Later that same day, 26 _Chitose Air Group_ Nells bombed Wake Island. Returning aircrewmen claimed damage to a warehouse and an antiaircraft gun in the “western sector.” Antiaircraft fire shot down one plane and damaged four; Japanese casualties included eight men killed. Once the bombers had departed, “Barney” Barninger’s men continued working on their foxholes, freshened the camouflage, cleaned the guns, and tried to catch some sleep. The daily bombings, he wrote later, “were becoming an old story, and it was a relief from waiting when the raid was over.” [Illustration: _Capt Frank C. Tharin (seen here as a first lieutenant, 8 August 1939) would earn a Silver Star Medal, a Distinguished Flying Cross, and two Air Medals for his performance of duty at Wake Island._ Marine Corps Historical Collection ] Weathering bombing attacks, taking the enemy’s blows, was one thing, but striking at the Japanese was something else--something to boost morale. At about 1600 on the 12th, Second Lieutenant Kliewer, while patrolling, spotted a surfaced submarine 25 miles southwest of Wake. With the sun behind him, he dove from 10,000 feet. Convinced that the submarine was Japanese, Kliewer fired his four .50-calibers broadside into the submarine. Turning to the right, and seeking to increase his chances of scoring maximum damage on the enemy, he dove and dropped his two 100-pounders at such a low altitude that bomb fragments ripped large holes in his wings and tail surfaces. Emptying his guns into the submarine on his next pass, he looked behind him and saw her submerge. Major Putnam flew out to verify that the sub had been sunk and spotted an oil slick at the spot Kliewer indicated. [Illustration: Marine Corps Historical Collection _2dLt David D. Kliewer (seen here_ circa _September 1941), a minister’s son, would be awarded a Bronze Star Medal and two Air Medals for his service at Wake._] That night, a stateside radio report praised Wake’s Marines. It stated that for security reasons it could not mention the size of the garrison defending the atoll, but noted that “we know the number is very small.” “Nothing like letting the enemy know our status,” Kinney noted sardonically in his diary. “Still no help.”