through official naval histories, patrol reports, photographs, museum collections and the accounts of those who served aboard it. The train symbol continues to attract attention because it appears almost impossible within the familiar boundaries of submarine warfare.

But it happened.

During a dark July night in 1945, eight American sailors left USS Barb, crossed to Japanese-controlled Karafuto and placed a charge beneath an active railway. A locomotive supplied the pressure that completed the circuit. Minutes later, the men were safely back aboard their submarine.

Among the many vessels represented on Barb’s battle flag, the train remains unique.

It commemorates not only an explosion, but an extraordinary combination of observation, technical knowledge, leadership, courage and trust.

Essential Facts

Submarine: USS Barb (SS-220)

Class: Gato-class fleet submarine

Commanding officer: Commander Eugene B. Fluckey

Patrol: Twelfth and final war patrol

Date of raid: Night of July 22–23, 1945

Location: Japanese-controlled Karafuto, southern Sakhalin

Shore party: Eight USS Barb sailors

Objective: Destroy a train using a rail-triggered explosive charge

Charge: Approximately 55 pounds of explosive

Trigger: Microswitch activated by the rail’s deflection under the locomotive

Approximate detonation time: 1:47 a.m.

Landing party recovered: Approximately 1:52 a.m.

Historical significance: A rare U.S. submarine-launched shore demolition operation conducted on Japanese-controlled territory during World War II

Sources and Further Reading

Naval History and Heritage Command — USS Barb (SS-220)

Submarine Force Library and Museum — The Submarine and the Train

Congressional Medal of Honor Society — Eugene Bennett Fluckey

USS Barb Twelfth War Patrol Report

NavSource Naval History — USS Barb photographs and crew identification