CD
1 09 024
SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
BY ARCH WHITEHOUSE
Wings of Adventure
Poor Bloody Observers
Hell in Helmets
Crime on a Convoy Carrier
The Red Book of Airpknes
The Story of the Tactical Air Command
Fighters in the Sky
Bombers in trie Sky
Combat in the Sky
The Years of the Sky Kings
Tank
The Years of theWar Birds
Subs and Submariners
Squadrons of the Sea
SQUADRONS
OF THE SEA
Arch Whitehouse
ILLUSTRATED WITH PHOTOGRAPHS
Doubledcty 6 Company, Inc., Garden City, New Yorfe, 1962
Library of Congress Catdog Card Number 61-7696
Copyright 1963 by Arch
AH Rights
Printed in the United States of America
bust Edition
DEDICATED TO THE SUNDAY PUNCHERS
(VA Attack Squadron 75)
Aboard USS Independence
Who with Solemn Formality
and Rare Courtesy
Elected Me
Honorary Member of Their Squadron.
August 15, 1960
CONTENTS
AUTHOR'S NOTE 9
CHAPTER I Born of Necessity 1 5
CHAPTER II Tempered in Battle 49
CHAPTER III Taranto vs, Malta 85
CHAPTER IV The Greatest Carrier Attack 1 14
CHAPTER V Strikes and Counterstrikes 143
CHAPTER VI From Coral to Midway 169
CHAPTER VII The Conquest of Guadalcanal 220
CHAPTER VIII Breaking the Barrier 256
CHAPTER IX The Nature of a Battle 282
CHAPTER X Luck at Leyte 322
CHAPTER XI The Modern Carrier 3 52
TOLL OF AIRCRAFT CARRIERS LOST DURING WORLD WAR II 369
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS 371
BIBLIOGRAPHY 373
INDEX 375
MAPS
Battle Area Pacific Ocean 115
Battle of the Coral Sea 171
Fight for Guadalcanal 22 1
Battle of the Philippine Sea 283
Bcrttfe for Leyte Gulf 323
AUTHOR'S NOTE
AIRCRAFT carrier operations, complex in themselves and yet the most
methodical of all methods of warfare, are, despite their orderliness,
seldom understood by the landsman. For this reason it is my intent
to clarify the role of the naval carrier by presenting its history, and
relating the story of its triumphs and sacrifices in a manner compre-
hensive to the lay reader.
As a result this is not a textbook or a treatise on carrier operations.
It is simply the story of the historic naval-air conflicts as they were
fought between 1939-45. After reviewing the details of these amazing
battles I felt compelled to undertake this work, for in my opinion
aircraft carrier operations afford more drama, more varied heroism,
and certainly greater personal skill and technical knowledge than any
other example of modern warfare.
I am not a naval expert, I have never served aboard an aircraft car*
rier in wartime, nor have I flown a military plane from a flight deck to
engage in naval-air combat. I am a professional writer and a shameless
enthusiast of military history. More important, I nurture deep respect
for the men who by their actions and valor created this history, and
who in peacetime add to its pages. I am continually fascinated by their
efforts, loyalties, and sacrifices. In them I have high hopes for the fu-
ture and trust that their sons and daughters will find in these pages
the inspiration to tread in their footsteps or give us more of the same
heroic breed.
This was not an easy book to write for it required more than the
chore of poring through volumes of carrier history. Diligent research
is important and necessary, but one should go aboard a carrier at sea,
live with the officers and men, and there study every facet of flight
operations to understand fully the meaning of past history. One must
xo AUTHOR'S NOTE
imbibe the spirit of deck flying in order to interpret the problems and
technical demands these men face and resolve.
I was most fortunate to be invited aboard a number of present-day
carriers, and to watch every feature of deck operations by all types of
aircraft carrying out their daily exercises, I have been catapulted from
flight decks, flown off unassisted, and experienced numerous arrester-
gear landings. I have seen much of our modern equipment, armament,
and electronic devices. As far as service security would permit I was
introduced to new gunnery systems, the development of missile arma-
ment, and shown how all these instruments and weapons are inte-
grated for the common cause.
At the same time I was permitted to interview all ranks from ad-
mirals down to seamen. I was fortunate to find many who had served
aboard carriers during World War II, and from these men I was able
to confirm or correct the hurried reports or inaccurate statements of
several wartime correspondents. In particular I am most appreciative
of the co-operation and information furnished by Commander Cook
Cleland, who had served with Bombing 16 Squadron aboard U.S.S.
Lexington during the Battle of the Philippine Sea, and who explained
much of the operational detail to me on the bridge of the U.S.S. For-
restal while returning from a Sixth Fleet assignment in the Mediter-
ranean. I also met many others while I was a working-guest aboard
U.S.S. Saratoga U.S.S. Lake ChampMn, U.S.S. Intrepid, U.S.S. In-
dependence, and more recently U.S.S. Boxer.
But a book such as this requires also assiduous research to confirm
dates, ranks and names, and to make certain that the chronological
order of action is correctly recorded. The U. S. Navy provided much
official information and contributed many important photographs,
but I could not have produced this volume in its present orderliness
without the generous assistance of Admiral Samuel Eliot Morison,
dean of modern naval historians, who allowed me to use his f ourteen-
volume History of U.S. Naval Operations in World War II as a source
of reference. I sincerely recommend Admiral Morison's work to all
who are interested in American naval operations of that period. In a
later Acknowledgments section I have named others who in any man-
ner came to my aid, as well as a full bibliography covering this subject.
I would remind the reader again that this is offered only as a gen-
eral history of aircraft carriers, written and presented in a form de-
signed to appeal chiefly to the non-Navy reader or general public. I
have avoided much technical jargon and have eliminated whenever
AUTHOR S NOTE 11
possible much standard nautical nomenclature. Naval purists will im-
mediately note this landsman's approach and will perhaps view these
pages critically. But the true Navy man needs no words of mine to
assure him of his service's place in the public's appreciation. I am sim-
ply offering this book as my contribution to the history of aircraft car-
rier operations, and it is my hope that it will be accepted and read
with this in mind.
ARCH WHITEHOUSE
Montvde, New Jersey
March 31, 1961
SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
CHAPTER I
BORN OF NECESSITY
ON THE evening of August 5, 1918, a British destroyer H.M.S. Re-
doubt left her mooring at Harwich on the east coast of England, tow-
ing an ungainly contrivance called a lighter. In this case nomenclature
was being stretched considerably, for in truth it was simply a creaky
old raft mounted on the gunwales of a bargelike hull. A Sopwith
Camel biplane, a World War I fighter of disrepute, was perched on
this precarious platform. A young Anglo-Canadian-American by the
name of Stuart D. Culley sat in the cockpit hoping that this tangle
of Goldbergian gadgets would enable him to clamber off the thirty-
knot deck to attack a German Zeppelin reported to be heading for a
raid on Britain.
Surprisingly, this fantastic experiment worked and the naval his-
torians of that day recorded the first successful shipborne fighter in-
terception. The enemy Zeppelin was destroyed, but more important,
the marriage of the airplane and the surface vessel was consummated.
Unlimited range was contrived for the airplane, and the firepower of
the surface fleet was greatly increased. The fact that the airplane had
to land on the water near its mother destroyer was not important.
The problem of retrieving carrierborne aircraft was to be quickly
solved.
This incident has long been dismissed and forgotten. At the time
only a few sage minds realized that the airplane had become a long-
range naval weapon, that the dreadnought was no longer Mistress of
the Seas, and that an amazing vessel to be known as an aircraft carrier
would evolve from this historic experiment.
Hydrogen-filled dirigibles of the German Navy, although vulnera-
ble to antiaircraft or machine-gun fire, had for nearly four years been
l6 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
a grim threat to British cities and the civilian population with their
persistent bombing attacks. They were also able to carry out long-
range reconnaissance missions, a factor that long annoyed the Royal
Navy, and according to some experts provided the intelligence that
enabled the German Navy to escape from the trap that Admiral Da-
vid Beatty had set up in the latter hours of the Battle of Jutland.
In 1918 antiaircraft fire was rudimentary, and, all factors being
equal, the lighter-than-air dirigible could generally outwit the fighter
planes by dumping bombs or jettisoning unimportant gear and sup-
plies, thus enabling it by its inherent buoyancy to climb fast and evade
chase.
A few Zeppelins had been destroyed by aircraft, but in most cases
the contact had been made more through good luck than the capabili-
ties of the plane or pilot. Another problem lay in the limited range
of contemporary aircraft, as-well as their inability to match the airship
in gaining altitude. To counter these enemy advantages, Commander
Sir Reginald Tyrwhitt of the British Harwich Force submitted the idea
of improvising some form of launching platform from which the
fighter aircraft could be flown at sea at the most favorable time.
Commander Charles Rumney Samson, a memorable and rather
flamboyant character of Britain's Royal Naval Air Service, was the
first to be approached with this idea. Samson was reckless, bold,
breezy, and most energetic. Early in the war the Germans had put a
price of $50,000 on his head dead or alive since he had single-
handed almost hounded them out of Belgium while in command of a
small force of armored cars. He had been one of the first four British
naval officers to volunteer for pilot training before the outbreak of
war.
Having learned that naval flying boats had been hauled about the
North Sea on lighters in order to extend their range of action, Samson
decided that a small, light, high-powered aircraft could be launched
from one of these platforms. The Sopwith Camel was chosen because
it was powered with a 150 hp. Bentley rotary engine, a power plant of
high efficiency in those days. The aircraft could climb to 15,000 feet
in approximately twenty minutes while carrying two fixed machine
guns or four light fragmentation bombs. It was presumed to have an
endurance range of two and one-half hours, but there were many vari-
ables to be considered under such circumstances.
As was to be expected, Commander Samson decided to carry out
the first off-theJighter experiments himself. In his first attempt he re-
BORN OF NECESSITY 17
moved the wheels from the Camel and substituted a set of skids that
were designed to slide along a pair of shallow troughs built into the
deck of the lighter. In the first trial, the aircraft got off the deck suc-
cessfully, but the Camel was too delicate of control for this ham-fisted
exhibitionist, and she quickly spun into the sea. The aircraft was
wrecked, but, as usual, the flamboyant one bobbed to the surface little
the worse for wear. A short consultation with his staff convinced him
that armored cars were more in his line and that someone who had had
some deck-flying experience might handle the situation more success-
fully. A young Canadian, now a member of the newly created Royal
Air Force, was selected.
Sub-Flight Lieutenant Stuart D. Culley (to give him his former
service rank) was born in Nebraska in 1895, the son of a Canadian
mother and an English father. In 1916 he enlisted in Canada and was
accepted by the Royal Naval Air Service, but on completing his flight
training in England, he was transferred from the light cruiser Cas-
sandra to a shore base at Great Yarmouth. Up to that time his deck
flying had been aboard early variations of primitive carrier decks built
over the hulls of converted cruisers or liners. In these operations light
Sopwith Pups (a forerunner of the Camel) were launched success-
fully but no deck landings had been carried out. The planes either
landed on the surface of the sea to be picked up, or were able to return
to some nearby land base. In a few instances, the landing gear was
jettisoned to make these water landings less hazardous. Culley had
had some experience in taking off from a seagoing platform, but flying
a more powerful and very tricky aircraft off a platform only fifty-eight
feet long and sixteen feet wide, was something else.
Culley went into the adventure with an open mind, but he wanted
no part of the skid-and-trough idea Samson had contrived; instead, he
retained the conventional wheeled undercarriage. A destroyer was to
tow the lighter at thirty knots and at the appropriate moment one of
the lighter's crew would start the engine by swinging the propeller.
To offset any chance of his being blown overboard or sucked into the
propeller, the mechanic was attached to the lighter deck by a safety
belt and a cord that allowed him just sufficient reach to carry out the
task. As soon as the Bentley was started, the mechanic pulled himself
back by the safety line, unshackled the cordage and darted away to
the shelter of the lighter's deck. The airplane itself was launched
through a conventional bomb-release gear operated from the pilot's
cockpit. Steel cables were attached to the ends of the wheel's axle
l8 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
and ran over simple claw pieces that allowed the plane to move for-
ward freely at any time, but until Culley pulled the release toggle
there could be no upward or backward movement. Strangely enough,
this impractical arrangement worked perfectly.
On August i, 1918, Culley made his first trial off Great Yarmouth.
The towing destroyer was Redoubt and the lighter was worked up to
about thirty-six knots before Culley released the Camel and found
himself airborne with scarcely any ran over the deck. Once in the air
he turned away and eventually landed safely at a shore base.
It was agreed next that some modification in the plane's armament
might be necessary, and the two Vickers .303 guns mounted to fire
through the propeller were discarded and a pair of lighter Lewis guns
were placed on suitable brackets that were bolted to the upper side of
the top wing. In this arrangement they could not be lowered to change
the drams of ammunition, and since each dram contained only 97
rounds, Culley went into action with a total of only 194 bullets. At
this point Commander Samson issued a memorandum in which he
outlined his views on the proper tactics to adopt in attacking an enemy
airship. It was a very dogmatic order, typical of the rugged battler, but,
unfortunately, it in no way fitted the conditions Lieutenant Culley was
to encounter.
Five days later Commander Tyrwhitt, who was aboard the light
cruiser Curacoa, took the whole Harwich force of four light cruisers
and thirteen destroyers out to sea to carry out an offensive sweep in
the southeastern sector of the North Sea. Redoubt again hauled the
lighter and Camel fighter. Other destroyers towed lighters on which
reconnaissance flying boats had been embarked, and cruisers of the
force were burdened with C.M.B.S (coastal motor boats) that were
to attack German minesweepers operating off the Dutch coast.
At dawn on August 11 the C.MJB.s were put overboard some
twenty-five miles northwest of Vlieland and an attempt was made to
launch the flying boats, but there was not sufficient wind to get them
into the air. They had to be reloaded aboard their lighters and finally
returned to the harbor waterborne. As a result six C.M.B.S that had
hoped to be escorted by the flying boats, made their attacks off
Terschelling but were intercepted by German seaplanes. In the action
that followed three of the C.M.B.S were sunk and the remainder
limped back to safety areas along the Dutch coast.
While this air-surface action was going on Samson, Culley, and the
lighter crew left the destroyer's deck and prepared to launch the
BORN OF NECESSITY 19
Camel. It was reasoned that the Germans would investigate the ac-
tivity of Tyrwhitt's force and at 8 A.M. the Admiralty had monitored
a signal which indicated that a Zeppelin was cruising over the Heligo-
land Bight. Thus alerted, every man in the force searched the sky but
Culley was the first to spot a great silver cigar cruising at about ten
thousand feet. It was L.J3, commanded by Kapitanleutnant Proell of
the German Navy. It had flown out of Nordholz in northwest Germany
early that morning to investigate this impudent intrusion by the Tyr-
whitt flotilla.
Lieutenant Culley jumped into the cockpit of the Camel, and Re-
doubt worked up speed. A new factor of naval warfare was about to
be introduced. A handsome young man was keeping a rendezvous
with destiny. When the speed of the lighter had reached thirty
knots, Culley checked his engine and gave Samson the conventional
"thumbs-up" signal. At 8:41 the Camel leaped into the air. Members
of the lighter crew declared that the plane had run less than five feet
before being airborne. Culley climbed straight over the stacks of Re-
doubt, saw the whole flotilla spread out before him and realized that
he was the leading actor in this historic drama. Probably no airman
had ever played to such a breathless audience, but when he looked
up again, the Zeppelin was nowhere in sight.
"Oh no! Please . . ." Culley pleaded to his gods.
But within a few seconds the silver airship reappeared and from
that instant Culley, flying like an automaton, never took his eyes off
the glinting gas bag. At five thousand feet she appeared to have
changed very little a disturbing thing and the young flier gradually
realized that the enemy was climbing fast. He remembered that Zeppe-
lins of this "50" category were noted for their ability to gain height
rapidly, but he stuck to his task, keeping a discreet distance from the
airship. At fifteen thousand feet the controls of the Sopwith began
to mush-out and become sluggish. The Bentley gave one disturbing
cough, but soon picked up the rhythm. Culley struggled up to eight-
een thousand feet at which time he was positive that the Zeppelin
had altered course and was heading out to sea.
"I hoped she would try to scurry back to Germany/' Culley said
later. "I knew I would never head her off if she steered farther out to
sea."
He continued to watch the airship, his hopes gradually dying until
suddenly the light changed and he saw that the silver raider was head-
ing directly toward him. He figured, as near as he could, that she was
20 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
a few hundred feet above his present level and approaching at a rela-
tive speed of one hundred fifty knots. He considered Samson's admo-
nition to attack only from above.
"You must dive on her/' his chief had ordered. "You must avoid
any position behind or below the tail. Dive on her from above and
then race past, just along her beam, to avoid any flames. If you fail
in this method, dive on her from behind the port quarter. You will
perhaps come under heavy fire so don't fire all your ammunition in
the first attack. They are not likely to use the gun mounted on the
top of the main frame, and you'll be able to get in closer by going
in from above/'
From Culley's position and judging the speed at which the Zeppelin
approached, it was obvious that an attack from above and behind was
out of the question; he had no choice but to attack head-on and from
below. In a matter of seconds the great bulk of the Zeppelin loomed
ahead, Culley could see the forward control car and the outboard
engine gondolas, their propellers flailing like broadswords. For a short
while he was spellbound by the gigantic spectacle, but as his eyes
searched for some crew activity, his hand instinctively drew back on
the stick, the nose of the tiny biplane came up and almost stalled.
Culley said later: "I can hardly remember doing all that, and I only
came to when I realized I was attacking that great thing. One gun
operated beautifully and fired its complete drum without slip-up, the
other jammed after pooping off about half a dozen rounds. By then
I sensed I was about to stall out so I leveled off and raced along under
the massive belly of the craft and saw something either fall or jump
from a slit in the framework and disappear below."
(This object was the only survivor from L.53, and his parachute
descent from about nineteen thousand feet must have been a record
for those days. The man was spotted later and picked up by a Ger-
man destroyer.)
The instant Culley's guns stopped firing, and as the Camel faltered
in her stall, she nosed down some two thousand feet before he could
ease her out. During this time he lost sight of his target, but when he
leveled off again and stared up he saw to his consternation that L.JJ
was cruising along as though nothing had happened. He turned to
make an adjustment to his throttle to regain the lost altitude when a
glint above caught his eye. At three widely separated points gushes of
yellow flame cascaded from the gas bag and within a minute practi-
cally all of the airship, except the tail section, was enveloped. The giant
BORN OF NECESSITY 21
conflagration burned itself out in a few seconds, leaving a blackened
skeleton floundering in the sky. A flag fluttered pathetically from a
rudder post as L.J3 started her final dive. Culley saw the airship writhe
and break her back and finally hit the water. The clock on his instru-
ment panel showed it was 9:41 A.M. Exactly one hour before he had
become airborne from the bobbing lighter.
He had scored his "kill" but a new problem arose. Valor and training
had been devoted to the destruction of an enemy raider; now it was
time to consider the possibility of a safe return. He knew there would
be a number of German seaplanes in this area and they had firepower,
whereas one of his guns was empty, the other jammed. It was here
that discretion replaced the spirit of valor. He opened the throttle
wide, went into a fairly steep dive and headed for the area parallel to
the Netherlands coast.
In a hurried arrangement, made just before he had bounced off the
lighter, it was agreed that one of Tyrwhitt's ships would rendezvous
with him in the vicinity of the Texel lightship, but whether this plan
could be carried out was mainly a matter of luck. So considering every-
thing, Culley studied a small-scale map he had brought with him and
tried to locate some outstanding landmark, hoping to find the Texel
light. While thus engaged, his engine cut out and he knew that he had
used up the fuel in the main tank when struggling to get to the level
of the Zeppelin. He switched over to a small reserve tank in an upper
wing panel and throttled back, holding just enough power to remain
airborne.
He probed his way through a light coverlet of offshore mist and
thought he spotted a couple of Dutch fishing vessels, but once he
had eased down into the clear he was overjoyed to see they were Brit-
ish destroyers, and another look told him the whole Harwich Force
was in the vicinity.
Now he could pick and choose, but he selected the Redoubt which
had towed his lighter, for he noted that they had stopped and were
transferring the lighter's crew and lowering a whale boat. While these
rescue arrangements were being made for him, Culley circled the rest
of the force. During this triumphal circuit Commodore Tyrwhitt, who
was thrilled by the result of this air action which he had originally
conceived, turned to his Officer of the Watch and said, "Do we have
anyone aboard who knows the hymn book well?"
The O.O.W. smiled and replied, "I used to be a choirboy, sir."
22 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
"Remember the hymn that begins with the words, 'O happy band
of pilgrims'?"
"Of course, sir."
When the hymn book was found the commodore sent a general
signal to his fleet, reading, "Attention is cdled to the last verse of
Hymn 224."
The verse in question was as follows:
O happy band of pilgrims,
Look upward to the skies,
Where such a light affliction
Shall win so great a prize.
Since the day was Sunday, the ships' companies of the Harwich
Force bellowed the hymn with unusual enthusiasm, and Sub-Lieu-
tenant Culley was many months living down the "light affliction."
In the meantime he had put down the Camel so skillfully on the
water, it was soon hoisted out with little damage and returned aboard
the lighter. Some time later it was patched up and put on exhibition
in the Imperial War Museum where it remains to this day.
Culley was awarded the Distinguished Service Order, although
many men who were closely involved felt that he should have been
honored with Great Britain's highest military decoration, the Victoria
Cross.
The whole undertaking was an excellent illustration of efficient co-
operation between the Royal Navy and the infant Air Force, but one
wonders now how many men in either service realized at the time
the full significance of that first successful air interception by a ship-
borne fighter aircraft.
The development of the aircraft carrier is a dramatic example of the
old proverb "Necessity is the mother of invention." The military po-
tential of the airplane, particularly in naval warfare, was realized by a
few farsighted tacticians shortly after the Wright brothers gave the
world its first heavier-than-air machine. The Dayton, Ohio, inventors
also contributed a primitive catapult, the forerunner of the launching
device used on today's carriers.
The airplane was at first employed only as a scouting weapon by
both naval and military experts. Fleet commanders, in particular, liked
the extension of visibility for their surface ships. No one considered
the airplane a weapon of offense, and the idea of bombing large cities
BORN OF NECESSITY 2J
or military establishments was, at the time, thought to be inhumane.
The First World War had been under way for many months before
the airplane became an aerial destroyer with machine guns mounted
at available ports.
The flying boat and float plane were first used for naval-air opera-
tions because they could take off from or land on the water; that is
they could under favorable conditions, but as their employment was
extended special vessels had to be devised to accommodate and serv-
ice them.
But there always were a number of handling problems connected
with these frail machines that detracted from their tactical value.
They took up too much valuable space aboard their tenders, they
were difficult to handle aboard ship, to launch over the side, or to
retrieve after a patrol flight had been completed, and because of their
size and weight and lack of maneuverability were limited to simple
scouting missions. They were no match for land-based aircraft, even
though offensive armament was rudimentary and primitive. Their
hulls and floats which gave them their primary ability to work with
naval forces were their major hindrance.
What Navy men wanted was a light, long-range aircraft that could
defend itself, scout out the enemy, take off from and land back on the
mother ship; the last two qualities would save a tremendous amount
of valuable time and, more important, allow the vessel concerned to
keep station with its own flotilla or fleet. There would be no necessity
to slow down to put the aircraft into the water, or to pick it up again.
With the increased speed of surface operations, this was of prime con-
sideration. If an aircraft could be launched from a vessel of war while
she was under way and brought back again under the same circum-
stances, the art of naval warfare could be vitally improved.
The Wright brothers used a dropped-weight catapult to launch their
first successful biplanes. This device produced one form of initial pro-
pulsion. The problem of a short-strip landing was partly solved by
another American, Eugene Ely, a noted pilot of the Glenn Curtiss
school who made the first known carrier-deck landing and take-off on
January 19, 1911, aboard an early Curtiss "June-bug" biplane. Recon-
structed versions of this historic plane have been seen at aviation
shows over the past few years. It had a thirty horsepower engine, a
six-foot propeller, and a tricycle landing gear. Ely, who wore a number
of inflated bicycle inner tubes for safety, "took off from the Presidio
in San Francisco and flew out to the U.S.S, Pennsylvania, a cruiser of
24 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
that day, and landed on a short platform that was mounted over the
stern of the deck.
The Curtiss pilot put down the biplane at about forty miles per
hour and used a variation of today's hook-and-cable arrester equip-
ment; a series of ropes with sandbags at each end were laid across two
wooden rails that ran lengthwise along the landing platform. Sus-
pended a few inches high, the ropes caught and held a trailing hook,
and afforded the means of snubbing the forward speed, slowing down
the plane, and limiting it to the short platform.
Later that day Ely's biplane was turned around, the ropes and sand-
bags removed, and he took off and flew back to the Presidio field. The
landing-cable idea became the basis of today's very elaborate plane-
snubbing system used by all naval carriers. But the U. S. Navy did not
pursue the venture and the aircraft carrier, as such, was first developed
by the British,
With the outbreak of war in 1914 the heavier-than-air machines had
a hundred new situations to thwart. The early Royal Naval Air Serv-
ice which was responsible for home defense and co-operation with the
fleet performed these tasks as best it could with land-based wheeled
planes, float planes, and flying boats.
British naval aviation can be traced back to 1908 when a new post
of Naval Air Assistant was established at the Admiralty, but it was not
until 1912 that heavier-than-air aircraft were seriously considered for
naval operations. The general attitude toward any proposed carrier op-
erations is best illustrated by a statement that appeared in a London
aviation journal that same year. It read:
It is reported without any corroboration that Mr. [Lieutenant] Samson
has the intention of alighting on the deck of one of the battleships at
Sheerness. It is sincerely hoped that he will not make the attempt, for
he is not only one of the most magnificent flyers in the country, but he
is an exceedingly valuable officer and a man of considerable mental abil-
ity, and should not, therefore, be permitted to risk his life on what is,
when all is said and done, simply a dangerous trick which though it may
perhaps seem convincing to a few old-fashioned officers who do not yet
realize even the present possibilities of the aeroplane, is actually of no
practical value whatever.
The Lieutenant Samson is the R.N.A.S. officer mentioned in the
beginning of this chapter.
But the young bloods of the Royal Navy had other views and sev-
BORN OF NECESSITY 2 j
eral stuck doggedly to their opinions and, disregarding a series of mis-
haps and tragedies involving their lighter-than-air craft dirigibles and
blimps pushed their "impractical" plans with even more determina-
tion.
There were several reasons for this. On November 18, 1911, Com-
mander Oliver Schwann, who later changed his name to Swann, made
Britain's first successful take-off from the water while flying a thirty-
five horsepower Avro biplane. The first such U. S. float-plane flight
was made by Glenn H. Curtiss aboard a Curtiss hydro-airplane at San
Diego on January 26, 1911, and Henri Fabre, a Frenchman was the
first airman to take off from the water (1910) but he was unable to
land on its surface. Fabre flew a canard machine in which the main
planes were fitted to the rear of the body frame and had the engine
mounted in what would be considered the center section. The pilot
straddled the upper main body member, and sat facing the tangle
of control surfaces. The floats were made of thin veneer and were
formed into a hollow construction that was curved fore and aft like
wings. They not only provided the lift from the water but also assisted
in supporting the aircraft in the air. Fabre could take off from the
water with these frail floats, but he had to land on a sandy beach or
a meadow.
The question arises: Was this the first amphibian plane?
The famed Lieutenant Charles R. Samson of Great Britain flew a
Short 8.27 from an improvised deck built on the forecastle of H.M.S.
Africa while she was at anchor at Chatham, and made a safe descent
alongside, using flotation bags lashed to the wheels. But it was not
until 1912 that the first real seaplane and the first flying boat made
their appearance. The first British flight from a ship under way was
made by a Lieutenant Gregory on May 9, 1912, aboard another Short
8.27 biplane from the deck of H.M.S. Hibernia as she was steaming
at ten knots in Weymouth Bay.
The friendly spirit of competition between the U. S. and British
Navies did much to advance the progress of naval aviation. While the
U. S. appears to have neglected her early success in deck take-offs and
landings, some attention was given to the prospects of catapult-assist
take-offs. Some experiments were made in 1912, but it was not until
1916 that an actual catapult, suitable for active service conditions, was
fitted to U.S.S. North Carolina.
British naval aviation began to get into its stride by 1912 when a
Naval Wing of the Royal Flying Corps was formed and naval prob-
26 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
lems considered seriously. By the end of that year the Royal Navy
had sixteen aircraft in service, thirteen of which were landplanes; only
three were so-called hydro-airplanes. That year, too, saw Lieutenant
Samson drop a naval bomb from a Short biplane. Radio signals were
also transmitted from a Short seaplane and by the summer of 1913
four shore stations, Calshot, Cromarty, Felixstowe, and Great Yar-
mouth were established. In July of that year aircraft for the first time
took part in the annual naval maneuvers.
A notable feature of this period was the operation of two seaplanes
from a wheeled launching platform mounted forward aboard H.M.S.
Hermes. One of these aircraft, a Short biplane, was known later as
the Short Folder since it incorporated a set of wings that could be
folded back parallel with the fuselage. The Short firm, the oldest es-
tablished designers and producers of airplanes in the United King-
dom, was founded by two brothers, Eustace and Oswald Short in
1898. Their output began with spherical balloons, and in 1908 when
their elder brother Horace joined the firm they began to manufacture
airplanes near Leysdown on the Isle of Sheppey.
The following year a Short plane won the Daily Mail prize of
1000 for a flight over a closed circuit by an all-British airplane. The
Short brothers also became the British agents of the Wright brothers.
In 1910, with a new factory at Eastchurch, they produced a series of
biplanes powered with two engines, certainly the first multiengined
airplanes ever built.
Short aircraft of varying types played an important part in the de-
velopment of the Royal Naval Air Service. Its first pilots were trained
on Shorts, and the early folding-wing seaplane became the forerunner
of many carrier-based aircraft that were produced by other major pow-
ers. A Short seaplane was the first to carry a torpedo into the air and
early in World War I Flight Commander C. H. K. Edmonds, while
flying a Short seaplane, succeeded in torpedoing a Turkish transport
in the Sea of Marmara. In the latter months of that war the Shorts pro-
duced their famed N2B bomber seaplane, the Skirl, originally de-
signed as a torpedo carrier and later selected to take part in the 1919
transatlantic races.
All these experiments were interesting and afforded novel exhibi-
tions for the Royal Navy, but the expansion of the German Navy al-
ready was being sensed and by July 1914 the Royal Naval Air Service
had become an independent force with 52 seaplanes, 39 landplanes,
BORN OF NECESSITY 27
7 airships of varying value, 128 officers, and 700 ratings, or enlisted
men.
As the threat of war spread ominous clouds over Great Britain dur-
ing those memorable holidays of 1914, the Grand Fleet was gathered
at Spithead for the annual royal review that, on this occasion, was to
cover five days, from July 18-22. On the twentieth an impressive flight
of naval aircraft flew in a V over the fleet and gathered crowds, giving
the first public exhibition of formation flying. Then followed seven-
teen seaplanes, accompanied by four naval airships that cruised majes-
tically above the review area.
This was the greatest display of fighting aircraft yet seen in Britain
and it must have been most impressive since the precision of that
early formation flying reflected the enthusiasm and skill of the adven-
turous men who flew those prehistoric machines. How all this had
been welded into such a disciplined and cohesive force is not clearly
known.
Because of the spirit and the interest shown, the planes in this dis-
play were dispatched on a tour of Great Britain, but by the evening
of July 27 suddenly were ordered back to their home stations. On the
twenty-ninth the Cabinet advised the Admiralty that since the Royal
Flying Corps, as the military wing was now called, would accompany
the Army when it was engaged abroad, the Royal Naval Air Service
would take over the responsibility for the air defense of Great Britain,
and that these duties must take precedence over the purely naval re-
quirements of patrol and scouting.
Much of this had been foreseen and during the early weeks of 1914
the R.NA.S. had been practicing fighting tactics over Chatham, an
exercise in which two aircraft "attacked" the dockyards while six oth-
ers played the role of "defenders."
On August i orders reached Eastchurch that all R.N.A.S. machines
were to be kept tuned up, day and night, for instant action. The day
for which these gallant men had been training had finally arrived; from
now on the flights and maneuvers were to be carried out in deadly
earnest.
When war broke out on August 4, it was soon evident that special
ships were urgently needed to act as seaplane carriers and in Septem-
ber an old merchantman was hurriedly converted and named Ark
Royal, commemorating another Ark Royd which served with honor
under Sir Francis Drake against the Spanish Armada in 1588. This
twentieth-century Ark Royal could carry ten seaplanes that were
28 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
launched from wheeled trolleys, as they were aboard the Hermes. This
early carrier arrangement was so successful that three cross-Channel
steamers Empress, Engandine, and Riviera were converted to ac-
commodate four seaplanes each. Later an Isle of Man packet, the
Ben-My-Chree, was added to this early carrier force the Hermes was
sunk by an enemy submarine off Calais on October 31, 1914.
These improvised vessels and their aircraft performed heroically dur-
ing the early weeks of the war. On Christmas Day 1914 light naval
forces out of Harwich, accompanied by Engandine and Riviera,
steamed into Heligoland Bight to give the seaplanes a chance to bomb
the airship sheds at Cuxhaven. The sheds were not located but the
bombs caused some damage and confusion. However, this was chiefly
a period of active development for the new sea-air arm; most of their
duties consisted in routine fleet scouting operations. Although the
"birds" were often in poor plumage and their engines were not too
reliable, they hacked away and more than earned their keep. The Ark
Royd, later named Pegpsus, took seven float planes out to the Medi-
terranean to provide gunnery spotting, photographic reconnaissance,
and infantry support for the early stages of the Gallipoli campaign,
but since she had only ancient merchantman speed, she was vulner-
able to attacks by enemy submarines that were beginning to appear
in that area, and had to be replaced by the speedier Ben-My-Chree.
It was during this campaign that Flight Commander Edmonds
made his historic torpedo attack. Flying at a height of fifteen feet,
at a range of three hundred yards he attacked an enemy supply ship
and immediately sank it. Samson, now a commander, also delivered a
five-hundred-pound bomb with rare success and then tried to set fire
to a Turkish position by dropping a twenty-gallon drum of gasoline
that was fitted with an explosive charge. This effort was not successful
since the liquid was too widely dispersed on impact to set up the
necessary blaze.
Until 1915 all vessels that had been converted for flying purposes
were designed solely as parent ships to seaplanes, but something new
was about to hatch. That year another Isle of Man packet, Vindex,
was provided with a sixty-four-foot-long deck forward to accommodate
"fighters" as well as seaplanes. A successful flight was made from Vin-
dex, with a Bristol Scout on November 3, 1915. Again, this was a float
plane, equipped with a set of wheels that were dropped as the plane
left the deck; there was no effort to land back on, the seaplane simply
BORN OF NECESSITY 29
returned, landed a short distance ahead of the moving ship and was
"hooked" by a derrick gear and "fished" aboard.
With this deck success, similar vessels such as Manxman, Nairana,
and Pegasus were soon added to the naval air fleet. In each case the
seaplane hangar was aft, the fighter hangar was forward, and the ves-
sel was provided with a sliding roof, allowing the planes to be lifted
direct to the deck; the beginning of the elevator principle used in to-
day's modern carriers.
These minor successes inspired new ideas and Captain Murray-
Sueter, Director of the Naval Air Department, suggested that a large
liner, fast enough to keep station with the fleet, might be equipped to
carry from eight to twelve seaplanes, and to this end the old twenty-
two-knot Cunarder Campania of twenty thousand tons, built in 1893
for the North Atlantic service, was purchased and turned over to
Messrs. Cammell, Laird & Co. for conversion to a fleet aircraft carrier.
A flying deck of one hundred twenty feet in length was built over
the forecastle for single-seater fighters, and derricks, booms and other
equipment for "hoisting out" and re-embarking the two-seater Short
seaplanes, were installed. An armament of eight 4.7-inch guns and
suitable storage for large quantities of gasoline were provided. Cam-
pania was commissioned by Captain Oliver Swann, the same Navy man
who had made the first British take-off from water four years before.
In Campania's early trials and exercises with the fleet, the arrange-
ments for hoisting out and re-embarking the seaplanes in an open sea
worked well, but in heavy seas the light-powered seaplanes were not
able to get off the water. One pilot who did take off successfully
could not make radio communication with the surface fleet and the
general idea was considered to be a failure. But R.N.SA pilots would
not be discouraged. They planned to fly a light seaplane from the deck
of Campania and on August 6, 1915, Flight Lieutenant W. L. Welsh
took off aboard a Sopwith-Schneider seaplane after a run of 113 feet,
using a wheeled trolley, when the vessel was steaming seventeen knots
into the wind.
This was satisfactory from the point of view of the single-seater pi-
lot, but by now naval aircraft were often two-seaters that carried
a pilot, a radio-operator gunner and considerable communications
equipment. This required a longer platform to get such an aircraft
airborne and to accomplish it the foremost funnel of the exJiner was
removed and replaced by two narrow funnels, abreast, one on either
side of die ship, allowing the landing platform to be extended ninety
3O SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
feet farther aft between these two stacks. The foremast and navigating
bridge were also removed giving a hint of future carrier design and
the bridge was replaced by a light narrow gangway arched across the
flying deck at a sufficient height to allow the seaplanes to pass
beneath.
Campania was steered from beneath the flight, or flying deck, un-
der a small hatch which was raised when flying was not in progress
a series of periscopic mirrors gave the helmsman a view ahead. Availa-
ble records do not disclose how much normal vision was possible dur-
ing flight-deck operations.
Below decks there was hangar accommodation for eight reconnais-
sance seaplanes and four Sopwith "Baby" seaplanes. At the stern of
the vessel was a well about ten feet deep, sheltered by canvas screens
eight feet high that held an inflated kite balloon that was often raised
on a winch cable and used for immediate area observation, just as kite
balloons were being employed on the Western Front.
Once all these alterations were completed, Campania rejoined the
Grand Fleet at Scapa Flow on April 12, 1916. Exercises were restarted
and the flying personnel gained much reconnaissance experience in
the basket of the kite balloon, and in deck take-offs. In this period five
R.N.A.S. pilots successfully flew the "Baby" seaplanes off while Cam-
pania was steaming at twenty knots. Apparently, everything was going
well.
At this point a majestic foul-up occurred that deprived Campania
of a glorious place in naval history.
On the morning of May 30, 1916, this seaplane carrier steamed out
of the harbor to enable her aircraft to cany out a series of gun-spotting
flights in co-operation with four surface vessels that had been ordered
to engage in routine firing exercises. The kite balloon of the new
Calquot type one fitted with inflated stabilizer vanes was much
more efficient than the old drachen copied from a German observation
balloon; it was more stable, could be flown in higher winds, and on
this occasion was sent up to twelve hundred feet with four observer
officers in the basket. The shoot was carried out, the balloon was
hauled down, and Campania returned to her anchorage at Scapa Flow
which was some five miles from the main fleet.
At 5:15 P.M. she dropped anchor and at 5:35 received a preparatory
signal radioed to all ships of the Grand Fleet. About 7:00 she re-
ceived a further order to raise steam for full speed, and by 9:30 Cam-
pania was ready to proceed to sea-and glory, but unfortunately, Cap-
BORN OF NECESSITY 31
tain Swann did not receive the executive order sent out at 10:54, and
it was not for some hours that he was aware that the fleet had sailed.
Once he learned the reason for the general departure, he weighed
anchor and passed the outer boom defenses about an hour after the
last ship of the fleet had left as a result we have the universal dis-
agreement as to who actually won the Battle of Jutland.
Companies absence from the action was not detected until around
midnight, and the commander-in-chief did not know until 2 A.M. that
she had left Scapa Flow. Owing to the presence of enemy submarines
and the fact that no destroyer escort could be provided, Admiral John
Jellicoe ordered Campania at 4:37 to return to harbor, which she
safely reached at 9:15 A.M. The British commander thus went into the
Battle of Jutland without any aerial reconnaissance.
The Germans were assisted to some extent by ten L-type Zeppelins,
although their actual role has generally been considered negligible. It
is recognized that the failures Admiral Jellicoe suffered were due
chiefly to his lack of knowledge as to the whereabouts of vital portions
of the German High Seas Fleet at critical points in the battle.
How much assistance the aircraft aboard Campania would have
given is a matter of conjecture, but had the operation of flying sea-
planes from the flight deck, and the radio communication and the
ships of the fleet equaled the efficiency attained some months later,
there is no doubt that the pilots could have given the admiral valuable
information.
Admiral Jellicoe's decision to send Campania back was probably in-
fluenced by the fact that immediate calculations showed that the sea-
plane carrier could not overtake the fleet. However, due to heroic
efforts of her engine-room staff she was closing the gap at the rate of
three knots, and it has since been agreed that, subject to no mishaps,
she would have caught up with the main force several hours before
the opening of the main engagement. Even her old kite balloon would
have been a godsend. All the officers and men aboard Campania were
keen to show what could be accomplished by her aircraft, and all were
confident of success. Being denied a part in the great Battle of Jutland
must have been a bitter disappointment.
It is interesting to note that on June 3, 1916, two days after
the great naval battle, a two-seater reconnaissance seaplane, using a
wheeled trolley, was successfully flown off Campania's deck for the
first time. This accomplishment opened up new possibilities and radio
communication improved immensely. But this seaplane-carrier was a
J2 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
luckless ship. On August 19, 1916, when the German Fleet made a
short sortie and showed some indication of doing battle, she had en-
gine trouble and could not put to sea to take any part in the brief
action. In contrast, a Zeppelin spotted the British Fleet in time for
Admiral Reinhard Scheer to reconsider his rash move and hurry back
to Kiel.
In February 1917 the Grand Fleet Aircraft Committee recom-
mended that Sopwith Pup airplaneslight, single-seater landplanes
should replace the Baby seaplanes aboard Campania. These were use-
ful little biplane fighters, powered by 80 hp. Le Rhone rotary engines
with a top speed of 106 mph. They carried one fixed Vickers machine
gun that fired under the control of a hydraulic interrupter gear through
the propeller. This plane was an ideal mount with no vices and, at
the time, most suitable for prospective aircraft-carrier work.
A few of these machines were delivered for development, and for
these experiments, the device that had been used for supporting the
tail of the seaplane at the commencement of the take-off to keep it
at normal flying position, was replaced by a grooved tail-guide trestle.
This arrangement was used subsequently by aircraft flying off light
cruiser platforms and off turret platforms of battleships and battle
cruisers. A large amount of experimental work was carried out aboard
Campania that furnished valuable data when flight decks were fitted
to other ships, such as Vindex and Furious.
By January 1918 Campania, which had contributed much to the
development of the aircraft carrier, was released from the strength of
the Grand Fleet and made a training ship for naval air operations.
There was some talk of further experimentation with a more elaborate
flight deck, but this was postponed until additional experience had
been gained with H.M.S. Argus, another converted type that had
started out as the uncompleted Italian merchantman Conte Rosso,
being built in a Clyde shipyard. Argus was fitted with a 55o-foot flight
deck about sixty-eight feet wide, her funnels were trunked horizontally
aft, and her bridge and navigation space were made compact and low-
ered so that Argus offered a true flush deck.
In 1932 Japan had four carriers with this trunked-funnel arrange-
ment, Ryu/o, Ka&i, Afazgz, and Hosho, and by 1937 Hosyo and
Ryuzyo, also trunked-funnel ships, had been added.
Argus was never employed in war operations, but immediately after
the war was used for extensive flying trials, during which time more
BORN OF NECESSITY 33
than five hundred take-offs and landings were made with only forty
major crashes.
The remainder of Campanicfs career was spent in this training pro-
gram and eventually she was lost in the Firth of Forth when one night
during a gale she dragged her anchors and drifted across the bows of
H.M.S. Royal Oak and went down.
The Royal Navy continued its interest in carrier work and, along
with Argus, converted a battle cruiser into an aircraft carrier. This was
known as H.M.S. Furious and came as close to the design of the mod-
ern concept of an aircraft carrier as one would expect to find in those
early days. She had a 228-foot-long flight deck that was mounted over
the stem half of the hull; she also had a variation of the offset bridge,
and her speed of thirty knots enabled planes to be flown off, but the
problem of flying back on was unsolved until August 3, 1917. On that
day Squadron Commander E. H. Dunning made the first true deck
landing with a Sopwith Pup. It was accomplished by skidding to a
stop, rather than relying on any built-in arrester gear, but in trying to
repeat the performance two days later a wheel tire burst, the Pup
rolled over the side, and Dunning was lost.
After this accident, further study was made of an elementary ar-
rester gear, and a rope-net buffer was erected to protect the bridge.
Furious was also the first carrier that was equipped with elevators to
lower her aircraft to the hangars below. Over the postwar years she
contributed much to the science of carrier work and was reconstructed
five times for various reasons before she was scrapped in May 1945.
Her sister ships Courageous and Glorious also went through many de-
sign changes until they evolved as island-type flush-deck carriers.
Other conversions during the last two years of the war were Vin-
dictive and Eagle, the latter had been laid down originally as a battle-
ship for Chile and was to be known as Almirante Cochrane. She was
the first true "island carrier" since her two funnels, bridge, and masts
were shifted over to the extreme starboard side, and until her end in
August 1942 when she was torpedoed by the German submarine U-73
while escorting a convoy in the Mediterranean, she was one of the
best-loved carriers in the Royal Navy. About the same time a contract
was placed with Armstrong-Whitworth for the first British carrier to
be built from the keel up. This vessel was called H.M.S. Hermes, but
neither she nor Eagle was ready for launching before the end of the
war; much of their construction was delayed until Argus had been
34 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
given many practical trials. Both new carriers were then fitted with
the now accepted bridge-island mounted on the starboard side.
The above relates to the varied efforts made by airmen of the Royal
Navy to bring the American-invented airplane and the American idea
of shipboard landing operations to practical use in actual warfare. It
is true that World War I saw no real aircraft carrier operations as we
know the science today, but the endeavors that were attempted did
clarify many of the problems. The idea of a flush deck, unimpeded by
a bridge or funnels, was conceived. Variations of the arrester gear were
developed, and the Battle of Jutland pointed up the necessity of air-
craft reconnaissance and aircraft-to-surface-ship radio communication.
It became obvious that the airplane would have^ to be designed espe-
cially for deck operations and the limited stowage space available.
Equally important, air crews would have to be trained in naval opera-
tions as well as the art of flying a heavier-than-air craft. Much of this
came about as the result of the dogged determination of "a few" and
eventually Great Britian had a special Fleet Air Arm; after which the
United States gave its naval aviation a second look.
Probably the greatest impetus to the development of carrier aviation
in the U. S. Navy was Brigadier General William Mitchell's flamboy-
ant bombing exhibition that proved for all time that the airplane
carrying the proper armament could sink a naval battleship. This was
carried out July 21, 1921, when a small formation of American bomb-
ers led by Mitchell sank the Ostfriesland, a former German battleship,
in a test off the coast of Virginia and before a very critical audience
of naval experts. Few wanted to believe what they had seen, but there
were one or two who muttered: "Well, maybe Congress will give us
a few dollars to develop an aircraft carrier. We sure need one after
that exhibition."
Many new concepts of naval action were shown in the Battle of
Jutland. Although few men would admit it at the time, the day of the
dreadnought or battleship was over. Design had not kept pace with
gunnery or modern explosive, the submarine, or at least the threat of
the submarine, upset old-line planning and strategy, weapons out-
ranged reconnaissance, and the admirals were blind beyond the limited
scope of their scouting destroyers and battle cruisers. Although Cam-
pania and the Zeppelins were denied a vital role in this battle, it was
soon evident that either side might have scored the greatest victory in
BORN OF NECESSITY 35
modern naval history, could it have been known what was going on
in the important areas of the conflict.
A most intricate vessel was in the offing, a new man-of-war that
carried weapons of a range never known before naval aircraft a
floating airfield that some quarter of a century later would win great
naval battles without either fleet commander seeing the other's forces.
American contribution to the science of carrier warfare makes a
splendid chapter in naval history. Eugene Ely had shown that an air-
plane could land on and take off from a modern naval vessel. In 1916
another aircraft was catapulted from U.S.S. North Carolina, making
that vessel technically an aircraft carrier, but nothing in particular was
attempted during the war years of 1917-18. After the war, and with
the honor of first flying the Atlantic going to a U. S. Navy N.C.4 team
in 1919, it was obvious that more attention would have to be given
to the naval side of flying. Although funds were limited and six sea-
plane stations were closed, the collier Jupiter was put under conversion
for carrier work, renamed U.S.S. LangLey, and commissioned in
March 1922.
This historic vessel might be considered the first successful aircraft
carrier since she was properly equipped with an arrester gear that per-
mitted aircraft to land aboard her, even under most severe weather
conditions. She performed ably, and great strides were made in carrier
operations. The catapult, first operated successfully aboard North
Carolina, was now standard equipment on battleships and heavy cruis-
ers that launched a specialized type of float plane. But when Langley
began fleet operations the catapult proved to be somewhat inadequate.
Only a few aircraft could be carried aboard battleships. They could be
launched under almost all conditions, but had to be retrieved from the
water on their return. On many occasions they were damaged severely
if the landing was made in rough water, and since the mother ship
had to slow down to make the pick-up, she became an excellent target
for torpedo attack.
The aircraft flown from Langley were up-to-date land types of
higher performance, and when it became evident that a torpedo-
carrying plane was to be the prime weapon of the aircraft carrier, the
landing-deck vessel came into its own. No catapult system that could
be erected on a battleship could accommodate an aircraft capable of
carrying the naval-air torpedo. It was largely through the desire to take
the dive bomber and torpedo carrier to sea with the fleet that the
36 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
United States and British Navies brought the aircraft carrier to such
a peak of performance.
Catapults, capable of launching aircraft of various types, had been
mounted aboard most of the battleships of the United States Navy by
the time Langley started operating with the fleet, but they compared
in no way with the flexibility of action experienced aboard this early
carrier. The float planes could not be landed aboard their mother
ships after a patrol or reconnaissance, but had to be hoisted aboard
and returned to the catapult mount by an elaborate derrick system.
Langley soon proved that any major power would have to pursue a
strong policy in that particular field of naval operations, and between
1927 and 1940 eleven such vessels were built and commissioned, but
only seven were in actual service when the Pearl Harbor attack brought
the United States into the Second World War. Saratoga and Lexing-
ton, practically sister ships, were launched a few months apart in 1925
but were not completed until the early winter of 1927. For those days,
they were massive vessels, each weighing 33,000 tons and accommo-
dating ninety aircraft. Their original cost was about $45,000,000 each.
They had been authorized for construction as battle cruisers of 35,300
tons in 1916 and were to have seven funnels and boilers dispersed on
two deck levels, but after World War I, as a result of experiences
gained, these plans were largely revised.
As aircraft carriers, their tonnage was reduced by 8500 tons, mainly
through the sacrifice of eight sixteen-inch guns in four twin turrets, and
their mounts and armor. Other than this, most original features were
retained. A flight deck was set up and the island superstructure added.
Aircraft were handled on the 88o-foot-long platform and a landing net
was stretched behind a T-shaped elevator in the aft section. Another
such elevator was abeam of the island, and a powerful catapult was
set into the forward quarter of the deck. Recovery of aircraft was much
as it is today; the incoming plane flew up to the lip of the deck and
was arrested through its hook and a series of arrester-gear cables. Any
planes that failed, through a malfunction of the gear or breakage of
the hook, were caught in the landing net, thus protecting other aircraft
parked in the middle or forward sections of the deck.
U.S.S. Rdnger, a i9,9oo-ton carrier was launched in February 1936
and completed in the summer of 1937, and carried eighty aircraft.
Enterprise was launched April 4, 1936, Yorktown was completed April
4, 1929, and Wasp in January 1940. Hornet, which carried General
BORN OF NECESSITY 37
Jimmy Doolittle's 8-25 aircraft for the first attack on Tokyo, was
launched September 25, 1939.
Once the Second World War was under way, the carrier program
gained amazing impetus; during the hostilities seventeen fast Essex
class, and nine light Independence class flat-tops reported for duty.
One hundred fourteen escort carriers followed in the wake of the pio-
neer Long Island, including thirty-eight that were turned over to the
British Navy. The history of many of these gallant vessels will be pre-
sented in later chapters. Four of the seven original CVs (large attack)
carriers were lost in early actions, one light (CVL) and six escort
(CVE) carriers went down in thrilling engagements. Twelve of the
larger carriers and several escort ships received heavy damage. Many
that were struck by bombs, torpedoes and kamikaze attacks went on
fighting, a few limped back to the United States for major overhaul,
but eventually returned to take their share of the battle.
The naval personnel concerned deserve unlimited praise for at times
they were called on to fight with outmoded or at best, transitional
weapons. The men who served aboard our early carriers needed un-
bounded courage, dedication, and adaptability since they were operat-
ing from a complex, ungainly, and vulnerable base. The handicaps
under which most carrier airmen fought can best be realized from their
operational airplane losses. It has been pointed out many times that
more Navy planes were lost through mechanical failures, take-off and
landing accidents, and other operational losses than in actual combat.
France also took an interest in the aircraft carrier, her first effort
being the Bfarne that had been originally laid down in 1914 as a bat-
tleship of the Normandie class. During the First World War construc-
tion was suspended and she was not launched until April 1920. Re-
designed as a fleet carrier, work was started at La Seyne in August
1923 and completed in May 1927. She had a displacement of 22,146
tons and a full load of 25,000 tons, and on her trials she put on 21.5
knots with 40,000 hp. The Bfarne was planned to accommodate more
than forty aircraft but less than one fourth of these could be handled
on the deck at one time. She had a spotty career in World War II and
so far as is known was never used in active operations.
Thtjoffre and Painlev6 were laid down some time in 1938-39 but
neither vessel was completed before the Germans occupied France and
took over the Penhoet yard where these ships were being built. How
far the hulls had progressed is not known.
38 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
The German Navy laid down two aircraft carriers. The first, named
Graf Zeppelin, was launched and was in process of fitting out when the
war started in 1939. She was rushed out of her dockyard and moved
to Gdynia, Poland, where she was captured later by the Russians. The
second vessel, never named, did not progress far beyond the keel-laying
stage, and is believed to have been destroyed in dockyard raids by the
R.A.F. Both vessels were to have been i9,ooo-tonners, carrying only
twenty-five aircraft.
Japan furnished something of a surprise in World War II when she
produced seven first-class fleet earners by 1940. These were Soryu,
Hiryu, Shokaku, Ryuzyo, Kogd, Afazgi, and Hosho. To some extent this
lineup was a grim embarrassment to Allied Intelligence, for as late as
December 1941 the impression was that the Japanese Navy had only
four carriers there was no information concerning their Zero fighter.
Only Sir Winston Churchill seems to have had any basic knowledge of
Japanese strength in carriers and of the capability of their fighter air-
craft. At the same time American aviation experts were proclaiming
that the Brewster Buffalo fighter plane was the most powerful aircraft
of that class in the Orient. As things turned out, the Buffalo was cold
meat for the Zero fighters.
In the early 19205 naval rivalry was an accepted status of Japanese-
American relations. At the Washington Conference in 1921 Japan had
held determinedly for a fleet ratio of seven to ten, as opposed to the
United States view of "non-menace and non-aggression," in which we
based our stand on the principle that the relative strengths of the two
navies should be such that each could defend itself successfully
against the other, but neither would attack or menace the other.
At the time naval experts agreed that in modern fleet warfare an
invading force would have to be 50 per cent stronger than that de-
fending. Under the seven-to-ten ratio demanded by Japan, the U, S.
Navy would have had only a 43 per cent margin of superiority, not
quite enough to wage an aggressive campaign. The conference, how-
ever, adopted a three-to-five ratio applicable to capital ships, meaning
battleships, completely ignoring aircraft carriers which at the time were
considered a nautical novelty.
How quickly the lesson of the Battle of Jutland was forgotten.
This three-to-five ratio gave the American fleet a 67 per cent margin
of superiority in the battleship category that from the standpoint of
the Japanese admirals made it a menace to Japan. They turned their
BORN OF NECESSITY 39
attention to developing superior vessels for defense operations, and
what better vessel for that purpose than the aircraft carrier? The
42,oooton battle cruiser Akagi was immediately converted to a flush-
deck carrier.
By 1930 the London Conference extended the limitation of naval
armaments to categories other than capital ships. Again, Japan insisted
on a seven-to-ten ratio in global tonnage of non-capital ships, and
again her request was turned down.
Blocked at every turn, Japan refused to renew the naval limitation
treaties on their expiration in the latter part of 1936. Earlier that same
year we had enacted the Vinson naval expansion program to meet the
changing conditions in Europe and Asia. Actually, the U. S. Navy was
not up to treaty levels, but Japan was. Thus prior to the threat of the
Vinson program, Japan had some sense of security, but if this program
was completed the U. S. Navy would have the 67 per cent margin of
superiority so dreaded by Japanese strategists.
As soon as the naval limitation treaties lapsed, Japan inaugurated
her new Marusan program which placed greater stress on building spe-
cial, superior type ships and armament to offset numerical inferiority.
These included Yamato and Musashi, then the world's largest and
most heavily armed battleships. Only a few farsighted Japanese offi-
cials saw the fallacy of this and pushed for naval air power, pointing
out that the new naval armament policy was wrong, that it had not
kept pace with the radical change in methods of warfare, that the idea
of outbuilding the potential enemy in battleships was not realistic
in the future aircraft would be the decisive factor and air warfare
would be total warfare that would require the complete mobilization
of all national resources and activities.
As events turned out Japan decisively defeated her Anglo-American
enemies for more than six months, but when her national resources
were depleted and her national production broke down, she had noth-
ing left with which to fight. Before the Pacific war was over the United
States had built, not dozens of aircraft carriers, but more than one
hundred carriers of the attack and escort class.
Aircraft carrier development in Japan took on some interesting as-
pects. From the beginning, with the building of Kaga, Hosho, and
Akagi, they ignored all traditional design. Since the vessels were to pro-
vide a seagoing flight deck for naval aircraft, they were just that.
Masts, bridge, and funnels were eliminated; the flight deck was all-
important. Navigation was carried out from a bridge set below the for-
4O SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
ward lip of the deck, the funnels, as stated before, were trunked over
*the side and aft, and what mast structure was needed was built to be
raised or lowered between deck operations. These vessels looked more
like oversize barges, but they were most practical. Even in 1932 these
carriers were capable of twenty-five knots, carried ten 8-inch guns, four
4-7-inchers and twelve 4.y-inch antiaircraft weapons.
The Amagi which was laid down at the Yokosuka dockyard and
launched late in 1923 was so badly damaged by the earthquake and
fire in September of that year she had to be abandoned before she was
fitted out for fleet operations. The hull of Kaga, originally a battle-
ship, was appropriated to replace her, and in this vessel we first note
a curved trunking of the bank of funnels, designed to carry smoke and
thermal eddies well clear of the flight deck. From the traditional point
of view, it was not impressive, but it was very practical. Aboard Hosyo
the smoke was dispersed through three circular funnels that could be
tilted over the side or held erect along the starboard side, another in-
teresting twist in carrier design.
The growth and initial success of the Japanese carrier force must
be credited to Commander Minoru Genda, a brilliant young staff of-
ficer who was aide to Rear Admiral Takijiro Onishi, then Chief of
Staff of the Eleventh Air Fleet. Commander Genda had begun his
naval career as a fighter pilot and his success in that duty had won for
him and his units the nickname, Genda Circus. The young com-
mander, however, was more than a skilled flier, he was also an air
tactician of no small stature. As operations officer of an Air Group that
operated in the Shanghai area in 1937 he had introduced several new
methods for mass, long-range missions by fighter aircraft. Later, after
graduating with honors from the Naval War College, he served for two
years in London as Japan's assistant Naval Attach^ for Air, where he
gained experience, poise, and broadened his service viewpoint.
Commander Genda contributed much in the realm of air tactics
where mass employment 0f fighters gained control of the air in co-
operation with their bombers, and these tactics were introduced in the
concerted use of several carrier task groups in a single tactical theater.
These new methods were applied so effectively in the opening phase
of the Pacific war, they were known in American aviation parlance as
"Gendaisms."
Genda made an exhaustive study of the proposed attack on Pearl
Harbor to determine if it could be carried out successfully, and came
to the conclusion that it could be attempted if at least six of the Fleet's
BORN OF NECESSITY 41
large carriers were assigned to the operation, that special care be taken
to select only the most competent commanders and skilled flying
personnel, and, above all, complete secrecy maintained to ensure the
advantage of surprise.
Admiral Isoroku Yamamoto was then convinced that a carrierbome
air assault on Pearl Harbor was sound and his Combined Fleet pushed
ahead with their plans.
The Japanese Naval General Staff did not agree, saying that the
proposed operations in the southern waters designed to gain control
of fuel oil centers were more important than a raid on Pearl Harbor,
and insisted that the main carrier strength should be allotted to the
force designated to the Dutch East Indies area. Most Japanese strate-
gists had long held that any attack on Pearl Harbor was a gamble, with
success depending entirely on taking the United States forces by sur-
prise. If no such situation stood, the attack would fail with disastrous
consequences. They argued that to take valuable carriers so close to
an American base was too risky, for even a large carrier could be
quickly and effectively disabled by a few bomb strikes.
However, younger enthusiasts on the staff continued to stump for
a complete air attack on the Hawaiian base, and pointed out that the
U. S. Pacific Fleet was the bulwark of Allied strength in the entire
Pacific area and its destruction should be the main objective of Japa-
nese strategy. If the bulk of it could be destroyed, the conquest and
exploitation of the rich oil fields would be an easy task.
Although he had shown reluctance to go to war with the United
States, Admiral Yamamoto stated firmly that if he were to be respon-
sible for Japanese naval action, the Pearl Harbor plan as he had drawn
it up would have to stand. He even agreed to take command personally
of the Carrier Striking Force, and with this statement won his point
just thirty-five days before the Pearl Harbor attack was delivered.
On that decision in the opening phase of the Pacific war, the old
concepts of the dreadnought era came to an end; the carrier had taken
over the role of the battleship and the new watchword was "Attack!"
While the United States and Japan played their deadly game of
naval chess, Great Britain, having laid the foundation for the develop-
ment of carriers and carrier operations, plodded away, hampered by
the limitations of national economy and the widening spread of
pacifism. It was no longer fashionable to turn up at formal dinners in
dress uniforms wearing the decorations of previous service. Those who
42 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
talked of war or national defense were "rattling the rifle bolt," and
every move or gesture made to improve any of the three services, was
howled down by the antiinilitant crowd that had taken the upper hand
in Parliament,
Naval building was restricted, due to the tenor of the times and the
Washington Treaty, so no new British carrier was laid down until
1935! This was another Ark Royal of 22,000 tons, sent down the slip-
way on April 13, 1937. She had a flight deck eight hundred feet long
and ninety-four feet wide, into which were fitted three elevators, and
eventually a complement of contemporary aircraft such as Fairey Fly-
catchers, Fairey III-Fs, and Blackburn Darts, the latter a bulky but
valuable torpedo carrier. The Flycatcher was a biplane fighter, the
III-F a reconnaissance plane.
In the meantime Courageous and Glorious, sister battle cruisers of
Furious, previously mentioned, had been converted and were available
with seven-hundred-foot flight decks and an up-to-date island. It was
upon these three vessels that the steel cable arrester gear was first
evolved and brought to a high degree of success. In 1919 Courageous,
with a battalion of infantry aboard, was ordered from Malta to Jaffa at
full speed to assist the Palestine police. Its complement of Flycatchers,
Darts, and III-Fs, thirty-six aircraft in all, was flown off to the civilian
airfield in Gaza from where they did a great deal of flying for about
six weeks, but fired not one shot nor dropped one bomb.
As the years moved on and the Hitler situation worsened, a respect-
able building program was drawn up. Four new ships, Illustrious, Vic-
torious, Formidable, and Indomitable were laid down in 1937, and
two more, Implacable and Indefatigable, the following year. Britain's
new Fleet Air Arm was now completely under control of the Admi-
ralty. Not yet fully developed or equipped for its many tasks, it en-
tered upon a war that was to more than justify its existence as an
integral part of the Royal Navy.
In order to better appreciate some of the action details to be related,
it may be well for the lay reader to understand how the aircraft carriers
of World War II operated.
The chief objective of these vessels was to carry aircraft to sea and
furnish operational areas, shelters, and servicing. During naval opera-
tions it was important that they cany as many planes as possible, and
handle them as efficiently as they would be on a land base. Although
most aircraft usually were accommodated on the flight decks, many
BORN OF NECESSITY 43
were taken below on elevators to sheltered hangar decks where main-
tenance could be performed under more comfortable conditions.
There, too, were specialist shops and tool-room facilities, and con-
trolled lighting.
Carrier operations developed and improved with the appreciation of
the various problems encountered, in turn demanding changes in car-
rier design. Originally, the carrier simply dispatched or took aboard
early float planes or flying boats, but naval development demanded
more agile, speedier, and more adaptable aircraft. The wheeled-
undercarriage, or land-type plane fulfilled this requirement and
brought about the flight deck and arrester gear.
In early missions it was the practice to clear the deck after each
plane had landed by lowering it to the hangar deck below. In some
instances this took time and there was always the danger that a plane
short of fuel or under some other emergency would attempt to land
while the elevator was below the level of the flight deck. This could
be disastrous. Early American practice evolved the system of parking
each plane, as it landed, well forward, presuming each incoming air-
craft had been properly snubbed to a halt by the arrester gear. Aboard
the early Saratoga and Lexington a safety curtain of heavy webbing
or metal mesh was erected in case the landing plane snapped the snub-
bing cable. This procedure left the deck elevators free to lower air-
craft to the hangars without interrupting the landing-on process.
In the British and French Navies the incoming pilot had a clear
uninterrupted deck ahead of him, and if he was dissatisfied with his
final glide, he could take off again without danger to any other aircraft.
In this case he landed normally while the carrier was steaming into the
wind, and came to a halt by the use of his wheel brakes. When carrier
planes could be landed at sixty knots on a carrier that was providing
a thirty-knot "headwind" this was simple, but as the landing speed of
aircraft mounted with the increase in their weight, this type of deck
landing had to give way to the arrester gear, and some time before the
Second World War all modern navy carriers were operated in that
manner.
The next problem was the disposition of the bridge and smoke fun-
nels. In some early designs the bridge section was lowered to the level
of the flight deck, but this brought on many complications that could
not be tolerated under war conditions. Smoke stacks also gave the de-
signers trouble and although they were trunked over the side, or aft
to the stern where the gases were discharged by fans, none was com-
44 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
pletely satisfactory, so the island feature was designed in which all
bridge accommodation and smoke funnels were built into this com-
pact structure. The unit was streamlined to eliminate dangerous
eddies or turbulent air.
To carry out routine operations, the carrier was steered into the
wind and the planes were sent off one at a time to rendezvous in some
prearranged area aloft. Special deck crews, wearing colored jerseys or
shirts to designate their particular roles, took care of the varied duties
necessary to cany out these intricate operations. Some men were arma-
ment specialists, others did nothing but attend to fuel and lubrication
problems. There were instrument specialists, and others who took
charge of the actual flight deck during take-offs and landings. All these
duties had to be performed with speed, precision, and care, for every-
thing aboard the carrier and the aircraft had to be in smooth working
order if the operations were to be carried out safely.
The landings were particularly complicated and only highly skilled
pilots were selected for carrier work. Practically anyone could take off
from a carrier deck, but getting back on required skill, precision, and,
above all, strict service discipline to carry out the required orders of
the flight-deck officer who was in full control of every carrier landing.
This individual had to be a very experienced pilot, one who knew
every condition the incoming airman might encounter. He had to
make split-second decisions, or a deck landing might turn into a
tragedy.
Once the incoming pilot had moved into his position aft of the
speeding carrier, he assumed he was simply making a routine landing,
and when he was within a certain distance of the lip of the carrier deck,
his main job was to obey the signals being given by the flight-deck
officer who stood in a clear position with colored bats or paddles in his
hands, with which he advised the pilot of his position relative to the
flight deck and "brought the aircraft in." All the various levels at which
the paddles were held meant something definite to the incoming
pilot; he would be warned if he was approaching the deck too high,
too low, or too fast. If it was obvious that the approach threatened a
dangerous situation, a possible deck crash, the flight-deck officer waved
the pilot off with a definite paddle signal that could not be misunder-
stood. With that warning the pilot opened his throttle, banked away,
and went around for another try.
In war few landings were waved off, as there was not too much
BORN OF NECESSITY 45
time to be wasted, and pilots usually made it the first time. Time was
of the essence since in these operations the carrier in steaming into the
wind would naturally have to leave her station in the main fleet forma-
tion. This put her in a vulnerable position to be attacked by enemy
submarines whose skippers, knowing the routine of steaming into the
wind, could take up an attack position and simply wait for the carrier
to move there and be torpedoed.
This is one of the chief weaknesses of the aircraft carrier the neces-
sity to steam into the wind in order to recover her aircraft, and al-
though strong destroyer-escort defense can be supplied, they have little
to work on since the enemy submarine is probably lying at rest, await-
ing the arrival of the carrier and there is no cavitation or other sound
for the destroyer sonar equipment to detect.
These were the conditions aboard aircraft carriers up to the close
of World War II. More improvements have been devised and added,
new equipment developed and jet-powered aircraft of unusual speeds
and weights accommodated. These developments will be taken up in
detail in succeeding chapters.
To the layman the stormy weather encountered by the early expo-
nents of naval aviation must be bewildering. With our hindsight we
can see that carrier aviation simply had to come, and why anyone
would put blocks in its path, is difficult to understand. Hindsight also
tells us that it was something more than just developing a ship that
could accommodate landplanes that would furnish air cover and in-
crease the range of naval strike operations.
If we go into this history we will discover that it was the torpedo,
the same weapon that provided the punch for the submarine, that laid
the first keel for the aircraft carrier. The float plane that could be cata-
pulted, and the flying boat that could be launched and recovered by
a derrick, could carry out routine reconnaissance and in a small way
fight other aircraft with machine guns, but these aircraft could not de-
stroy enemy surface ships. Only the ubiquitous torpedo could strike
that killing blow.
But what airplane of the early days could carry a icoo-pound torpedo
and still fit the deck and hangar limitations of the proposed carrier?
The aircraft bomb was out of the question since it had to be just as
heavy, and perhaps heavier, to pierce an armored deck. The plane
that would carry a heavy bomb to any height for such attacks could
46 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
not land on or take off from the deck of a carrier the arrester gear
had not been perfected. Up until several years after the end of World
War I carriers, at least the British version which were years ahead of
anything known, could accommodate light single- or two-seater fight-
ers that were sent into the air to shoot down other fighters-ror
Zeppelins but other than a few 25-pound Cooper bombs for fragmen-
tation delivery, high-level bombing and torpedo attacks were out of
the question.
What had to be done was to build more powerful aircraft, possibly
with twin engines and folding wings to fit aboard the carrier hangars.
But there was no money for such experimentation and development.
All the former belligerents had cut down on military spending and
what funds were available were being doled out to each service while
the proponents of each grumbled at the manner in which these funds
were being allocated.
The aviation people argued that all surface fleets were obsolete, or
would be if funds could be made available for a few heavy bombers.
In the United States, General Billy Mitchell was advocating a stra-
tegic bomber force, just as Major General Hugh Trenchard had in
Great Britain. All kinds of fantastic statements were made by all
parties. The U. S. Army, which presumed to control its Air Force, was
somewhere in the middle clamoring for tanks and armored vehicles.
The U. S. Navy, because of the success of the N.C-4 in making the
first flight across the Atlantic, was convinced that bigger and better
flying boats were the answer to its aviation requirements. If the ad-
mirals wanted immediate reconnaissance, a few float planes on cruiser
and battleship catapults would do the job.
This sort of thing was going on on both sides of the Atlantic. Both
Britain and America were "Big Navy" conscious, and these naval tra-
ditions were long-lived with deep roots. The bomb versus battleship
controversy raged almost from the close of World War I and was to
mar happy interservice relations for many years.
As we know now, General Billy Mitchell proved a point in 1921
when after months of wrangling he forced Washington officialdom to
stage a test of the airplane versus the battleship. Anchoring an old
Jutland veteran, the ex-German dreadnought Ostfrieslctnd off the Vir-
ginia Capes, he did succeed in drilling it with several bombs dropped
from Army bombers. It wasn't much of a test, but it was impressive
at the time, and when the ancient target went down, a few old Navy
BORN OF NECESSITY 47
officers on hand to witness the display wept. Several more alert naval
minds smiled and said, "Well, that ought to do it. They'll have to
develop the aircraft carrier now/'
The exhibit rocked the military world. In Britain, General Tren-
chard, long the stormy petrel of London's Whitehall, was still stump-
ing for a truly independent air arm, one that was free and clear of the
Navy. He had noted that the Royal Navy, giving an inch here and
there, had demanded a Fleet Air Arm a truly naval aviation service
to be controlled by the Navy. The new Royal Air Force was to have
nothing to do with this; it was to be a service trained in the practices
and problems of naval operations. The old guard was actually provid-
ing air cover for its beloved battleships. This was the same naval serv-
ice that in World War II did not build one Fleet (large) aircraft
carrier. It relied on what had been built after World War I, or were
on the stocks when war broke out. At the same time it built three
battleships Anson, Howe, and Vanguard none of which took an
active part in the hostilities.
In order to settle the bomb-versus-battieship dispute in Britain, an-
other trial was arranged and staged in 1923 in the hope that it would
have the same effect as had General Mitchell's in America.
Among the number of naval crocks being relegated to the re-
serve was the battleship Agamemnon, a i6,5oo-tonner that had been
launched in 1906. She had performed yeoman service at the Darda-
nelles in 1915, and although outmoded, was considered suitable for
such a test. Agamemnon was equipped with a radio control steering
set, and she went to sea under these conditions minus a crew. Although
a large number of interested observers were taken along, the test itself
was kept a deep secret for years.
Two aircraft that belonged to the R.A.F. were selected to make the
attacks, using practice bombs to be dropped from eight thousand feet.
(Mitchell's display was flown at seventeen hundred feet.) One of these
aircraft had to drop out with mechanical trouble, and the antibomber
exponents were conceded a 50 per cent victory. The second plane
made its scheduled attack with the bomber-navigator "steering" the
aircraft to the target with pieces of string tied to the pilot's ankles. In
spite of this hurried improvisation, the results were most impressive.
Of eight bombs aimed at the moving target, two scored direct hits,
and the remainder fell as near misses that would have caused consider-
able underwater shock-wave damage, just as a depth charge springs
rivets in the hull of a submarine.
48 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
It is ironic to think that Generals Mitchell and Trenchard, who had
fought so hard to keep strategic bombing for their land-based air f orces,
should have unwittingly provided the very evidence that was to result
in great naval carrier forces for both of their countries.
CHAPTER II
TEMPERED IN BATTLE
THE GRIM test of the aircraft carrier began with the outbreak of the
Second World War. Over the years, prior to Hitler's attack on Poland,
the carrier had become the picture ship of the navy. She was large,
majestic, sleek, and clean and was always the favorite when the fleet
was in and visitors were welcomed aboard. She had space, elbow room,
vast wardrooms, ample companionways, and best of all, a great variety
of modern fighting aircraft. Few of the visitors were told that any naval
force venturing within range of shore-based aircraft was doomed un-
less it had a fighter escort in the sky. Even the best of carrierborne air-
craft are at a disadvantage; should their carrier be sunk or their deck
made untenable, their floating airfield is gone.
World War II proved that the aircraft carrier was vulnerable; her
long flight deck and large above-water hull provided an excellent target
for air, surface, or submarine attack. Shortly after hostilities began the
British Navy had severe losses in its carrier forces. On September 3,
1939, there were eight carriers at sea, and there was a strong belief
that whatever the strength of the British Army or the RA.F., the
Royal Navy could immediately more than hold its own against the
German pocket-battleship force, or any U-boat threat Admiral Karl
Doenitz might contrive.
. Ark Royd and Courageous were with the Home Fleet, Glorious
was in the Mediterranean, and Eagk on the China Station. The old
Furious was still being used in carrier-deck training in the Firth of
Forth, and later on assumed the ferrying of aircraft, and Atlantic con-
voy duty. The Hermes was first used in surface operations against
enemy submarines in the home waters, and later for trade protection
and raider tracing in the South Atlantic. Albatross, an Australian-built
50 * SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
seaplane carrier, and Argus were in home waters, but Argus was trans-
ferred later to the Mediterranean for training duties, and Albatross
to West Africa on trade-protection duty.
Courageous was Great Britain's first carrier loss when she was sunk
by an enemy submarine during the first month of the war. This came
about indirectly through the loss of the liner Aihenia that was sent to
the bottom off the western coast of Ireland by a German U-boat. The
civilized world was shocked at the heavy casualties that included hun-
dreds of women and children who were being sent to safety in Canada.
Following that sinking, British merchant shipping losses began to rise,
and it was obvious that the Home Fleet would have to furnish im-
mediate defense against this unexpected force of U-boats. Carriers
were called in on the presumption that their aircraft could quickly
spot and depth-charge the undersea raiders a plan easier to conceive
than to carry out. The Ark Royd and Courageous were ordered to
stiffen the Royal Navy's defenses.
Screened by four destroyers, Courageous was on a search during the
night of September 17 when two of the screen ships were sent off to
track down a U-boat that was reported to be attacking a merchant-
man. As Courageous turned into the wind at dusk to bring in her
aircraft that had been making an aerial search, she happened to move
into the torpedo-area of submarine U-29, commanded by Lieutenant
Commander Schuhart. Whether this unfortunate contact was a hun-
dred-to-one shot as Sir Winston Churchill explained later, is conjec-
tural. At any rate, the U-boat's torpedoes were most deadly; of a crew
of 1260, more than five hundred were lost, including Courageous'*
skipper, Captain Makeig-Jones. It was also learned that Ark Royal was
attacked some three days later by U-39, but the three torpedoes fired
had magnetic-pistol failures, and exploded prematurely, and the high
columns of water reaching up above the decks of the carrier warned
the destroyer screen. Smart responsive action resulted in the destruc-
tion of the raider and capture of her crew.
The carrier GZorious was sunk by enemy gunfire during the British
withdrawal from Norway in June 1940. In this operation 24,000 men,
with their equipment and stores, were successfully embarked on three
troop convoys without hindrance by the enemy. The carriers Ark
Royal and Glorious, together with a force of two heavy cruisers and
sixteen destroyers, might have escaped enemy interference, but mean-
while the cruiser Devonshire was embarking the King of Norway and
his staff from Tromso, and other commitments came up, including a
TEMPERED IN BATTLE jl
false report that a number of enemy ships were heading for Iceland.
As a result, the covering force that had been set up to bring in the
troopships from Norway was for a time widely dispersed. It was at
this point that the German battleships Scharnhorst and Gneisenau,
the heavy cruiser Hipper, and four destroyers stumbled on some
trawler escorts and a tanker belonging to the British force. These ves-
sels were sunk and Hipper and the destroyers returned to Trondheim,
but the battleships continued to search and at four o'clock on the
afternoon of June 7 noted the smoke plume of Glorious and her es-
corting destroyers Acasta and Ardent The carrier had been detached
earlier that morning to proceed home independently, since she was
presumed to be short of fuel. She was now some two hundred miles
ahead of the main convoy.
On sighting the enemy, Glorious attempted to engage with her four-
inch guns at 27,000 yards why, no one has ever explained. When it
became apparent that she could not compete with the German battle-
ships with such weapons, she decided to launch her torpedo bombers.
But as luck would have it, a shell struck her forward hangar, started
a fire that destroyed all her Hurricane fighters, and prevented her arma-
ment force from hauling up torpedoes from below for the bombers to
carry if they could get off. During the next thirty minutes Glorious
received heavy-caliber blows from which she never recovered. Escape
was out of the question, and by 5:20 she was listing dangerously. The
order was given to abandon ship, and the British carrier sank twenty
minutes later.
In the meantime the two destroyers had behaved heroically. In an
effort to cover Glorious both had laid down a heavy smoke screen
and both had fired their torpedoes at the enemy, but the firepower of
the German battleships soon overwhelmed them. Ardent was the first
to go down, and later Acasta, fighting against great odds, actually put
one torpedo into Scharnhorst before she too rolled over. Scharn-
horst was damaged by the torpedo and withdrew from the action and
limped back to Trondheim.
The British loss was 1474 officers and men of the Royal Navy and
forty-one of the Royal Air Force. In this disaster the carrier was not
handled as she should have been under the circumstances. She should
have known of the approach of the German warships in time to have
had a force of torpedo bombers in the air for the attack, long before
the battleships were able to use their long-range weapons. At that time
of day and year in those latitudes, there would have been many hours
52 SQUADRONS OF THE SE.A
of daylight, and why no aircraft were available or at "alert" to meet
this situation is a mystery.
Months later, it was admitted that there had been no logical reason
for Glorious to have left the main body. She had enough fuel to steam
at the speed of the convoy, and all of them should have kept together.
These two carrier losses were replaced by Illustrious and Formida-
ble, and another, Victorious, was commissioned in May 1941, but in
November of that year Ark Royd was torpedoed and lost.
Possibly no aircraft carrier in any navy won such a record of achieve-
ment and affection as did Britain's H.M.S. Ark Royd through her
activities in the first two years of World War II. It was the Ark's r&
doubtable career that first f ocussed the attention of non-seafaring peo-
ple on the potentialities of these floating airfields. Although carriers
had been built and made the subject of many heated debates, and
some had been exhibited in peacetime naval maneuvers, it was Ark
Royd that first displayed what could be done in actual warfare by
these new and novel vessels.
The wartime carrier was the third ship in British naval annals to
carry that honorable name. The first was built at Deptford for Sir
Walter Raleigh who christened her the Ark, but, as was the custom in
Tudor times, she also bore the name of her owner and became Ark
Rdeigfi. With the menace of the Spanish invasion, ships were needed
to defend Albion and before she was actually launched, she was taken
over by the Crown for 5000, and renamed Ark Royd. She was a
large vessel, nearly fifteen hundred tons, or about the size of a modern
destroyer, and was commissioned as the flagship of Lord Howard of
Effingham, the Lord High Admiral of England. She played a leading
part in the destruction of the Spanish Armada. In later years she was
rebuilt and renamed Anne Royd, in honor of James Ts queen, and
served periodically as a flagship until she was wrecked and lost in
1636.
No other Ark Royd was built until 1914 when the Admiralty chose
the name for the first large seaplane carrier, a converted merchant
vessel that served well in the Gallipoli campaign. In 1935 when it was
decided to build a third Ark Royd, the seaplane carrier was renamed
Pegasus, a hardy vessel that was still in service for experimental work
during the Second World War.
The keel of the third Ark was laid at Cammell Laird shipyards in
Birkenhead, England. She was the second British ship to be planned
TEMPERED IN BATTLE 53
and built as a carrier, and she embodied all the improvements sug-
gested by experience. She was launched April 13, 1927, after more
than two million pounds had been spent on her construction. She
had nine decks, her flight deck was eight hundred feet long, and
she accommodated sixty aircraft, or five Fleet Air Arm squadrons,
composed of Blackburn Skuas and Fairey Swordfish. The first were
two-seater fighter dive bombers with a speed of two hundred miles per
hour, but these were replaced later with Fairey Fulmars that had eight
fixed guns and an aerial gunner aft. The Swordfish, which Ark Royal
carried throughout her career, was a torpedo-spotter-reconnaissance bi-
plane with a fixed undercarriage and open cockpits. In attack it
mounted an eighteen-inch torpedo, or a fifteen-hundred-pound bomb
load, and had a crew of three, pilot, observer, and air gunner.
The starboard island of Ark Royal carried the navigating bridge^
the mast, and funnel. The captain's sea cabin was directly below the
bridge, with the chart room, air intelligence office, and wireless control
office nearby. The ship's armament consisted of sixteen four-point-five
guns, four multiple pom-poms, and eight multiple machine guns. Her
speed was 30.75 knots, and her fuel endurance exceeded that of any
previous carrier.
But the aircraft carrier was still the Cinderella of the Navy; her true
capabilities were not fully appreciated, for many men in the service
still thought that naval aircraft should be restricted to scouting and
reconnaissance. Because of her size and the number of her crew, Ark
Royal did not immediately form any set character perhaps no carrier
does for many months.
The first aircraft to fly aboard were a squadron of Swordfish that
took off from Southampton, once Ark Royal had completed her trials.
She then moved out on her maiden voyage for the Mediterranean and
steamed into Valetta, Malta, where she caused considerable interest;
nothing that large had been seen there before, and the luxury of her
quarters made a new mark in the usual Spartan accommodations
found on British vessels of the time. She engaged in day and night fly-
ing training, exchanged torpedo and bombing attacks with H.M.S.
Glorious, an earlier type carrier, and returned to home waters late that
March.
During the uneasy summer of 1939 Ark Royd remained in the area
around Great Britain, and, other than putting on a ceremonial fly-past
for the King and Queen as they left for their historic North American
visit, the officers and crew continued preparing for the war they knew
54 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
to be inevitable. On August 31, 1939, the famous carrier put to sea
with the Home Fleet to patrol between the Shetiands and Norway. A
day later one of the Arfe's Swordfish that had been sent out on a re-
connaissance in vile weather, had to make a forced landing on a Nor-
wegian fiord and subsequently sank, but the crew paddled to shore
in a rubber dinghy. Since war seemed imminent they faced the pros-
pect of being interned in Norway. As luck would have it, though,
they landed near a Norwegian aircraft base; the officers were sympa-
thetic and helped them get to Bergen by seaplane from where they
boarded a ship for England just a few hours before the declaration of
war.
Shortly after eleven o'clock on the morning of September 3, Vice-
Admiral L. V. Wells, who was flying his flag from Ark Royal, received
a pink signal slip marked "Urgent Priority/' on which were written
two seemingly innocuous words, "Total Germany/' the same Admi-
ralty cipher message sent to every ship of the Royal Navy that morn-
ing. A short time later a boatswain's mate went to the transmitter of
the ship's address system and claimed everyone's attention with "D'ye
hear there?" the British variation of "Now hear this!"
Then Captain A. J. Power took over: "This is the captain speak-
ing. I have just received the signal, 'Commence hostilities against
Germany.'"
There was no particular outburst of enthusiasm or dismay from the
ship's company the news had been expected momentarily. They went
about their duties and over the next few days the Fleet cruised east
of the Orkneys, risking only the hazards of a heavy fog. At dawn each
morning Ark Royal launched a reconnaissance formation hoping to
find the enemy steaming out into the North Sea, but not until the
Fcmad Head incident, did this proud carrier have much to jot in its
log.
There have been many variations of this episode. One British report
states that when the merchantman's appeal for aid was sent out, Ark
Royd was some two hundred miles to the northeast, but she turned
at once for the scene of the attack and flew off three Skuas, moving
into the wind to make the launching. Before she could resume her
course, Leading Signalman J. E. Hall saw a torpedo running straight
toward the ship, and his prompt and accurate report is said to have
made it possible for the Officer of the Watch to put the helm over just
in time.
The accompanying destroyers then took up the hunt as Ark Royd
TEMPERED IN BATTLE 55
steamed out of danger. The first pattern of depth charges jumped the
U-boat's engines off their bearers, and the second blew her from below
in a badly damaged condition. When the raider broke surface, it was
identified as U-39- The British destroyers opened fire, and then ceased
as the German seamen scrambled on deck. The whole submarine's
company, including the captain forty-three in all abandoned ship
and were taken aboard the destroyer Faulknor. The U-boat sank a
few minutes after surfacing.
Meanwhile the three Skuas had sighted Fanad Head which had
stopped. Her passengers and crew had taken to lifeboats. A U-boat,
later identified as U-3O, was on the surface nearby, shelling from what
appeared to be a widening patch of oil. The Skuas went down and re-
leased their bombs over this patch just as the submarine crash-dived,
leaving a couple of her gun crew floundering in the oily water. Two of
the Skuas literally blasted themselves into the sea. In their enthusiasm
and anxiety to get as close to the target as possible, they dived so low
their own bombs blew off the tails of their aircraft. They flopped into
the water and the crews took to their rafts.
Twenty minutes later the submarine reappeared and the remaining
Skua tried to sink her by firing 1150 rounds from its fixed front gun
in a single burst. The U-boat submerged and this Skua returned to
Ark Royal. Some time later U-30 surfaced again, picked up the Skua
crews from their rafts and headed for Germany. Then six Swordfish
spotted the submarine as she was trying to put another torpedo into
Fanad Head. Not knowing their Skua comrades were aboard, they
promptly attacked and believed that they had sunk her, but U-3O, after
putting off one of her wounded men in Iceland, finally returned to
Germany. She carried the first Royal Navy airmen to be made prison-
ers of war.
Three days later Courageous was torpedoed while carrying out her
antisubmarine duties. The Admiralty then decided that carriers were
too vulnerable to be used independently on such hazardous duty and
Ark Royal was recalled to port with orders to operate with the Home
Fleet.
On September 26, she experienced the famous "sinking" claimed by
Dr. Joseph Goebbels, Germany's Propaganda Minister, which made
an innocent Luftwaffe pilot the laughingstock of airmen all over the
world.
Ark Royd, escorted by the battleships Nelson and Rodney, and
all of them hemmed in by a close screen of destroyers, was bringing a
56 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
damaged submarine back to port. Two of the Ark's reconnaissance
aircraft were on patrol above this flotilla and just before noon sighted
three German Domier Do.iS flying boats that were shadowing the
British force. They flashed a warning and nine Blackburn Skuas, fueled
and armed, were put on alert. After being given their instructions,
the pilots and gunners climbed in, and the fighter force was launched,
flashing into the sky like skimmed playing cards.
The section formed over the carrier and then flew off for the attack.
Every man was keyed up, for here was the promise of their first naval
air combat. The reconnaissance planes kept track of the Dorniers fly-
ing low over the water, their dark blue and green camouflage making
them difficult to spot, but finally the Skua pilots found them outlined
against a patch of light that glared through a hole in the clouds. The
British naval fighters attacked, braving the heavier armament of the
flying boats, and two were driven off, damaged, but not downed; their
superior speed enabled them to escape. The third was shot down by
Lieuteifent B. E. McEwen and his air gunner, Acting Petty Officer
AirmanTJ. M. Seymour. This was the first enemy aircraft destroyed
by any air service in the war. The destroyer Somali picked up the
crew of four and sank the wreckage of the flying boat.
The attacking Skuas returned safely, the Commander-in-Chief,
Home Fleet, signaled his congratulation and there was mild jubilation,
but the major event of the day was still to come.
The two Dorniers that had escaped reported the position of the
British force to German Naval Headquarters and at two-twenty that
afternoon, shortly after the last Skua had been recovered, a Heinkel
111 bomber, piloted by Leutnant Adolf Francke, approached under
cover of a cloud at the six-thousand-foot level. Before any defensive
action could be taken, a one-thousand-pound bomb was released about
fifteen hundred feet above Ark Royal's deck, but everyone topside
seemed fascinated by the size and coloration of the missile, rather than
aware of its potency. One wide-eyed midshipman swore it looked like
Jerry had dropped an Austin sports car, another argued that it looked
more like a London bus. At any rate, it was spotted just in time to
alter course and the bomb fell into the sea, throwing up a great geyser
of water thirty yards from the port bow.
It was this tremendous upsurge of water that possibly caused the
claim made later. It cascaded high above the flight deck and torrented
across the fore end. The Ark lifted her bow, shook her whiskers, rolled
TEMPERED IN BATTLE 57
slightly to starboard, righted herself, and turned back on her course.
The only damage was broken crockery.
After his bomb attack Leutnant Francke turned back and sprayed
the flight deck with machine-gun bullets, but by then the British had
broached their antiaircraft guns and the German was sent off with a
generous fusillade of Vickers and Kynochs in his wake.
When he returned to his base, Leutnant Francke stated he had
found and dive-bombed an aircraft carrier in the North Sea. He said
he believed he had scored a direct hit, but was not certain, and made
no claim to have sunk the vessel. The German Ministry of Propaganda
made it for him. The Berlin newspapers and news magazines pro-
claimed the sinking of Ark Royd in enormous headlines, extra editions
rolled off the presses with red ink making up for what the size of type
failed to indicate. Imaginative artists drew graphic pictures of the Art's
final moments, and Field Marshal Goering sent the bewildered
Francke a message of congratulation, decorated him with the Iron
Cross and promoted him to the rank of oberleutnant. Dr. Goeb-
bels' Propaganda Ministry went all out, quickly publishing a children's
illustrated booklet entitled How I Sank the Ark Royal It was sup-
posedly written by the unfortunate Heinkel pilot.
Was ever a man in such a distressing position? Promotion, probably
deserved, and a decoration for a deed he had not claimed. Francke's
brother officers took two views of the situation. Some sympathized
with him, and hoped they never got into the same pickle, others
charged him with deceit and said he was wearing a ribbon he had not
earned. In some quarters the unfortunate pilot was the butt of cruel
jokes and within a short time he was considering suicide. He talked
the matter over with William Bayles, an American newspaperman then
covering Berlin. Bayles pointedly suggested that if Francke denounced
the Ministry of Propaganda and stated that he had not claimed to have
sunk the Ark Royal, suicide would be unnecessary.
But the matter refused to die down. The German broadcasting sta-
tions continued to ask: "Where is the Ark Royal? 9 ' At first the British
ignored the claim that the carrier had been sunk. Later a formal denial
was made and the United States Naval attach^ attended divine serv-
ice aboard the Ark and wrote an official report of his visit. But no one
in Germany, except perhaps Leutnant Francke, believed that the Brit-
ish carrier was still afloat. The officers of Ark Royal sent Francke an
invitation to become an honorary member of their mess, and addressed
the note Vo A. Hitler, Esq., Berchtesgaden." Months later when
58 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
the famous carrier appeared in Rio de Janeiro, the German colony there
refused to believe their eyes and swore she must be another ship of
the same name.
In the words of Zechariah, she continued to pass through the sea
of affliction. Her fighters shot down or damaged more than one hun-
dred enemy aircraft, her bombers delivered havoc to the airfields of
Sardinia, she inflicted great harm on the Italian Fleet, and set the stage
for the destruction of the Bismarck.
On October 2, 1939, Ark Royd joined the battleship Renown and
a screen of destroyers, to be known as Force K. They steamed south
from home waters and headed for Freetown, Sierra Leone, off the
west coast of Africa. The mission was trade protection and ocean
search in the South Atlantic where a surface raider, at first believed to
be the pocket battleship Admiral Scheer was on a rampage.
Force K reached Freetown on October 12 where it refueled, dis-
missed the destroyer screen and swept on toward St. Helena off the
west coast of British South Africa. From that time on Ark RoyaVs
Swordfish were in the air almost constantly, but it was not until early
in November that they had any success when one of the Swordfish
crews spotted the German steamer Uhenfels, which, when intercepted,
was found to be carrying about a million dollars in opium, besides a
general cargo of nuts, hides, copra, and oils. Force K took her into
Freetown and confiscated her cargo. It was next reported that S.S.
Africa Shell had been sunk in the Indian Ocean by a German raider,
and Force K tried to cut her off, but foul weather from November 27
to December 2 prevented any reconnaissance flying, so the force went
into Capetown early in December.
This promised period of rest was interrupted within twenty-four
hours when it was learned that S.S. Doric Star had been intercepted
and attacked south of St. Helena, indicating the mysterious raider was
still somewhere in the Atlantic and understood to be steering west.
Ark Royal and the rest of Force K left port and headed for a position
in the central South Atlantic, from where they could use Freetown,
the Falklands, or Rio de Janeiro for refueling, should it be necessary.
By December 13 the raider was finally identified as Admiral Graf
Spee when she was engaged by the British light cruisers Ajax, Exeter,
and Achilles off the Rio de la Plata. Ark Royal and Renown reached
their refueling point on December 17 and by six o'clock that evening
the carrier raced away, hoping to be in on the action against the Graf
TEMPERED IN BATTLE 59
Spec. The Swordfish crews were most anxious to show what they
could do with their torpedoes, but before any of the men or ships of
Force K could get into action, the German skipper of the Graf Spee
had scuttled his vessel outside Montevideo harbor. An unsuccessful
attempt was made to locate her supply ship, the infamous ALtmark,
so Force K had to set a new course and head for Freetown.
They pulled into that port on December 27 and enjoyed a delayed,
but rather happy Christmas. The usual games were played and a cap-
tain of the Royal Marines played the role of Santa Glaus, well whisk-
ered and padded, and, to the joy of the beholders, topped by a small
derby hat. Presents were distributed and plum puddings served to all
hands. Ark Royal had steamed 75,000 miles and her aircraft had flown
nearly 5,000,000. Between November 18 and December 27 she had
spent only thirty-six hours in harbor, but had had steam on her main
engines all the time. The famed carrier had truly shaken down, and
her company had become a great team.
By February 15, the carrier was back in Britain to refit, and the
ship's company enjoyed its first leave since the outbreak of war six
months before. On March 22 she sailed for the Mediterranean with
three new squadrons of Swordfish to engage in night flying over the
desert. She was accompanied by H.M.S. Glorious and for a week the
aircraft crews were engaged in intensive training ashore, but on April
9 the Germans invaded Norway and both carriers were ordered to Gi-
braltar, and then sent on to Scapa Flow. By April 23 they left for
duty off the Norwegian coast. At that time Captain C. S. Holland
took command of Ark Royal and assumed the duty of providing air
cover for the naval ships and convoys heading for the action, and to
attack the German-occupied airfields in Norway.
This was dangerous work for it is not a carrier's duty to operate in
an area covered by the enemy's shore-based aircraft. The Swordfish
and Skuas were limited in performance, speed, and range, and since
the RAP. had no air bases in Norway, the distances were too great
to send any but long-range fighters from the United Kingdom. The
few of these available could not spend more than an hour in the com-
bat area after they had flown there.
From the beginning of this ill-fated campaign both Ark Royd and
Glorious worked under many hazardous conditions. They had to op-
erate within range of hostile aircraft from the coast, and between
them had only four squadrons of fighters to send up against the ktest
enemy types that were faster, more powerful, and better armed. These
60 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
intensive operations were possible for only four or five days at a time,
after that, having done their best to harass the enemy, the carriers
would have to sneak back to sea, well out of range of the Luftwaffe
land-based aircraft.
Between April 24-28 Ark Royal furnished valuable fighter protec-
tion over the Namsos and Andalsnes sectors where British troops had
gone ashore to attack Trondheim. The Skuas flew to the limit of their
endurance and fought many one-sided combats, often against odds of
six or seven to one. Although outnumbered and outdistanced, they
shot down twenty German aircraft and damaged many more. On April
27 five Skuas came upon two Junkers 88s that were dive-bombing a
British convoy, and in a few minutes both Junkers had to break off
as their engines were on fire. The Skuas then went after a number of
Heinkel ins and sent down a brace of these in flames. As a breather,
they took on and drove off two Dornier Do.iys, and then engaged fif-
teen more Heinkels that were in a ragged formation. One was badly
damaged, but the enemy formation tightened up and sought more
favorable areas. Now out of ammunition, the Skuas started a series
of dummy attacks, hoping to relieve the convoy below. Under this
aggression the attackers jettisoned their bombs and broke off.
Only two Skuas were shot down during these actions, but eight were
lost because they had stretched their fuel too far, and, as they put it,
were not able to rejoin their ship.
While the Skuas were running up their scores, the old "Stringbag"
Swordfish were attacking German shipping and float planes in
Trondheim harbor. They also bombed the nearby Vaernes airfield,
destroyed all the hangars, and leveled many buildings. This raid was
carried out from six thousand feet and the opposition flak was so heavy
the pilots swore they "could smell it."
Day after day, with little respite, Skua and Swordfish pilots, "per-
manently escorted by Heinkels and Junkers," roared up and down the
picturesque fiords looking for targets. When matters were too uncom-
fortable the British planes evaded their adversaries by flying danger-
ously close to mountain sides, or at zero level above the water, until
they found another way out to sea. Many of the Arfe's air crews were
forced down on frozen lakes, in snowdrifts, or in the sea. The fortu-
nate ones were rescued by nearby ships, others fashioned skis or snow-
shoes and trudged over many miles of unknown mountain trails until
they could be guided through the enemy lines by friendly Norwegians.
Although a carrier's aircraft may have certain mobility, they have
TEMPERED IN BATTLE 6l
no secure base. On many occasions upon returning to the ship, their
crews, tired, cold, and hungry, were followed by enemy planes and
bombed. During this campaign Ark Royal was an easy target for the
Luftwaffe, and on one occasion was under attack for about twelve
hours ten near misses were scored, but no actual hits. On May i, after
another heavy bombing attack in which the Skuas destroyed one
enemy bomber, the Ark returned to Scapa Flow. By then the British
forces had withdrawn from the areas north and south of Trondheim,
and the Germans had established contact with the garrison holding
the port. On May 4 the Ark returned to the battle to give air protection
to the British troops attacking the iron-ore port of Narvik, until the
RA.F. fighters could be brought in to the one available shore base.
Ark Royal had to cruise up and down about one hundred miles from
the enemy coast. There was no darkness, and flying began at midnight
and continued until 11 P.M. the next day. Inclement weather ham-
pered the fighters, and at times the sea swell was so great, depk opera-
tions were impossible. There were numerous requests for air support,
but the distances were such that it was not possible to maintain pa-
trols over all areas at once, unless the carrier operated close inshore
and in that way gave the German bombers a tempting target.
The Skua fighters were engaged all the time, but now they discov-
ered a new and more aggressive type of pilot opposition. The new
Mark V Heinkels had better evasive performance and could avoid bat-
tle unless surprised. Constant cloud cover favored this evasion and
there were fewer successful engagements in this area than there had
been over Trondheim. In one successful foray, five Heinkels encoun-
tered a Skua patrol over the British Fleet anchorage that resulted in
a wild melee; one Heinkel was set on fire, and the patrol leader, Lieu-
tenant W. P. Lucy with his observer Lieutenant M. C. E, Hanson,
dived on two more Heinkels that had gone to wave-top level. Lieu-
tenant Lucy went in close to attack, fired a burst that caused a
Heinkel's port engine to smoke dangerously, but at that moment the
attacking Skua exploded at fifty feet above the water and crashed.
Lucy's body was found but his observer never came to the surface.
However, this attack made the other enemy planes jettison their bombs
and turn back for their base.
The last section of this patrol came on four Junkers 88s, and two
Skuas followed one of them as it went down in a straight dive; the
engines of the Junkers were shot to pieces and the aircraft crashed
62 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
into the sea but near enough to the coast so the five German crew
members could swim to shore.
On May 9 six Swordfish attacked a railroad east of Narvik when the
wind was so strong it took more than two hours to reach the target.
On their arrival they were taken over by a Skua patrol, so they broke
up into two subflights and made independent strikes on their targets.
One bombed the Nordalshben viaduct near the Swedish border and
scored two direct hits, one on the center of the tracks and the other
in the entrance to a tunnel. The second flight actually overturned a
train in the Hundallen station and inflicted heavy damage on the sid-
ings. Two Swordfish were hit by antiaircraft fire but were able to scram-
ble back to the carrier. One of the supporting Skuas had to force-land
near Rombaks Fiord, a small inlet near Narvik, but the crew hiked
across country, made their way through the German lines, and reached
the coast where they were taken aboard a British destroyer.
During this phase of operations Ark Royal's Skuas destroyed or
damaged six enemy aircraft and possibly nine more, with a loss of
nine Skuas, including one crash on deck, and five Swordfish. On
May 24 Ark Royal sent off a striking force of fifteen Skuas, each armed
with a 5oo-pound bomb, to attack the battle cruiser Schamhorst in
Trondheim harbor.
This attack meant a flight of 160 miles to get to the harbor which
was tucked away about fifty miles from the coast. The Skuas had to
fly through sub-Arctic daylight and a sky that offered no cloud cover,
which meant the enemy had a flock of fighters on hand and had
alerted every antiaircraft battery.
On approaching Trondheim at 11,000 feet the Skua pilots sighted
ScharnhoTst, with two cruisers and four destroyers, lying at anchor off
the town. They were met with intense antiaircraft fire from the ships
and shore batteries and were forced into violent evasive action that
hindered their plans for a concerted attack. Messerschmitt 1095 and
nos joined in the defense. Two attack formations, led by Lieutenant
Commander J. Casson and Captain R. T. Partridge, were made on
the battle cruiser, one direct hit was scored and several near misses
registered. Unfortunately, it was learned later that the bomb which
struck Scharnhorst abaft the funnel had not exploded and the general
damage was negligible. Eight Skuas failed to return and all crews
were reported missing; it was the heaviest loss the famous carrier had
suffered, or was to suffer in a single operation. That same day the
TEMPERED IN BATTLE 63
Norway evacuation was completed, and Ark Royd returned to Scapa
Flow.
In midsummer of 1940 Ark Royal and her company were saddled
with a melancholy duty. France had capitulated and Italy had joined
the Hitler forces. Under these circumstances, the disposition of the
French Fleet gave the British government considerable anxiety.
Strasbourg and Dunkerque, two new battle cruisers, along with
two battleships, several light cruisers, destroyers, and submarines
lay in Moroccan ports. Admiral Marcel-Bruno Gensoul, the French
Commander-in-Chief, was first approached in a most diplomatic man-
ner with requests that steps be taken to prevent these valuable vessels
from falling into the hands of the Germans or Italians. Several plans
were suggested but Admiral Jean Darlan refused to accept any of
them and stated repeatedly that "under no conditions would his fleet
be turned over to Britain's enemies."
The tone of his statements was most unsatisfactory, and the British
had no choice but to "make certain" that this fleet would in no way
hamper their chances to defeat Hitler or Mussolini. Captain C. S.
Holland of Ark Royal was a member of the British naval mission
that was selected to warn Admiral Darlan what the consequences
would be. This was an uncomfortable duty, for, up to the start of
the war, Captain Holland had been the Naval Attach^ at the British
Embassy in Paris, and subsequently Liaison Officer to Admiral Darlan.
Neither Admiral Darlan nor his second-in-command, Admiral Gen-
soul, would receive the British emissary, and Captain Holland was
compelled to transmit the British proposals that the French Fleet
should agree either to continue operations with the British Navy, or
sail under British control to a British port, the crews to be repatriated
on arrival, and the ships restored at the end of the war. A further
alternative was that Admiral Darlan should have the vessels demili-
tarized at a port in the French West Indies. If these offers were de-
clined, Captain Holland explained, the British Government would,
with profound regret, require Admiral Darlan to sink his ships within
six hours, otherwise the Flag Officer, Force H, had orders to use
"whatever force might be necessary" to prevent the French ships from
falling into the hands of the Germans or Italians.
After much consideration all offers were refused. Captain Holland
returned to the flagship of Vice-Admiral Sir James Somerville, and at
5:53 on the afternoon of July 3, Force H opened fire on the French
64 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
vessels. Arfe Royal's Swordfish did the spotting for a bombardment
that lasted ten minutes. Five other Swordfish, with an escort of Skuas,
dropped mines in the entrance to Mers-el-Kebir harbor in Algeria.
The battleship Bretagne and two destroyers were sunk immediately,
Dunkerque was severely damaged, and ran ashore, the battleship
Provence was beached.
Shortly before the main bombardment began, Strasbourg, with a
screen of six destroyers, broke out of the harbor at dusk, eluded
Force H and headed at full speed to the eastward. Six Swordfish from
Ark Royal went in pursuit, their bombs straddled Strasbourg but no
direct hits were scored. In an attempt to return to the carrier's deck,
two of the aircraft crash-landed in the sea out of fuel, but a British
destroyer rescued their crews.
A second formation of Swordfish, armed with torpedoes, was flown
off at eight o'clock. They caught up with Strasbourg, which was steam-
ing at twenty-eight knots, three miles off the African coast. She put up
a formidable pattern of antiaircraft fire, but the torpedo planes swung
out wide and went down to whitecap level. Gradually they set them-
selves for a low-level attack from the shelter of the shore where the
sunset would put an afterglow behind the silhouette of the French
battleship. Twenty minutes after sunset they went in for their attack.
This was the first time a carrier's aircraft had attacked a capital ship
at sea with torpedoes, and the pilots, either unaware that they could
penetrate the destroyer screen, or because of the fire put up by the
small defense vessels, released their torpedoes from outside the screen.
One hit was scored but did not prevent Strasbourg from escaping
and eventually getting into Toulon, as did seven cruisers that had
been berthed at Algiers.
The next day a reconnaissance over Oran harbor indicated that al-
though Dunkerque was grounded she was not permanently out of ac-
tion, so, as an alternative to bombardment, two squadrons of Sword-
fish were sent in to finish her with torpedoes. These planes took off
in the dark about 5:15 A.M. and arrived off the harbor at sunrise. As
the first rays of the morning sun gilded the French battleship, the
attacking Swordfish went into a shallow dive from seven thousand
feet, hopped over the breakwater in line-astern, and raced down
the heaven-sent flare path. Four of the six torpedoes bored into
Dunkerque.
As these aircraft re-formed over the harbor, the second squadron
went in in three waves. The first pair enjoyed complete surprise and
TEMPERED IN BATTLE 65
was unopposed, but the second and third took a heavy battering from
antiaircraft fire, but by rare good fortune all torpedo planes returned
safely. The battle cruiser was completely immobilized for a consider-
able period.
This action ended the operations against the French Fleet, and Ark
Royd along with the rest of Force H returned to Gibraltar. As regret-
ful as all Britishers felt at the time, this elimination of the French
Navy was an important factor in the outcome of the war. Almost at
a single stroke of violent action, Great Britain had produced a pro-
found impression in every country. Although she had been counted
down and out, and on the brink of surrender to an amazing array of
enemy power, she had struck ruthlessly and secured an undisputed
command of the sea. It was plain to the whole world that the British
would stop at nothing to overcome Hitler and the Reich.
Three days after the operations off Oran, the pilots and air gunners
of Ark Royal fought their first of many engagements with the Italian
Regia Aeronautica. The object of these combats, according to Flag
Officer, Force H, was "to test the quality of the ice cream."
While covering convoy movements in the western Mediterranean
a section of Skuas, led by Lieutenant Richard M. Smeeton (now Rear
Admiral Smeeton), sighted what turned out to be a Cant-5o6 float
plane. After a concerted attack, following a thirty-minute chase, the
Italian aircraft was forced down to the sea. Later that afternoon forty
Savoia SM.jg bombers attacked Force H in three waves, dropping
one hundred bombs. Skuas from Ark Royal shot down one and dam-
aged two others, the remainder jettisoned their bombs and turned tail.
They claimed to have put one direct hit on Ark Royal, and to have
set H.M.S. Hood on fire, but there was no truth in these statements.
When the Italians put up a formation of planes to shadow Force H,
the Skuas destroyed three of them in quick time.
The Arfe's Swordfish made their first attack against Italian soil on
August 2 when their target was Cagliari on the southern coast of Sar-
dinia. Armed as bombers, the planes flew off at 2:30 A.M. and during
the take-off one of the aircraft hit the island structure with its star-
board wing and went overboard. The others got off successfully and
found themselves aloft in a fine night, but buffeted by a strong head-
wind that cut their speed to sixty knots. In the darkness they failed
to make a good contact with the enemy coastline, having mistaken
Cape Spartivento at the western end of the bay for Cape Carbonara,
66 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
and after this foul-up they flew back along the coast in the early dawn.
It was evident from this experience that any projected attack in this
area would have to be made in broad daylight.
In the meantime a force of planes fitted out as minelayers and led
by Lieutenant R. N. Everett had also lost its way, but as the bombing
force approached Cagliari they spotted their minelayers being op-
posed by Italian coastal batteries, one of which was popping six-inch
shells in front of the minelayers to create great splashes that would
swamp the diving planes. Everett's force ignored this, laid the mines
from a height of fifty feet and turned away. The dive bombers, led
by Lieutenant Commander G. B. Hodgkinson, attacked the hangars
and buildings of Elmas airfield, and the rear planes of this formation
bombed a number of Italian seaplanes lying at moorings in the har-
bor. This main assault was completed in less than sixty seconds.
The noisy British intrusion finally aroused a number of Italian fight-
ers and a small formation was sent aloft, but only one pilot fired his
guns at one of the tail-end Stringbags which received no damage.
This opposition caused the Italian antiaircraft gunners to withhold
their fire while their own planes were in the area, and the British
pilots welcomed this surcease since the barrage had been fairly heavy.
The raid was particularly successful; four large hangars were
wrecked, several important buildings set on fire, and two large aircraft
and two float planes destroyed. Only one Swordfish was lost when
its engine was practically shot away and the pilot put his plane down
on the enemy runway during the height of the engagement. The crew,
of course, was taken prisoner, but the remainder of this air-striking
force returned to Ark Royal independently. The Swordfish had 150
miles to cover and the last plane did not land until after 7 A.M. which
meant they had been in the air for over four and a half hours; three
of the old Stringbags touched down with less than five gallons of fuel
in their tanks.
By now Ark Royal was the darling of the British Fleet, her renown
had spread all over the world, dozens of pamphlets recording her fan-
tastic career were on sale everywhere. She was the subject of a very
popular picture postcard sent throughout the British Empire, and in
America she was as warmly adopted as though U.S.S. instead of
H.M.S. was before her name. She was an especial pet in Gibraltar,
then considered her home base, and every time she came back to the
shelter of The Rock, the famed Black Watch Regiment, then in the
TEMPERED IN BATTLE 67
garrison, sent out their regimental bagpipers in small boats to pipe her
in.
It should be remembered that she was the first true aircraft carrier
to go into action against an enemy, and the record and new tradition
she was creating won the affection of every airman, seaman, or sol-
dier. By late summer of 1940 she had become a heartwarming legend
throughout the free world.
Early in September Ark Royal's Swordfish, led by Lieutenant Com-
mander Mervyn Johnstone, made two more attacks on Cagliari. In the
first, listed as Operation Smash, the striking force first pinpointed the
target with parachute flares, and the Italian antiaircraft gunners added
columns of "flaming-onion" missiles which soon made the area as
giddy as a summer amusement park. The Stringbags swished and
chugged through this garish illumination and scored direct hits on
the barracks, and the aircraft that had been carefully dispersed for
safety; one wing of the military headquarters was completely de-
stroyed, and the repairs that had been made to the damage inflicted
previously were soon eradicated. Most of the field was a shambles by
the time the Britishers had left.
Operation Grab, arranged for the next day, encountered unfavor-
able weather. The night was dark and hazy and as the strike force
approached Cagliari, the surrounding valleys were blanked out with
mist and low clouds. Over the next forty-five minutes the observers
dropped a number of flares to identify their targets, but had no suc-
cess. Four of the aircraft, needled by Italian searchlights, went down
and peppered them with machine-gun fire until one was doused. Two
planes dropped their bombs on what they believed was a flare path,
but never learned what they had hit. The rest of the force had to
jettison their bombs at sea. On their return to the carrier deck, the
most important news was that the Arfe's cat had had kittens, and the
first two were promptly named "Smash and Grab, the Cagliari Twins."
On November 9 another raid was made on Cagliari. This one was
an important factor in covering the passage of a large naval force
south of Sardinia. Again hangars and a factory were hit, despite the
fact that antiaircraft defenses had been strengthened and now con-
sisted of more than one hundred guns.
Previous to this foray Ark Royd had taken on a squadron of new
Fairey Fulmar fighters. The Fulmar was an eight-gun, two-seater
fighter, powered with a 1135 hp. Rolls-Royce Merlin engine. It was
a good, tough piece of equipment, and the fighters began this raid
68 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
by shooting down three planes the Italians had sent up to shadow
Force H.
On the morning of November 27 the British naval force was es-
corting an eastbound convoy that carried tanks and military stores.
Southwest of Sardinia the force picked up H.M.S. Ramillies which
was to take the convoy on to Alexandria, but before the escorts had
parted company, a Swordfish on reconnaissance sighted an Italian
fleet south of Sardinia that was composed of two battleships, six cruis-
ers, and sixteen destroyers.
Sensing long-awaited action, another Swordfish was sent out to re-
lieve the first shadower, and the pilot of the second Stringbag, pro-
tected by a friendly cloud, flew at two thousand feet a distance of
between two and three miles from the enemy from where he could
report every movement. Force H then turned into line with battle
ensigns flying and all guard rails down, but the enemy warships were
well beyond the range of Renown's big guns and it was necessary
to slow them down. Ark Royd took care of that by flying off eleven
Swordfish armed with torpedoes. This winged force was led by Lieu-
tenant Commander Johnstone and by the time it was in the air the
Mediterranean area offered a brittle, cloudless sky, bright sunshine
and a sea as smooth as costume silk there wasn't an inch of cover
from Gibraltar to Alexandria.
After flying for some twenty minutes they sighted the enemy cruis-
ers proudly steaming in two columns. Twenty-five miles to eastward,
the two battleships, screened by seven destroyers, could be plainly
seen. By 11:30 the cruisers were being engaged by the advance battle
units of Force H, and at 12:40 the Swordfish dived out of the sun to
attack the battleships. As Johnstone's force went down, the enemy
cruisers to the westward opened fire in short bursts, chiefly to warn
the battleships of their danger.
Commander Johnstone selected the leading battleship, Vittorio
Veneto, a new and powerful vessel of the Littorio class, but his pilots
had to press through a heavy antiaircraft barrage. They released their
torpedoes well inside the destroyer screen, from a range of seven hun-
dred yards. Commander Johnstone found himself too close to Vft-
torio Veneto, so he turned to port and fired at another, one of the
Cavour class. From that point on a heroic air-naval battle ensued; a
great column of brown smoke and water towered up above Vittorio
Veneto and she was seen to have been hit abaft her after funnel, there
was another explosion astern, and a third ahead of the second ship.
TEMPERED IN BATTLE 69
As the air-striking force turned away, the air gunners sprayed the
bridges of the battleships and destroyers.
In the meantime the Italian cruisers retired toward the Sardinian
coast instead of moving in to aid the harassed battleships. Renown
put on every ounce of steam to bring the battleships to action, but
the attack by the Swordfish had not impaired their speed materially,
and the British battleship was not able to get within effective range.
By one o'clock further chase was out of the question and Force H
was compelled to return to its convoy duty.
The Swordfish, however, did not give up. Early that afternoon Lieu-
tenant Commander J. A. Stewart-Moore led nine aircraft in pursuit.
They soon caught up with three of the cruisers and then sighted the
battleships south of Cape Carbonara. The Sardinian airfield at
Monserrato was only forty miles away and the Italians already had
fighters in the air, so an immediate attack was called for under these
conditions the cruisers offered a more promising target.
Commander Stewart-Moore took the Stringbags down in line-
astern, but just when they were committed to their torpedo release,
the cruisers turned smartly to starboard. There was one great explo-
sion under the rear cruiser and a column of water gushed up as high as
her bridge, and she started producing heavy smoke from her foremost
funnel. Two of the Swordfish attacked the leading cruiser and reduced
her speed.
From this point on the Italians put up a heavy barrage, but it had
come too late; the Swordfish air gunners wiped them down, and the
enemy antiaircraft gunners forsook their weapons, or fired wildly in
every direction. For a time their shells were more dangerous to their
own cruisers than to the airborne raiders. Two Swordfish were hit, but
all of them flew back to Ark Royd in beautiful formation.
Later that day seven Skuas, led by Lieutenant Richard M. Smeeton,
were dispatched to bomb the damaged cruiser. They failed to find
her, but did sight three others of the Condiottere class that were
steering north in line-ahead. This time a thin layer of cloud helped
the Skuas to make a surprise attack; the cruisers took no avoiding ac-
tion and did not open fire until the assault was over. But with all this
in their favor, the Skuas claimed only near misses. They did shoot
down an R.O.43 float plane and received no casualties themselves.
Back at the Force H formation, squadrons of Savoia '795, torpedo
bombers, repeatedly attacked the various vessels of the force. The
massive Ark Royal was always a tempting target, and since her usual
70 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
station was at least three miles away from the main force to give her
elbow room to swing into the wind, she attracted plenty of hostile
attention. The enemy bombers came over in wave after wave for more
than an hour. The flight deck was almost continually awash from the
cascades of near misses, and at one time the big carrier disappeared
completely from the sight of Force H when a solid wall of water went
up from more than thirty bombs that were dropped around her, some
no more than twenty yards from her hull sides. Admiral Somerville
who was watching from the bridge of Renown believed that Ark Royal
had gone down, but then, to his amazement, the fore end of her
flight deck came plowing out and she emerged undamaged, with every
gun blazing.
In the summation of this second time that enemy warships had
been attacked by carrier-based aircraft with no great naval victory, it
was learned that much of the fault was caused by the failure of many
torpedoes, or that their warheads were not sufficient to inflict serious
damage to the safety bulges of the capital ships. The targets had been
stalked and hit. The fighters had flown off and provided good cover
for the rest of the force. The convoy had gone through safely. Ark
Royal still continued her great conquest.
That evening, November 27, Force H was ordered to return to
Gibraltar from where routine covering movements were carried out.
Air reconnaissance and search patrols were the order of the day. Anti-
submarine and fighter sweeps were routine operations, and the new
Fulmars harassed any shadowing craft that the enemy dared put into
the sky. But more important, intense training was continued for every
man Jack of the service; even Admiral Somerville flew regular patrols
in order to stiffen the anticipated torpedo attacks.
After weeks of routine operations, Ark Royd's Swordfish were
given a new type of target, the dam at Lake Tirso in Sardinia. On this
day, February 2, 1941, a strong, gusty gale was blowing and the flight
deck was flipping up and down like a berserk lift, but in spite of
launching difficulties, a force of eight planes took off at 6 A.M. without
mishap. On reaching the coast of Sardinia the weather worsened,
hailstones were mixed with a driving rain and ice formed on the wings
as the planes flew through a cloud level at five thousand, feet. There
was nothing to do but turn back, out to sea, and wait for daylight,
and hope for a change in the weather.
While flying around under these conditions, one Swordfish lost its
way and had to return to the carrier, the rest went back to the target
TEMPERED IN BATTLE 71
individually and found the ground defense very alert. Six of the seven
planes met heavy antiaircraft fire as they reached the dam, and two
were forced to jettison their torpedoes when ice on their wings made
flying difficult. Another was shot down and the crew taken prisoner;
only four made a torpedo-run on the target.
The most successful drop was made by Sub-Lieutenant R. S.
Charlier who had flown in at about fifty feet all the way from the
coast and therefore received no ack-ack fire until he was actually mak-
ing his run. He went out at the same level. But the last pilot to fly
over the target leaped the obstruction with sixty feet to spare, and
could observe no serious damage on the face of the dam. And so it
went. Here and there a degree of success, but all too often few rewards
for such gallant efforts.
A week later Ark RoyaTs Swordfish took part in a more rewarding
operation when Force H was engaged in the bombardment of Genoa.
At five o'clock on the morning of February 9 the carrier was detached
from the main force, and, screened by three destroyers, she sent off
an air-striking force of fourteen pknes to attack the Azienda oil re-
finery, one of the larger plants in Italy. Four more Swordfish followed
with mines intended for blocking the harbor of La Spezia.
Diving from nine thousand feet, eleven of the bomber force worked
over the factory, opened up the main buildings with 25o-pound
bombs, and followed this with a drenching of incendiary missiles. A
large explosion resulted but it was difficult to form any true estimate
of the actual damage. The Italians were taken by complete surprise
and no antiaircraft gun was fired until the raid had been on for about
six minutes. They did have a balloon barrage up, and one of the
Swordfish entangled in a cable and crashed, killing the crew. They
were buried later with full military honors.
Two aircraft of this force bombed the airfield and railroad junction
at Pisa, and there were some jocular reports that one bomb had
straightened the famous Leaning Tower, but the purists among the
pilots denied this, and threatened to go back and photograph the tour-
ist landmark, and put an end to the discussion.
Meanwhile the mine-laying sub-flight approached the shore at Leg-
horn where Byron and Trelawny had once made a funeral pyre for
Shelley and there dropped their mines,
As they returned to the carrier the activity at Genoa was in full
blast, and it must have been a relief to see the Ark safe below them
in the light of the dawn. The Italians had made no preparations to
72 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
guard against an invasion of the gulf, and Force H descended upon
Genoa as unsuspectedly as the Swordfish upon the Azienda refinery.
During this bombardment three Swordfish, with an escort of Fulmars,
acted as stand-by spotters for Force H. The gunnery was carried out
by indirect fire, and Lieutenant V. N. Graves earned high praise for
the precision with which he performed this duty. The reports he sent
back contributed materially to the success of the operation, although
observation was made difficult by two changes of targets to widely
separated areas, and by clouds of smoke from the explosions and the
burning oil tanks.
Convoy work in the eastern Atlantic, as well as in the Mediter-
ranean, occupied the crew and aircraft of Ark Royal throughout the
early part of 1941. During one assignment a Fulmar pilot sighted the
battleships Scharnhorst and Gneisenau, but at extreme visibility. At
that precise moment the aircraft's radio failed to function and by the
time the Fulmar pilot had returned to the carrier it was too late to
send out a striking force. The next day bad weather made flying im-
possible.
Deprived of this rare opportunity, the Arfe's Swordfish continued to
search and eventually intercepted three of the raiders' supply ships.
One of these was actually a captured British tanker, San Gzsimz'ro,
which had a detachment from Gneisenau in command. Then fol-
lowed a plot no Hollywood hack writer would dare inject in any war
scenario. In order to attract the attention of "friendly" aircraft, the
ship's baker, a Britisher, had contrived to write "S.O.S." in flour on the
afterpart of the deck. Another of the crew waved a swastika flag out of
a porthole as a Swordfish approached. Rather than have her recap-
tured, the Germans scuttled the tanker; the British crew was rescued
and the Germans were taken prisoner by the men of the Renown.
Convoy escort, particularly in the Mediterranean, was a very sticky
business, for the covering force had to be strong enough to defend
the convoy against opposition by the Italian Fleet and the certainty
of heavy air attack, especially so when the convoy was to the south
of Sardinia and near the Sicilian coast. Steaming out of the Gibraltar
passage usually lasted several days and by the second day Italian recon-
naissance planes generally made their appearance. The Fulmars were
expected to shoot them down in short order to prevent these spotters
from getting back. The third day always was the most critical,
for some shadowers had returned, or had gotten their information
TEMPERED IN BATTLE 73
through, and high-level bombing, synchronized with torpedo attacks,
would begin a few hours later and often last throughout the day.
Ark Royd would remain close to the main force during such activ-
ity, but there were times when she had to work independently in
order to operate her aircraft. When the day was calm and high speed
was necessary to launch her planes, she often had to take great risks
to carry out any important flying. During the critical hours she had
to keep as many fighters over the convoy as possible, and direct them
to the incoming enemy formations. On one passage sixteen Fulmars
were kept in the air for more than four hours after the first enemy
bombers had been sighted. Some of the pilots had to make four sorties
in one day, and it was a problem to get aircraft off, have the deck
ready for returnees, refuel, or rearm other aircraft, get pilots and ob-
servers fed and rested so the complex operation could be continued
hour after hour. When the big guns were used in antiaircraft defense
it was impossible in those days to launch or recover aircraft. In
many instances flying into the wind had to be dispensed with in order
to engage the enemy aircraft on the most favorable bearing. There
were times when it was possible to make a quick turn into the wind
to take on a plane during an emergency, but more often the returnee
had to put down on the sea and hope to be picked up by a screening
destroyer.
Italian high-speed torpedo planes worked resolutely to halt Ark
Royd and the surface vessels of Force H. They tried coming in in
large formations, roaring along only a few feet off the surface of the
sea, but they were batted down like moths by the accurate gunfire
of the British turrets; what the big guns did not get, the Fulmars did.
On one occasion eighteen of thirty-six Italian torpedo planes that were
making a mass attack, were shot down by the fighters or the anti-
aircraft guns of Force H.
Captain L. E. H. Maund who took over Ark Royd from Captain
Holland on April 19, said: "Our aircraft certainly took the spirit of
our carrier with them into the sky. In one combat, two of them tackled
a full squadron of enemy bombers. They literally hurled themselves
upon the enemy, almost colliding with them until they were both
shot down, but not before they had destroyed two bombers, damaged
a third that was later finished off by their comrades, broke up the
formation and caused the survivors to jettison their bombs, thus giv-
ing security to the convoy ."
Each convoy escort furnished its own pattern of excitement, but
74 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
one day's engagements are typical of many. On this occasion Ark
Royd had started with twelve Fulmars, but combat soon reduced the
number serviceable to seven, then to five. However, by rapid re-
equipment and repair the carrier maintained a permanent patrol
throughout the day. There were times when only two aircraft were
over the Fleet, but whenever a raid appeared imminent every fighter
that could be made fit for action was sent into the sky.
The main onslaught on this day came shortly after seven in the
evening. The sky was perfect for action, but a great cloud, rising from
sea level to nine thousand feet, was closing in from the north, and
hostile aircraft from Sicily were sighted approaching over its top to
attack the convoy. The enemy force was made up of twenty-eight
Junkers 8ys and six Messerschmitt nos in three separate formations.
By that time the Ark had only seven Fulmars fit to send off, but they
roared up into the sky, and as they lurched over the upper edge of the
cloud they suddenly found themselves at close quarters with the en-
emy raiders. Although greatly outnumbered, they went straight for the
center of the formations; one bomber immediately went down out of
control, and several others, obviously damaged, screwed out of their
formations. Even the Messerschmitts were mauled, and one went
limping off with a smoke scarf dragging from its tail. This Fulmar
dash broke up all cohesion of the attack, the opposition filtered away,
and the Junkers jettisoned their bombs ten miles from the ships of
Force H.
That day ended with two torpedo-bomber attacks on Renown and
Ark Royal; the tin fish of the first attack went through the water be-
tween both ships without causing any damage, the second assault,
made up of four torpedo carriers was engaged in time by a section
of Fulmars that dispersed three of them and then ganged up on the
leader who was sent down in flames.
Leading Airman R. N. Orme who was acting as a Fulmar observer
was only nineteen years of age and had never been in combat against
the enemy before, but although their plane was badly shot up and at
times out of control, he kept his pilot well supplied with vital informa-
tion so that they were able to evade the continued passes of Italian
C.R.42 fighters.- Then, having exhausted every alternative method of
warding off stern attacks, he finally tossed wads of paper into the
slipstream of their aircraft, which apparently gave the impression of
some new and more terrible form of ammunition the attackers twice
ceased fire and broke away.
TEMPERED IN BATTLE 75
Then there was Petty Officer Airman L. G. J. Howard, another ob-
server gunner who was seriously wounded during an engagement with
a covey of C.R-42S, but continued to serve his gun and relay important
information to his pilot, until the enemy had been shaken off. When
the pilot reported Howard's wound and asked permission to bring
him back to the carrier, the young gunner insisted that he was quite
able to carry on and begged his pilot to continue the combat.
On May 24 the flag officer of Force H received information that
the German battleship Bismarck and the heavy cruiser Prinz Eugen
were at sea. Ark Royal, Renown, and the cruiser Sheffield steamed
northwestward at high speed. It was at this time that the famous
Bismarck-Hood engagement took place. The Hood hit the Bismarck
several times, but then received a German shell in her magazine and
because of a fault in her construction, blew completely apart. With
that Bismarck broke off and tried to escape, but the British cruisers
Suffolk and Norfolk continued to shadow her.
Other units of the home fleet began to gather and at 10 P.M. on
the twenty-fourth, the aircraft carrier Victorious sent off nine Sword-
fish, led by Lieutenant Commander Eugene Esmonde, who later won
the Victoria Cross posthumously for his gallantry in the ill-fated en-
gagement against the German pocket battleships Schamhorst and
Gneisenau when they were making a dash through the English
Channel.
This air-striking force attacked Bismarck with torpedoes at 11:30
and reported one hit on the starboard side amidships. Her speed was
reduced somewhat but she was able to slip away from the two British
cruisers that had been shadowing her for more than thirty hours. This
caused dismay for some time, but at 10:30 A.M., May 26, a Catalina
PBY flying boat of Coastal Command made contact, and reported
that Bismarck was heading for the Bay of Biscay, but then the Catalina
was hit by an antiaircraft shell from the pocket battleship and driven
off. Once again the British Navy lost touch with their quarry.
Meanwhile Force H was steaming through foul weather but did
keep a few aircraft in the air for antisubmarine spotting. By 7 A.M.
of the twenty-sixth Admiral Somerville had hoped to be in a position
from where he could fly off a reconnaissance patrol to intercept Bis-
marck, if she was really heading for Brest, but the weather grew stead-
ily worse and Force H was delayed nearly two hours in reaching the
patrol area. By 8:30 A.M. eight Swordfish were readied for take-off
j6 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
although the wind was high and the huge green seas were breaking
over the fore end of the flight deck that normally was sixty-two feet
above the sea. The whole deck was drenched and dangerous, several
aircraft slid from one side to the other while being "spotted" for take-
off, and a number of mechanics were badly injured as they tried to
hang on to the machines.
The leader finally took off with his wheels churning through salt
water and the pilots who followed him flailed through a drenching
spume and spray. As the carrier pitched in the heavy swell some of
the planes had to make the run uphill and others went roaring down
a tilted chute. No one expected any orthem to get off, but one by
one they charged through the storm and deck hazards and eventually
reappeared as they fanned out on their allotted search courses.
At 10:40 A.M. Ark Royal received a signal that the Catalina had
found the Bismarck, but the Swordfish patrol continued on as ordered
since the position indicated was within the area being searched. At
1 1 124, a short time after the Catalina had been driven off, a Swordfish,
piloted by Sub-Lieutenant J. V. Hartley with Sub-Lieutenant P. R.
Elias as observer, reported the Bismarck in a position approximately
750 miles due west of Brest.
Seven minutes later another Swordfish, north of the shadower, also
made contact and from that moment on Bismarck was never out of
sight her doom was sealed. There was a critical moment when both
shadowers were running out of fuel with barely enough left to return
them to Ark Royd. To make certain contact would be maintained,
two Swordfish, fitted with extra fuel tanks to give them ninety min-
utes of additional flying time, were flown off. Within an hour they
had gained touch, and the others returned just in time with only a
whiff of gasoline in their tanks. This shadowing patrol was carried on
all night, in spite of rain and great curtains of mist. For a while one
of the Swordfish pilots lost contact and after circling in search came
upon what he believed to be a British vessel, and signaled, "Where
is the bloody Bismarck?"
The enemy provided the answer with a salvo of antiaircraft guns,
and thus gave away her position. Once the first contact had been
made, King George V and Rodney set out after the German, but the
enemy battleship had too great a lead and unless her speed could be
reduced in some manner, it was obvious that she would escape, as
had Prinz Eugen. The only hope now was a torpedo attack from the
aircraft of Ark Royd.
TEMPERED IN BATTLE 77
Plans were set up for such an attack, but first the reconnaissance
patrol had to be brought in and stowed away, which also was a hair-
raising operation. Since these ten planes had been away in various
areas, they returned at varying intervals. The winds were still high,
the sea was in a great turmoil, and the deck was now rising and falling
a distance of fifty-six feet. Drizzle and low clouds made visibility very
difficult, although the carrier was making only eight knots since she
was steaming into a forty-knot wind. Some of the patrol planes had
to be waved off three and four times, and when they finally did hit
the deck, it took unbelievable measures by the crew to prevent their
being blown overboard.
Nevertheless, as soon as the shadowing group was hangared safely,
an air-striking force of fifteen Swordfish was brought up and spotted
for takeoff. Force H was well to the north of Bismarck and steaming
a parallel course to her, but whenever the Ark was turned into the
wind to fly off her aircraft, she inevitably lost station on the enemy,
and on resuming her easterly course had to employ her full power of
thirty knots. For a time the wind was so strong the flight deck officer
had to order the planes below, after they were fueled and armed.
They were not able to risk a take-off until 2:50 P.M. One Swordfish
had to return because of an engine defect.
At this point a new hazard arose. Unknown to the air-striking force,
Sheffield had been detached from Force H to make contact with Bfe-
marck. As the torpedo bombers approached their objective through
scud and storm they suddenly sighted a cruiser below that they mis-
took for the Bismarck, and all dived for the attack. The staff of Shef-
field sensed the mistake, went into high-speed avoiding action, and,
fortunately, none of the torpedoes hit her. One Swordfish pilot who
recognized the British cruiser as soon as he released his torpedo, sig-
naled later, "Sorry we wasted a kipper on you, sir."
All this points up the weather conditions. The Swordfish had to
return to Ark Royal, refuel, and load up with new torpedoes. By then
landing conditions were even worse and the deck control officer had
to lash himself secure before he could risk standing up to wave in
the returning planes. Three aircraft crashed on the flight deck when
an unruly stern smashed their undercarriages, and this wreckage had
to be speedily cleared away before the others could be taken on, but
luckily there were no casualties among the crew.
By seven o'clock a second air-striking force, led by Lieutenant Com*
mander T. P. Coode with Lieutenant E. S. Carver as his observer,
78 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
was prepared. Lieutenant Commander J. A. Stewart-Moore was
second-in-command. Their task was most important and every man
in the formation must have realized it. If Bismarck was to be stopped,
only they could do it now. The prestige of their service had received
a severe jolt the sinking of Britain's greatest battleship, Hood. Dun-
kirk had been a shock, and the hapless history of Norway had cut into
hopes for a victory over Hitler's might, but the loss of Hood and the
realization that Bismarck was still at large, left an undeniable dread
for the future.
Ark Royal clawed around into the almost hurricane wind, and the
fifteen Swordfish, spotted wing tip to wing tip, were only held aboard
by superhuman efforts. The scream of engine exhausts and harsh
voices coming from power megaphones were added to the howling of
the storm. Knouts of spray lashed off the fuselages as the flight deck
rose and fell with the violence of the storm. The air officer huddled
on the bridge and flipped fast signals to the flight deck officer the
instant he felt a plane might risk a take-off; rain-drenched men hud-
dled under the wings, ready to yank the chocks from the wheels when
the little green flag fluttered; drill and discipline were at their absolute
best. Although daring the gale, the animosity of the deck, and the
possibility of engine failure, every Swordfish got off safely.
By this time Sheffield had again made contact with Bismarck, so
Commander Coode's air-striking force first established touch with
the British cruiser. Visibility was still restricted by low clouds and
unending rain, and the Swordfish pilots did not see Bismarck until
they were on top of her, shortly before nine o'clock, and after they
had been searching for nearly two hours. Now the temperature
dropped and some pilots reported that ice was forming on their wings,
but Commander Coode circled his target for twenty minutes, maneu-
vering for a position from which to make the attack. Every time a
Swordfish could be identified through the tatters in the cloud, the
batteries of antiaircraft guns aboard Bismarck snarled at it.
But before an assault formation could be set up, the air-striking
force became dispersed in a thick bank of cloud and Commander
Coode had to order his pilots to attack as best they could, singly, in
twos, threes, or fives. Once the torpedo bombers came out of their
cover for the run-in, Bismarck's antiaircraft fire was more intensive and
accurate, and several planes were forced to turn away before they
reached torpedo range. However, all eventually went in, and, accord-
ing to their commander-in-chief, "their attacks were pressed home with
TEMPERED IN BATTLE 79
a gallantry and determination that cannot be praised too highly/'
Sub-Lieutenant A. W. Duncan Beale who lost touch with his sub
flight, returned to Sheffield to obtain a new bearing on the enemy. He
then flew back by himself, carried out a resolute attack from ahead of
Bismarck in the face of heavy fire and scored a hit amidships on the
port side with his torpedo.
Five aircraft of Commander Coode's force were hit one came back
with 176 holes in the wings, and pilot and gunner both wounded
but all the planes returned, the last one landing in the gathering dusk
at eleven o'clock. They had no idea what they had accomplished for
observation was so difficult, no airman would claim an actual hit, but
as they climbed down from their machines and the observers made
their individual reports, it was clear that the results were more suc-
cessful than supposed. It was established later that Bismarck had been
hit on the port side and then on the starboard quarter. A possible hit
on the port quarter was reported finally, and a signal received shortly
after 11 P.M. explained that the enemy ship had made two circles at
slow speed and was then seen staggering off to NNW out of control.
It was obvious that one of the hits scored by Ark Royal Swordfish
had put Bismarck's steering gear out of order so that she could not
hold her course with the wind and sea astern.
"This was a result," wrote the commander-in-chief, "which the Ark
Royal and her aircraft crews had well earned and which ensured my
being able to bring the Bismarck to action the next morning."
During the night a flotilla of five destroyers attacked Bismarck and
scored three hits with torpedoes. She was stopped for a time, but fi-
nally got under way again, limping along at eight knots. She was still
capable of heavy and accurate gunfire, however.
Although the fate of Bismarck was inevitable, the Swordfish crews
continued to fly. At 4:30 A.M., May 27, a lone reconnaissance aircraft
was sent off Ark Royd. The early morning was pitch black, the wind
had gusts up to forty-eight knots, and there was still violent move-
ment on the flight deck, so the carrier reduced her speed to six knots.
The Swordfish rose almost vertically alongside the island bridge, and
vanished immediately into the darkness. It bored through the rain and
the crew searched through an inky black area on the northern horizon,
but failed to find Bismarck. The pilot returned, refueled and went off
again, and again failed to discover a trace of the enemy raider, but on
the third attempt was successful.
When dawn had wiped off the sky, the wind shifted to the north-
8o SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
west and more air activity was planned. Twelve Swordfish that had
been readied before daylight were flown off, and their course was aided
by the fact that the destroyer Maori was still in visual contact with
Bismarck. By 8:45 King George V and Rodney had closed in on the
enemy. The air-striking force reached the scene of action just as the
guns of the British battleships were opening fire. The high splashes
from the shells made it impossible for the torpedo bombers to dive on
their target, so they closed in at a reasonable altitude and watched
one of the last battles of the big ships. An air gunner reported later:
"By the time we got there the Bismarck was so battered you couldn't
distinguish her shape. She looked like a dark mass of junk floating on
the water."
By nine o'clock Bismarck was all but out of control, although her
guns were still in action. An hour later she was completely silenced, a
total wreck, on fire fore and aft, and wallowing helplessly. The air-strik-
ing force was about to finish her when the Dorsetshire, which had
been ordered to torpedo her at close range, reported that Bismarck
was sinking. She went down gallantly with her battle ensign still flying.
When the Swordfish returned to their ship and were about to land
on, a Heinkel 111 approached under cover of a low cloud. Ark Royal
was in an almost defenseless position for she had turned into the wind,
and under the circumstances, her course could not be altered, nor
could she use her 4.5 guns. So Renown and Sheffield moved in and
opened fire on the Heinkel which dropped two large and five smaller
bombs from about four thousand feet and then turned away into a
cloud with smoke pouring from her starboard engine. The bombs fell
into the sea four hundred yards from the carrier and all the Swordfish
landed safely.
Ark Royal and her air crews returned to Gibraltar on May 29, and
on her arrival the garrison hired every boat they could find to go out
and cheer her to her berth. The Black Watch pipers skirled as never
before, and the small craft clustered below the carrier as thick as float-
ing wrack, with soldiers, sailors, and airmen standing up shouting and
waving to welcome Ark Royal home.
There was small respite after the victory. Ark Royal was soon re-
turned to her operations with Force H in the Mediterranean to carry
out air reconnaissance and to cover convoys. Her Swordfish made a
night bombing attack on the Alghero airfield on the west coast of
Sardinia and scored direct hits on hangars and buildings. In a later
TEMPERED IN BATTLE 8l
raid they started intensive fires in the cork woods near Tempio Pausa-
nia in the north. The Fulmar fighters destroyed a number of Italian
shadow planes and one large Junkers-52 transport airplane. Their last
victim was a Cant-5o6 that was sighted when three Fulmars were on
patrol over the force. Within ninety seconds after being warned the
Fulmar pilots gave the "tally-ho" response and in short time the Ital-
ian torpedo bomber was "splashed" as she tried to make the African
coast.
War is no respecter of heroism or tradition, however, and the day
arrived when Ark Royd operated her aircraft for the last time. On the
afternoon of November 13 she was steering toward Gibraltar in com-
pany with Mdaya, Argus, Hermione, and seven destroyers. The
weather was fair and at 3:25, when the force was thirty miles from
Gibraltar and in sight of The Rock, twelve aircraft were flown off for
a training exercise; fourteen more were waiting to land on.
At 3:41 when the last of the returning Swordfish was being recov-
ered, there was a loud explosion under the bridge of Ark Royal on
the starboard side. This plunged the interior of the ship into darkness,
and she whipped so violently that five aircraft waiting to be sent down
to the hangars, were thrown into the air three times. All hands were
piped to action stations.
The torpedo that caused the explosion was fired by the German
submarine U-8i, commanded by a Leutnant Guggenberger. No one
aboard the carrier had seen her periscope or the torpedo track. The
blast of the torpedo, coupled with the eighteen-knot speed of the car-
rier, caused severe damage below, but only one member of the ship's
company, Able Seaman E. Mitchel who was asleep in his quarters,
was killed.
The carrier took on a list of ten degrees immediately after the ex-
plosion and within three minutes was over to twelve degrees. Captain
Maund's first thought was to stop the ship, and he gave orders to re-
verse the engines, but all the telegraphs to the engine room were
jammed, and it was impossible to communicate by telephone with any
other part of the ship. The loud-speaker system was out of commis-
sion and the bridge was completely isolated.
It was essential that the ship should be stopped, so the captain left
the bridge and hastened to the engine-control room where he gave
the necessary orders to bring the carrier to rest. He learned that the
starboard engines were out of action, but that there was no damage to
the port or center engine rooms. He then gave orders to flood the port
82 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
compartments, and to pump fuel from the starboard to the port tanks
in the hope of counteracting the steadily increasing list. He stationed
a chain of seamen to establish communications between the engine
room and the flight deck while preparations were made for emergency
telephones to be rigged to replace the human chain.
Because of the steep list it was not possible to fly any aircraft off the
deck. The twelve that were in the air at the time of the explosion were
sent on to Gibraltar. Meanwhile^ the destroyers circled around, drop-
ping depth charges to trap the German submarine, or at least hobble
her chances of firing a second torpedo salvo.
By four o'clock Ark Royal had heeled over to an angle of eighteen
degrees and the list was increasing. There was no way of knowing how
long she would float, and fearing she might capsize, Captain Maund
decided to disembark every man possible, retaining only those who
might be of use in keeping her afloat. The destroyer Legion was called,
and by skillful handling Commander R. S. Jessel brought her along-
side the port quarter, taking care to keep her stern clear of the
Ark's port propeller, which was now visible near the surface of the
water. He had also to avoid the carrier's radio masts that projected
horizontally from her sides with no power available to raise them.
In a short time 1540 officers and men were transferred to the Legion
the paymaster-commander appeared on deck carrying two suitcases
containing the ship's money, some 10,000 in each. Few men had time
to save personal property and many of them had to leave stacks of
Christmas presents they had bought in Gibraltar to take home on
their next leave. One petty officer managed to snatch up twenty pairs
of silk stockings he was taking home for his wife, and these were dis-
tributed about his person in strange looking wads. A number of ca-
naries were aboard and these were released in the hope they could fly
well enough to make land. Cats and dogs were taken tenderly over to
the Legion, all of them barking or meowing their enthusiasm for, or
objections to, the disturbance. Some of the larger dogs had to be put
aboard emergency rafts and left to float about until one of the de-
stroyers could take them aboard.
The destroyer cast off at 4:48 and, although she had more than ten
times her normal complement on board, she continued to hunt the
submarine and carry out her depth-charge attack for more than six
hours.
Back aboard the stricken carrier everything was being done to save
the ship. Portable pumps were mounted, auxiliary lighting furnished,
TEMPERED IN BATTLE 83
and the extent of the damage ascertained. The center boiler room had
flooded quickly and water had even reached the starboard engine
room, but the most serious damage was the complete loss of feed
water. Due to this, all power failed, and the situation worsened stead-
ily. The destroyer Laforey was therefore signaled to come alongside
to provide water and enough electric power for the pumps and some
of the lights.
Steam was gradually raised again, the dynamos and steering engine
were brought into action once more, and Laforey was cast off. At 7:30
a chartered tug arrived and soon had the Ark moving ahead at about
two knots although there was a full knot current running against her.
The counterflooding had reduced the list considerably and for a time
there seemed to be some hope of getting steam on the port shaft;
everyone was confident that in a short time Ark Royal would be steam-
ing into Gibraltar harbor, and these hopes were raised still higher by
the appearance of the Admiralty tug St. Day which was made fast
on the port side to aid in the towing.
When expectations were at their highest, a fire broke out in the port
boiler room at 2:14 on the morning of November 14, and destroyed
any chance of raising steam for another two hours. Salvage work came
to a standstill, the dynamos stopped, the lights below decks went out
again, and the steering engine became useless. The list was now twenty
degrees and it was almost impossible to stand on the decks. Laforey
boldly moved alongside once more and electric power was made avail-
able for the pumps and some of the lighting. Optimism rose again
for a few minutes, but the pumps seemed to have little effect, the list
increased ominously. Laforey and St. Day were ordered away and told
to continue the tow, and together they increased the speed to five
knots, but Gibraltar was still twenty-five miles away.
By four o'clock the ship had heeled to twenty-seven degrees. The
crew aboard had done all that seamanship, resource, and human en-
deavor could, but it was plain they were fighting a losing battle. For
the past forty minutes the port boiler room had resembled an inferno,
the casings were red hot and the stokehold choked with fumes. Senior
Engineer Lieutenant Commander A. G. Oliver had worked coura-
geously but was finally overcome by fumes and heat. Two of his stoke-
hold men fainted and had to be given artificial respiration. Four times
the stokers fought and extinguished fires and continued to provide
steam until further efforts were useless. They were all ordered top-
side. Other engineers had stayed with the dynamo in the port and
84 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
center engine rooms where they had worked hour after hour without
ventilation, and in a mist of superheated steam.
When it became certain that there was no hope of saving the car-
rier,, every available rope was taken forward and secured inboard,
abreast of St. Day, so that the 250 men still on board could leave
quickly and cross over the tug to Lctforey.
The Ark was heeling more rapidly and the men could move along
the decks only by crawling. The few men topside were ordered to get
to the tug, and those below were ordered up. Captain Maund was the
last to leave, and his men gave him three hearty cheers as he slid
down a rope to the tug. By that time, 4:30 A.M., the list was thirty-
five degrees, and the lower hangar deck on the starboard side was
under water.
As Laforey was about to cast off, the Flag Officer, Force H, arrived
alongside in a motor launch to aid Ark Royd, but no human effort
could save her now. At 6:13 A.M. she turned over, remained bottom
upward for a few minutes and then, fourteen hours after she had been
torpedoed, disappeared from sight.
The loss of the famous carrier was announced in London at one
o'clock that afternoon, news that must have embarrassed the German
Ministry of Propaganda. It had claimed to have destroyed Ark Royd
more than two years before. But Dr. Goebbels did not proclaim the
U-boat's success until twenty-four hours later, and it is significant that
the German announcement quoted the British Admiralty report in
confirmation.
Gibraltar was silent that November morning, the welcoming pipers
waited in vain, for Ark Royd was on the bottom some twenty-five
miles away, but to this day airmen say they can mark her grave when
the waters of the Mediterranean are still.
CHAPTER III
TARANTO vs. MALTA
THE PREVIOUS chapter has shown how a small force of British carriers
operated in the opening months of the Second World War when the
program was loose and varied since there were no precedents to follow.
It was all new, both to the ships' companies and to the flying men, who
were burdened with a very complex aerial warfare, and flight-deck op-
erations had to be contrived as various situations arose.
The aircraft carriers available were assigned to convoy escort, anti-
submarine patrols, attacks against enemy surface raiders, and actually
ordered to provide support for amphibious operations. As was to be
expected, mistakes and gross errors were made. The carriers were sac-
rificed on tasks that they were not equipped to attempt, and since Hit-
ler's Germany had no complete naval force, in the strict sense of the
phrase, there was small opportunity for the Royal Navy to leam how
the carrier would or could operate in massed naval action.
Germany had a fair destroyer force anda number of socalled pocket
battleships battle cruisers to be exact but no complete naval force
which could be sent against an opposition force of equal power.
What naval might she possessed was used in unproductive attempts at
high seas piracy, hit-and-run raids, in a continual threat to entrap small
forces, or was huddled away in sheltered bays while repairs or refit
operations were made. Only in isolated and historical instances were
the pocket battleships sent out to earn their keep.
However, when the ill-fated Norwegian campaign had run its
course, the British Fleet was withdrawn from these hazardous waters,
and once the British Expeditionary Force had been evacuated from
Dunkirk, there were no European military operations to support; the
remnants of the British Army either stood guard against threatened
86 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
invasion at home or, as each division was re-formed and brought up to
strength, it was rushed out to the Mediterranean.
Mussolini had bided his time and when it looked as though Ger-
many was bound to win, he threw in his lot with Hitler. This created
a new phase of war for the British Navy, for it had long been known
that II Duce had a fleet that, on paper or in the pages of Jane's Fight-
ing Ships, might provide considerable opposition to the forces still
available to the Admiralty.
In fact, the Mediterranean Fleet faced a period of naval operations
against a far superior enemy, and, coupled with this, one of its chief
bases, Malta, was within easy bombing range of land-based aircraft
in Italy, The British Fleet was superior in one respect only; it possessed
an aircraft carrier, H.M.S. Eagle, that was soon joined by H.M.S. IZ-
lustriaus, the first of Great Britain's new fleet carriers. Mussolini had
no aircraft carriers.
Although Force H had been formed and based at Gibraltar, it was
now obvious that the main Mediterranean Fleet would have to con-
centrate in the eastern Mediterranean and use Alexandria as its base.
Broadly speaking, Britain held both ends of the Inland Sea, and Italy
was in control of the central portion. It was apparent that something
would have to be done if the British were to stay in these waters,
and her land forces were to command vital points in North Africa.
Two British convoys, carrying stores for the fleet, made an effort
early in July 1940 to steam from Malta to Alexandria. The Mediter-
ranean Fleet, under Admiral Sir Andrew Browne Cunningham, sailed
out from Alexandria to pick up this merchant convoy. At the same time
the Italian Fleet was ordered to escort a supply convoy that was des-
tined for their forces in Libya.
The Italian Fleet of two battleships, sixteen cruisers, and thirty de-
stroyers was first intercepted by the British submarine Phoenix that
had been operating some distance southeast of Taranto, a seaport in
Apulia, Italy, and only second in importance to La Spezia as a naval
arsenal. The submarine warned the British surface force, and a long-
range United States Martin reconnaissance aircraft flew out of Malta
and shadowed the Italians until Admiral Cunningham made contact
on July 19.
It is interesting to note that H.M.S. Eagle, an antique carrier built in
the early 19205, had recently joined Cunningham's force, and, although
she had but seventeen Swordfish aboard that were manned by inex-
perienced pilots, she performed commendably. About noon of July 9
TARANTO VS. MALTA 87
one of Eagle's "Stringbags" sighted the enemy fleet, and a striking
force, armed with torpedoes, was launched a short time later. How
ironical that an almost obsolete carrier bearing a squadron of untried
airmen should be the first to engage in what could have been the
first real naval action of World War II!
Eagle's torpedo bombers went after the Italians boldly, but missed
the enemy's main fleet that had changed course to the southward, so
they engaged a convoy cruiser with comparatively small success some
of this misfortune was later charged to faulty torpedo detonators, a
factor that was plaguing all naval services using this weapon.
Admiral Cunningham's first surface-fleet contact ^was made during
the same afternoon but his guns were at extreme range and nothing
decisive was registered. A second striking force was launched from
Eagle and this time one good hit was scored on a cruiser in the face
of stiff antiaircraft fire. The attack was good, but the antitorpedo
bulges (false sections of hull that detonate the weapon before it
pierces the main hull) performed their function and the cruiser's speed
was not slowed sufficiently for the British forces to engage. As a result
the whole Italian Fleet was able to withdraw at good speed while their
destroyers put down a covering smoke screen. Eventually they found
the shelter of their harbor, and the protection of their land-based
planes.
The main prize was lost, although a Swordfish from the deck of
Eagle caught up with an Italian destroyer and sank her off the enemy
coast. Success was denied for various reasons. The enemy fleet could
put on terrific bursts of speed, a factor that made it difficult for Navy
airmen to bring the target into their sights, and the pilots and observers
were inexperienced, the products of a very rapid expansion of Britain's
new Fleet Air Arm. However, from this point on, an intensive program
of practice operations in both day and night flying was ordered, the
torpedoes were checked and checked again; nothing was left undone to
prevent another such unfortunate display.
The R.A.F., in new long-range Martin reconnaissance machines,
surged out of Malta on the hour to photograph every move being
made at Taranto and Augusta, another Italian naval base in Sicily.
The Swordfish were equipped with long-range tanks, and the first of
these planes arrived aboard H.M.S. Illustrious, one of the newer car-
riers. By the middle of October 1940 the pilots were ready, the planes
were all spotted, and a new excellence in night-flying operations, by
both air crews and deck parties, was reached.
88 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
Plans were under way to stage an attack on the Taranto forces to
celebrate Trafalgar Day, October 21, but a few days previously a fire
broke out on the hangar deck of Illustrious that damaged a number of
aircraft. Weather conditions and the lunar system held off the plans
until the night of November 11, Armistice Day, when the moon was
three-quarters full. The most recent reconnaissance photographs dis-
closed that five battleships were at anchor, as well as several cruisers
and destroyers. Just before the force sailed, an R.A.F. evening patrol
reported that a sixth battleship had been docked at Taranto.
At this point it was learned that Edgfe could not take part; her fuel-
ing system was unsatisfactory as a consequence of repeated near misses
by Italian aircraft, so five of her Swordfish and a number of her aircraft
crews were transferred to Illustrious, and the combined fleet sailed
from Alexandria on November 6 for the Armistice Night celebration.
Shortly after nightfall on November 11, Admiral Cunningham sent
Illustrious, and a screen of four cruisers and four destroyers, to a fly-
off position 180 miles from the Taranto area. At 8:30 a striking force of
twelve Swordfish, led by Lieutenant Commander K. Williamson,
roared down the slim deck of the carrier and zoomed into the Mediter-
ranean night. They formed up about eight miles ahead of their car-
rier and by nine o'clock were well on their way to the Italian port. A
second air-striking force, cut to nine Swordfish, was spotted to take off
at shortly after 9:00 P.M. Three others that might have gone had had
the misfortune to land in the sea on returning from practice flights.
Only eight of the second force became airborne, since one was dam-
aged in a deck collision while taxiing to its position and had to be
rushed to the hangar for repairs.
The pilot, Lieutenant E. W. Clifford, who was outraged at his bad
luck, followed his plane below and made every effort to have the dam-
age repaired quickly. At the same time his observer, Lieutenant G. R.
M. Going, darted up to the bridge to plead with Captain Denis Boyd
for permission to go if their aircraft could be repaired in time.
"The bashing about isn't too bad, sir," he explained.
"If it's bashed about at all, you shouldn't be taking it to Taranto,"
the skipper argued. "I admire your spirit, but. . ."
"It's nothing serious, sir. Just a bit of wing tip. We could hack off the
battered part."
"Get off my bridge. I'm busy. If you want to go in that condition,
you have my sympathy, but you can go. I don't suppose it is any worse
than what you'll come back with/' said Captain Boyd grinning.
TARANTO VS. MALTA 89
At 9:55 the repaired Swordfish was hauled up to the flight deck
again, and Clifford and Going took off alone. Captain Boyd gave them
a stiff salute as they hoiked off Illustrious and headed for Taranto,
now only 150 miles away.
At 10:00 the first striking force was approaching the Italian base. It
should be explained that of the twelve aircraft involved, six carried
torpedoes, four were armed with bombs and two were loaded with
flares and light bombs. Commander Williamson's observer, Lieuten-
ant N. J. Scarlett, "keeping the book," suddenly realized that the
promised good weather was deteriorating. As they neared the port they
ran into a thick cloud.
"We'd better split up for a minute, eh sir?" he was heard to suggest
"We can't keep touch in this muck."
Williamson nodded his assent and the Stringbags spread out for
safety. They continued on in this manner and just before eleven
o'clock spotted the first glares produced by the flare-dropping planes.
"Bloody good!" Lieutenant Scarlett said and beamed as he spotted
the line of eight flares planted accurately along the eastern side of the
harbor.
The second flare-dropper put a couple of bombs into an oil storage
depot, and then, to make sure everything would go up as planned,
dropped several incendiaries into the debris. This produced such a
glare that no one knew for some time whether the storage tanks had
been hit, or whether the uproar was caused by the flares, but the oil
tanks gave excellent illumination for the complete program.
Williamson and Scarlett took the torpedo bombers into the main
attack, and so ferocious was the leader's first charge, that he may have
overdone it since his machine never returned. The remaining pilots
started their approach dives, selected their targets and picked out the
battleships as they lay at anchor. The prize, the battleship Cavour,
was hit so severely she had to be beached. Duilio, another Cavour-
class model that had been reconstructed recently at tremendous ex-
pense, was hit. She was seen the next day with her bow well under
water. The battleship Italia, a Littorio-class vessel that was laid down
in 1938, was damaged extensively. The 10,000 ton cruiser Trento took
a direct hit by a bomb. Two destroyers, identified later as Libeccio
and Pessango, were only slightly damaged by bombs, but two auxiliary
vessels were definitely sunk, a seaplane base was badly mauled with
one hangar destroyed, and the oil storage depot was a complete write-
off.
00 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
Most of the attacking Swordfish had to risk the entangling cables
of a tight balloon barrage, both going in and returning. The antiair-
craft fire was particularly heavy, for not only were the shore batteries
turned on, but the warships, in self-defense, broke out every available
weapon. However, eleven of the twelve planes returned and made
safe landings aboard Illustrious.
Meanwhile the second striking force, now reduced to seven planes
since one had had to return with engine trouble, went in for their
attack. This formation was led by Lieutenant Commander J. W. Hale
who carried Lieutenant G. A. Carine as his observer. Again the flare-
droppers were sent ahead to illuminate the target. This attack was a
replica of the first. The flare planes set the scene, bombed what was
available, and the torpedo men went in and picked out the most
valuable targets and apparently finished any leftover business. Only
one of these Swordfish failed to return.
But the night was not yet over. Delayed as they were, Clifford and
Going turned up to play their part. Lieutenant Clifford cut in deep
and came in over the land east of the harbor. There was still consider-
able illumination but much smoke and murk, so he swung to port
and dived on a line of destroyers moored together in the Mar Piccolo.
They donated one stick of bombs to the destroyer force and dropped
another on two cruisers they found anchored off the dockyard. Satis-
fied that some damage had been done, Clifford then turned to star-
board, crossed the land and sped out to sea to seek his carrier. They
touched down on the flight deck only half an hour after the others.
Illustrious then turned east and rejoined her main force early in the
morning of November 12.
Captain Boyd said some time afterward: "Although the proper func-
tion of the Fleet Air Arm may perhaps be the operation of aircraft
against an enemy in the open sea, it has been demonstrated before,
and repeated in no uncertain fashion by this success, that the ability to
strike unexpectedly is conferred by the Fleet Air Arm. It is often felt
that this arm, which has had a long struggle with adverse opinions and
its unspectacular aircraft, is underestimated in its power. It is hoped
that this victory will be considered a suitable reward to those whose
work and faith in the Fleet Air Arm has made it possible/'
Sir Winston Churchill said: "By this single stroke the balance of
naval power in the Mediterranean was decisively altered. The air
photographs showed that three battleships, one of them a new Littorio,
had been torpedoed, and in addition one cruiser was reported hit and
TARANTO VS. MALTA 91
much damage inflicted on the dockyard. Half the Italian Fleet was
disabled for at least six months, and the Fleet Air Arm could rejoice
at having seized by their gallant exploit one of the rare opportunities
presented to them."
Sir Winston also pointed out an ironic touch in that the Italian Air
Force, at the express wish of Mussolini, had taken part in an air attack
on Great Britain on that same day. An Italian bomber force, escorted
by about sixty fighters, attempted to bomb Allied convoys in the Med-
way, the estuary of the Thames and Medway Rivers on the east coast.
They were intercepted by British fighters, and eight Italian bombers
and five fighters were shot down. It was their first and last such in-
tervention, and, as Mr. Churchill commented wryly, "They might
have found better employment defending their fleet at Taranto."
As the woeful year of 1940 came to an end, somewhat relieved by
the action at Taranto, new carriers and aircraft arrived to reinforce Ad-
miral Cunningham's fleet. H.M.S. Indomitable, another of the Illus-
trious class, 23,ooo-tonners with 75o-foot flight decks, turned up with
ten new torpedo-carrying aircraft, the Fairey Albacores also biplanes
that had been designed as the successor to the heroic Swordfish. When
the Fairey Albacore carried a crew of three men it could be used on
long-range reconnaissance. As a torpedo plane, the Albacore, like the
Swordfish, carried two men. It was powered with a 1065 hp. Bristol
Taurus engine, whereas the Stringbag had only a 650 hp. Pegasus en-
gine. In addition to the improved torpedo bombers, Indomitable also
brought thirteen new Fulmar fighters.
But matters were still dismal for most British forces. By March 1941
the German invasion of Greece was having continued success, and
General Sir Archibald Wavell's army in North Africa was cut drasti-
cally to supply a large force to oppose Hitler's shock troops. These
troop transports were entrusted to the Royal Navy, and the follow-up
supplies also required strong naval escort since there were many Italian
submarines in that area. German and Italian land-based aircraft were
continually in action or available, and there was the constant danger
that what was left of the Italian Fleet might stage a rapid thrust from
bases on the western shore of the Adriatic in attempts to intercept
and sink these supply convoys going to the aid of Greece. The Italian
Navy was sadly in need of a victory, and a successful attack on a help-
less convoy might provide such a boost.
As a matter of fact, on the evening of March 27, 1941, there was
92 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
such a report, one that suggested that the Italian Fleet had made a
move with that idea in mind. A British aircraft flying from Malta
sighted a group of Italian cruisers steaming eastward, obviously mak-
ing a dash for one of the convoys. A British cruiser force, under Vice-
Admiral Sir Henry Pridham-Wippell, was already in a position south
of Crete to furnish cover for this convoy. Admiral Cunningham sailed
from Alexandria with his battleships and H.M.S. Formidable, another
IHustrious-class carrier. As things turned out, this was a fortunate
move, for by the morning of the twenty-eighth the reports and rumors
eventually proved that the Italian cruisers, supported now by Italy's
most modern battleship, Vittorio Veneto, were uncomfortably close
to Admiral Pridham-Wippeirs cruiser force.
Formidable assumed the job of air-search and launched four Alba-
cores and one Swordfish early in the morning of the twenty-eighth.
They were hardly off the deck before anxious radio reports began to
craclde through, indicating the enemy had been sighted. These first
messages were hurried and garbled. It was difficult to learn just how
many vessels of the Italian force were out of their shelters, but as the
observers settled down, the messages were more concise and it was
clear that there were three separate groups ahead, one composed of
Vittorio Veneto and her screen, the other two made up mainly of
cruisers.
Aboard the commander-in-chief s flagship where all reports were an-
alyzed, the situation appeared to be serious. Pridham-Wippeirs cruis-
ers were in a position where they might be caught between the gunfire
of the two enemy forces, the battleship to the northward, and four
cruisers to the westward. Once more, Admiral Cunningham realized
that there was only one move to make, and it would have to be made
by the aircraft off Formidable; Vittorio Veneto would have to be
nudged out of the play, slowed up, or at least given a few hornets at
which to swat.
Lieutenant Commander W. H. J. Saunt led a spearhead striking
force of six Albacores, escorted by a brace of Fulmars. After thirty
minutes of search Pridham-Wippeirs force was first spotted and then
the Italian battleship nearby, so Commander Saunt moved into po-
sition off her starboard bow and just as the torpedo planes were ready
to peel off for the attack, two Junkers 88s, two-engined aircraft out-
fitted as day-and-night figjiters, roared into the scene. The Fulmars
took up the challenge and for a few minutes there was a wild melee
above the Italian battleship. The German aircraft were no match for
TARANTO VS. MALTA 93
the highly maneuverable Fulmars, even though the Junkers outgunned
them and had two flexible gun turrets one of the German machines
was shot down into the sea, the other driven off, leaving the air clear
for Commander Saunt and his torpedo planes.
This time the peel-off was beautiful. The planes were down to al-
most sea level when the battleship and her four-destroyer screen sent
up an intense antiaircraft curtain. The Vittorio Veneto also fired her
fifteen-inch guns into the sea at minimum range to set up columns of
splash barrage. An aircraft that plowed into one of these would disinte-
grate as though it had collided with a stone lighthouse, but Com-
mander Saunt's Albacores evaded the shell splashes and closed in to
release their torpedoes from about eight hundred yards.
The sleek Italian battleship went into a wide turn to starboard and
took violent evasive action; she wriggled, jinked, and moved like a
barracuda but one of the British torpedoes caught her and she started
to lose speed. The Albacores had fulfilled their mission; Vittorio Ve-
neto broke off the engagement and turned for home; Admiral Prid-
ham-WippelTs cruiser force was slipped from a deadly trap; and every
Albacore and Fulmar returned safely to Formidable.
At the same time^ not to be outdone, three Swordfish from the
Maleme airstrip in Crete, also took a hand in the battle. They failed to
encounter the battleship, so vented their spleen on a group of three
cruisers, one of which was Bolzano, a modified Trento type of ten
thousand tons. The Stringbag pilots did their best, even claiming one
hit, but postwar investigation disclosed that the cruiser had not re-
ceived a scratch.
This initial action set the stage for what was known as the Battle
of Matapan. The battleship Vittorio Veneto presumably was limping
northwest toward her home base; the two Italian cruiser squadrons
were steering similar courses, but fully thirty miles ahead of the bat-
tleship on either bow. The four cruisers of Pridham-Wippell's force
were moving to join Admiral Cunningham's battle fleet that was now
some sixty miles astern of Vittorio Veneto, but sixty miles is a great
distance between vessels that are capable of twenty to thirty knots,
and there was small chance of catching up. Although the Italian battle-
ship had been hit, her damage-control force had worked manfully, and
she was capable of a speed that assured her escape, unless the Alba-
cores from Formidable could make another attempt to halt or slow
her down.
With this in mind, a second striking force of three Albacores, two
Q4 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
Swordfish, and two Fulmars was set out on the flight deck, and
launched shortly after two o'clock in the afternoon. They were led by
Lieutenant Commander J. Dalyell-Stead and at 2:24 found the battle-
ship south of Cape Matapan. The British flight commander worked
his way into the sun and then took his Albacore torpedo planes down
to sea level for the attack. Once again, Vittorio Veneto writhed and
wriggled and almost escaped, but one torpedo from Commander Daly-
ell-Stead's formation found its mark. Once the Albacores were clear,
the Swordfish moved in for the kilL By now the battleship had steadied
on her homeward course and the two Swordfish could take their time.
They drew a true bead and scored two hits.
Vittorio Veneto was now reduced to thirteen knots and her captain
ordered the two cruiser squadrons to fall back and protect her, which
they did, steaming close attendance as she continued her homeward
journey.
All of Formidable'* aircraft, with the exception of that flown by
Commander Dalyell-Stead, returned to the carrier. Once again, the
leader of the attacking force apparently took the brunt of the antiair-
craft barrage.
Thirteen knots, however, still gave some assurance that Vittorio
Veneto would escape, and Admiral Cunningham ordered a third air
attack. Two of the shore-based Swordfish from Crete were still shad-
owing the Italian force, so Formidable launched every aircraft avail-
able; six Albacores and two Swordfish were armed with torpedoes
and again Lieutenant Commander Saunt led them off into the blue-
gray dusk of a Mediterranean twilight.
Just as the sun was setting, Commander Saunt's force went in and
was hammered by a tremendous ack-ack barrage from every ship in
the flotilla. This flaming retaliation could be seen by the men aboard
Vice-Admiral Pridham-WippeH's cruisers, twelve miles away; as the
sky was crisscrossed with streams of varicolored tracer, and the ob-
longs, triangles, and squares were continually blocked in with the
flame of shellfire, as in some fantastic game.
The barrage was so intense the torpedo force was unable to attack
in squadron formation and had to split up and go in with individual
thrusts, which added to the hazard somewhat, for in such independent
approaches there was always the danger of collision.
But with all this courage and skill, the Vittorio Veneto was not hit
during this third strike. The last Stringbag to go in put a torpedo
smack into the side of the io,ooo-ton cruiser Pola so cleanly and ac-
TARANTO VS. MALTA 95
curately she was brought to an immediate halt. The Italian admiral
ordered two other io,oooton cruisers, Zara and Fiume, to stand by,
but these three unfortunates were caught later that night by Admiral
Cunningham's force, and sent to the bottom. Nevertheless, Vittorio
Veneto escaped and by daylight the next morning was in the sanctuary
of her harbor and under the cover of Italian shore-based aircraft.
Successful or not, the Battle of Matapan shows another step in the
development of carrier operations, fleet-air tactical moves, and the
proper collaboration of air and surface forces. Many of the same moves,
with more fortunate results, will have been noted in the hunt for the
German battleship Bismarck. In the Matapan action the added flexi-
bility that the naval aircraft of that day gave to the surface fleet can
be more clearly seen. In this particular engagement in which the op-
posing forces found themselves, there could have been no action with-
out the intervention of the carrier aircraft; the Italians were already
too far ahead of Cunningham's battle fleet for any surface action,
and had it not been for the damage inflicted by Formidable* $ torpedo
planes, they could have retained that distance with little difficulty.
Again, the striking power of aircraft had been demonstrated and
justified. In the first attack the Vittorio Veneto was hit, and her speed
reduced somewhat. The second attack accomplished all a commander-
in-chief could hope for, and when the Italian battleship was cut down
to thirteen knots, the air arm had achieved a high objective. For a
time it seemed that the battleship was doomed. Paradoxically, it was
perhaps unfortunate that the third strike had hit and stopped a cruiser,
since in the summary sinking of her and her standby cruisers, Admiral
Cunningham was delayed. This gave Vittorio Veneto an added lead,
but the destruction of three powerful cruisers was in itself a naval
triumph that had been made possible by the single torpedo hit from
a Swordfish. Without that, the three cruisers would have escaped, as
did the remainder of the fleet.
Matapan gives us a rare example of tactical handling of an air arm
by a commander-in-chief . Admiral Cunningham was served most faith-
fully. The reconnaissance pilots set up the picture on which the ad-
miral could base his tactical plans; in the beginning there were in-
correct, hurriedly sent, and vague reports, but in this violent school
of experience these inadequately trained airmen learned quickly, and
full credit is due them.
A comparison picture that was set up during the main action may
be interesting to note. While Formidable was flying off her second
96 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
strike force, an attack was made by two Italian Savoia-Marchetti-yg tor-
pedo bombers. Formidable was a perfect sitting-shot for there was no
opportunity to take evasive action when launching heavy laden air-
craft. The Savoia-Marchettis came in low on a good approach course,
but Formidable^ antiaircraft, and the close-range weapons on board
her destroyer screen "encouraged" the Italians to drop their torpedoes
at a range of two thousand yards. Under these circumstances, Formida-
ble had little trouble in avoiding the tin fish and getting her aircraft
off safely. To make certain of a hit, the attacking aircraft must ignore
the opposition, hammer through the barrage, and only drop its tor-
pedo when it is too kte for the target to take evasive action.
But, as is so often the case, these victories had to be paid for in
kind. It was not all beer and skittles in the Mediterranean, as can be
gleaned from the history of Illustrious which had been commissioned
in the early summer of 1940. This carrier had been the first to mount
a search radar system to track enemy aircraft, and to have a fighter-
direction officer aboard to direct the defense planes to the opposition
targets. This co-operation was so successful that in one month fighter
pilots aboard Illustrious intercepted and destroyed seventy-five enemy
aircraft.
The Italians, in particular, nurtured an especial hate for Illustrious,
not only for her fighter successes, but for her part in the epic of
Taranto, and they used every device they could to wreak vengeance
on her, some measure of which came early in January 1941. During
an escort run while herding a convoy of sixty merchantmen laden with
war materials for Greece, this British carrier had a very narrow escape
in the waters near Malta. The whole force, convoy and escort ships,
was attacked on January 10 by more than one hundred German and
Italian bombers of all categories. The pressure of this raid was main-
tained for seven hours, with special efforts to finish Illustrious; the
carrier was hit seven times by heavy bombs resulting in gruesome
scenes of carnage. Eighty-three crew members were killed and sixty
wounded seriously. Her steering gear was knocked out at one time,,
but her skipper, Captain D. W. Boyd, kept her afloat, and all available
planes were launched.
Illustrious was exceptionally poor in her own defense, since she
had only ten Fulmar two-seater fighters. This eight-gun aircraft had
a maximum speed of 225 mph. in level flight, but in the necessary
climb to get at the German and Italian bombers, its performance was
U.S. NAVY PHOTO
Above, I. The first successful landing aboard a naval vessel was accomplished
by Eugene B. Ely, a civilian pilot flying a Curtiss pusher biplane on January
18, 1011. The USS Pennsylvania, a heavy cruiser, was fitted with a wooden
platform built over the stern. A series of ropes and sandbags were stretched
across the narrow space and acted as an arrester gear. Later, Ely had the
ropes removed, the airplane turned around and he flew off and landed on the
Presidio in San Francisco from where he had originally started.
Below, II. The actual Ely landing, showing the limitations of the flight deck,
the arrester gear ropes held above the deck by lengths of 2 x 4 beams. The
daring pilot touched down at a speed of 40 mph and had no benefit of head-
wind, since the Pennsylvania was at anchor at the time.
U. S. NAVY PHOTO
ROYAL NAVY PHOTO
ove, III. Britain's first attempt at carrier warfare. On August 11, 1918, a Sopwith
mel, launched from a barge towed by a destroyer, successfully took to the air and
3rcepted the German Zeppelin L. 53. Sub-Lieutenant Stuart D. Culley of the Royal
val Air Service destroyed the enemy raider and then had to land on the water near
urface ship to be picked up by derrick.
ow, IV. Culley's improvised flight deck was simply a small wooden platform about
long and 15' wide, mounted on a navy lighter. It was towed at 30 knots by the
troyer Redoubt and the little fighter plane took off in less than 5' of runway. Here
hown the actual take-off while the lighter was under tow.
'AL NAVY PHOTO
BBITISE INFORMATION SERV:
E PHOTO
V One of the earliest camera, Britain's HMS Furious. This vessel was laid
down as a cruiser in 1915 but early in 1917 was modified for carrier operations after
the earlier Argus had been put through many trials and experiments for deck operations.
When completed for this work Furious carried two fighter flights, two reconnaissance
flights ^and two torpedo flights or about thirty-six aircraft. She underwent many con-
versions over the postwar years.
Below, VI. America's first aircraft carrier, USS Langley. This vessel was laid down in
1911 as a fleet collier and served as such until 1920 when she was redesigned for
carrier operations. Her flight deck measured 534 x 64 feet and she accommodated
about fifty aircraft of varying types. Besides her flight deck she also had two cranes for
picking up seaplanes.
U. S. NAVY PHOTO
BRITISH INFORMATION SERVICE PHOTO
Above, VII. The last of the Ark Royal. After more than two years of continual action
against the enemy, the legendary British carrier finally met her end when a torpedo
holed her a short distance from Gibraltar. Heroic efforts were made to save her, but
damage to her pumps and engine room denied her salvage operations that might have
kept her afloat long enough to get her to a navy drydock. She went down November
14, 1941, the third British carrier to be lost in the early years of the war.
Below, VIII. A critical need during the Battle of the Atlantic was filled by a number of
auxiliary carriers built on British merchant hulls. Here is the HMS Ancylus, a typical
"Woolworth" vessel of that era. They provided air cover for convoys and other groups
in the 500-mile gap outside the range of shore-based aircraft.
BRITISH INFORMATION SERVICE PHOTO
: *&L
U.S. NAVY PHOTO
Above, IX. By 1942 the torpedo plane was leaving its mark on naval operations. It
probably brought about the end of the battleship, for it was a fleet of Japanese torpedo-
carriers that sank the British capital ships, Prince of Wales and Repulse, December
10, 1941, off Singapore. From that date on the aircraft carrier became the Queen of the
Fleet.
Below, X. The tragic phase of carrier warfare. On September 15, 1942, while engaged
in covering the movement of supplies and reinforcements into Guadalcanal, USS Wasp
which had also played an important role with the British in the defense of Malta was
torpedoed. Here she is shown going down in a welter of flame and smoke.
U. S. NAVY PHOTO
U. S. NAVY PHOTO
Above, XI. During the Battle of Santa Cruz, one of the classics of the Pacific war, both
sides put on a gallant show. Here is seen action in which a Japanese bomb splashed
astern of the USS Enterprise. There are two other planes in the smoke-storm of anti-
aircraft fire put up to protect the carrier. The battleship USS South Dakota is also
seen being covered by an unnamed destroyer.
Left, XII. Naval warfare encounters
more than enemy aircraft and long
range gunfire. On December 18, 1944,
a typhoon struck an American task
force in the Philippine Sea. Every ship
of the force took a severe beating and
several were lost. Here is seen the anx-
ious work aboard USS Anzio, an escort
carrier as seamen try to salvage'
wrecked planes, give first aid and pre-
pare for outbreaks of fire.
U.S. NAVY PHOTO
U.S. NAVY PHOTO
Above, XIII. During the Battle of Leyte Gulf, a Japanese cruiser intercepted and shelled
the USS Gambler Bay, an escort carrier. Every effort was made to elude the enemy
gunners but eventually the range was cut to a minimum and she had all steering controls
and power knocked out. The order to abandon ship was given and about 750 members of
the crew of 854 managed to go over the side only to fight for their lives among a school
of sharks.
Below, XIV. When Davey Jones takes a hand. Here we see USS Langley fighting for her
Me in a Pacific storm. This picture was taken from the deck of the USS Essex, an attack
carrier of that period.
U.S. NAVY PHOTO
BRITISH INFOBMATION SEBVICE PHOTO
Above, XV. Action with the kamikaze suicide planes. Here is a British carrier engaged
in operations off the Sakishima Islands, a few hundred miles off the Japanese mainland.
All told seven such suicide planes struck British carriers during the Okinawa action,
but none was sunk because they all had armored flight decks. None was out of action
for more than two hours. None was withdrawn from action at any time. This whole
rness was cleaned up within two hours and planes were soon operating again.
Right, XVI. The battle for the recap-
ture of the Philippine Islands brought
victory, glory and tragedy to the Amer-
ican forces. The gallant USS Princeton,
a light carrier, took a direct hit from a
Japanese dive-bomber on October 24,
1944. The bomb itself did little dam-
age but a small fire started, made its
way to a stack of torpedoes which ex-
ploded in the heat and started other
more serious fires. Eventually she had
to be abandoned and sunk.
U. S. NAVY PHOTO
TARANTO VS. MALTA 97
reduced to well below 200 mph. The enemy planes could outstrip and
outmaneuver the British fighter machines. Had the carrier launched
Spitfires or Hurricanes, her story might have been different. As it was,
Illustrious was fortunate to get into Malta, for the cruisers Southamp-
ton and Gloucester were also given a rare going-over; Gloucester was
damaged slightly by a bomb that failed to explode, and Southampton
received a bomb square in her engine room that started a serious fire.
The crew fought the blaze heroically, but eventually it was out of con-
trol and the cruiser had to be abandoned. The convoy got through
safely, but at an exorbitant cost to the fleet
Once in Malta harbor, Illustrious underwent another series of heavy
attacks, but the land-based Malta pilots shot down nineteen enemy
planes. During that night, with the aid of a smoke screen, Illustrious
sneaked out and made her way to Alexandria where she was found
to be so badly in need of special repairs, it was decided to sail her
to the United States for an overhaul. Her aircraft were turned over
to General Sir Archibald Wavell where they played a leading part in
the victories against the Italian Army in the Western Desert.
Fortunately, Formidable was now commissioned, and she steamed
into the Mediterranean to replace the battered Illustrious, and was
available for the Battle of Matapan.
Early in the war the British captured a number of German vessels,
many of which were renamed, refurbished, and put to good use. One
in particular furnishes a colorful page in the records of World War II.
She was HJVLS. Audacity, which had started the war as the German
diesel motorship Hanover, a vessel of 5600 tons with a speed of four-
teen knots. She was intercepted and captured by H.M.S. Dunedin,
and when the U-boat menace assumed critical proportions, she was
converted into an escort carrier with a flight deck of 420 feet in length
and 60 feet in beam, but with no island or hangar deck. The six Mart-
lets she had on board had to be parked aft so that the foremost one
had only 300 feet of runway for take-off. One critic of her type called
her a Woolworth carrier, but this vessel was so satisfactory that it was
said, by Sir Winston Churchill, to have become the model on which
large numbers of these light escort carriers were later built.
At about this time the British were spreading their air and naval
forces dangerously thin in providing coverage for important supplies
being sent to Russia. Improved conditions in the North Atlantic,
brought about by fighter-catapult merchantmen, longer-range antisub-
98 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
marine aircraft, more efficient depth charges, and the early develop-
ment of the hedgehog system whereby depth charges could be fired
well ahead of the attacking ships instead of being rolled over the
stern, all conspired to drive the German raiders to less offensive areas.
As a result the Bay of Biscay was shy of air coverage for the convoys
sailing to Liverpool from Capetown and the west coast of Africa ports.
Gibraltar could give only a limited escort for these convoys, and once
they were out of range of shore-based aircraft, their only air protection
was the occasional escort carrier, such as Audacity.
The Focke-Wulf bombers based at Bordeaux, and suspected of re-
fueling at bases in Franco's Spain, were a great menace to the convoys.
With such aid their reach into the Atlantic made tl\em doubly dan-
gerous for they not only could spot and bomb British shipping, but
they could provide their U-boats with the information to "home" on
these hapless targets.
During an outward-bound convoy between Britain and Malta that
began on September 19, 1941, the Martlet pilots from Audacity found
a U-boat fully surfaced, and ignoring the submarine's deck gun,
machine-gunned it until the German skipper decided to submerge.
The following night a pack of U-boats sank several small vessels in
the convoy and the survivors had to be taken aboard a rescue ship,
Walmar Castle. The next morning this vessel was bombed by a Focke-
Wulf and set afire.
Two Martlets from Audacity, flown by Sub-Lieutenants N. H. Pat-
terson and G. R. P. Fletcher, set upon the German raider, and after
each pilot had put in thirty-five-round bursts, the Focke-Wulf lost its
tail and plunged into the sea. This was the first F-W destroyed by an
American-built, carrierborne airplane.
The remainder of this voyage was uneventful, but on the return
passage with another large convoy the Martlets had to land on the
short deck when the rise and fall of the stern was as much as sixty-
five feet and the ship was rolling sixteen degrees; one plane skidded
over the side and sank but the pilot was rescued.
During Audacity's second escort voyage in November the squadron
leader, Lieutenant Commander J. M. Wintour, damaged a prowling
Focke-Wulf, but was himself shot do_wn and killed when a cannon
shell passed through his cockpit. Sub-Lieutenant D. A. Hutchison then
took over the attack on the Focke-Wulf that by then was in flames, and
made certain it went into the sea completely out of control.
That same afternoon there was another alarm but there was only
TARANTO VS. MALTA 99
one serviceable plane aboard, another had a badly bent propeller, but
Sub-Lieutenant E. M. Brown volunteered to fly the cripple, so the
two Martlets were sent aloft. As they climbed for height they became
separated in the clouds, but Sub-Lieutenant Brown intercepted two
approaching Focke-Wulfs, and made four passes at one of them be-
fore it escaped into the clouds below. He then followed it down and
finished it off in a sudden head-on attack the German plane spun
into the sea from ten thousand feet, tossing away its port wing just
before it hit the water. The convoy reached Gibraltar without loss.
On the first night of the return passage, the homeward-bound con-
voy was again shadowed by two Focke-Wulfs, and a lurking U-boat
sank a straggling tanker. Over the next five days the Martlet pilots
sighted no less than seventeen enemy submarines and directed de-
stroyers to attack them, and as a result, three were definitely destroyed,
one of them being rammed by H.M.S. Storfe.
One morning when the whole Martlet force was in the air, it inter-
cepted three Focke-Wulfs. Sub-Lieutenant Brown destroyed one, the
other two were damaged and driven off. In the afternoon Lieutenant
J. W. Sleigh and Sub-Lieutenant H. E. Williams accounted for an-
other. During this combat Lieutenant Sleigh collided with a Focke-
Wulf and returned with a piece of its wing dangling from his Martlet's
tail.
That day the Grumman planes put in a total of thirty hours flying
time. The last two coming in had to land in the dark with Audacity
rolling at fourteen degrees. Neither pilot had made a night landing
before, and it would have been better if they had gone to a shore
base, for one hour later a torpedo from U-751 under command of
Lieutenant Commander Big^lk, struck the light carrier on the port
beam below the mess decks. She went under at the stern until the
aft gun platform was awash, but Commander D. M. Mackendrick re-
fused to abandon her, hoping to get her in tow.
Twenty minutes later a second torpedo hit her on the port bow
and within five minutes three more drilled in. The bow structure
collapsed and Audacity reared her stem almost vertically into the air,
the aircraft aboard broke adrift and wrecked the lifeboats and dinghies
that had not already been destroyed. The U-boat was now plainly
visible about two hundred yards away on the port beam and, as the
carrier began to settle, her gunners engaged the enemy with their
Oerlikon weapons. It was a resolute stand but it did not save Audac-
ity. British corvettes picked up the survivors, but the losses were heavy
100 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
and included Commander Mackendrick and two of the Martlet pilots.
Although Audacity went down, she had ran up a memorable score;
her planes had destroyed five Focke-Wulfs and damaged three more,
and she had contributed to the sinking of three submarines and the
scuttling of a fourth. But perhaps more important she had proved
that fighter aircraft could operate effectively from the decks of these
small carriers.
The importance of Malta was clearly defined in 1941. A hundred
great battles were fought in its defense. Disaster had overtaken Greece
and Yugoslavia. Crete had proved more of a liability than an asset,
and what remained of the British Army, Navy, and Air Force had had
to retire to North Africa. The control of the Mediterranean had as-
sumed vital importance. There were two ways in which heavy materiel,
tanks, guns, and ammunition could reach Egypt, the chief base for
all proposed North African operations. The battle-churned Mediter-
ranean was one, and the route via Cape of Good Hope and the Red
Sea the other. This latter route was threatened to some extent by
German and Italian submarine fleets, but in the Mediterranean the
U-boat danger was supplemented by a more powerful menace Goe-
ring's Luftwaffe. By 1941 the Italian surface fleet was no menace at
all, simply a caricature of a naval force, but under the protection of
first-class German aircraft, Italian merchant ships were able to take
supplies to the combined German and Italian forces that were operat-
ing in North Africa. On the strength of this, Malta stood like a jewel
in the mechanism of the over-all British defense.
In this connection an interesting story concerning a contribution
made by the U. S. Navy comes to light.
By the spring of 1942, a few months after America had been cata-
pulted into the war by the attack on Pearl Harbor, the situation in
the Mediterranean had reached a critical height. Hitler and Mussolini
appeared determined to take and hold the island, or at least continue
their air attacks to prevent Britain from rebuilding Malta's offensive
and defensive capacity. Convoy after convoy of supplies was harried,
attacked, and the bulk of the merchantmen sent to the bottom. On
one occasion, of the 26,000 tons of supplies carried in four ships, only
5000 tons were actually landed, and the island fortress received no
more for nearly three months.
But the Royal Air Force stationed there hung on somehow with
only a handful of serviceable fighters. Pilots and ground crews were
TARANTO VS. MALTA 1O1
strained to the limit of their endurance, merely to stay alive. While
the air crews went aloft in sortie after sortie, and the mechanics, on
the brink of exhaustion, worked to service and refuel for the next at-
tack, the soldiers toiled like men possessed to repair the bomb-torn
airstrips.
At this point Prime Minister Winston Churchill appealed to Presi-
dent Franklin D. Roosevelt, pointing out that the enemy had six hun-
dred fighters and bombers in Sicily, whereas the best that Malta could
muster to hold off this force was between twenty and thirty serviceable
fighters. The island was being fitfully supplied with Spitfires in small
groups of six planes at a time, all flown off the carrier deck of H.M.S.
Eagle from a point six hundred miles west of Malta. Eagle, it will be
remembered, was a 1918 product, a converted battle cruiser that dis-
placed 22,600 tons and had a flight deck of 650 feet She generally
carried twenty-one aircraft for her own requirements, which no doubt
accounted for the fact that she could take only six more, since the
Spits were not folding-wing aircraft.
On April i, 1942, the Prime Minister explained that Eagle was laid
up for at least a month by defects in her steering gear. The old Argus
was available but was too small, too slow, and unable to provide space
for "passenger" aircraft and still put up fighter cover for the escorting
force. Victorious was also available, but her elevators were not large
enough to accommodate aircraft that could not fold their wings. Malta
faced a whole month without any Spitfire reinforcements.
President Roosevelt was asked whether he would allow the U. S.
Navy Wasp to do one of these trips. Ever in the know concerning
naval matters, the Prime Minister pointed out that with her broad
lifts, capacity, and length, Wasp could take fifty or more Spitfires, and
unless it was necessary for her to refuel, Wasp could proceed through
the Straits at night without calling at Gibraltar until she was on the
return journey. The aircraft could be embarked in the Clyde.
As Churchill wrote later, the response was generous. Wasp was sent,
and Malta lived to fight on.
In his incomparable History of the United States Naval Operations
in World War II, Admiral Samuel Eliot Morison presents a heart-
warming picture of this generous co-operation. He explains that
Wasp, then under command of Captain John W. Reeves, Jr., was op-
erating in the North Sea at the time, and after Admiral Royal E. Inger-
soll, C-in-C Atlantic Fleet, and Admiral Ernest J. King, Chief of Naval
Operations, approved the assignment, Wasp off-loaded many of her
1O2 SQUADRONS OF THE SI
own planes at Scapa Flow, steamed around Scotland through tl
Pentland Firth, called at Greenock, and moved right up the Cly<
to Glasgow. Crowds of enthusiastic Scots cheered her all the way i
the stream and the shipwrights at the John Brown & Co. yard tosse
their tools into the air and bellowed their greeting. Wasp moved c
to the King George V dock, took on forty-seven Spitfires she wi
capable of carrying seventy-five aircraft at the time together wil
their pilots and crewmen, made a turnabout in the artificial basin, an
sailed on April 14, escorted by Force W of the British Home Fle<
that was headed by the battle cruiser Renown.
The passage into the Mediterranean was uneventful. Force W he!
off any U-boats that may have been in the area, and maneuvered s
as to be out of sight of Cape Spartel on the Moroccan coast at moons<
of April 18. Europa Point off the southern tip of Spain was passe
at 2 A.M. the next day in order to evade the searching eyes of Spanis
or Axis spotters, and the force steamed for the chosen launching pos
tion some fifty miles north of Algiers.
After putting on twenty-eight knots into a fairish southwest win<
Wasp began launching the Spits with speed and precision at 4 A.M
April 20. A new system of launching was used to get all the plan<
off as quickly as possible. First eleven of her own fighter planes fle
off for combat air patrol, then the British-manned Spitfires followe<
All fifty-eight planes were airborne by 5:01, indicating that they wei
practically sent off at the rate of one a minute. In order to accomplis
this, the U. S. Wildcats were readied topside while the Spits warme
up on the hangar deck below, and after the Grumman F4Fs wei
waved off, each British plane was sent up on the elevator in eigl
seconds with its engine running, and on finding the take-off flag flu
tering, took off the instant the elevator platform reached the level c
the flight deck.
The full force of forty-seven Spitfires landed safely on Malta, bi
unfortunately their launching and arrival was known by the enem
who moved in and destroyed several of the British planes on th
ground before they could be refueled and serviced. However, th
others were prepared and put into the air in time to shoot down aboi
forty Axis bombers that had made the attack.
By the end of April this Wasp-given force had lost twenty-three moi
Spitfires, and plans were made to send out more. On May 7 a gres
cheer went up from the embattled island when it was learned th;
TARANTO VS. MALTA 1O3
Wasp had made a second trip and delivered forty-seven more Spit-
fires.
This time Wasp, escorted by the destroyers U.S.S. Lang and
Sterett, and H.M.S. Echo and Intrepid, dared the Straits for the third
time on the night of May 7. Off Europa Point she was joined by
the British carrier Eagleonce more available and carrying seventeen
planesand the rest of Force W. On the eighth this Malta relief force
made a change of course to the northeast, moved toward Formentera
Light in the Balearic Islands and launched aircraft early in the morn-
ing of the ninth. Wasp then waved off forty-seven fighters in fifty-
three minutes. During this activity one Spitfire accidently dropped its
belly tank and had to return. The pilot landed in the darkness with
rare skill, since he had no arrester gear hook, and requested permission
to fit a new tank, take off and proceed independently.
Someone said, "You've had all the luck you can expect for one day,
chum. The others are too far ahead; you'd just be a nuisance up there
alone. Besides, we're doing twenty-one knots and heading back for
The Rock/'
Wasp received a typical Churchillian message when she got back to
Gibraltar. Most grateful for the assist, the British Prime Minister
radioed:
Congratulations! Your splendid effort disproves the old apiarian theory
that wasps never sting twice. Good luck, and many thanks!
CHURCHILL.
The gallant American carrier returned to Scapa Flow and picked
up the rest of her own planes and on May 18 sailed for Hampton
Roads, Virginia. From there she was ordered to the Pacific where she
soon met her end. It was unfortunate, but she had played a fine role
with her British comrades. Almost all the Spitfires from Wasp and
Eagle arrived safely on Malta's war-battered airstrip. With these ma-
chines and a few more from another delivery made about a week
later, the R.A.F. was able to hold its own, and later to wrest control
of the air from the Luftwaffe. The Axis airmen made numerous and
most desperate attempts to knock little Malta out of the war; their
siege and blockade lasted through May, June, and July of 1942, sev-
eral important convoys were forced to turn back, and a battle of sup-
plies followed the battle for the air. By all logical consideration the
island should have fallen, and it might have had it not been for the
timely assistance afforded by U.S.S. Wasp and H.M.S. Eagle who by
104 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
their comradely co-operation not only staved off this defeat, but,
more important, cemented the warm friendship of the two great
services.
It would be a mistake to assume that the reinforcement of Malta
with Spitfires would win the battle for the Mediterranean. Far from
it. These varied heroics and combined operations simply assured the
Allies that Malta would stand firm, would hold, and eventually pro-
vide the focal point for a counterattack, and deprive the Axis of the
very strength they had attempted to deny us.
The lifeline of the Mediterranean was provided by the Allied con-
voys that carried vital supplies and refreshed troops to the various
theaters of operations, first in North Africa, and when more success-
ful efforts rewarded our arms, to Sicily and Italy, from where the first
thrusts were made against the German-Italian fortress.
A description of Operation Pedestal, the code name given to one
particular convoy that was to gather for passage during the summer of
1942, will give some idea of the effort required to keep the lifeline
intact. This operation was an excellent example of such planning in
that it involved three subsidiary operations, all complementing the
main task. It required complete aircraft carrier co-operation before the
convoy entered the Mediterranean, a reinforcement of the Malta air de-
fense by the delivery of Spitfires carried aboard Furious, and the return
from Malta of a small convoy of empty ships.
The main convoy was assembled and ordered to steam down the
Clyde during the night of August 2. It consisted of fourteen mer-
chant ships, including a commercial tanker. These vessels, with their
immediate escort of destroyers, passed through the Strait of Gibraltar
on the night of August 9, and by daylight next day were beyond sight
of the Spanish coast. Nevertheless, in spite of all precautions taken, the
convoy was spotted and enemy forces ahead were alerted.
Meanwhile the heavy ships that were to cover them had also gath-
ered. On July 31 Rear Admiral Arthur L. St.G. Lyster had sailed
from Scapa Flow, flying his flag aboard H.M.S. Victorious, a carrier
of the Illustrious class. The older carrier Argus was also part of the
company. At Gibraltar the force was joined by Eagle and Indomita-
ble, but Argus was left at The Rock, once the convoy and its covering
force moved into the danger area. By now the carrier force had been
joined by two battleships, Nelson and Rodney, six cruisers, thirty-two
TARANTO VS. MALTA 1OJ
destroyers, and four corvettes, which gives some indication of the
importance of this Malta supply line.
On this occasion much trust was to be placed in the fighter squad-
rons aboard the carriers. Embarked on board the three flight decks
were seventy Sea Hurricanes, Fulmars, and Martlets. Aboard Furious
were Spitfires destined for Malta and not considered part of the air
defense of the fleet
There was little enemy opposition during the first day's sailing, but
antisubmarine patrols had to be flown continually. The trouble began
on the second day out of Gibraltar when an Italian Savoia-Marchetti
reconnaissance plane was spotted early in the morning. Fighters from
Indomitable drove it off, but the observer had seen enough to put
enemy opposition into action. Hour after hour more shadowing
planes were spotted. Tension rose and while all eyes were in the air,
a great explosion erupted below Eagle; a torpedo from submarine
U-73, commanded by Lieutenant Commander Rosenbauin, had
scored a direct hit. The carrier had taken a station toward the tail end
of the convoy, and the German commander, although well pkced to
attack any of the merchantmen, allowed them all to pass, risking the
chance that any sudden zigzag by the convoy might well rob him of
his shot at the carrier. Correctly, he considered Edgte of greater im-
portance than any of the merchantmen.
Within ten minutes, the carrier rolled over and sank, taking many
of her aircraft with her; those that were in the air landed later on
Victorious or Indomitable. Fortunately, practically the entire comple-
ment of the carrier was saved, a total of 67 officers and 862 men were
taken off.
Later that afternoon Victorious was attacked by a submarine and
one torpedo passed dangerously close to her bow, but intensive air
patrols and other antisubmarine measures kept most of the U-boats
safely submerged. Although six of them were sighted before daylight
failed, none was able to approach close enough to make an attack.
That evening the convoy had moved close enough to Malta and
the Spitfires were flown off Furious. Once that duty had been dis-
charged, the old carrier was detached and sent back to Gibraltar.
When the Spits were well on their way, the first of a series of large-
scale high-level air attacks was made by thirty or more Junkers. A
squadron of flight-deck Hurricanes from Indomitable and a squadron
of Fulmars from Victorious were launched to meet this opposition.
Some of the enemy bombers got through and were met by heavy
106 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
antiaircraft fire at least two were shot down. So accurate was this
gunnery defense, the Junkers were hard put to make accurate bomb-
ing runs, and no merchant ships were hit, although two near misses
gave the Victorious an anxious time.
On August 12 the convoy was moving in very dangerous waters and
the defense called for an all-out effort, not only from the pilots of the
fighters involved, but also from the deck crews responsible for the
various programs of maintenance. For example, it was estimated that
the flight-deck crews aboard Victorious in the routine work of setting
wheel chocks, folding wings that in those days had to be done by
manual effort releasing arrester gear hooks, spotting aircraft and
sending them down the elevators, actually ran more than twenty miles
up and down the flight deck. In the repair spaces below the mechanics
worked continually in the glare of electric lights and an atmosphere of
gas, oil, and battery fumes. All this was done at the height of a Medi-
terranean summer since there was none of the comfort of present-day
air conditioning. Without this toil and devotion that went on hour
after hour without a break, the fighters could not have flown those
unbelievable hours.
The enemy airfields in Sicily and Sardinia were in fighter range,
and the attacking bombers had strong fighter cover that made the
convoy defense much more difficult. Also, the very effective motor
torpedo boats of the Italian Navy were in the area, and if they could
get within torpedo shot caused immense damage. The air cover from
the carriers was expected to hold off, or overcome all this, and, there-
fore, interception extended from sea level to extreme bomber altitude.
It is to the credit of the carrier airmen that postwar computation dis-
closed that on August 12 more than forty enemy aircraft were de-
stroyed with the loss of only eight Fleet Air Ann fighters in only one
instance did an enemy formation break through when a group of
twenty dive bombers selected Indomitable for its target. No direct hits
were scored but one near miss buckled her forward elevator and she
could not carry out launching or recovery operations. Her planes that
were in the air had to land on Victorious.
Throughout that day the enemy sent out flight after flight of high-
and low-level bombers, Cant three-engined torpedo planes, and Reg-
giane fighters. Hour after hour, the sky throbbed with the varied roar
of aircraft engines as the Martlets, Fulmars, and Hurricanes tore into
enemy formations, harried their attackers, and screamed into tight
turns to take on other hostile aircraft.
TARANTO VS. MALTA 107
But with all these heroic measures the grim fighting and the eva-
sive tactics the convoy did not come through unscathed. Eagle had
been sunk, and Indomitable was out of commission. Of the fourteen
merchantmen that had passed through the Strait of Gibraltar, only
five reached Malta with their cargoes. The price paid was high, on
both sides, but the need was critical and the supplies that were carried
by those five merchantmen were sufficient to keep Malta fighting for
a few more days.
The history of Operation Pedestal is an illuminating example of
what can happen when command of the air in any theater of opera-
tions is in dispute. In this case, no matter how gallantly the carrier-
borne, and later shore-based aircraft from Malta fought to drive off
the enemy, enough opposition got through to cause exorbitant losses,
not only to the supplies carried, but to the valuable escort vessels as
well.
Lieutenant Commander P. K. Kemp, R.N., points out in his stir-
ring book, Fleet Air Arm, that without the carrier fighters, no ships
could have gotten through, and he adds that the small percentage that
did succeed is probably in close relation to the degree in which the
fighters managed to win a temporary command of the air, a command
that was never more than spasmodic.
Later in the conflict, as more and more power at sea was brought
to bear on the Axis forces, and as shore fighter stations were provided
along the north coast of Africa, a permanent command of the air
above the Mediterranean routes was enjoyed. The Malta convoys
could steam through unscathed.
But Operation Pedestal also proved that the aircraft carrier, operat-
ing under such conditions and in such limited areas, is a very ques-
tionable item of naval equipment. We must consider that today the
U. S. Sixth Fleet, with its major carrier force, is still attempting to do
just that operate in an area that can be harassed by shore-based air-
craft, and in an inland sea that has a very limited field of action.
Great Britain's carrier force encountered similar problems in con-
voying supplies to Russia. In this instance the Germans had military
bases in northern Norway from where they could deploy aircraft, sub-
marines, and surface ships. Again, it was a matter of winning com-
mand of the air before the convoys could pass through safely. In the
northern waters the situation was intensified by the determined ef-
108 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
forts of the U-boats that were a far greater menace than the Italian
submarines encountered in the Mediterranean.
Another point, sometimes overlooked, is the fact that although a
fleet carrier was generally included in the escort force of heavy ships,
an additional escort carrier accompanied the convoys in the latter
months of the Russian supply run. The heavy escort force could not
remain with the convoy once it had passed the Bear Island-Tromso
line, since such a force would be running an unjustifiable risk. Also,
the heavy force had to operate a long way south of the convoy route
so as to be within air-striking range of any German capital ships that
dared to leave their Norwegian bases.
A typical Russian convoy, listed as P.Q.iS, sailed from Loch Ewe,
Scotland, on September 2, 1942, and arrived off Iceland five days later.
The following day it was joined by its ocean escort for the run to
Murmansk. This force included the escort carrier Avenger, another
of the Audacity class, that carried twelve Sea Hurricanes and three
Swordfish.
Cloudy weather afforded some cover during the first few hours when
the convoy was well to the westward, and enemy aircraft were evaded
for some time, but this cloud condition was a back-handed assist, for
it prevented the fighter pilots aboard Avenger from getting in any
take-off and interception practice. This turned out to be tragic in the
final disaster. When the first enemy attack developed on September
12, the Sea Hurricanes mistakenly concentrated on the aerial shad-
owers and allowed some forty to fifty Heinkel 11 is torpedo bombers
to slip through. These very efficient aircraft each carried two tor-
pedoes, and before they were spotted and driven off, eight merchant
ships had been sent to the bottom. Only one Heinkel was destroyed.
The next day Lady Luck transferred her largess, for the commanding
officer of Avenger devised a new plan. Only two Hurricanes were kept
in the air for the routine patrol, and were recalled at short intervals to
refuel, so that when the opposition turned up the Hurries in the air
would still have enough fuel to engage and carry on the pattern of
combat. The main force of fighters was kept aboard the carrier and
sent off only when the big-scale attacks materialized; the two in the
air were considered sufficient to deal with the shadowers and to harass
any small attacking forces.
On this day, the thirteenth, two very heavy attacks were experi-
enced, one composed of twenty-two and the second of twenty-five
Heinkels. Added to this were two high-level bombing attacks, but in
TARANTO VS. MALTA 1O g
each case the Hurries broke into the enemy formations as they ap-
peared, scattered them, and discouraged any preplanned attack. Only
one merchantman was sunk.
The next day more than seventy enemy bombers made a long-
drawn-out attack on the convoy, but no surface vessel was sunk. The
manner in which the Hurricane pilots fought will be realized by the
fact that more than forty German aircraft were shot down over Sep-
tember 13-14. More went down to antiaircraft guns of the escort. Only
four British fighters were downed, and the pilots of three of these
were rescued.
Many naval authorities consider that it was this convoy that proved
the turning point in the anxious North Russian operations. The con-
voy that preceded it, P.Q.iy, had been cut to pieces with dreadful
losses. The adoption of an escort carrier in the close screen, had, after
that first unfortunate day of P.Q.iS's trip, proved to be the resound-
ing answer to the attacks by German torpedo planes. The fighters car-
ried by Avenger had been sufficient to attain a reasonably decisive
state of command of the air above the immediate convoy route.
The submarine wolf packs that had made the initial contact on Sep-
tember 10 and had shadowed the convoy from then on, could score
only very minor successes. They sank three ships, but lost three of
their own force. The three Swordfish aboard Avenger flew determined
antisubmarine patrols and kept the U-boats deeply submerged during
the daylight hours. On a few occasions the enemy submarines were
attacked with depth charges, and in one instance a Swordfish led
H.M.S. Ondcnv, an escorting destroyer, direct to a U-boat that proved
to be U-88. It was sunk then and there.
An interesting assignment assumed by a number of British convoy
carriers took place during April 1944, and although this is reaching
into the future, it may be well to present the incident here to show
the many phases of the North Russian operations.
The German battleship Tirpitz had been damaged by a number of
British midget submarines and was lying in Kaafjord on the northern
tip of Norway while repairs were made. At the same time, a convoy
to Murmansk was being run and in the convoy screen was the famous
battleship Royal Sovereign that was being lent to Russia to replace
one of the damaged Italian battleships that fell to her share after the
Italian Fleet surrendered.
Since it was believed that Tirpitz was again operational and likely
to appear at any time as a threat to Roy<d Sovereign it was decided to
110 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
keep the German battle cruiser fully occupied in repairing further dam-
age.
Kaaf jord was too far for British land-based bombers to consider, and
it was apparent that only the Fleet Air Arm could hope to make such
an attack. Since these aircraft carried comparatively small bombs, there
was no thought of actually sinking her. If she could be immobilized
for a time, that was as much as could be expected.
As the time for the convoy form-up drew near, six escort carriers,
Victorious, Searcher, Fencer, Pursuer, Furious, and Emperor, under
command of Admiral Sir Michael Denny, gathered for the strike. In
all they carried forty-two Barracuda torpedo bombers and eighty fight-
ers. They reached their fly-off position before dawn on April 3 and the
planes were in the air before any light appeared. Once at altitude and
near their target, it was obvious that Tirpitz had been well tucked
away. Kaafjord was a difficult area to attack from the air. The anchor-
age lay in the protection of the steep sides of the fiord, a situation that
made it impossible for a torpedo-carrying aircraft to fly in low enough
for a proper attack. But by the same token, the surrounding mountains
shielded the incoming planes and filtered out the sound of any ap-
proaching enemy. To some extent, there was hope for a complete sur-
prise attack.
Darkness spread across the Norwegian ranges, but the sky was be-
ginning to lighten. The prediction had been for calm weather and a
promise of a fine, sunny day later on.
Inside Kaafjord the Tirpitz was preparing to run a steaming trial in
nearby Altenf jord, and the gate in the antisubmarine net defenses had
been opened to allow her to sail through. There was some under-
standable pleasure and excitement aboard for this was the first time
Tirpitz was to move under her own power since she was damaged by
the British midgets, and it probably seemed that the long, shameful
period of immobility was over.
Everything was quiet across Kaafjord, the sun began to gleam
through slits in the early morning sky, the water was flicked into tiny
ripples by a delicate spring breeze, and the prospects of war action
must have seemed a long way off that lovely April morning.
Suddenly, the tranquillity was shattered as an aircraft appeared over
the top of the surrounding high hills and came down in a screaming
dive not just one, thoughothers followed in at top speed from all
directions and all were converging on the convalescent battleship. The
concerted roar of airplane engines was broken into streaks of ear-
TARANTO VS. MALTA 111
splitting sound by the explosions of bombs, the crash of antiaircraft
guns and the detonation of shells.
Tirpitz was not to carry out her steaming trial that day. Her guns
were manned too late. All that happened to her occurred before any-
one on board could realize what had taken place. One minute she
was safe and secure at anchor, a few minutes later she was battered
by a fleet of impudent Barracudas. Another minute they were gone,
and the noise had died away. A second striking force of twenty-one
aircraft came in to mop up, but found the fiord full of smoke and so
had to drop its bombs blind. That attack was also over within a min-
ute, and Kaafjord returned to its accustomed peacefulness.
Apart from the damage caused by several near misses, the proud
Tirpitz had received fifteen direct hits. Although unable to pierce her
armored lower deck, the 500 and looo-pounders had destroyed the
upper works and vulnerable areas, a big fire was started amidships,
great bulkheads were shattered, steam pipes severed or fractured, and
a large area of the upper deck ripped open. More than three hundred
of the ship's complement had been killed and twice as many wounded.
Tirpitz was a doomed warrior from that day on, and the success of
this raid encouraged the planning of others. On July 17 the Fleet Air
Arm was in Norwegian waters once more with the carriers Formi-
dable, Indefatigable, and Furious. These flat-tops launched forty-five
Barracudas that were escorted by fifty fighters, but after her beating
of April 3 it was found that Tirpitz was taking no more chances; a
series of lookouts had been established, and a radar station erected
on a nearby mountain and when the Barracudas turned up Kaafjord
was full of artificial smoke that sheltered Tirpitz. The bombers aimed
at the area from which antiaircraft fire was gushing, but admittedly
made no hits. The battleship suffered only superficial damage from
splinters and near misses.
The British were not to be denied and struck again one month
later. The same three carriers were involved, but this time they brought
along Nabob and Trumpeter, two escort carriers. In order to defeat
the smoke screen, it was decided that the attack should be made con-
tinuously on the assumption that the smoke pots would be exhausted
eventually, and the antiaircraft crews too weary to carry out their load-
ing and firing sequences.
The series of strikes began on August 22,, and, to the surprise of
the Barracuda crews, they ran into an antiaircraft barrage when they
were more than twelve miles from the fiord. It turned out that the
112 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
Tirpitz was firing her main batteries and that the gunnery was being
controlled from an observation post set on top of a mountain. By the
twenty-fourth, the attackers were making a wide sweep on the way
in, and then nosing down for the attack from the south. This day they
struck the famed battle cruiser again this time with a looo-pound
bomb that bounced off the bridge, penetrated the upper deck and
came to rest on the lower armored deck directly behind the main
switchboard, but the bomb failed to explode and quick action by two
petty officers who dismantled it, prevented an explosion that would
have put Tirpitz out of commission for months.
Still, the carrier airmen begged to go again. On August 25 they went
out once more, but were frustrated by the heavy smoke screen and
after they returned, all the carriers were ordered out of the area. That
morning Nabob had been hit by a torpedo, indicating that U-boats
were in the area.
From this point on, escort carriers worked with the Russian con-
voys throughout the rest of the campaign, and losses continued to
diminish. The initial success of Avenger in the close escort pattern had
provided an important factor in convoy defense. German aircraft were
held off, and Hitler's heavy ships were no longer a threat, particularly
after Scharnhorst had been sunk by a British force off the Norwegian
coast, and now that Tirpitz was immobilized, for after that looo-pound
bomb hit, Admiral Doenitz had issued an order that in future Tirpitz
would be used merely as a floating battery for the defense of north
Norway, since it was no longer possible to keep her in a seagoing con-
dition. It is interesting to note that although the British stated that
they had used only 500- and iooo-pound bombs, Admiral Doenitz
claimed that Tirpitz had been struck by a six-ton bomb.
The U-boats were still a menace, but the combination of air cover
and fast work by the destroyers, kept them well in hand, and in the
final capitulation it was agreed that the Fleet Air Arm contribution
to the escort proved to be the key to final success. The aircraft car-
rier combined the role of fighter and antisubmarine patrol. Their
American-built Martlets furnished the fighter defense while Swordfish
and Grumman Avengers, TBF-is, combined with the surface escort
were more than enough to keep the U-boats at bay.
As in the Mediterranean convoy problems, it was again demon-
strated that command of the sea was not enough, that it had to be
combined with command of the air above before the supplies could
TARANTO VS. MALTA 113
be moved with security. In each case the over-all result showed that
naval aviation as an adjunct to the flexibility and striking force of sea
power, had a remarkable influence even on the less spectacular duties
of the naval war.
CHAPTER IV
THE GREATEST CARRIER
ATTACK
THE JAPANESE attack on Pearl Harbor, December 7, 1941, was more
than a military setback for the United States; it also afforded several
dramatic surprises. That a small island nation, presumably holding the
short end of a 5-5-3 naval ratio set up by the Washington Conference
of 1921, could deliver such a devastating blow, left most of the world
gasping. That this attack had been made by carrierborne aircraft was
even more surprising. The public at large had not considered Japan
to be a power with particular leanings toward carriers, or the science of
carrier-deck operations. On the contrary, in the 19305 self-appointed
military experts had pointed out that most Japanese capital ships were
so badly built they were continually being remodeled, and her aircraft
carriers were "shapeless contrivances" in that the smokestacks were
trunked over the sides, and in no way resembled American carriers.
This "junkyard fleet" might be effective against river gunboats, but
no one in Japan would consider risking them against a first-class naval
power.
But the growth of the Japanese Navy between 1936 and 1941 was
phenomenal, once Japan had rejected the original Naval Limitation
Treaty that ran out in 1937. The United States and Great Britain en-
couraged this unprecedented activity by selling for scrap every out-
dated vessel that could be sailed into Japanese shipyards. In 1922
Japan had 547,000 tons of naval bottoms, compared to 1,400,000 tons
for Great Britain, and 1,100,000 tons sailing under the Stars and
Stripes. Nineteen years later Japan had almost doubled her naval ton-
nage, Great Britain had added but 37,000 tons, and the United States
had built up an extra 218,000 tons. By 1941 the Japanese Navy was
more powerful than the combined Allied Fleets in the Pacific. In ad-
THE GREATEST CARRIER ATTACK 117
dition, tremendous sums of money had been spent on its peacetime
upkeep, so that when sufficient excuse had been compiled, it was in
a high state of war readiness.
There was no particular naval tradition in Japan's background. In
her victorious war with Russia thirty-six years before, most of her
vessels had been designed and built in Great Britain, but Japan
learned a lot from World War I and soon began developing her own
naval shipyards, and encouraging the growth of private construction.
These government and private yards turned out many excellent ex-
amples of the trade, but made no attempt to mass-produce or provide
backlogs of strategic materials to replace eventual wartime losses.
Their earlier battleships generally were faster than their opposite
numbers in the United States Pacific Fleet, and Yamato and Musashi,
laid down in 1937 and completed early in 1942, were the largest and
most heavily armored battleships in the world. Each had a displace-
ment of 63,700 tons, or a full load of about 75,000 tons, an over-all
length of 855 feet and an i8.i-inch main battery.
World War I had given Japan a full taste of military might and
although she played no vital role in the conflict, she was able to put
men of all ranks into important technical areas where they learned
and copied all that Britain and the United States had spent millions
to perfect. Looking back, we now remember that many Japanese air-
men were trained by the Americans and British for what, no one at
the time troubled to ask. The Royal Navy's early experiments with
carrier-deck operations intrigued Japanese naval authorities and, once
the Armistice brought a halt to hostilities, they returned home and
quietly continued this interest in ship-based air power.
The treaty obligations prohibited Japan from building new carriers,
but early in the 19205 Raga and Akagi, originally kid down as battle
cruisers, were converted into aircraft carriers. They passed through
several experimental stages that gave Japanese naval constructors
plenty of experience and their airmen a deck or two from which to
develop naval air operations. By 1936 Japan was busy building new
carriers from the keel up, and at the outbreak of war she had ten, as
against eight in the United States Navy, only three of which were in
the Pacific.
Whatever the design or efficiency of the Japanese flat-tops, their car-
rierborne fighters the Zekes were the naval counterpart of the Zeros
proved a distinct surprise, and their Kate torpedo bombers more
than paid their keep.
Il8 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
However, in the development of torpedoes, the Japanese perhaps
provided their greatest surprise. Great Britain, Germany, and the
United States had had most disappointing experiences with torpedoes,
particularly in the design of various types of detonators, but as a result
of intense research between 1928-33 the Japanese first produced
an oxygen-enriched fuel, and eventually a completely oxygen-fueled
weapon. Their Type 95M2 24-inch torpedo had a speed of nearly 50
knots and a range of 5760 yards. It carried a i2io-pound explosive
charge. U. S. experts claimed later, after long study, that the Japanese
Type 93Mi torpedo could move at 49 knots and had a range of
22,000 yards. The best destroyer and submarine torpedoes that the
U. S. Navy had at the same period were 2i-inch weapons capable of
46 knots over 4500 yards. Japanese torpedoes could also be released
at altitudes up to 1000 feet from planes speeding at 250 knots or better
and not break on impact It has also been pointed out that the Japa-
nese Navy was most prodigal in firing practice torpedoes and could
improve them constantly, whereas the United States Navy had to
enforce strict economy when testing warheads and detonators, with
the result that the main faults of our torpedoes were not uncovered
until the Pacific war had been under way for many months.
Physical standards in the Japanese Navy were unusually high, the
training was thorough and realistic. From all accounts, their chief
naval school at Eta Jima on Hiroshima Bay was quite equal to An-
napolis, and the Japanese Navy, being smaller than their Army, was
able to keep the social standards of its officer corps relatively high.
Once the planned expansion was under way after 1930, it was neces-
sary to enforce national conscription to gather in the necessary man-
power, but comparative tables of 1932 show that Japan had on board
six battleships and four battle cruisers, only one thousand fewer men
than the United States Navy had aboard fifteen battleships. For in-
stance, her heavy cruisers carried an average of 692 men each, as
against 517 for the same type in the U. S. Navy. Each Navy had 72
destroyers in full commission, but the Japanese destroyers carried
9547 men, compared with 7773 on U. S. destroyers.
Practically all Japanese Navy training was performed in remote
waters where it would not be observed, and in inclement areas where
the men would be hardened by exposure to the elements not in semi-
tropical seas where fine weather prevailed. Japanese fleet organization
was changed frequently and every possibility tested out, but certain
general principles were adhered to. Everything, except the limited
THE GREATEST CARRIER ATTACK 119
naval forces in China waters, was included in the Combined Fleet.
This was divided into a Battle Force and a Scouting Force stationed
in home waters, a Blockade and Transport Force always alert for over-
seas operations, a Submarine Force, a Carrier Fleet, and two more
smaller fleets assigned to specific areas. Defense of the Mandates was
charged to the Fourth Fleet, based at Truk, and by mid-1939 a North-
ern, or Fifth, Fleet was organized to provide defense for the Kuriles.
The Combined Fleet also acted as the first line of defense or offense
behind which the smaller fleets could operate with some security.
As of December 7, 1941, the Japanese carrier fleet was composed of
five carrier divisions and had six fleet, or heavy, carriers, Kaga, Akagi,
Soryu, Hiryu, Zuikaku, and Shokaku available. The light, or escort,
carriers were Ryu/o, Hosfto, Zuzho, and Taiyo. Three destroyer divi-
sions of sixteen new vessels furnished the carrier screen. In other
words, the Japanese Navy had everything and was a worthy antagonist,
but it was badly handled by its higher command, and had no firm in-
dustrial base from which to draw its reserve requirements.
Since 1922 the bulk of the United States Navy had been in Pacific
waters on the presumption that the next war would be with Japan,
and with the knowledge that Nippon was the only maritime power
ever likely to challenge the United States. Any reference to the bulk
of the U. S. Navy of this period should be qualified, for by April i,
1931, there was not too much Navy to crow about. President Herbert
Hoover's administration had brought an economy wave and a ruthless
scrapping of materiel and ships.
There were 15 battleships, but only three aircraft carriers, Langley,
Saratoga, and Lexington. We had 18 cruisers, 78 destroyers, 55 sub-
marines, and 115 auxiliary vessels of various categories. Most training
was carried out in the Caribbean or off San Diego, and what foreign
service was experienced usually meant "seeing the world," or providing
good career background for officers, foreign travel, and exotic adven-
tures for naval families ashore as Admiral Samuel Eliot Morison has
succinctly put it.
By 1932 a revision of thinking took place and, during his first ad-
ministration, President Franklin D. Roosevelt proposed that the Navy
be built up to treaty strength and by 1935 it was, but no arrangements
were made to increase personnel. As a result all ships were being
operated at about 81 per cent of their required strength. Appropria-
tions were made on May 17, 1938, for several new battleships and
120 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
carriers, but by 1939 only the carriers Yorktown and Enterprise had
joined the fleet. Wasp was under construction and Hornet's keel was
actually laid. The battleships Washington and North Carolina were
well under way and four other battleships had been started. However,
treaty strength, as authorized in 1934, would not be attained until
1944. Navy personnel, up to 100,000 in early 1937, was increased by
only 10,000 over the next two years. More important at the time was
the lack of naval bases in strategic areas, but this lack proved to be
a godsend since the United States Navy had to learn to become self-
sufficient. Today, with high-speed tanker and supply systems, it no
longer relies on fixed bases abroad to remain active, but at the time
the failure to develop what bases we had meant a rapid withdrawal
of American sea power from the western Pacific when Pearl Harbor
blew up. In particular, the failure to develop Guam properly turned
out to be bitter and tragic; had the inherent strategic capabilities of
this largest of the Marianas been strengthened, the whole pattern of
the war might have been changed. It had long been known that the
Philippines were indefensible against a long-sustained enemy attack,
but tiie United States forces hoped to hold Manila Bay and its ap-
proaches while the Fleet fought its way there by, or through, the
Japanese-mandated islands, an operation that would take several
months. It was obvious that a strong air and submarine base in Guam
that would neutralize Saipan would be of tremendous assistance in
this defensive phase of the war. Holding Guam might have prevented
the Japanese southward thrust through the Philippine Sea.
Centuries from now historians poring through the preliminaries to
the attack on Pearl Harbor will probably disbelieve every word they
read. One or two may presume that they have come across something
by Gilbert and Sullivan; few will associate the ridiculous capers of
both sides as the preliminaries to one of the greatest naval attacks in
history.
For instance, Lieutenant Commander Suguru Suzuki, possibly the
youngest officer of that rank in the Japanese Navy, took a holiday trip
to Honolulu toward the end of October 1941 on board the Japanese
liner Taiyo Maru. But Taiyo Maru, although she was loaded with pas-
sengers, did not take the normal route to Hawaii, instead she sailed
north, steamed between Midway and the Aleutians and then cut south
to Hawaii. Taiyo Maru had taken exactly the same course the Japanese
Fleet was to follow in its crafty approach to Pearl Harbor some weeks
THE GREATEST CARRIER ATTACK 121
hence, but none of the passengers aboard questioned this strange way
of approaching the holiday islands of the Pacific.
Lieutenant Commander Suguru Suzuki did not join the festive
parties aboard; he huddled against the subarctic drafts off the Kuriles
and made reports in notebooks. He checked winds, barometric pres-
sures, the roll of the liner under various conditions, and noted that in
taking this inhospitable route Taiyo Maru did not sight a single
vessel.
Once in Honolulu Commander Suzuki ignored the pretty girls, the
beach parties, and the glamour of night life. He made more notes and
one day went out to the John Rogers Airport with pad and camera
and hired a plane to fly him over the many installations at Pearl Har-
bor. His money was good, he was very polite, and no one questioned
his intentions. After this very interesting afternoon Commander
Suzuki invited himself over to Hickam Field where he resumed an
almost-forgotten art course and made some professional sketches of
the hangars, runways, and other features of the base. No one ques-
tioned his being there; in fact, it has been said, he was invited to do
a rendering of the new arrangements set up in the fuel dump areas.
It might seem that in a military operation that was to startle the
world, these activities of young Lieutenant Commander Suzuki could
not be too important, but on his return to Japan, November 19, he
was whisked aboard the admiral's barge and taken to the battleship
Hiei, anchored off Yokohama. He opened his many notebooks, read
off his report, showed his photographs and sketches. On the strength
of all this, the ships of the Japanese Fleet slipped out into the night,
one by one. Admiral Jinichi Kusaka was satisfied that all would go well.
But there was another bit of history that encouraged the admiral
to proceed with this hazardous adventure. The night before, he had
received a letter from his housekeeper, explaining that in a dream she
had seen a Japanese submarine fleet score a surprise victory at Pearl
Harbor. How this old lady knew that any such venture was being con-
sidered, has never been defined.
While the thirty-two-ship fleet was heading for the balmy waters off
Honolulu, the personnel was completely outfitted with arctic clothing
whether this was part of the "cover" scheme, or because the assault
fleet was to rendezvous off the bleak Kuriles, is not known. They later
switched to tropical kit.
The Japanese attack was so well shielded and staged that Americans
still consider it a "sneak attack/' although the possibility had been con-
122 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
sidered for more than ten years. At sunrise on the morning of De-
cember 7 when the sky above Oahu was sizzling with enemy planes,
a luxury liner, fluttering with holiday flags, its passengers anxious for
the vacation beaches of Waikiki, steamed into the action area be-
lieving the U. S. Navy was staging a full-scale aerial spectacular for its
benefit. Roy Vitousek, a young Honolulu lawyer and amateur aviator,
was aloft for an early morning flight. The Japs took a gun-test shot at
Mr. Vitousek and punctured some of his wing fabric. He was so in-
censed over this unfriendly act, he decided to go home and lodge a
formal complaint. Another amateur airman, Robert Tyce, was stand-
ing on a small field near Honolulu and about to spin the prop on his
aircraft when a Jap fighter pilot machine-gunned him. Non-flying peo-
ple on the island turned over in bed and wished the Army or Navy
would not select Sunday morning to play their silly war games.
At 7:02 a U. S. Army private twenty-year-old Joseph L. Lockard of
Williamsport, Pennsylvania almost became a hero. He was on duty
before a new aircraft detecting instrument radar when he thought
he had identified a large formation of aircraft somewhere to the north.
His superior officer decided that the young operator was mistaken and
needed more instruction with the instrument, and no action was taken.
Fifty minutes later the first wave of Japanese raiders made their land-
fall over Diamond Head, and America was rudely projected into
World War II. The little yellow man of the Rising Sun, who had so
often been written off as a military airman, did a thoroughly proficient
job. When he left, Pearl Harbor was a shambles, Single-engined bomb-
ers wiped out Wheeler Field, Hickam Field, Schofield Barracks, Bel-
lows Field, Kaneohe Naval Air Station, and much of the U. S. Pacific
Fleet had gone to the bottom.
Arizona, California, and West Virginia were sunk, Oklahoma cap-
sized after the attack, and Nevada was seriously damaged. Maryland,
Pennsylvania, and Tennessee were badly damaged. The light cruisers
Helena and Raleigh were heavily damaged and Honolulu received
some damage. The destroyers Cassin and Dowries were badly burned,
and Shaw heavily damaged. The repair ship Vestal was damaged, the
minelayer Oglaga was sunk, the<seaplane tender Curtiss damaged, and
the auxiliary ship Utah, sometimes used as a target tender, was sunk.
The Hawaiian Operation was under the command of Vice-Admiral
Tadaichi Nagumo who finally had thirty-two vessels under his flag.
They steamed out of Tankan Bay in the island of Etorofu, Kuriles, and
THE GREATEST CARRIER ATTACK 12J
the last to weigh anchor was the great carrier Shokaku she was almost
late because of turbine trouble.
On the way out they ran into heavy weather, pounding seas, steady
gales, and at times the worst of fogs. The formation was maintained
fairly well during the day, but at night the tankers lost touch and had
to be herded back the next morning by the flanking destroyers. On
November 28 they tried refueling at sea, but the waves were so rough
it was impossible; the ships rolled, plunged, and bucked, and the great
black snakes whiplashed across the decks and cut down men or swept
small groups overboard. The discharged oil spread over the gangways,
decks, ladders, and companionways, and made footing most uncertain.
This nightmare continued for days and nights while reports from
Japanese agents in Honolulu made matters worse. At first it was un-
derstood that one aircraft carrier, the Enterprise, was anchored in
Pearl Harbor along with a beautiful display of battleships, Class-A
cruisers and destroyers. Later, it was reported that Enterprise and all
heavy cruisers had left the harbor.
As a result, there were several hours of indecision, or perhaps con-
cern. Why had the carrier and cruisers left? There was some talk of
calling of! the raid, but Admiral Nagumo had face to save and felt
there was no turning back. Nevertheless, all who were in the know
concerning the details of the operation spent a restless evening on De-
cember 6 when this intelligence was received. The men on the night
watch continued their weary vigil and lightened their task by listening
to Hawaiian music being broadcast from station KGMB less than four
hundred miles away.
The fly-off point, about two hundred miles due north of Oahu, was
reached about 6 A .M. that Sunday morning, for despite the long cruise
and continued bad weather, a neat job of navigation had been ac-
complished. The heavy cruisers had pushed on ahead and had cata-
pulted four float-fitted Zeros to reconnoiter the attack area. When they
reported back that the U. S. Fleet was indeed nestling there with all
the prize battleships at anchor, Admiral Nagumo knew his hour had
arrived. His carriers began launching their Kates, Nakajima-gzs, that
carried aerial torpedoes or high-level bombs. The Judy, Aichi-ggs,
equipped as dive-bombers, were followed by the Zeke, Zero-3 Navy
fighters.
To simplify the naval aviation nomenclature that will be used in
this book, it might be well to give a list of Japanese aircraft and the
topical nicknames that were applied by the U. S. Naval forces.
124 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
Betty Mitsubishi Zero-i, two-seater high-level or torpedo bomber.
Frances Nakajima PiY, two-seater land-based all-purpose bomber.
Hamp Mitsubishi Zero, two-seater Navy fighter.
Irving Nakajima JiN, two-seater night fighter.
Jake Navy, single-seater float plane.
Jill Nakajima B6N, single-seater torpedo bomber.
Judy Aichi D4Y, single-seater dive bomber.
Kate-Nakajima-97, single-seater torpedo bomber.
Val Aichi-99, single-seater dive bomber.
Zeke Mitsubishi Zero-3, single-seater Navy fighter.
Lieutenant Akira Sakamoto led twenty-five Val dive bombers to
Wheeler Field to immobilize the American fighter force there. Twenty-
six more Vals, under Lieutenant Commander Kakuichi Takahashi,
swarmed over Hickam Field, that he understood to be the main heavy-
bomber base of the U. S. Army Air Force, but a portion of this force
was diverted to Ford Island that was reputed to be a haven for Navy
fighters when they were not aboard ship. Whatever they expected,
they did a workmanlike job on their targets few American fighters got
into the air. When the dive bombers that were assigned to the battle-
ship force in the harbor went to work, they took their time, lined up
their targets and put on an unhurried display. In this particular task
forty-nine Kates that were armed with torpedoes, and forty others of
the same category flying as dive bombers, were led by Lieutenant
Commander Shigeharu Murata. As they raked the battleships, their ac-
companying Zekes intercepted and destroyed the few American fight-
ers that had scrambled into the air: The highly maneuverable Zeroes
made mincemeat of the U. S. single-seaters, and it was obvious that
the famed Brewster Buffalo had no right in the same sky with the
Mitsubishi fighter.
Chief Flight Petty Officer Juzo Mori of the carrier Soryu flew one
of the torpedo bombers against the U. S. Fleet in Pearl Harbor any
American battleship at anchor along the wharf of the Oahu Naval
Arsenal was his particular assignment. He related: "We dropped down
for our attack at high speed and went in at very low altitude. When
I was almost in position to release my torpedo, I realized that the navy
vessel at which I was aiming was not a battleship at all, but a cruiser.
I was flying directly behind Lieutenant Nagai who continued his tor-
pedo run on the cruiser, regardless of our original plan to attack only
enemy battleships.
"However, I did not expect to survive this engagement, since we had
THE GREATEST CARRIER ATTACK 12J
been given to understand we would encounter heavy resistance, and
I felt that if this was to be my last flight I wanted it to be against an
American battleship.
"To be frank, all the planes from Soryu did meet with an intense
antiaircraft fire, since the guns had been aroused by earlier attacks
from planes off Akagi and Kaga. My aircraft shook and vibrated with
the impact of machine-gun bullets, and despite my intention of switch-
ing from my path toward the cruiser to attack one of the battleships
near Ford Island, I was forced to fly directly into this curtain of op-
position. Because of this and the area topography, I steered directly
over the battleships and then went into a banked left turn. I knew
my approach had to be precise and determined since we had been
warned that the harbor depth was not more than thirty-four feet. Thus,
the slightest deviation in speed or height would send the free torpedo
plunging into the sea bottom, or porpoising above the water, and all
my risks would have been in vain.
"By this time I was flying like an automaton. My training was pay-
ing off and I was hardly conscious of any physical effort. I sat staring
at the altimeter. Three thousand feet! . . . Twenty-five hundred feet!
. . . Two thousand feet! . . . Suddenly the battleship stood out stark
and clear directly in front of my nose. It towered there like a mon-
strous great structure.
" 'Prepare for release/ 1 muttered to myself. 'Stand by!'
" 'Release torpedo!'
"I had so concentrated on this torpedo attack, I was in no way con-
scious of the enemy antiaircraft fire or the distracting roar of my en-
gine. I had eyes or mind for nothing but the release of my torpedo.
But apparently I had done everything correct and the instant I real-
ized the great missile had gone, I pulled up hard, my plane lurched
and faltered as more antiaircraft fire pounded the wings and fuselage,
my head snapped back with the shock and I felt I had been poleaxed.
"At the same time I somehow knew I would score. I sensed I would
make a perfect hit. I had to put my torpedo into a battleship. The
plane was still flying. Oh, that torpedo simply had to hit its target
I was positive I had released it at the correct instant.
"After launching the torpedo, I flew smack over the battleship and
then swinging into a wide turn I crossed over the southern tip of Ford
Island and then took a southerly course to conceal the position of our
carrier. This we had been told to do before taking off, I raced away
at top speed. I was so frightened my uniform was drenched with per-
126 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
spiration. The Americans were still firing heavy-caliber antiaircraft
shells at me and I was thankful to get well away from the area and
turn north for our carrier's position.
"For a minute or two I honestly believed I was free, in the clear
and would be attacked no more. Then suddenly there was an enemy
plane dead in front of me. I thought this would be my finish, for I had
no fixed gun aboard this particular aircraft, only a puny 7.7 machine
gun mounted aft that was limited to a rearward arc of fire. If I was to
go down now, I was determined to take this enemy airman with me.
I swung the Nakajima over hard with intent to ram, but the American
pilot was so startled by my maneuver, he went into a steep dive and
fled.
"I asked myself, Is this really war?' "
The level-bomber group was also specifically assigned to strike at
the battleships. They were armed with one 8oo-kilogram armor-pierc-
ing bomb each. In this case the level bombers as they were known in
the Japanese service, were guided to the target area by a special sight-
ing or pathfinder bomber, and their level in this instance was 3000
meters or about 10,000 feet. As they closed in American antiaircraft fire
opened up and the sky was clotted with grayish puffs. Land batteries
joined the defense work of the guns aboard the doomed ships. From
all accounts the accuracy was commendable, but the ammunition left
much to be desired.
The main force of level bombers was escorted by Lieutenant Com-
mander Shigeru Itaya from the carrier AkagL Itaya took the first of the
antiaircraft hate as he led the way in and his plane suddenly bounced
as though struck by some invisible club. He looked around to see what
had happened but then his radioman explained that the fuselage had
been holed and one rudder cable was damaged. Itaya ordered his
pilot to test it gently and on feeling a reasonable amount of control,
was evidently satisfied to carry on. Accurate control in this case was
necessary since they were expected to hold to a steady course as they
approached the target.
Within a minute or so they were approaching the "release" point
and Itaya concentrated on the formation's sighting plane to check the
instant its first bomb was dropped. At that point a muffin of cloud
floated between the lead bomber and the target. By the time this had
cleared Itaya realized they had overshot and the lead plane was bank-
ing slightly and turning toward Honolulu. He had missed the release
THE GREATEST CARRIER ATTACK 127
point and realized the whole formation would have to circle and make
another attempt.
While the level bombers orbited for another approach, a number of
others made their runs, but some had to make as many as three ap-
proaches before the target was in the clear. Itaya's force was about to
begin its second run when the crews caught a terrific explosion below
along the U. S. battleship row. A tremendous column of blood-red
smoke and flame rose about three thousand feet! Itaya believed it was
a direct hit on a ship's magazine, but later they learned that this hit
had been scored direct on Arizona and her boilers and forward
magazine had exploded with the impact of several other direct hits by
heavy bombs. As a result Arizona became a total loss and the shock
waves of this series of hits were felt aboard every plane of Itaya's
force which was several miles from the point of impact
They began the run-in once more but this time were met by con-
centrated antiaircraft fire. However, the lead bombardier had a clear
field and the others made the most of his example. All bombs were
released with resolute precision. Itaya, who was commanding the
force, could move about and he at one time lay flat on the catwalk
floor and slid open a peephole panel to observe the fall of their
bombs. He was able to follow four missiles down as they screamed
toward the harbor. The target was two battleships which were moored
side by side off Ford Island. The bombs straightened out, became
smaller and smaller and finally disappeared. The Japanese leader
clenched his fists and held his breath until he saw two tiny puffs of
smoke. He stiffened and screamed as he realized that two hits had
been made.
His armor-piercing bombs did not provide too much to record at
first. These were fitted with delayed fuses and Itaya knew they might
be well clear of the bombing area before they actually exploded. How-
ever, he was positive they had racked up two clean hits since there
were no concentric waves which ripple out if the bomb falls in the
water.
Actually, Commander Itaya's bombardiers did register two hits-
smack on the battleship Maryland but they must have been faulty,
since they did not inflict the damage expected. She was quickly re-
paired and made ready for service about three months later.
At 8:45 A.M., Lieutenant Commander Shigekazu Shimazaki in
charge of a second wave of 170 planes, ordered his force to attack.
This wave had taken off the deck of Zuihaka at 7:15, about one hour
128 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
and fifteen minutes after the first. They were now over the target.
Commander Itaya apparently stayed in the area to observe the man-
ner of attack and the results.
Shimazaki's second wave was composed of 54 level bombers all
armed with two 25o-kilogram and six 6o-kilogram bombs. Their tar-
gets were the American air bases. A dive-bomber group, led by Lieu-
tenant Commander Takashige Egusa off Soryu, was made up of 80
Type-go Vals, armed with 25o-kilogram bombs. Its original assignment
had been to attack American carriers, had there been any in the harbor.
Now Egusa's force had been ordered to select targets from among
the vessels which appeared unharmed or only slightly damaged. His
was something of a mop-up detail. Fighter cover was supplied by 36
Zeros, under Lieutenant Sasburo Shindo off the carrier Akagi.
As soon as the attack order was given, the fighters turned their at-
tention to the general strafing of Pearl Harbor and the airfields. The
dive bombers slipped in over the east coast mountains and nosed
down, following their leader whose plane was identified by a bright
red tail assembly. As they went in, the billowing smoke from previous
attacks swelled across the harbor and to some extent hampered their
precision runs, but the Kates, fitted out as dive bombers, persisted in
getting through and completed their mission.
The majority of Lieutenant Commander Shimazaki's level bomb-
ers that had followed the dive bombers in, concentrated on Hickam
Field, but the remainder attacked Ford Island installations and the
Kaneohe Air Base. These planes flew at about 6000 feet in order to
work below the gathering clouds, but in spite of this hazard none of
these aircraft was lost, although more than half of them returned
showing the effect of antiaircraft shrapnel.
By i :oo P.M. all surviving aircraft of both attack waves had returned
to the carriers. Of a total of 353 planes, only 9 fighters, 15 dive bomb-
ers, and 5 torpedo planes, including their crews of 55 officers and men,
failed to return.
As against these almost negligible losses, the greater part of the
U. S. Pacific Fleet had been destroyed or immobilized for many
months. What air strength had been based on Oahu was decisively
smashed, and Japan most certainly had control of the air for many
weeks.
But, according to some authorities, the Japanese were far from satis-
fied and in this first flush of victory they were for continuing the attack
in the same area until there was nothing left to pulverize. In particular,
THE GREATEST CARRIER ATTACK 129
most of the air crews were disappointed that they had not encountered
a single U. S. aircraft carrier, but even worse they had no idea where
they were. Most of them guessed that two and perhaps four were
somewhere south of Oahu with a cruiser force, carrying out some
routine exercise.
The consensus was that another strike at Pearl Harbor might draw
them in, and that, if instead of returning by the same route it had
come, the Japanese task force were to skirt the south of the Hawaiian
Islands and head toward the Marshalls, there might be a reasonable
chance of tracking down the American carriers. But there was one ob-
stacle to this plan. The Japanese tanker force was already heading for
a prearranged rendezvous on the northern withdrawal route and there
was no chance that they might catch up with the task force in time
to furnish the required fuel. As a result, the last hope of engaging any
American carriers had to be abandoned.
With the exception of a hurriedly organized force of the carriers
Soryu and Hiryu, supported by the cruisers Tone and Chikuma, and
two destroyers that were detached to support the invasion of Wake
Island, the main task force swung off for the Inland Sea and their
Hashirajima anchorage.
As Admiral Nagumo explained later, the initial attack on Pearl Har-
bor had been far more successful than had been expected, and any
further attack could not have augmented the damage to any great ex-
tent. At the same time, in spite of the surprise attack, U. S. anti-
aircraft fire had been more effective than anticipated, and to have sent
out the planes again without a complete examination of all damage,
would have increased aircraft losses out of all proportion to the ex-
tended damage.
Radio intercepts, on being interpreted, disclosed that about fifty
large-type aircraft were still operational on the islands, and since they
had no idea where the U. S. carriersand submarines were located,
it was wiser to retire. To remain within attack range of knd-based air-
craft was a hazard Admiral Nagumo felt he should not risk.
Once the over-all threat of Pearl Harbor had dissipated, some arm-
chair strategists in the United States found many faults in Admiral
Nagumo's decisions. They wanted to know why Japan did not imme-
diately seize Hawaii and use it as a base from which to carry their
attack to the American mainland. They ignored the fact that the pri-
mary objective of Japan's initial war strategy was to secure oil
resources. In itself, Pearl Harbor was of no strategic importance; the
130 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
destruction of the U. S. Pacific Fleet was their chief aim, and that they
accomplished. Their military resources were most limited, and oil was
the immediate goal.
Emperor Hirohito obviously had no ambitions to attack the con-
tinental United States; he had all he could do in aiming to take over
the more important Pacific islands and oil-producing areas of Southeast
Asia. What might have happened if Admiral Nagumo's task force had
found and destroyed four, or even two, U. S. Navy carriers, is inter-
esting to contemplate, but as it was, the fact that only Lexington and
Enterprise were based there and were not in the harbor at the time,
left one hollow of disappointment in the Japanese victory celebrations.
It is possible that our good fortune in having Lexington and Enter-
prise away from Pearl Harbor during this harrowing experience, saved
America's future in the Pacific. As long as some sort of a carrier task
force could be put to sea, Japan's position in the Pacific, despite her
victory at Pearl Harbor, was precarious. And with this in mind, the
more air-minded in the Japanese Navy labored on a new tactical doc-
trine for a sea engagement against this threatening carrier force, in
which they intended to amalgamate all air groups aboard the six avail-
able carriers into one powerful attack group; a winged force that would
strike this potential enemy en masse in overwhelming strength. The
operations officer on Admiral Nagumo's staff, the famous Commander
Minoru Genda, gave exhaustive thought and planning to this all-out
effort to destroy all U. S. Navy carriers, the continuance of which
eventually led to the invasion operations against Midway Island.
This scheme met with wholehearted approval, for it was the only
logical way in which to exploit the success at Pearl Harbor. The Japa-
nese staff was so enthusiastic about the idea that it was suggested
that the whole task force put into Truk to support the Wake invasion.
Instead, however, the main force returned to Japan where it was sensed
that the Japanese leaders were overly elated by the destruction of so
many U. S. battleships. It will be seen that although a few realized the
potentiality of the carrier, the old guard still considered the battleship
to be the Queen of the Seas, and any suggestion of a plan to trap the
flat-tops was considered only in the light of a harebrained adventure.
From the American point of view, Pearl Harbor, the first great car-
rier attack, was a revelation. Its planning, precision of action, and the
determination with which it was carried out, stunned the whole Allied
world. Although there were ninety-four ships of the U. S. Navy in
THE GREATEST CARRIER ATTACK 131
Pearl Harbor at the time, the enemy raiders picked out exactly what
they wanted. According to the official Navy statement issued by the
Commander-in-Chief, Pacific Fleet, the attack was carried out in five
phases.
C 1 ) 7 : 55-8:25 A.M. Torpedo and dive-bomber attacks on battleships
as well as strafing attacks on air bases.
(2) 8:25-8:40 A.M. A lull period.
(3) 8:40-9:15 A.M High-level bombing attacks on Pearl Harbor.
(4) 9:15-9:45 A.M. Dive-bombing attacks on Pearl Harbor.
(5) 9:45 A.M. All planes withdrew.
Within five minutes of the first torpedo attacks with special shoal-
water torpedoes released between forty and one hundred feet above
the water, the battlewagons were raked fore and aft by dive bombers.
Because the big vessels did not mount antiaircraft guns that could fire
over the bow or stem, these enemy aircraft got off scot-free. Their
machine-gunning killed or wounded dozens of men who were trapped
topside on the sinking ships. Within half an hour after the first tor-
pedo was dropped, Arizona was a burning wreck, Oklahoma had cap-
sized, West Virginia had sunk, California was going down, and every
other battleship, except Pennsylvania which was in drydock, had been
badly damaged.
West Virginia, which was eighteen years old, took seven torpedoes
in her side, four of which pierced the armor belt amidships when she
was listing heavily. To add to her travail, two bombs struck home, one
starting a serious fire. Fortunately, smart damage control measures
were taken, and the men who had been alerted as a Fire and Rescue
Party to aid when an explosion was first noted on a Ford Island hangar,
were uninjured. Proper counterflooding corrected a 28-degree list and
allowed her to sink bodily until the turn of the port bilge hit bottom
and prevented her from capsizing.
The Tennessee was moored inboard from West Virginia and was
protected from the torpedo attack, but she received two big bombs
early in the raid, the first of which landed on her center gun turret
and killed Captain Mervyn S. Bennion of West Virginia. The second
hit Number Three turret, pierce&the five-inch armor and exploded in-
side, thus keeping down the detonation. These bombs were actually
converted sixteen-inch armor-piercing shells that weighed between fif-
teen hundred and two thousand pounds.
Arizona, moored astern of Tennessee, suffered the worst beating
132 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
with the largest number of casualties, and became a total loss. She
was moored inside Vested, a small repair ship, and more than one hun-
dred feet of Arizoncfs bow protruded. As it was, Vestd took two direct
bomb hits that created serious flooding, but she got under way and was
beached on Aiea Shoal.
There was barely time to sound General Quarters and set up com-
plete watertight conditions when Arizona, was hit by several torpedoes
and bombs, one torpedo missed Vestd and struck below Arizorufs
Number One turret, then a heavy bomb landed beside her second tur-
ret, penetrated the forecastle and exploded in one of the magazines be-
fore that chamber could be flooded. The resulting explosion wrecked
the whole forward part of the battleship and flames soared five hun-
dred feet into the air. Rear Admiral Isaac C. Kidd and Captain Frank-
lin van Valkenburgh were killed when a second bomb went straight
down a smokestack and blew the engine room to bits. A third hit the
boat deck and the tripod mast. So quickly did Arizona explode and go
down, more than one thousand men were either burned to a crisp, or
trapped below and drowned. Before the raid was over the famous bat-
tiewagon had lost almost fourth-fifths of her complement.
The gallant work and quick thinking of Lieutenant Commander
Francis J. Thomas, who was senior officer aboard, saved Nevada. This
battleship was moored astern of Arfeoiw, but had no ship tied along-
side her, and, although she had taken one severe torpedo hit, Com-
mander Thomas decided to move her out of this target area. Chief
Boatswain E. J. Hill jumped to the mooring quay, cast off all lines,
while under heavy machine-gun fire, and swam back to Nevada just as
she was moving away. In the meantime the five-inch battery, under
command of Ensign Thomas H. Taylor, shot down one torpedo
bomber, seriously damaged another, and accounted for a third that
splashed into the water off Nevadffs port quarter.
In spite of the torpedo hole, some forty-five feet in length and thirty
feet high that flooded several compartments, Commander Thomas
maintained fine discipline and moved his command into a safer area,
but while directing the anchoring detail Boatswain Hill was killed
when he was blown overboard by a bomb.
A flight of Val dive bombers that was heading for Pennsylvania must
have noticed Nevada under way and concentrated on this battlewagon
instead. This time, things looked very serious for bombs were raising
\crazy curtain of water all around her, but two tugs moved in to
THE GREATEST CARRIER ATTACK 133
assist and hauled her clear of the main channel to a hard bottom at
Waipio Beach opposite the southern end of Ford Island. In addition
to the torpedo, Nevada received five direct bomb hits before the action
was over three officers and forty-seven men were killed or missing,
five officers and 104 men were wounded. Nevertheless, she was floated
on February 12, 1942, and after temporary repairs she proceeded to
Puget Sound. She finally rejoined the Fleet before December 1943.
Oklahoma never had a chance. She was moored outboard to Mary-
land, and before General Quarters could be sounded, or any counter-
flooding measures taken, she was pierced by three torpedoes. Her skip-
per, Captain H. D. Bode, was ashore, and the Executive Officer,
Commander Jesse L. Kenworthy, realized the situation was hopeless,
and after a short consultation with Lieutenant Commander William
H. Hobby, decided to abandon ship; the men were ordered to go over
the starboard side as Oklahoma rolled to her doom. Two more torpedo
hits went in above the armor belt, and the men were strafed by ma-
chine-gun fire as they crawled over the battered hull. High-level bomb-
ers drilled in more destruction, and Oklahoma did not stop rolling
until her big tripod mast touched bottom. When she came to a halt
she had tilted to 150 degrees with the starboard side of her bottom
and a portion of her keel above water. She lost 20 officers and 395
men, killed or missing, of the 1272 complement aboard, and two offi-
cers and 30 men were wounded.
Aboard Maryland, which was protected from torpedoes by Okla-
homa, Seaman L. V. Short had gotten up bright and early to address
Christmas cards he planned to send home from Hawaii. The furor
outside interrupted this holiday task, so Seaman Short went topside
to man a machine gun, and knocked down one torpedo plane before
it could get its "fish" away. Maryland was lucky; she took only one
fragmentation bomb that ripped up the forecastle awning, and a six-
teen-inch armor-piercing missile that entered the forecastle below the
waterline and exploded in the hold. Only two officers and as many
men were killed, and Maryland rejoined the Fleet the following
February,
The flagship of Vice-Admiral William S. Pye, California, was at the
southernmost berth in a particularly open area, and further burdened
by being the flagship, for according to testimony later issued by the
Bureau of Ships in its War Damage Report, California, while taut and
smart in general appearance, was hardly up to standard in readiness
and material condition. The "spit and polish" put on for the admiral
1J4 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
may have lessened the time usually given to more important material
inspections. According to Samuel Eliot Morison in his superb history
of this mortifying attack, six manhole covers to the double bottoms
were off, and the securing nuts of twelve others were slacked away.
Apparently, a routine inspection was to be made, but unfortunately,
the Japanese airmen fouled up the program.
In other words, the admiral's flagship was not ready for war and
"her watertight integrity was bad" with the result that her doom was
sealed from the minute enemy opposition appeared over the horizon.
Many of her top oflEcers were ashore and those left in command appar-
ently did not act quickly, for there was some delay in sounding Gen-
eral Quarters and setting up counterflooding measures.
At 8:05 A.M. two deep-running torpedoes hit California below the
armor belt, one aft below Number Three turret, the other forward of
the bridge. These were more than enough since the battleship, in the
Navy phrase, was "unbuttoned" and unready for any such emergency.
She began to list to port and although Ensign Edgar M. Fain made a
brave attempt at counterflooding, a ruptured oil tank and incoming
salt water deprived her of clean oil for the fuel system, and all light
and power were cut off. By 8:10 Calif ornicfs antiaircraft batteries were
firing, the ammunition being hauled up by hand, but at 8:25 a bomb
exploded below and detonated a large supply of antiaircraft ammuni-
tion that spread fire, blast, and wreckage. More than fifty men were
killed.
Meanwhile the damage control party restored power and water pres-
sure so that the worst fires could be fought and by 9:10 California
had four boilers available and was ready to move away. But before
Captain J. W. Bunkley, who had made his way back to his ship, could
give orders to unmoor, burning oil from the battleship to windward
floated ddwn and engulfed the stem. Orders had to be given to aban-
don ship, and the minesweepers Vireo and Bobolink moved in to give
aid and to fight the fire, but California could not be saved because of
her bulkhead condition. What pumping was done only "pumped
Pearl Harbor through the ship." She did not touch bottom until late
Wednesday night, or more than seventy-four hours after the initial
attack. She was refloated March 24, 1942, and she then proceeded to
the navy yard at Bremerton, Washington, under her own power, and
rejoined the Fleet in time for the Marianas operation in February
1944.
To winnow through the rest of the damage, ship by ship, airfield
THE GREATEST CARRIER ATTACK ^5
by airfield, would be only repetitious; it is sufficient to state that from
the Japanese point of view, they had scored an enormous victory, and
set up the triumphs they enjoyed at Wake, the Philippines, and
through the Dutch East Indies. Indeed, they almost put foot on the
continent of Australia. Coming at a time when the war in Europe was
still in the balance, the attack on Pearl Harbor was not only a military
triumph, but had formidable influence on morale throughout the
British Empire. At first, very little was told of the vastness of the at-
tack or of the huge loss suffered, but as the full import of the news
gradually seeped out, it was obvious that the Axis powers had been
joined by another apparently aggressive member. The British had
suffered the evacuation of Dunkirk, a painful episode at Oran, a real
threat of invasion, the torment of the bombing of Great Britain, and
the first Battle of the Atlantic, a dreadful carnage that had lasted for
seventeen months. There was still no promise that Britain would live.
Yet somehow, with this new and more terrible blow, came an un-
spoken belief that the battered Empire would come through. In spite
of the crushing blow suffered by the U. S. Navy, Prime Minister
Churchill said, "No American will think it wrong of me if I proclaim
that to have the United States at our side was to me the greatest joy."
Victory would come. Terrible forfeits would have to be made in the
East, and the end was a long way off. Many disasters, immeasurable
cost and grim trials lay ahead, but in Britain there was no doubt as to
the outcome.
In the years that followed, calm consideration of the attack at Pearl
Harbor afforded some irrefutable conclusions and some chauvinistic
outbursts. Admittedly, the Japanese began their war with a resounding
victory; with a single blow they knocked out a U. S. Navy battle force
and mopped up the available air-striking potential. Whether this raid
might have been better planned, depends on the reader's point of
view. Should they have concentrated on more permanent installations
at Hawaii, such as repair shops and dry docks? Should they have se-
lected the power plant and the tremendous fuel oil reserves in giant
tanks, that, according to Admiral Thomas C. Hart, would have set back
our advance across the Pacific much longer than did the damage to
the Fleet? This is a point to be argued for years, but it must be remem-
bered that whatever the Japanese did intend, they did kill 2403
servicemen and civilians, and seriously wounded 1178. The United
States Navy lost about three times as many men in this "surprise"
136 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
attack as the service had lost in two previous conflicts, the Spanish-
American War and World War I.
Whether Pearl Harbor was a "treacherous and unwarranted attack"
is a matter to be left to expert minds on naval warfare, but it is known
that such an attack had been suggested and written about by military
commentators for many years previous. That Pearl Harbor was an en-
ticing target, no one will deny, and since undeclared wars were and
probably still will bethe norm, it is somewhat bewildering to en-
counter the continuing charges that this was a day of infamy, that Pearl
Harbor was a sneak attack, and that it was in defiance of all rules of
humane warfare. So-called humane warfare went out between 1914-
18 when the Germans first used dum-dum bullets, saw-toothed bay-
onets, poison gas, flame-throwers, staged air raids against defenseless
cities, and sank unarmed merchantmen.
The Japanese attack at Pearl Harbor was a well-timed operation, one
made all the easier by the failure of U. S. military officials to take
acceptable precautions or to heed the obvious warnings. It should be
pointed out, also, that a carrierbome air attack is the most difficult of
all such operations to detect, simply because even a large fleet of ships
takes up a very small spot, particularly in the Pacific Ocean. The au-
thor has flown from San Francisco to New Zealand and Australia and
back, and in some ninety hours of flying did not see one vessel of any
kind. In the Jimmy Doolittie raid on Tokyo that followed the Hawai-
ian attack, not one of the planes that roared off the Hornet was noted
or reported until in sight of the target. And so it was, over the rest of
the Pacific campaign. A properly planned carrier strike would catch the
enemy flat-footed, time after time. Why, then, has the Pearl Harbor
strike been presented as a treacherous act by a treacherous foe? The
Japanese could hardly have been considered friends of the United
States. We had been at virtual warfare for several years, and it was
obvious that Nippon would strike the minute the opportunity arose.
She felt that we were overly committed through blood ties and Lease-
Lend to the British in their conflict with Hitler and Mussolini, and it
was now or never.
Whether the attack was a strategic necessity, as the Japanese have
claimed, or whether it was strategic imbecility, as many American mili-
tary experts have claimed, will long be contested; that the enemy
should have concentrated on permanent installations and oil reserves,
has more supporters, and hindsight informs us that from the political
point of view the attack on Pearl Harbor was disastrous.
THE GREATEST CARRIER ATTACK 137
Few Allied military authorities believed that the Japanese were ca-
pable of more than one offensive operation at a time, but the smoke
had not completely drifted away from Ford Island when they struck
at the Philippines and Malaya at the same time. Once these points
of military importance had fallen, they planned to move on Java, and
in the meantime Vice-Admiral S. Inouye's Fourth Fleet would be ex-
pected to take Guam and Wake. The Philippines were required for
political expediency and as a source of all-important copper. The size
of the islands and the limited forces defending them, made amphibi-
ous operations relatively simple and tactical surprise easy.
Only one aircraft carrier was available, since most of them were en-
gaged in the Pearl Harbor operation, but what air defenses were found
in the Philippines were quickly accounted for by medium Navy bomb-
ers and long-range Zero fighters. In most cases, American aircraft were
destroyed on the ground after they had maintained long, wearisome
patrols awaiting the enenr/s coming. What U. S. Navy cruisers were
available to meet the onslaught, retired to the south without challeng-
ing the Japanese covering forces, and thus the invasion of the Philip-
pines was added to the success at Pearl Harbor and other victories along
the Malay Peninsula.
At 3:00 A.M. on the morning of December 8, Admiral Thomas C.
Hart, Commander-in-Chief, Asiatic Fleet, responsible for naval op-
erations in this area, was awakened at his Manila headquarters and
advised by Lieutenant Colonel William T. Clement of the U. S.
Marine Corps that his radio operator had intercepted a message that
he knew was authentic since he recognized the technique of the
sender. It read: AIR RAID ON PEARL HARBOR. THIS is NO DRILL. This was
the first news to reach Admiral Hart, and he immediately drafted an
emergency dispatch to his Fleet: JAPAN STARTED HOSTILITIES. GOVERN
YOURSELVES ACCORDINGLY. By 4:00 A.M. Lieutenant General Richard
K. Sutherland, General Douglas MacArthur's Chief of Staff, was ad-
vised; General MacArthur also had not yet heard the news.
The Japanese carrier Ryu/o, then lying east of Davao on the island
of Mindanao, launched thirteen dive bombers at dawn. Escorted by
nine Zeke fighters they attacked the U. S. seaplane tender William B.
Preston, anchored in Davao Gulf. Two of her three planes were sunk
at their moorings a third was out on patrol an American pilot was
killed and one of the enemy dive bombers was forced down. The sea-
plane tender escaped without damage and steamed for a safer anchor-
age from where she could resume her flight operations.
138 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
Shortly after daybreak, fourteen heavy bombers of the Japanese
Army Air Force took off in bad weather from Formosa, arrived over
Baguio about 9:30 A.M. and bombed military installations. Eighteen
twin-engined light bombers struck Tuguegarao airfield in the north-
ern part of Luzon. At 10:14 Admiral Hart received official orders to
execute the war plan against Japan.
Although Japanese aircraft had already struck at Baguio, no word of
the action had reached Clark Field or the city of Manila. At 12:45
P.M., when all aircraft at Clark were down for refueling and the pilots
at lunch, a force of Japanese fighters, with medium- and high-level
bombers, turned up, and within a few minutes twelve Flying Fortresses
and thirty P-4O Warhawks were destroyed, and five more B-iys dam-
aged. The raiders lost but seven planes.
On December 10 the U. S. Army Air Force received a forty-five
minute warning that a number of enemy planes were approaching
from the north. Twenty P-4os and fifteen P-35S went up to intercept,
but these ancient birds were soon knocked out of the play by fifty to
sixty Zero fighters that were escorting eighty bombers. North of Ma-
nila these forces broke up and some of them worked over Nielson and
Nichols Fields and Camp Murphy, while fifty-four planes flew back
and forth over Cavite in leisurely artistic curves, dropping their bombs
at will Practically every missile fell inside the U. S. Navy Yard. Direct
hits were scored on the power plant, torpedo repair shop, dispensary,
supply offices, warehouses, commissary, barracks, officers' quarters, and
on several vessels anchored along the waterfront. From this point on
amphibious landings, and the eventual capture of Manila, were just a
matter of course.
At Guam matters were much the same, and most effort was de-
voted to getting American women and children off the island. Enemy
aircraft from the island of Saipan carried out most of the softening-up
process and supported the amphibious landing. The Japanese then
completed the airfield on Orote Peninsula, a project America had felt
too poor to undertake. This airstrip had an important role in the Battle
of the Philippine Sea.
Borneo, Hong Kong, and the Malay Peninsula landings were car-
ried out with the same precision.
But a few faint rays of good fortune glinted through the smoke and
debris of the Hawaiian operation. As mentioned, all shore facilities
were still operative and most available submarines were undamaged,
THE GREATEST CARRIER ATTACK
but more important, Admiral Husband E. Kimmers fast carrier forces
escaped since they were out on routine missions. The carrier Lexington,
under Captain Frederick C. Sherman, the heavy cruisers Chicago, As-
toria, and Portland, and five destroyers were 420 miles southeast of
Midway Island to which they were heading to deliver a U. S. Marine
Corps scout bomber squadron. The planes were to be launched from
Lexington about noon.
Instead, on learning of the air raid on Pearl Harbor, Rear Admiral
J. H. Newton who was temporarily in command, ordered this task
force back toward Oahu, and Admiral Kimmel directed it to rendez-
vous with Admiral William F. Halse/s force that was about one hun-
dred twenty miles west of Kauai, the northern island of the Hawaiian
group. Admiral Halsey had a carrier striking force built around the En-
terprise which had left Pearl Harbor on November 28 to deliver Ma-
rine Fighter Squadron 221 to Wake Island, and was now on it* way
back to Honolulu. Besides the Enterprise, under command of Captain
George E. Murray, Task Force 8, as it was known then, consisted of
three heavy cruisers and nine destroyers.
Rear Admiral Raymond A. Spruance flew his flag aboard North-
ampton but was in charge of this carrier force and on the morning of
December 7 launched a number of planes from Enterprise and had
them flown to Ford Island they arrived just in time to be wiped out
by the Japanese attack. Admiral Halsey's force was then about two
hundred miles west of Oahu, and although he regretted not being able
to engage the enemy, he was lucky, for Enterprise most certainly would
have been sunk.
A third carrier, Saratoga, commanded by Captain Archibald H.
Douglas, was off the coast of California, and along with the battle-
ship Colorado, then at Bremerton for overhaul, was ordered to report
immediately to Pearl Harbor as a nucleus of a third fast carrier striking
force.
Thus, if we concentrate on what was left of the U. S. Fleet, instead
of what had been lost, the situation appears less serious than it seemed
at the time. Naval strategists were so accustomed to evaluate naval
power in terms of available battleships, they often ignored the striking
power of the carrier force. What weakness might be listed, was in the
lack of aircraft to carry out a search for the Japanese Fleet. At Hawaii
we had only three PBY Catalinas, a dozen Marine SBDs and seven
utility aircraft of various types. The Army Air Force could muster only
four Flying Fortresses, eleven B-i8s, and about seventy-five short-
SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
range fighter and reconnaissance planes to search for and pursue the
enemy fleet.
In order to reinforce our Pacific Fleet, Admiral Ernest J. King, Com-
mander of the Atlantic Fleet, was ordered to deliver the carrier York-
town, with a full complement of aircraft and air crews, the battleships
New Mexico, Idaho, and Mississippi, and a destroyer squadron to the
Pacific. Three squadrons of land-based bombers were also to be flown
out.
Actual war was very new, and, as was to be expected, there was
some confusion, misjudgment, and service foul-ups in the first frantic
efforts to head off the enemy fleet. Alarms, excursions, and weird
theories were general rather than isolated instances. The immediate
decision was that Nagumo's force was steaming to the south since the
attacking planes seemed to have flown away in that direction. Then
someone remembered that two Japanese carriers had been seen at
Kwajalein most certainly these were the backbone of the enemy's
striking force.
The U. S. Aimy Opana radar station on the northern tip of Oahu,
which had been secured at 8:00 A.M. on December 7, began tracking
again by 9:00 and from its evaluation of the blips on its screens, the
attacking planes were heading north, but since no one was certain of
this interpretation, Navy headquarters was not informed. Admiral
Kimmel made a "logical guess/* that there was some indication of a
Japanese fleet northwest of Oahu, and he ordered the Enterprise task
force to "intercept and attack."
Even the famous "Bull" Halsey was unequal to attacking an enemy
whose composition and position were unknown, so nothing came of
that.
A new furor started when two Japanese carriers were sighted off
Barbers Point, only eight miles from the mouth of Pearl Harbor. The
cruiser Minneapolis intercepted this report and since she was smack
on the position, her commanding officer, Captain Frank J. Lowry, tried
to reassure the Commander-in-Chief, Pacific Fleet, by sending a mes-
sage: NO CARRIERS IN SIGHT. His radioman added to the confusion by
sending: TWO CARRIERS IN SIGHT. A flight of patrol planes roared out,
hoping for glory, but found only Minneapolis, and fortunately recog-
nized her in time and did not attack.
A Japanese carrier risked a radio transmission and someone took a
direction-finder bearing on the message. Such an instrument records
reciprocal bearings simultaneously that is to say, the direction-finder
THE GREATEST CARRIER ATTACK 141
operator must decide which is correct. In this case the enemy carrier
was actually heading 358 degrees, but the interpreter decided that the
opposite^ or 178 degrees, was more logical, and accordingly the enemy
was presumed to be due south. While this perplexity was being un-
raveled an airman from aboard Enterprise identified as an enemy
flotilla a number of light cruisers and destroyers from Rear Admiral
Milo F. Draemel's force that had steamed out of Pearl Harbor.
By now, Admiral Kimmel who had made one correct guess, was
completely befuddled, and decided that in all probability the Japa-
nese had attacked from the south and were retiring to Jaluit in the
Marshalls. More intense searching was carried out in areas to the west
and south of Oahu. Torpedo and dive bombers off Enterprise were
said to have started an attack on Admiral Draemel's light force, but
the mistake was recognized in time. Another air-striking force from
Lexington searched the southern area hoping to intercept the enemy
who was presumed to be heading for Jaluit.
There were no "successful intercept" reports for the Commander-
in-Chief, only the word of the first air attacks on Wake and Guam,
and the shelling of Midway by a flotilla of Japanese destroyers. Thus
ended that dreadful December 7.
Again, I am indebted to Admiral Samuel Eliot Morison for perti-
nent incidents that so clearly illustrate the story of a service scram-
bling from its hands and knees to fight back. On December 8, Rear
Admiral Wilson Brown aboard Indianapolis joined the Lexington task
force, TF 12, and took over from Rear Admiral John H. Newton. He
was advised that direction-finder bearings had indicated unidentified
vessels in the vicinity of Johnston Island, almost due west of Hawaii.
Float planes catapulted off cruisers could find nothing. The pilot of a
patrol plane flown off Johnston Island, reported an "encounter* with
an enemy carrier whose flight deck was "camouflaged to look like a
heavy cruiser," and a destroyer "with the rising sun painted on her
bows." Before too much damage was done, the camouflaged carrier
was found to be U.S.S. Portland, and the destroyer was U.S.S. Porter
whose bows had been chipped down in spots to the red lead base.
The unhappy Admiral Kimmel recalled the Lexington task force to
Pearl Harbor about noon of this day, and en route Rear Admiral Brown
was advised that Johnston Island was under attack, so he ordered his
cruisers to move in at twenty-five knots, and was preparing to launch
aircraft off Lexington when this report was corrected, and the course
for Oahu was resumed that night
!42 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
Not until kte that day, December 8, were the authorities at Pearl
Harbor convinced that the Japanese attack had come from the north.
True, Minneapolis had searched for twenty-four hours in northern wa-
ters, but she had been nowhere near the actual course of the enemy.
Dozens of depth charges were dropped on sportive porpoises, and
anxious lookouts spotted periscopes in every lace-fringed wave, but
just before dawn on December 10, Lieutenant Edward L. Anderson,
flying a Douglas Dauntless SBD, spotted the 2Ooo-ton, I-yo, enemy
submarine. He made an accurate dive-bombing attack that caused con-
siderable damage the boat was not able to submerge. Later that day
Lieutenant Clarence E. Dickinson, in another Dauntless off Enter-
prise, found the submarine surfaced with many of the crew and much
debris in the water nearby. He attacked with vigor and I-yo went to the
bottom.
Later that day Enterprise had a narrow escape when a lookout
spotted a torpedo track and the helmsman put the wheel over in time
to avoid being hit. At that instant another lookout sighted a submarine
just ahead as planes were being recovered. The destroyer screen roared
in and attacked with depth charges, but whether the target suffered
damage and had eventually to surface was not clear. However, a short
time later Sdt Lake City engaged a submarine with gunfire. The next
day, December 11, this submarine-torpedo routine was repeated, but
so far as was known no scores were recorded. On December 15 this
task force entered Pearl Harbor to refuel.
Neither U. S. carrier could engage Admiral Nagumo's, Hawaiian
Operation force on its way back to Kure on the Inland Sea of Japan,
and hard-headed realists agree that it was just as well; for Halse/s
and Brown's combined force would have had small chance against the
six carriers and the battleships of the enemy. Nagumo could have put
at least 350 planes off his decks, against a total of 130 carried by Lex-
ington and Enterprise. Both were saved to fight another day under
more equal conditions.
Such a day was not long in coming.
CHAPTER V
STRIKES AND
COUNTERSTRIKES
AMERICA'S course of action, following the Day of Infamy, had to be
planned with consideration for many possibilities. Little was known
of the enemy force that had delivered this staggering blow, but within
hours Guam had fallen, Wake Island was under heavy attack, some
of the Gilbert Islands had been occupied, and the possibility of an
enemy landing on Oahu could not be discounted. There was little air
power left, but it was hoped that by December 15 the Aimy would
have 114 bombers and fighters available. Some forty to fifty Navy
planes had been made operational, and the eighteen Marine scout
bombers, originally intended for Midway, had been flown back to Ha-
waii; but it was realized that, to maintain any defense^ replenishment
and buildup of supplies of all kinds would demand much fleet con-
voy-escort work.
The U. S. Navy decided to. employ three search-strike carrier groups,
of which two would be always at sea, while the third refueled at PearL
Battleships and destroyers were to be organized into escort groups for
trans-Pacific convoys the former were to be based in San Francisco
for wharf convenience and would be relieved at a specified mid-ocean
rendezvous by destroyer-escort forces working out of Pearl Harbor.
U. S. submarines sailed for offensive patrols in Japanese waters and
were ordered to keep a close watch around Wake and Midway. At the
same time, it was also needful to continue an intense patrol-search
with Army bombers and Navy patrol aircraft.
A Marine force that was hurried to Pago Pago, Samoa, an impor-
tant but lightly garrisoned U. S. Naval station, was loaded aboard four
transports and one fleet cargo vessel, accompanied by an ammunition
ship and a fleet oiler. This reinforcement sailed from San Diego, Janu-
SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
ary 6, 1942, and was convoyed from the U. S. coast by a new fast carrier
force formed around Yorfetowz, and commanded by Rear Admiral
Frank J. Fletcher. When they were a short distance off Samoa, the
transports were taken over by Admiral Halsey's Enterprise force, and
they steamed safely into Pago Pago by January 23. On that same day a
Japanese amphibious thrust, covered by Admiral Nagumo's carrier-
striking fleet, was made against Rabaul, New Britain, and was so
successful that the meager Australian garrison there was quickly over-
whelmed. From Rabaul, the Japanese extended their power along the
coasts of New Britain and New Ireland and gained complete air and
naval control of the Bismarck Archipelago. Rabaul effectively checked
any Allied advance in that quarter for more than two years.
Once Samoa was properly garrisoned, however, it was hoped that
carrier raids on Wake and the Marshalls would be next on the Ameri-
can agenda, but misfortune dogged these efforts at first, for Japanese
submarines that had performed miserably at Pearl Harbor, were revi-
talized by that victory and gave considerable trouble for a time.
Vice-Admiral Wilson Brown's Lexington group was given the task
of attacking Wake, but when it was 135 miles west of Pearl Harbor
his fleet oiler Neches was torpedoed and sunk. Since this force could
not proceed without refueling and no other tanker was available, Ad-
miral Brown's Wake strike had to be cancelled.
When Rear Admiral Fletcher was given the Yorfetown group, Task
Force 14, of which Saratoga was the carrier, was commanded by Vice-
Admiral Herbert F. Leary. On January 11, a torpedo fired by a Japa-
nese submarine struck Saratoga when she was about five hundred
miles southwest of Oahu. In all probability the torpedo was a deep-
running weapon for it was not sighted by any lookout. Six crewmen
were killed and three of the firerooms were flooded, but the carrier
reached her wharf at Oahu under her own power, and after temporary
patching went on to Bremerton, Washington, for permanent repairs
and some modification. Her air group was distributed among the
other carriers, or sent to training centers. Task Force 14 was then dis-
banded and Admiral Leary was given command of an Australian-New
Zealand force under organization in Wellington, New Zealand.
This particular Saratoga was the fifth U. S. Navy ship of that name;
the first was a post-Revolutionary War sloop of eighteen guns, the
second a corvette built in 1814, another sloop, Saratoga, was built in
1842, and in 1891 a standard cruiser named Saratoga came down the
ways but had many name changes until she passed out of service in
STRIKES AND COUNTERSTRIKE S 145
1938 as the U.S.S. Rochester. The carrier Saratoga was originally laid
down as a battle cruiser, as was her sister ship Lexington, but appeared
as a 4o,oooton carrier in 1925. After a long and honorable service in
the Pacific war she was disposed of in the atomic bomb test at Bikini
Atoll on July 14, 1946. She is not to be confused with today's U.S.S.
Saratoga CVA-6o, a heavy attack carrier.
A new assault was planned against the enemy-held Marshalls, and
by January 25 Admiral Halsey's Enterprise group was ordered to de-
liver a carrier-plane strike against Wotje and Maloelap, two enemy
seaplane bases. At the same time Admiral Fletcher was ordered to
take his Yorktown group to harry Makin, Mille, and Jaluit.
A reconnaissance of the archipelago was made by the crew of the
submarine Dolphin. On January 27 they reported that the entire
group of islands was only lightly defended and that the greatest con-
centration of shipping and aircraft was to be found at Kwajalein Atoll.
This news encouraged Admiral Halsey to take in Kwajalein also. The
new plans broke Task Force 8 into three groups with varied assign-
ments. Enterprise, screened by three destroyers, was to launch plane
strikes against Maloelap, Wotje, and Kwajalein, the heavy cruisers
Northampton and Sdt Lake City were to bombard Wotje, while
Chester, accompanied by two destroyers, was assigned to Maloelap.
Task Force 17, still under Admiral Fletcher aboard Yorfefoivn, es-
corted by the cruisers LoufcviZ/e and St. Louis and screened by four
destroyers, was to take care of the southern islands of the archipelago.
The U. S. Navy was in a position to strike back at last.
The full force sailed out of Samoa together and moved en masse
until 6:30 P.M. on the evening of January 31 when it broke up for
individual attacks. Enterprise put on thirty knots during the night and
Admiral Halsey planned to launch his aircraft about 4:45 A - M - on
February i. Wotje was 36 miles away, Maloelap about 106, and
Kwajalein, the most important objective, was some 155 miles over the
horizon. Everything worked well, except at the last minute, the navi-
gators discovered that they had no recent maps of the attack area;
what were available were leftovers from the Wilkes Exploring Expedi-
tion of 1840, and were useless in air searches for enemy bases.
The first group of nine torpedo bombers and thirty-seven dive bomb-
ers took off at 6:58, and the latter headed for the Roi air base at the
northern end of the atoll the torpedo bombers were slated for the
shipping believed to be off Kwajalein Island, about forty-four miles
across the main lagoon. Because of the primitive charts, the attack
146 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
against the air base was not a great success, for it was not found until
7:05 A.M., and while the bombers were cruising about in search of
the target, the enemy had time to fuel up, arm the guns, and get
into the air to intercept The antiaircraft batteries below almost had a
turkey shoot.
Lieutenant Commander Hallsted L. Hopping, the squadron com-
mander, had released one bomb when he was shot down by ground
fire. Three more of his planes fluttered down under the guns of Zero
fighters. At Kwajalein Island, ten SBDs, backing up the torpedo bomb-
ers, had better luck; the transport Bordeaux Mam, and a Japanese sub-
chaser were sunk, another subchaser, a river gunboat, and the net
tender Kashimar Maru were badly damaged, a minelayer, Nagata
Mdru, the 9240-ton transport Tokiwa, the light cruiser Katori, the
Kanto Maru an ammunition ship of 8600 tons, and a submarine tender
were damaged, eighteen Japanese planes were shot down or badly
damaged, and some ninety men, including the area commander, Rear
Admiral Yashiro, were killed.
Five Grumman Wildcats found the Taroa airfield at Maloelap, and
after raking over the hangars, hung around long enough to entice a
few Jap fighters into the air, and two Zeros were shot down in flames.
The Grummans then returned to their deck safely. Other fighters con-
centrated on Wotje while cruisers and destroyers bombarded the
shore. One report had it that Northampton and Salt Lake City had
put full salvos into some enemy warships that were making a retreat
from the lagoon, but nothing of importance was sunk, and only light
damage was inflicted on shore installations. In the meantime the SBDs
had returned from Roi, and at 9:35 were sent back. This time their
luck was better as they found and wiped off some new hangars and
other ground installations.
The U.S.S. Chester, flagship of a bombardment group assigned to
Taroa Island, was not so fortunate. On their arrival, eight twin-
engined Jap bombers ignored the bombardment, took off, and gave
Chester a warm reception. The cruiser dodged and turned, but one
light bomb penetrated her main deck, killed eight men and wounded
eleven others.
Admiral Halsey gave the operation all he had. He maneuvered about
in a very limited area for more than nine hours, and why Enterprise
was not attacked by submarines or high-level bombers is a mystery.
About 1:00 P.M. he decided to move out. It was none too soon, for
at 1:40 a Japanese twin-engined bomber tried a kamikaze and almost
STRIKES AND COUNTERSTRIKES 147
crashed on the flight deck of the Enterprise, but fortunately a young
aviation mechanic, Bruno P. Gaida, sensed what was happening,
jumped into the rear cockpit of a parked plane and opened fire with
a flexible machine gun. At the same time an alert helmsman put on
a "hard right" and the would-be suicide pilot was foiled; the aircraft
touched only the port edge of the flight deck and rolled harmlessly
overboard. At the height of this excitement two more Jap bombers
tried to get at Enterprise, but they were shot down with a withering
antiaircraft fire.
But what was going on at the southern Marshalls? Down there the
Yorktown, with St. Louis and Louisville, was concentrating on Jaluit.
Eleven torpedo bombers and seventeen dive bombers, under Com-
mander Curtis S. Smiley, were launched, but the flying men got only
good combat practice for the weather turned vile, thunderstorms
shielded the target and only two unimportant vessels off Jabor Town
were hit but not sunk. Very little shore damage was inflicted, but six
of Yorfef owi's planes failed to return. Nine SBDs attacked Makin Is-
land in the Gilberts shortly before sunrise, but the only target they
found there was a minelayer that may have been hit, but refused to
go to the bottom. A strike against Mflle was no more fruitful. While
these air strikes were being made, a f our-engined bomber attacked the
destroyer screen with no results, so it turned toward the Yorfefown,
not realizing perhaps, that Admiral Fletcher had a combat air patrol
aloft the f our-engined job was shot down.
With the report of the weather at Jaluit, and considering the cost of
the mission, Admiral Fletcher realized that a second strike against that
portion of the atoll, would mean a night recovery. Since his airmen
were not proficient in night flying, he decided to withdraw that after-
noon. It wasn't a particularly successful operation but it at least
showed that America was fighting back, and Admiral Halsey's courage
in striking into the core of the Japanese Mandates was a great boost
to the low morale at home.
Lexington, which was to be honored as "Queen of the Flat-Tops,"
experienced her first real wartime action in a strike against Rabaul
late in February. Vice-Admiral Wilson Brown, in command of a splin-
ter task force of which the Lex was the carrier, was given this assign-
ment as soon as it was realized that the Japanese intended to make
Rabaul a major base of operations. Australian reconnaissance patrols
showed daily arrivals of new transports and supply ships, indicating
SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
the enemy was planning a new move to the south. To make this at-
tack, Admiral Brown would have to steam round the southern end
of the Solomon Islands, sail straight up the passageway between the
enemy stronghold at Truk in the Carolines and this new Japanese
base at Rabaul. The idea was to reach a position along the northern
coast of New Ireland, a slender necklace of land swung across the
northern approaches to Rabaul. Success in this would mean that he
might be able to launch his air-striking force against Jap shipping in
the roadstead, with some chance of using the cover of his natural
shelter.
Early in the morning of February 20 Lexington had reached a
point 400 miles off her goal. Her long-range scouts were combing all
around the area for enemy patrols, for it was necessary to sail another
200 miles in order to assure a safe launching distance for the dive
bombers and torpedo carriers. If they had luck, eight more hours of
twenty-five-knot steaming should bring them to a jump-off area by
early afternoon.
Trouble was promised when a scouting plane reported that a Japa-
nese spotter had been shadowing this fleet. Captain Frederick C. Sher-
man sent up two pairs of fighter aircraft to eliminate the snooper.
To do this effectively, he had selected Lieutenant Commander John
S. Thach to lead this flight. Thach took Ensign Edward R. Sellstrom
as his wing man. The second pair of fighter pilots were Lieutenant
Onia B. Stanley and Ensign Leon W. Haynes.
But the prospects for interception were not too good. The area was
clotted with cumulus clouds, heavy tropical rain squalls, and some
nimbus cloud pattern was developing. Thach's duo had to climb
through this murk but once they all broke through, the pairs split up
and both began a systematic combing of the area. Thach was the for-
tunate one for he was the first to spot a big four-engined Kawanishi
flying boat as it passed through a slit in the clouds. It might have
been hard to miss since she was a copy of a French transport originally
designed for passenger and mail service between Dakar and Brazil. She
was even bigger than any of the Pan American Airways trans-Pacific
Clippers of those days.
Thach tipped off his wing man and together they both went down
and trapped the big flying boat well in the clear at the 5ooo-foot level.
The Japanese pilot apparently saw them too, for he soon darted into
a nearby cloud bank. Thach had a good idea where the enemy was
and he set up a systematic survey of the cloud edges. It was good
STRIKES AND COUNTERSTRIKES 149
planning for they were also using the thin fringe vapor as a screen for
themselves.
In a few minutes the big Kawanishi appeared in the rain directly
below at about 1 500 feet
This time Thach gave the Jap pilot plenty of time to get well clear
of any other possible cover and when he had moved beyond his point
of no return, Jimmy began his pass. He was still at long range but
the Kawanishi gunners began firing and their tracer was zipping and
sparkling all around Thach. At the distance it was obvious the enemy
was firing a 20 mm. cannon which could cause plenty of damage.
However, the two Americans continued to bore in and then Thach
made his firing run and almost immediately he realized he had hit a
fuel tank, for gasoline was spuming astern. Both fighter pilots turned,
came back and started a second run from the opposite side, but by
then the big plane seemed to be firing guns of many calibers from
five or six ports.
On the second pass Thach's slugs started a real fire and the
Kawanishi was in dire trouble. Great white sheets of flame spread out
behind and as if to wriggle clear the flying boat began to spin down
for the sea. One dedicated gunner in a rear turret continued to fire
at his tormentors, for he was game to the last. His bullets came whip-
ping across the smoke-stained sky and he only surrendered when the
big flying boat finally piled up in the sea.
Thach figured he'd had a day and was ready to return when another
scout reported there was a second enemy plane higher up. Thach and
Sdlstrom went back hoping for another kill when a message from
fighter control aboard Lexington told them the second had been dealt
with. One of Lexington's scouts had taken care of him and there was
a rather funny story connected with the fight.
The scout plane which may have been a mile or so an hour faster
than the Kawanishi flying boat, put on a memorable show. At level
flight the carrier pilot could gain slightly, but when he tried to climb
up to the enemy's level he would lose distance. There was nothing
to do but to creep up and try to get well under him and still maintain
comparative speed. Once this position was gained the Jap crew
opened a bomb door and began firing down with light machine guns.
The scout's rear gunner, taking up this challenge, opened fire with
twin guns, aiming straight up and in a second or two, evidently scored
on a fuel tank. The Jap flying boat began to bum beautifully,
On returning to their carrier, the fighters refreshed themselves, and
1JO SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
their planes were serviced for the afternoon's operations. Knowing
that, although two shadowers had been shot down, one of them must
have advised its base of the approach of the American task force, Ad-
miral Brown persisted with his plan and kept steaming toward his
objective. Captain Sherman aboard Lexington was not too happy with
his situation, but he planned for any eventuality; his fighter and scout
squadrons were disposed where they could offer the most help to give
maximum strength if any formations appeared. The fighters orbited
within twenty miles of the carrier, but the scouts went out much
farther.
It was on this day that Lieutenant Edward H. O'Hare, who became
known nationally as "Butch" O'Hare, shot down five Japanese air-
craft and damaged another. When the first enemy planes were
sighted, all the fighters were either in the air or spotted on the deck
for launching. Commander Thach had six of his pilots at the ten-
thousand-foot level, and another flight of six was about to go in to
refuel. They were recalled quickly, and all re-f ornied to meet nine twin-
engined bombers that were approaching in three V formations.
They were land-based planes, Mitsubishi OB-gys, capable of better
than three hundred miles per hour. Commander Thach declared that
they were almost identical with the U. S. Army's Martin B-26s. They
had guns in the upper turrets, as well as fixed nose guns, and ao-mm.
air cannon.
In a running fight from a position about twelve miles away from
Lexington, Thach's force shot down six of them, and the enemy
eventually moved into range of the carrier's antiaircraft guns, but the
Navy fighters stayed with the remaining three OB-gys. Two that were
damaged by Thach's men were finished off by the ship's gunners, and
the remaining one, also crippled, turned away and started to return to
its base.
Then a second enemy formation came into sight and six Grummans
on the deck were launched to take care of them. This flight, led by
Lieutenant O'Hare, was to replace the one that had been going to
land when the first enemy formation appeared. O'Hare and Thach
had to collect their forces that were scattered all over the sky, to put
on a defense against this second nine-plane attack. The instant the
enemy was spotted O'Hare and his wing man went into action, but
on testing his weapons, O'Hare's companion discovered they would
not fire, and realizing that he might be more of a liability than an
STRIKES AND C OUNTERSTRIKES 151
asset, he turned away and flew back to have his guns, or interrupter
gear, adjusted.
Thus O'Hare went into this action minus his wing man but there
was no time to call in another. The Japs were moving up fast and
someone had to stop them. In his first pass he took on the two trailers
in the last V. He was really "on" for he had to pull up sharply to
avoid a cloud of debris. He had aimed at the starboard engine in each
plane and had kept his guns going until the Jap engines leaped right
off their bearers.
With that Butch crossed over to the other side of the formation,
and this time he aimed at the port engine of the nearest plane and
was gratified to see that power plant jump out. The enemy skidded
violently, rolled over and began to fall away, so O'Hare left him to his
fate and went back and started firing at the trailer of the middle V.
But he continued to aim at engines.
To his amazement, the same thing happened again. He can be ex-
cused if he decided that all one had to do to score was to put a fistful
of .jo-caliber slugs into an engine, and something magic took place.
The engine of this fourth plane fell straight through the wing and
then she began to burn.
By this time, the Japs, still maintaining some formation, were right
on top of their release point. In spite of O'Hare's success the fun was
over and the chips were down. These bombers had to be stopped some-
how. Butch counted five of them maneuvering for position so he fired
at the nearest until he fell away, completely out of the play. He had
little ammunition left, so he snap-shot at the remainder until his guns
stopped firing. When, by instinct, he checked his clock he was amazed
to find that all this had happened in actually four minutes. Four min-
utes, five Japs a reasonably fair deal!
TTiach and his team had not been as close as O'Hare, but now they
were in a position to take over. They could see Butch making his per-
fect attack runs, and realized that his shooting must be deadly, for at
one time there were three blazing 06-978 tumbling down the sky,
dragging plumes of saffron flame. Thach knew O'Hare was a compe-
tent workman but how he had lived through the curtain of fire the Jap
gunners had put up was a miracle. Every time he moved in, the
top turret guns would open up from every plane. They could see the
enemy tracer sparkling all around him. He was flying like a moth dar-
ing a hundred candle flames.
Just as O'Hare knocked off his fifth victim, Thach's brood moved
152 SQUADRONS OF THE S-EA
within range and took over. They shot two more to wreckage, and the
last two staggered away, losing height fast. These were all O'Hara had
left for them.
Back aboard Lexington another drama was being enacted. While
O'Hare, Thach & Company were beating up the opposition, a lone
Japanese flier was attempting a Die-for-the-Emperor act. The pilot of
the leading plane of the first formation had been hit early and had lost
an engine; and he decided to go out in a blaze of glory. Instead of
limping back to his base, he turned around and tried to attack Lexing-
ton. It took considerable courage and some skill to maintain control
of his damaged aircraft.
He was first noticed coming in with his starboard engine wide open
and screaming, aimed like a javelin for the carrier's stern. He had to
pass over the destroyer screen guns and then risk the cruiser line. He
was losing altitude fast and was a give-away target for the gunners;
everything from five-inch rifles to mere .3<>caliber machine-gun fire was
poured at him, but to everyone's amazement he continued to come
on, staggering, stumbling, apparently held up by his own boot straps.
When he was down to the three-hundred-foot level he was actually
bulling his way through a curtain of i.i-inch and 2O-mm. fire from
Lexington, doggedly boring on until at last the hail of steel was too
much. The pilot was evidently hit severely; his reflexes snapped him
back hard, the nose of the suicide plane jerked up, and the craft began
to lose flying speed. By the time it was within two hundred yards of
Lexington's deck lip, it stalled out completely, the nose dropped, and
it fell off into a steep dive straight into the sea. There was a column
of green-white water, a greasy pillar of smoke, and a little debris to
mark where it went in.
This general encounter with Japanese Army pilots taught U. S. Navy
men much about their adversaries. The Japs had worked with skill and
determination, and although both formations had been worked over
before they could get into position to do their bombing, they had
courageously continued their run-in, and did not release their bombs
until they were falling in flames. Not one attempted to leave his burn-
ing plane by parachute. Whether they had these safety silks, is not
known, but there is no question as to their bravery or loyalty.
It had been a good day for the airmen of Lexington. In addition to
the two snooper flying boats destroyed that morning, sixteen of eight-
een bombers had been shot down in the afternoon two of these
were credited to the antiaircraft gunners on the carrier. It might be
STRIKES AND COUNTERSTRIKE S 153
added that at the height of the "fun/' Commander Arthur J. White,
senior surgeon, and his assistants performed an appendectomy in the
operating room. It was a success, but it did prevent the operating
staff from viewing the more exciting activities aloft.
It was still an uphill battle. With the few wisps of success came
continued reverses, minor and serious. When Java fell before the power
of the Japanese Fleet in the Netherlands East Indies waters, Marshal
Archibald Wavell, in charge of the British land forces, still believed
that if sufficient Allied aircraft could be brought in, we might be able
to hold the line, but after the enemy captured the island of Timor,
fighter aircraft could be brought into the Java area only by sea.
Valuable carriers could not be risked, but it was agreed generally
that the United States aircraft tender Langfey, a thirty-three-year-old
ex-collier, might conceivably do the job. Although she had been con-
verted to a carrier back in 1922, Langley had for years been relegated
to the many and colorless tasks of an auxiliary. This hazardous un-
dertaking was a brave chance to get into the war^s spotlight.
On February 22, loaded with thirty-two P-4O fighters and thirty-three
Army Air Force pilots, Langley, along with Sea Witch, a freighter car-
rying twenty-seven more P-4os in her hold, sailed out of Fremantie,
Australia, and joined a convoy headed for Bombay. They were escorted
by the light cruiser U.S.S. Phoenix that had been detached from Ad-
miral Lear/s Anzac Force. It had been arranged that the three Ameri-
can ships would leave the Bombay convoy at a point near the Cocos
Island, several hundred miles southwest of Sunda Strait, from where
they were to make their way toward Tjilatjap on the southern coast of
Java.
However, Admiral C. E. L. Helfrich, Chief of the Netherlands
Naval Forces, who was burdened with a semimilitary, semipolitical po-
sition, ordered Langley and Sea Witch to be detached en route in an
area much closer to Tjilatjap, and to proceed on alone that is, with-
out Phoenix. Vice-Admiral William A. Glassford, Jr., in command of
Task Force 5 of the U. S. Asiatic Fleet was not consulted until very
late in the operation, and the confusion and tragedy that resulted
added little to inter-Allied amity or co-operation.
Tjilatjap was the only remaining port in the Javanese area where
either ship could off-load their planes without possible enemy inter-
ference. There were no actual airstrips, and what spaces there were
1J4 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
had to be cleared and leveled to furnish areas from which the planes
could be staged to move northward across Java.
The planes aboard Sea Witch were still in their crates and not im-
mediately available, but those aboard Langley if they could be gotten
away might make a great difference in the Java situation. As origi-
nally planned, both vessels were to be routed so as to make port early
in the morning after a night run, the only safe way possible at the time.
Time was of the essence, however, and Admiral Helfrich, assuming
all responsibility, ordered Langley to make for Tjilatjap at top speed.
Since up to then no Japanese had been sighted south of Java, Admiral
Glassford added his approval, believing there was a chance that the
airplane tender's movement by daylight might not be detected.
Commander Robert P. McConnell of Langley was advised that
two U. S. destroyers, Edsatt and Whipple would come out from Tjila-
tjap and escort him over the last anxious stretch of his run. He started
his trip on February 23, hoping to arrive by the afternoon of February
27. His log reported nothing eventful until the afternoon of February
26 when two Dutch PBY Catalinas flew out to explain that a i3oo-ton
Netherlands minesweeper, Wttlem van der Zaan, was about an hour's
sailing to the west, and heading to escort LangLey into port.
Still believing two U. S. destroyers would pick him up, Commander
McConnell ignored the Netherlander and steamed on, leaving the
minesweeper in his fading wake; the U. S. commander was having
trouble enough with the thin Borneo oil, for which his burners had
not been adapted, and the best he could do was about ten knots. He
continued on until after dark when a radio message from Admiral
Glassford explained that the Willem van der Zaan was indeed his es-
cort, along with the Dutch Catalinas, and to behave accordingly. With
that, Commander McConnell reversed his course and sought the
minesweeper. Instead, he found Edsatt and Whipple, the two destroy-
ers, being escorted by the flying boats. It was now 7:20 A.M., February
27, and more time was sacrificed while the destroyers worked over an
enemy submarine contact, but this action brought no reward, so all
three vessels headed for Tjilatjap.
The day was clear, fair and breezy, although there were some scat-
tered high clouds that might furnish cover for snooping aircraft. At
9 A.M. a lookout spotted an unidentified plane and Commander Mc-
Connell sent a message to Admiral Glassford asking for some air cover.
"Where would I get it?" the admiral replied.
By 11:40 more unidentified aircraft were spotted and Commander
STRIKES AND COXJNTERSTRIKES 155
McConnell felt uneasy. The fact of the matter was that Admiral N.
Kondo's battleship and carrier fleet from the Japanese Southern Strik-
ing Force was already operating south of the Malay Barrier to hinder
Allied reinforcements* When Ixmgfey left the convoy, Japanese flat-
tops were obviously close behind, but it was not carrier-based aircraft
that attacked Lmgley; instead, it was shore-based aircraft from the
Eleventh Air Fleet that had been carrying out patrols from Kendari,
Celebes, and Bandjermasin, Borneo, probing out into the Java Sea and
Indian Ocean to keep tab on Allied movements. It was one of these
snoopers that first sighted the aircraft tender and radioed for reinforce-
ments.
Lookouts aboard Langtey next spotted nine twin-engined bombers
approaching at about fifteen thousand feet. Her guns opened fire im-
mediately and Commander McConnell swung his ship in frantic twists
and turns. The first salvo of Japanese bombs chugged into the water
about one hundred feet to port. Langtey swung hard again and a sec-
ond salvo missed, but a third put five large bombs dead into her, and
two near misses buckled hull plates.
The damage was severe and a number of planes on the stubby flight
deck were set on fire in a short time every plane topside was a total
loss. The bridge steering gear, and all navigation instruments were
destroyed, and as she began to list to port six Jap fighter planes came
down to pepper the decks, but were driven off immediately by Lang-
fe/s antiaircraft gunners.
Commander McConnell did his best to control the fire by reducing
the windage, but there was a twenty-five-knot breeze. He jettisoned
every burning plane and had his engineers cany out counterflooding
measures with the hope of beaching his ship on the Java coast; it was
not possible to negotiate tie narrow mouth of Tjilatjap harbor. Every
effort was made to save the tender, but the inrashing water flooded
both main engines and she wallowed to a halt. Her pumps could not
cope with the flooding, and her damage control equipment was quite
primitive. At 1:32 that afternoon, Commander McConnell decided
to abandon ship while there was still an escort to pick up the sur-
vivors. Army aviation personnel and all but sixteen of the crew were
rescued by Wkipple and Edsdl. The destroyers then scuttled the an-
cient tender with torpedoes and gunfire.
In contrast, the luckier Sea Witch made Tjilatjap, delivered her
crated aircraft, picked up forty refugee soldiers and sneaked back to
Australia unharmed.
156 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
As soon as Admiral Brown realized that his little fleet had lost all
possibility of surprise in the proposed raid against Rabaul, he ordered
a change of course and took his command in a southeasterly direction.
Just north of New Caledonia a rendezvous was made with tankers,
some mail was picked up, and by the end of February the Lexington
force teamed up with Admiral Fletcher's Yorfetown. By early March
the enemy had pushed on from Rabaul to build a sizable airfield at
Gasmata on the south coast of New Britain Island. They also estab-
lished themselves on the mainland of New Guinea at Lae and Sala-
maua. These two roadsteads were the most important entry points to
the area of New Guinea. Here, as in Malaya, Java, Sumatra, and Bor-
neo, control of the coasts and ports meant control of the country since
there was no internal communication system.
At Lae and Salamaua the Japs came in possession of two good air-
fields that had been used by the New Guinea Airways. They based
a number of their bombers and fighters on these strips, and with these
flew out to sea; their early patrols linked up with overseas flights back
to Rabaul and then on to Truk. It was only a matter of time when this
air linkage would allow the safe occupation by Japanese troops, and
harbors for a strong naval fleet, that could result in another serious
push south. The people of Australia were particularly concerned about
this situation, and requested that something be done about it.
Supreme in their belief that nothing could stop them, the Japanese
filled the harbors of Lae and Salamaua with warships, tankers, supply
ships, and troop transports taking Australia was just a matter of time.
But by March 10, U. S. Navy airmen from Lexington and Yorfetown,
in their first carrier raid, suddenly appeared out of the jungle skies of
central New Guinea, flying dive bombers, torpedo bombers, and fight-
ers, and smashed this enemy force in less than twenty minutes.
If they had lost the element of surprise at Rabaul, Admiral Brown's
aviators made up for it over New Guinea. In planning the raid, they
discovered that if they followed the coast from Port Moresby to Lae
and Salamaua they would have to fly about 1500 miles, but if they set
a course due north from Port Moresby over the mountains they could
reach their targets in one hundred miles of flying. The gimmick was
that the mountains were about 14,000 feet and although there might
be some lower passes, they had no reliable charts to figure out a pos-
sible route; any forced landing in that jungle area meant dealing with
tribes who ate one another on ceremonial occasions.
After winnowing through all available information on New Guinea,
STRIKES AND COUNTERSTRIKES 157
Lieutenant Commander Weldon L. Hamilton, commander of the dive
bombers off Lexington, and Commander William B. Ault learned that
there was one pass through these high mountains where they might
sneak through at 7500 feet. The gap was on a direct line between
Salamaua and a deep-water stretch of the Gulf of Papua, less than
fifty miles from shore. There was said to be a footpath through the
pass, and explorers who had used it explained that the valley was usu-
ally cloud-free between 7:00 and 11:00 A.M. Admiral Brown set course
and speed on the data from assorted sources, so as to launch his air-
craft at 8:00 A.M. on March 10. Commander Ault went ahead of the
bombers and torpedo pknes to find the pass and was ordered to fly
figure eights above it and guide the other planes through. This pre-
caution paid off and all went well until the main force was within
twenty-five miles of Salamaua Harbor.
The engine roar of such an aerial cavalcade soon aroused the Japs
and by the time the fighters and torpedo planes were starting their
dive attacks, several of the enemy warships had slipped their cables
and were trying to make a run for it The torpedo planes attacked the
largest transports or enemy cruisers, while the fighters circled the har-
bor, daring the Zero fighters to come up and mix.
It was here that Lieutenant Noel A. M. Gayler picked up a Gold
Star to add to the Navy Cross he was awarded at Bougainville in the
Solomons. He tells his story as follows:
"We really surprised them, and there was only one Jappo airplane in
the air when we arrived. This was a seaplane fighter mounting a rear
gun, and to be frank, he put up quite a fight while it lasted.
"He went after our torpedo planes which were down low poking
around for targets, and he knew what he was doing. He went in and
out like a shuttle, his rear guns harassing everyone. He was really good,
but he couldn't stand prosperity and eventually pulled his boner. It
was just too bad, but he would leave the torpedo planes and come up
to challenge four of us fighters. Too bad."
Lieutenant Gayler simply depressed the nose of his plane and
pressed the button.
This was all the opposition the Japanese put into the air and the
antiaircraft fire from a few ships and a shore battery of heavy guns
was not serious. The dive bombers, under Commander Hamilton,
more than paid their keep this day. "I selected a very fine cruiser,"
Commander Hamilton reported when he returned, "which from
158 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
eight thousand feet looked like a sleek speed boat as it made for the
open sea. A rather pretty sight, really.
"But either I was too engrossed in the panorama or I was too en-
thusiastic for I hadn't allowed for the wind at lower levels. I was drifted
in my approach and my bomb missed a near miss alongside the
cruiser. But a pilot in my wake spotted my mistake, corrected for it
and his bomb smacked the after deck, plunged on through and ac-
tually blew away the cruiser's stem. She sank within a few minutes.
"But our fighter pilots were amazing. Funny thing; when they found
there were no enemy planes in the air, they made dummy runs with
the torpedo planes and dive bombers to spread the antiaircraft fire.
When that game was over, they amused themselves trying to drop
small fragmentation bombs among the crews of the antiaircraft bat-
teries on board the ships or ashore,"
How the modern historian can be bewildered by reports and data
wntten at the time, will be found in the various appraisals of the re-
sults of this two-pronged raid. One estimate^ said to have been written
aboard Lexington at the time, declares that only one U. S. airplane
was lost. This one went down at Salamaua and "apparently made a
safe landing on the water," indicating the pilot was taken prisoner.
Another, written a short time later, explains that in the first burst of
erratic antiaircraft fire, Ensign Joseph Phillip Johnson, pilot, and his
gunner J. B. Jewell, RMs/c, were killed. Another report says that a
plane of Scouting Two was shot down and the pilot lost. There is no
mention of the seaman gunner.
In compiling the score, the staff of this combined carrier operation
stated that five large transports, two heavy cruisers, one light cruiser,
and one destroyer were actually sunk, a minelayer, and two destroyers
were left burning. A seaplane carrier and a gunboat were said to be
seriously damaged by bombs, and the fighters that attacked Lae
claimed a seaplane fighter; matching the one downed by Lieutenant
Gayler at Salamaua.
In contrast, Army Flying Fortresses that flew out of Townsville,
Queensland, Australia, the next day to attack Lae and Salamaua, re-
ported that everything was still afloat, but a check made after the war
concluded that the carrier aircraft had actually sunk a large mine-
sweeper, a foooton transport, and the 65oo-ton converted light cruiser,
Kongo Mam, that was sent to the bottom by fliers off Yorktown.
The task force returned to Pearl Harbor on March 26, after fifty-
four days at sea, an unprecedented cruise for the U. S. Navy in 1942.
STRIKES AND COUNTERSTRIKES 159
Our fortunes in the Far East continued to be dim and dishearten-
ing all through this disastrous spring, but the British Royal Navy
was also taking its bumps. The vital naval bases at Colombo and Trin-
comalee in Ceylon were an immediate threat to the progress the Jap-
anese were making all through Burma, the Malay Peninsula, and Su-
matra; forces for a counterattack on these newly won positions would
probably be assembled at one or the other. Tokyo officials apparently
decided that Ceylon should be given the Pearl Harbor treatment
As a result, what Royal Navy vessels could be spared from the Eu-
ropean campaign joined what was known as the British Eastern Fleet,
then under command of Admiral Sir James Somerville. This force was
quite powerful, since it included the battleships Resolution, RamQKes,
Warspite, Revenge, and Royal Sovereign, and three aircraft carriers,
Formidable, Hermes, and Indomitable. In addition Admiral Somer-
ville had eight cruisers, fifteen destroyers, and five submarines, three of
which were Dutch.
British intelligence learned that the Japanese would make a carrier
strike against Ceylon on or about April i. This enemy force, practically
the same that had hit Pearl Harbor, was composed of the carriers
Zuikaku, Shokdku, Akagi, Hiryu, and Soryu. These were supported by
the battleships Hiei, Haruna, Kongo, and Kirishima. The heavy cruis-
ers Tone and Chikama, the light cruiser Abukuma, and eight de-
stroyers completed Vice-Admiral Nagumo's force that had been refuel-
ing at Kendari in the Celebes. He moved out, heading for Ceylon on
March 26.
Admiral Somerville guessed correctly that Admiral Nagumo would
make his approach from the southeast, and although Somerville sent
out adequate search forces well in time, his surface vessels stayed out
only two days and two nights and picked up nothing. On the evening
of April 2 they turned back and headed for Addu Atoll in the Maldive
Islands, southwest of Ceylon, mainly to replenish their fresh water;
they had run low, as the condensers aboard British battleships of the
day were not equal to extended periods of high-speed steaming. As a
matter of fact, the whole Eastern Fleet was either fueling or watering
at Addu on the afternoon of April 4 when a British Catalina search
plane^ piloted by Squadron Leader Leonard J, Birchall of Number
'413 Squadron, spotted a Japanese carrier force that was heading for
Ceylon. Admiral Somerville dispersed what ships had been oiled, and
left the rest to refuel as best they could from the few tankers available.
Squadron Leader Birchall never returned from his patrol and was
SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
probably shot down by carrier-based fighters. Another Catalina made
further night reports placing the enemy one hundred miles closer.
Both these planes proved to be of utmost value to the British defense
and possibly prevented serious damage to the shore installations.
Once he knew the score, Admiral Somerville disposed his force ac-
cordingly, and Vice-Admiral Sir Geoffrey Arbuthnot in command
ashore at Colombo, ordered all shipping to be moved out of that city's
harbor, but by the time the first wave of Japanese planes struck there
were still about thirty vessels of various categories berthed there for
as many reasons. This first wave consisted of at least seventy carrier-
based fighters and bombers and, in contrast to Pearl Harbor, this time
they concentrated on naval workshops and important harbor installa-
tions. But thirty-six Hurricanes and six Navy Fulmars attacked and
destroyed sixteen of the enemy. Fifteen Hurricanes and four Fulmars
were lost. Antiaircraft guns at the base accounted for five Japanese
bombers.
Out at sea on this Easter Sunday, April 5, Japanese carrier bombers
sank the cruisers Dorsetshire and Cornwall. Fifteen merchant ships
were also sent to the bottom by torpedo or dive bombers from the
Japanese carriers. There were 1100 survivors, but 425 officers and men
were lost
The next day a second attack staged against Ceylon was first spotted
by RAF. Catalinas when sixty bombers went for the harbor at Trin-
comalee and the nearby airfield at China Bay. Much damage was in-
flicted but again seventeen Hurricanes and six Navy Fulmars that had
more time to prepare for this attack, destroyed fifteen carrier planes
and seriously damaged seventeen more; only eight Hurricanes and
three Fulmars were lost. The base antiaircraft guns accounted for nine
enemy aircraft. This valiant R.A.F. effort proved most costly to the
Japanese, as will be seen.
At the time this strike was being made, the Japanese carrier force
made strong attacks against the British vessels at sea. Admiral Somer-
ville had played as cagey a game as he could, moving out of range by
day and moving in at night, hoping to beat down the enemy with his
superior gunfire, but on April 8, after much maneuvering, his force
had to return to Addu for fuel and water* In the meantime a second
carrier force under Vice-Admiral Jisaburo Ozawa that consisted of
Ryu/o and five heavy cruisers and a number of screening destroyers
had been creating havoc in the Bay of Bengal. It was difficult to figure
where the next strike would be made.
STRIKES AND COUNTERSTRIKES l6l
Admiral Arbuthnot made certain that the harbor at Colombo would
be cleared, and it was well it was, for, on April 8, Admiral Nagumo
struck again with ninety-one bombers and thirty-eight fighters that con-
centrated on harbor installations; only one merchantman was sunk.
Nine British Blenheim bombers roared out hoping to nail a carrier,
but arrived just too late; Aka& was recovering the last of her aircraft,
and maneuvered to avoid the bombing. Antiaircraft fire downed five
Blenheims and the other four were damaged and were lucky to get
back. Four Zero fighters were shot down by Blenheim gunners.
That afternoon, search planes from the Japanese Fleet picked up the
British carrier Hermes and -her escort destroyer Vampire that had
steamed out of Trincomalee earlier and was making the return run.
When these two vessels were off Batticaloa on the east coast of Ceylon
they were attacked by a carrier group. The old British carrier had no
planes aboard, she was hit by at least forty bombs and went down in
twenty minutes. Vampire was next and went to the bottom under a
terrific storm of dive-bombing. A nearby hospital ship rescued many
of both crews, but more than three hundred officers and men were lost
Admiral Nagumo was at the peak of his career, for in four months
he had operated in waters covering an arc one-third of the way around
the world. He had put on successful strikes against Pearl Harbor,
Rabaul, Amboina near the Moluccas, Darwin, Australia, and off Java,
Colombo, and Trincomalee. His aviators had sunk five battleships,
one aircraft carrier, two cruisers and seven destroyers. They had se-
verely damaged several more capital ships and sent to the bottom
thousands of tons of fleet auxiliaries and merchantmen. Hundreds of
Allied aircraft and valuable shore establishments had been destroyed
and not one ship of his striking force had been sunk or even dam-
aged!
Yet, subsequent events were to prove that Admiral Nagumo would
have been wiser to have stayed away from Ceylon, for the destruction
of a good number of Japanese carrier planes by the R .A.F. and Royal
Navy Fleet Air Arm paid unbelievable dividends to the Allies. Only
two of Nagumo's carriers were able to participate in the Coral Sea
battle fought one month later, the other three had to return to Japan
and load new planes and train new pilots to replace the losses.
Japanese testimony, given after the war, indicated that the caliber
of these replacements was inferior to that of the prewar airmen. This
was noted particularly in the Battle of Midway. Had Yamamoto re-
considered the Indian Ocean raids, or had the British airmen bowed to
162 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
the enemy's will, the Japanese Carrier Group might have had better
luck in the Coral Sea and Midway engagements.
Despite the success at Lae and Salamaua and other Japanese-held
islands, the people of the United States were cast to the depths of
despondency on receiving the news of the fall of Bataan. Nine days
later, April 18, 1942, their spirits were greatly revived by the report
that an American bomber formation, flying from some mysterious base
known as Shangri-La, had laid a trail of fire and destruction across the
main island of Honshu from Tokyo to Kobe.
Sixteen North American B-25 medium bombers, led by Lieutenant
Colonel, later General, James H. Doolittle, had dropped the first in-
stallment of retaliation on the enemy mainland. No event in the war,
prior to the Battle of Midway, gave America so much satisfaction as
the news that the Japanese people had experienced the real impact of
modern war.
Judged by European bombing standards, the actual damage was not
great, but the raid must have had a grim psychological effect on the
Japanese public despite strict censorship imposed by the home govern-
ment. At the same time, because of its dramatic impact, the story was
considerably overwritten, and by the time an official War Department
communiqu^ was made public more than a year later, Jimmy Doo-
little's raid, as it was generally known, had become more legend than
fact.
Again, the varying claims made concerning the origination of this
raid on Japan are confusing. According to some sources it was Jimmy
Doolittle who conceived the plan; others give credit to Admiral Ernest
J, King. Captain Donald B. Duncan, Admiral King's air operations
officer, is said to have been put on the problem and he in turn put it
up to General of the Army Air Force Henry H. Arnold. Lieutenant
Colonel Doolittle was selected to pick the aircraft and air crews, and
Captain Duncan arranged details of ship movement and the organiza-
tion of a task force as the Navy's contribution.
The recently completed carrier U.S.S. Hornet, under command of
Marc A, Mitscher, then a captain, was selected for the Shangri-La role.
Early in February of 1942 Hornet had an abbreviated shakedown in
the Caribbean, and instead of returning to base for a routine period
of leave, she sailed to San Francisco Bay where a number of 8-25
(Army) bombers from the Alameda Air Station were lashed down on
her decks.
STRIKES AND COUNTERSTRIKES 163
This was the beginning of the retaliation for Pearl Harbor. Some-
thing spectacular was needed to revive home spirits; also a name every-
one could recognize. So far readers of newspapers and radio listeners
had encountered places they had never heard of before Kwajalein,
Bataan, Corregidor, and Salamaua. If we could actually bomb Tokyo
. . . But how could the capital city of Japan be reached? To put our
available carriers within carrier-bomber range meant taking an enor-
mous risk from enemy land-based aircraft; there were dozens of picket
boats patrolling some five hundred miles off Tokyo Bay . . . How
could they be bypassed? The problem was the lack of range of Navy
carrier bombers.
But the Army's 6-255 had the range and could cany a respectable
load. There was a possibility they could be launched from carriers
but not recovered. They had to be flown off, sent to Tokyo, Kobe,
Osaka, and Nagoya, and after drenching these cities with high explo-
sive, or better yet, incendiaries, continue on and land on friendly fields
in China.
As is now known, the Army supplied the planes, bombs, and air
crews; the Navy the required flying know-how, the carrier and its de-
fensive screen, and the courage to take these ships into an area that
might become their graveyard.
The air crews were volunteers who had no idea what they had vol-
unteered for until a few days before they flew off the deck of the
Hornet. A few may have guessed, but if so, no one has ever claimed
to have known. TTie training, carried out mainly at Eglin Field in
Florida, consisted of taking off from a very limited area, a type of
navigation few Air Force men had studied, and the use of a soralled
twenty-cent bbmbsight to eliminate the risk of having iheir famous
Norden bombsight captured by the enemy. They had also to know
how to navigate over a wide ocean area. Later on they were shown
maps and photographs of the terrain where they would eventually seek
sanctuary. This training was considerably different from that designed
for American bomber forces that were to work with the RAF. out of
Britain.
Hornet and her strange complement sailed from San Francisco on
April 2, 1942, escorted by the cruisers Vincennes and Nashv31e t and
four destroyers. The fleet oiler Cimarron accompanied them to do
the necessary refueling. Navy men instructed the Army air crews in
more than navigation and carrier-deck technique; there were routine
Navy customs and shipboard behavior to be absorbed. Lieutenant
X 6^ SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
Stephen Jurika, former Assistant Naval Attach^ at Tokyo, had dozens
of photographs and maps of the target areas which he carefully inter-
preted for the bombardiers. There were talks on naval equipment,
and the identification of naval vessels, while Navy mechanics helped
to prepare the B-2$s for their great adventure. The crewmen of the
Hornet had dismantled many of their Wildcats and Devastators and
packed them away in every available space to make room for the Army
planes; some of the Navy aircraft were hung from overhead girders.
Except for her own antiaircraft batteries, the brand new carrier was
defenseless in this condition until she made her rendezvous with Task
Force 16 on the morning of April 13.
Vice-Admiral William F. Halsey, Jr., aboard the carrier Enterprise,
was in command of Task Force 16. Besides Hornet, he had the cruisers
Northampton, Sdt Lake City, Vincennes, and Nashville, under the
command of Rear Admiral Raymond A, Spruance. Two destroyer di-
visions, under Captain Richard L. Connolly, provided the screen, and
Sabine and Chnarron were the force's oilers.
The planning for flights into and landing on Chinese airfields was
rudimentary. Generalissimo Chiang Kai-shek had been advised that a
number of U. S. Army bombers would fly over "to help China," and
would require suitable fields on which to land, but the Generalissimo
took his own time about designating any strips until April 14, and
Lieutenant Colonel Doolittle had to assume that the airbase in
Chuchow in Chekiang Province, about fifty miles inland from Wen-
chow, was to be his final destination. What he did not know was
that due to a period of very bad weather, the field could not be pre-
pared in time for the Mitchell bombers. The Chuchow field was 1093
nautical miles distant from Tokyo and to get there the 8-255, carrying
four 5oo-pound bombs and a maximum load of 1141 gallons of gaso-
line, would have to kunch about five hundred miles off the Japanese
coast
Plans for a launching from such a point on April 18 were made
by Admiral Halsey this would provide time brackets for a night at-
tack. Thirteen planes were to clobber the Tokyo area while three were
to attack Nagoya, Osaka, and Kobe. Doolittle was to precede the rest
of his force by about three hours and drop a load of incendiaries on
Tokyo to provide pathfinder fires for the rest to work on. Unfortu-
nately, early in the morning of April 18 when Task Force 16 was still
700 miles feom land, a radar screen warned that two vessels of some
kind were ahead. Admiral Halsey altered course while Enterprise sent
STRIKES AND COUNTERSTRIKES 165
off two reconnaissance planes that at 5 A.M. reported still another ves-
sel about forty miles ahead. There was some evidence that this picket
boat had radioed a warning, and a quick decision had to be made. If
a definite warning had been sent, Admiral Halsey, who by now had left
his destroyers and oilers behind, faced the risk of having his force
attacked by land-based bombers; Nashville had moved in fast and sunk
this third picket ship, but there was no assurance that it had not
warned the Japanese Fleet or Air Force.
Lieutenant Colonel Doolittle realized that all surprise had been
lost; and, although they were still 650 miles from Tokyo and it was
doubtful that they would have enough gasoline to reach China, he
knew that Hornet would have to retire. There was no question they
had to take the risk and Doolittle was the first to race down the car-
rier deck. Hornet was exactly 623 miles from the nearest land and
688 miles from Tokyo, but all sixteen 8-25 crews accepted the gauge
and took off safely.
As a small recompense for this ill luck, Tokyo had been alerted for
a practice air raid in which Japanese aircraft had made a series of mock
attacks on the city probably to the annoyance of the population. This
city-wide exercise was completed just before noon, and commerce and
business was returning to normal when suddenly a number of new
bombers appeared, and the guns began to fire again, this time with
venom and heat. The people of Tokyo thought this was a second
section of the practice performance and until Doolittie's raid was over,
few of them realized that an actual attack had been made. If the
picket boat had warned Japanese authorities, nothing much had been
done about it, for the 8-255 encountered little trouble over their tar-
gets. No alert was sounded until they had been in the enemy area for
nearly twenty minutes. By 12:25 P - M - *& thirteen 6-255 that were as-
signed to beat up the city were selecting their targets with little an-
noyance from enemy fighters or antiaircraft guns. The fighters made
little attempt to harass the raiders and kept away from the tail-turret
guns which were in plain view but actually dummies. The real tur-
rets, mountings, and guns had been displaced by extra gasoline tanks.
The three Mitchells assigned to Nagoya, Kobe, and Osaka delivered
only incendiary bombs. The Nagoya plane apparently did a workman-
like job Kobe was well drenched but the 8-25 sent to Osaka ap-
pears to have attacked Nagoya instead. Not one of the attacking
planes was lost over Japan; one had fuel trouble and headed for
"friendly'* territory in Vladivostok where the Russians impounded the
l66 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
plane and interned the crew. Those that did get through to Chuchow
missed it completely, for the Chinese^ in the belief that they were
Japs, sounded their raid alarm and doused all field lights. Four of
the bombers made crash landings, while crews of eleven others bailed
out in the black night, thumping down slippery cliffs or plopping into
bogs and lakes. One crewman was killed when his chute failed to open,
four were drowned. Those who lived were taken in by friendly vil-
lagers and passed on to Chungking.
One 8-25 came down off the China coast near Ningpo (Ning-
hsien), and the pilot and two crewmen who successfully reached shore
were captured by the Japanese. Another crew of eight men that bailed
out near Nanchang was picked up and tried by a military court and
sentenced to death. Lieutenant Dean E. Hallmark, Lieutenant Wil-
liam G. Farrow, and Sergeant Harold A. Spatz were executed; the rest
had their sentences commuted to life imprisonment. One of this group
died in prison before the end of the war brought release. Seventy-one
of the eighty pilots and crewmen, including Lieutenant Colonel Doo-
littie, survived this raid on Tokyo.
Although the bombing in itself hardly balanced the effort, for no
vital targets were actually destroyed, the raid had some practical re-
sults. For one thing, at least four Japanese Army fighter-plane groups
that must have been urgently needed elsewhere, were pinned down
for the defense of Tokyo and other Japanese centers. More important,
the higher command was astonished that such a raid could be made
by land planes, and as a result decided that President Roosevelt's
Shangri-La must be the island of Midway. They, therefore, extended
their potential, and expedited plans for what was to become the Bat-
tle of Midway. That alone, since it was America's greatest naval vic-
tory, was well worth this gallant Army-Navy effort.
Admiral Halsey, who was in on the thrust from the beginning, de-
clared, "In my opinion their flight was one of the most courageous
deeds in military history."
In May 1942 the British carrier Ittustrious, now back with the fleet,
and IndomSafete played a memorable part in the sea and air defeat
of the Vichy French forces at Diego-Siiarez on the northern tip of
the island of Madagascar, about three hundred miles off the coast of
Portuguese East Africa. Although this island is separated from Ceylon
by the breadth of the Indian Ocean, Prime Minister Churchill felt
STRIKES ANB COUNTERSTRIKES 167
there was a possibility of Vichy French treachery and the Japanese
using Diego-Suarez as an air, submarine^ or cruiser base. For some
time the British had considered establishing themselves there with an
expedition out of Egypt or South Africa. As early as December 1941,
shortly after Japan had entered the war, General de Gaulle had urged
a Free French operation against Madagascar. When all variables had
been considered it was obvious that Diego-Suarez would have to be
taken and as a result Operation Ironclad was drawn up and carried
out.
The British expedition had assembled at Durban, South Africa, by
April 22 and included the battleship RctmiRies, the carriers Ittustriaus
and Indomitable, two cruisers and eleven destroyers to guard the
minesweepers, corvettes, and fifteen assault ships and transports that
carried the invasion troops. This was Britain's first large-scale amphibi-
ous assault since the ill-fated Dardanelles crusade more than a quarter
of a century before. While the slower vessels of the convoy bad gone
on ahead, the main body did not leave Durban until April 28. By
May 4 the whole expedition was within staking distance.
This was not by any means a simple operation. The approach from
the east was strongly guarded, but to the west were hospitable bays,
capable of accommodating large ships. The defenses here were unim-
portant but the transports had to be guided in the dark through dan-
gerous, shallow channels. On May 5 the first troops landed at 4:30
A.M. and quickly wiped out the only battery capable of firing seaward.
Half an hour later, aircraft from the carriers attacked airfields and ship-
ping in Diego-Suarez Bay. By that afternoon one whole British brigade
and its equipment had been put ashore and the commando raiders
had reached the eastern end of the Andraka peninsula. At 11 AJM:.,
May 7, the area had been taken with the loss of less than four hun-
dred Army casualties*
The carrier airmen attacked with bombs, torpedoes, and air-can-
non fire, and put three Vichy-French waiships out of action. They
were the submarine Beveziers, an armed merchant cruiser, the Bou-
gaimrine, and the (TEntrecasteauoc, an armed naval sloop. But this vic-
tory had to be paid for when on May 29 an unknown aircraft ap-
peared over the harbor and then flew away. Hie following evening
the battleship Ramillies and a tanker were struck by torpedoes. No
one knew from where they had come^ but Prime Minister Churchill
was of the opinion that they had been fired by a Vichy-French sub-
l68 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
marine or a Japanese submarine, and on the strength of this he de-
cided that all Vichy control in the area should be eliminated. This
island of great strategic importance was taken over and the safety of
Allied communications in the Near and Far East assured.
CHAPTER VI
FROM CORAL TO MIDWAY
FLUSHED with the saki of victory, the Japanese were to enjoy this un-
expected pleasure for only a few months before the painful throb of
retribution set in. No sooner had they scaled the heights of their ad-
vance than they were shoved back by two naval defeats that were to
mark the turn of the samurai tide.
In early May 1942 the Imperial Navy started the first stage of a
three-pronged operation that was intended to extend the perimeter of
victory to envelop northern and eastern Australia. They had occupied
the eastern Solomons and begun the construction of a major airfield
on Guadalcanal. A strong naval force sailed to support a troop convoy
that was headed for Port Moresby on the southern shore of eastern
New Guinea. An American force of almost equal strength was in the
Coral Sea to challenge them, and on May 4 there ensued the first naval
action to be fought entirely in the air in which the opposing fleets
never came within sight or gunshot range of each other.
This beginning of the American offensive in the Pacific became
known as the Battle of the Coral Sea and had considerable influence
in the planning and outcome of the Battle of Midway that followed.
Jimmy Doolittle's raid on Tokyo, and President Roosevelt's jocular
reference to Shangri-La as its origination, precipitated the Midway en-
gagement That the aircraft involved had actually flown off a U. S.
Navy carrier did not enter the minds of the enemy. When the officers
of the Imperial General Staff pored over their charts, they at first
agreed that the strike might have come from the Aleutians, but since
they had no knowledge of an air base in that tundra territory, it was
simpler to assume that Midway Island, about 2250 miles east of Tokyo,
was the only other possibility. After viewing the damage inflicted on
SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
Tokyo, and the all-important loss of face, some Japanese Naval authori-
ties pointed out the logic of seizing Midway Island, and Admiral
Isoroku Yamamoto, Commander-in-Chief, decided to pinch off this
threat to the homeland.
In the meantime Vice-Admiial Shigeyoshi Inouye's Fourth Fleet
had begun a long-planned invasion of Allied holdings in the Coral
Sea. Admiral Inouye was aboard the light cruiser Kashima anchored
at Rabaul, and had under his command the carriers Zuikaku and
Shohaku, the heavy cruisers Myoko and Haguro, a whole force of in-
vasion auxiliaries, and 134 land-based aircraft that were commanded
by Rear Admiral Sadoyoshi Yamada who had air groups at Tmk in
the Carolines, Rabaul, New Britain, Shortland, Tulagi, Tainan, and
Genzan in the Solomons. With this combined force Admiral Inouye
planned to invade Tulagi, and eventually capture Port Moresby, but
the unexpected appearance of the American task force that had raided
Lae and Salamaua on New Guinea, interrupted this plan until the
Japanese Fourth Fleet could be reinforced.
However, an unopposed successful landing was made May 3 on
Tulagi, since Admiral Fletcher's Task Force 17 was more than five
hundred miles away. In this operation the Japanese had struck un-
expectedly, for U. S. Naval intelligence had been unable to cope with
the varied enemy movements in this area. Once again, we encounter
variances of opinion, conflicting reports, charges, and countercharges.
The best to be made of available information indicates that Admiral
Fletcher's fleet that had been joined by another commanded by Rear
Admiral Aubrey W. Fitch aboard Lexington, was conducting leisurely
refueling operations some distance off Espiritu Santo in the New
Hebrides when the Japanese started their move. Because of scant in-
telligence, and lack of fleet tankers to speed up the refueling, Fletcher
had to move off fast on May 4, leaving the Lexington force to join
him as soon as possible.
Admiral Fletcher expected only to intercept anything offensive in
the Solomons-New Guinea area. Admiral Inouye, with his big carriers
screened north of Bougainville well out of air-search range, initiated
the Tulagi landing, and planned to enter the Coral Sea from eastward
on the same day.
Admiral Fletcher continued on his northerly course and, learning
of the Japanese move^ decided to steam straight into the center of the
Coral Sea from where he hoped to trace the enemy naval force by air
FROM CORAL TO MIDWAY 173
search from Yorktown. Admiral Fitch was ordered to follow as soon
as he was available.
When the Japanese indicated that their move was intended as a
full-out invasion, Admiral Fletcher, then five hundred miles from
Tulagi, decided to go on farther, and sent his oiler Neosho, escorted
by the destroyer Russell, back to meet Admiral Fitch's force that by
then would be about one hundred miles away. Fitch was ordered to
meet the 'Yorktown force at a point three hundred miles south of
Guadalcanal by daybreak of May 5. What happened from this point
on is difficult to decide, and to belay the subject would be wearisome.
In the end, Admiral Fletcher's force moved in to stage air strikes
against Tulagi, while Admiral Fitch suddenly turned off on a south-
easterly course, increasing the distance between the two carrier forces.
Meanwhile Admiral Fletcher had nudged Yorktown into some con-
veniently fSul weather, while the air space over Tulagi was reported
to be clear and fine. At 6:30 A.M., May 4, twelve Devastators and
twenty-eight Dauntless dive bombers were launched. Six Wildcat fight-
ers also went aloft to fly combat cover for the carrier, and antisub-
marine sweeps were made by float planes off the cruisers presuma-
bly Minneapolis and New Orleans.
This camerborne air attack on Tulagi reads well in the early reports,
but calm post-action consideration shows that the air-crew claims were
overemphasized. It was all very new to American airmen and a mine-
layer often looked like a light cruiser, and an ordinary transport was
generally identified as a seaplane tender. Landing barges were blown
up to gunboats, and near misses usually went down an enemy funnel.
In the final analysis the scout bombers delivered thirteen 1000-
pound bombs and damaged the destroyer Kikuzuki so seriously, she
had to be beached, and two small minesweepers were sunk. Five min-
utes after the SBDs pulled out, a torpedo-plane flight, under Lieu-
tenant Commander Joseph Taylor, delivered eleven "fish" but suc-
ceeded in sinking only the minesweeper Tama Mam. At 8:30 shipboard
bombers dropped fifteen more iocx>pounders but inflicted only minor
damage on a couple of vessels. All these planes returned safely, and
were sent streaming off the decks again for a second attack before
the pilots had time to break into the Navy's round-the-clock coffee
ceremony.
Twenty-seven SBDs with looo-pounders, and eleven torpedo bomb-
ers wore launched in the second strike and this time they damaged
a patrol craft and destroyed two seaplanes. Hie torpedo bombers all
SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
delivered their contributions but one plane failed to return, presum-
ably a victim of heavy antiaircraft fire.
The fighter pilots over the earner were warned of three large sea-
planes that were anchored off Makambo Island in Tulagi Harbor, so
they peeled off and went after them. They performed a neat .50-
caliber stitching on the Japanese hulls, and then spotted the destroyer
Yuztzfei trying to get away. They made four beat-up runs over her,
killed her captain on his bridge^ and many crew members. Two of
the four Wildcat pilots involved in this wild foray became lost, and
unable to find their carrier, crash-landed on the south coast of Guadal-
canal, but both airmen were rescued that night in a smart operation
by the destroyer Hammann.
A third attack was launched against Tulagi at 2 P.M. when twenty-
one SBDs dropped half-ton bombs, but sank only four landing barges.
So enthused were the air crews with their performance, however, that
it was believed that most of the Japanese fleet in that area had been
destroyed, and some consideration was given the idea of sending
Astoria and Chester, two heavy cruisers, into Savo Island to mop-up
what was left. But this idea was abandoned and it was well it was, for
both would probably have met Admiral Inouye's carrier planes and
never returned to tell what had happened.
The Yor&owi group played in luck also. The Japanese carrier force
was too far away to respond to the Tulagi base commander's appeal
for aid, since it was refueling north of Bougainville and although
Vice-Admiral Takeo Takagi put on a turn of speed southeastward, he
could not make the interception. By then Admiral Fletcher could have
expected no help from Admiral Fitch's Lexington group, for they were
miles away.
After recovering all his aircraft and stowing them away, Admiral
Fletcher turned south and sailed to meet Admiral Fitch at their sched-
uled rendezvous, and Inouye launched most of his planes for a bomb-
ing attack against Port Moresby.
With what seemed like a very successful attack effort Task Force
17 felt proud of itself, and probably looked forward to some well-
earned liberty in Australia. May 5 was spent refueling from Neosho
and at seven-thirty that evening Admiral Fletcher decided to head
northwest, assuming that some of the enemy vessels would be moving
out of Rabaul. At the same time a Japanese Port Moresby invasion
group, and its support, were steaming on a southerly course for the
Jomard Passage which cuts through the Louisiade Archipelago. Ad-
FROM CORAL TO MIDWAY 1?5
miral Takagi's striking force was churning along the outer fringes of
the Solomons, and by May 6 this carrier group was well inside the
Coral Sea.
It was a tense, anxious day, for everyone sensed that something
historic was in the air. Admiral Fletcher resumed his original assign-
ment of harassing ships, shipping, and aircraft at favorable opportuni-
ties. He then decided that if the enemy put out anything worth a
full task force's attention, he would delegate the command of air
operations to Admiral Fitch, who was an experienced carrier com-
mander, but unfortunately, this honor was not forwarded to Fitch
until a few minutes before the critical action of May 8 had started.
Over the next few hours a plethora of "hot" information came out
of Pearl Harbor and bases in Australia, all to the effect that innumer-
able enemy ships were converging on waters south of the Solomons.
All this intelligence came in large doses, but no accurate interpreta-
tion was included and little sense could be made of it Air search was
inadequate, the disposition of the various enemy forces was unknown,
and as a result Yarktown and Lexington plodded on on their north-
westerly course, unaware that the Takagi carrier force was moving on
Fletcher's line of advance. Both groups were actually but seventy
miles away from each other, both refueling, not realizing the other
was in the vicinity. Had Admirals Fletcher or Takagi made a successful
air search either might have caught the other as a sitting duck.
As it was, a Japanese search pkne out of Rabaul did spot Fletcher's
force at n A.M. on May 6, but Admiral Takagi was not advised. As
has been pointed out, the Battle of the Coral Sea should have been
fought on May 6, and might have been had Admirals Fletcher and
Takagi known the other was near. Ironically, it was on this day that
General Jonathan M. Wainwright had to surrender his forces in the
Philippines, but happier days were to begin with the morrow. For one
thing, at nine o'clock on the morning of May 7 Admiral Inouye post-
poned the advance of his Port Moresby invasion group, because by
then he "suspected the presence" of the Allied task force.
At 5:55 P.M., May 6 the oiler Neosho, known affectionately as The
Fat Lady, and the destroyer Sims were detached from Admiral Fletch-
er's task force and told to rendezvous at Point "Rye" to the south.
They reached this position at 8:10 the next morning and observed
what they believed to be two planes from one of their own carriers
a y6 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
they were actually from the Japanese Fifth Carrier Division of
Admiral Takagi's striking force.
About an hour later a single plane hove into sight and dropped a
bomb near the U. S. destroyer, and both vessels took evasive tactics,
and managed to wriggle through a storm of bombs that were then
delivered by fifteen high-level bombers. At 10:38 ten more made a
dive-bombing attack on Sims, whose helmsman swung her hard right
and once more she came out unscathed. By noon thirty-six dive bomb-
ers were overhead and Sims curled around to get on Neosho's port
quarter. These planes, having been advised that a carrier and a cruiser
were available for the taking, concentrated on the oiler in the pre-
sumption that she was the flat-top. They went in from astern in three
bristling waves, and the gunners aboard Sims did their utmost to bat
them down. One of the destroyer's 2omm. guns jammed almost im-
mediately, and her main battery downed only one dive bomber, but
while she was putting up this brave effort three 5oopound bombs
went in dead-on; two exploded in her engine room, and the third
nipped off her fantail. Sims buckled amidships and went down stern
first.
The remaining hands started to abandon ship, but just as her single
stack was going under, a terrific explosion lifted her out of the water
and smaller explosions, presumably from her depth charges, added to
the tragedy. Only fifteen crewmen were brought away safely, princi-
pally through the heroic efforts of Chief Signalman R. J. Dicken who
retrieved a damaged whaleboat and kept it afloat while he picked up
any sailors who were still alive.
The ill-fated Fat Lady was the next victim when twenty of the origi-
nal thirty-six dive bombers worked her over seven direct hits and as
many near misses sealed her doom. One suicide dive-bomber pilot
bashed his aircraft dead into the Number 4 gun station and the carnage
that followed can be vividly imagined. Gasoline from the dive-
bomber's tanks tonented along the deck and as it ignited, draped a
shroud of flame over everything. Captain J. S. Phillips, Neosho's skip-
per, ordered all hands to stand by and insisted that no one abandon
ship untD the order was given. A few, of course, had little choice.
Most of them had seen Sims blow up and sink, so there was some
understandable panic* A few rafts and whaleboats were launched, but
most of these terrified evacuees were ordered back aboard. In the
midst of this confusion the ship's navigator took a hurried "fix,"
FROM CORAL TO MIDWAY 177
plotted incorrectly, and sent out a faulty position with the result that
the search for the survivors was delayed.
Miraculously, Fat Lady did not sink immediately, and it must be
presumed that she had several empty fuel tanks that had probably
been sealed off to furnish buoyancy. The oiler drifted westerly for
four days while every effort was made to keep her afloat. The wounded
were cared for as well as conditions would permit, and the dead were
commended to the deep. PBY planes went out and searched, but it
was not until May 9 that the destroyer Henley was dispatched to pick
up rafts and boats, and to take off the rest of Neosho's crew. Owing
to the mistake in navigation, the oiler was not located until May 11
when the remaining 123 men aboard were taken off and the Fat Lady
was scuttled. The search was continued for tie survivors aboard floats
and boats, and the last of them, sixty-eight men on four rafts lashed
together, were picked up as late as May 17. After this unfortunate
experience the Navy undertook to redesign and improve all life rafts,
and gave seamen more specific directions for raft navigation.
As part of Admiral Fletcher 7 s task force^ a support group, known as
TG 17.3, composed of two Australian cruisers, and the U.S.S. Chicago,
and a two-ship destroyer screen, was in command of Rear Admiral
John G, Grace of the British Navy. On May 7 Admiral Fletcher, who
was then heading north toward the island of Rossel in the Louisiade
Archipelago, ordered Admiral Grace to take his cruiser force off to-
ward the southern end of Jomard Passage. Some intelligence had in-
dicated that the Japanese Port Moresby invasion group might be
caught in that area. He intimated later that he also wanted to make
sure that, in case of an air battle with enemy carriers, the Japanese
invasion would be nipped off no matter how the carrier-versus-camer
battle went.
Admirals Fletcher and Grace got on well and this TF 17 associa-
tion proved once more that ships of the two nations could be welded
into an excellent tactical unit, and that co-operation could be enjoyed
notwithstanding "unexpected developments" that in this case proved
almost tragic.
Forming his force into a diamond-shaped, antiaircraft formation,
Admiral Grace put on twenty-five knots and steamed for action. A
short time later a lookout aboard Chicago spotted a twin-float mono-
plane that was snooping about just beyond gunnery range. A few niin-
utes later, U, S. Anny reconnaissance planes out of Australia hove
17 g SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
into sight, flew away, and returned two hours later. From all accounts,
they decided on their first appearance that Grace's force was enemy.
On the second flight over, they took another look and apparently
were positive.
At 1:58 when Admiral Grace had reached a point south and west
of Jomard Passage, his force was attacked by eleven single-engined
land-based bombers. TG 17.3 put up a remarkable display of anti-
aircraft fire and the visitors were driven off. A short time later radar
aboard the Australian cruisers, Hobart and Australia, picked up twelve
Japanese Sally Navy-bombers when they were still seventy-five miles
away. Admiral Grace ordered violent evasive measures and had every
vessel in his command ready to open fire when the enemy planes
came in low. Eight torpedoes were dropped, not one found a target,
and five torpedo bombers were shot down. To overcome this ill luck,
nineteen more Sallys attacked from high level with conventional
bombs. Again Grace's fleet dodged and darted to evade every missile,
when suddenly the destroyer Farragtit was attacked by three U. S.
Army bombers. Fortunately, their aim was as inadequate as their ship
identification, but a photographer aboard one of the B-iys unwittingly
provided the evidence which proved that a formation of U. S. bomb-
ers from Townsville, Australia, had made the attack.
Admiral Grace was understandably nettled and made a formal com-
plaint to Admiral Leary, Commander-in-Chief of the Anzac Force.
Admiral Leary replied that he hoped to set up plans in which the
Army would improve its recognition of naval vessels. The AAF com-
mander concerned declined the offer, and to this day insists that his
bombers had not attacked Admiral Grace's ships.
Admiral Grace's effort will be the more appreciated when it is ex-
plained that he brought his whole force through an attack of the same
type and strength that had sunk the Prince of Wales and Repulse
a few months before. His support group went through without a .single
hit. The Japanese, of course, were positive that they had racked up
another great victory and claimed that they .had sunk an Augusta-
class cruiser and a C0Z#orniz-class battleship, and put torpedoes into
another battleship resembling H.M.S. Warspite.
Once Admiral Fletcher had reorganized his forces he sent Admiral
Grace off to the northwest. He next launched a search mission, and
shortly after, a plane from Yorktown reported two carriers and four
heavy cruisers at a position 175 miles to the northwestward, well the
FROM CORAL TO MIDWAY 179
other side of the Louisiades. After considerable excitement and the
launching of an air-attack force, the two carriers and four heavy cruis-
ers were reassessed to two heavy cruisers and two destroyers. Even-
tually they turned out to be part of Admiral Kuninori Marumo's com-
mand, a support group of the Moresby invasion force. Thus, while
the two main carrier fleets were closing in on each other, Admiral
Fletcher's all-out air strike had been mistakenly sent out against two
prehistoric cruisers that were being screened by some modified gun-
boats.
There can be little argument as to which side Providence was lean-
ing at this particular period. Fortunately, Admiral Inouye had turned
his attention to Admiral Grace's group, and was ordering his Port
Moresby invasion group to turn back at Jomard Passage.
The air group off Lexington, under Commander W. B. Ault, was
some distance ahead of the planes from Yorktown and passed over
Tagula Island around 11 A.M. Lieutenant Commander W. L. Hamil-
ton who was flying one of the scout planes was the first to spot a single
carrier Sfoofco some heavy cruisers, and several destroyers. The Japa-
nese commander, Rear Admiral Goto, of the covering group went
into evasive tactics just as Commander Ault, with two wing planes,
began the attack. Ninety-three planes finally worked over this lone
carrier.
It was a very clear day and visibility was very good. They had spotted
this enemy force when it was about forty miles away. The vessels
looked just like white hairs on the blue sea. At the time, Hamilton
estimated that they were about twenty miles away but time soon cor-
rected him and eventually he was able to distinguish the carrier by
the reflection of the sun off its light-colored flight deck.
Hamilton's force came out of the sun almost. exactly down wind
and they immediately commenced the attack. Commander Bob Dix-
on's scout bombers had struck and cleared. Dixon had brought them
around in order to turn to the left and they were just starting a second
turn when Hamilton's formation went in. They were trying to co-
ordinate their strike with that of the torpedo bombers.
The U. S. Navy planes had started from 16,500 feet and nosed
down steep into the final dive from about 12,000 feet. The enemy
carrier was exactly down wind as Hamilton nosed down on this ap-
parently simple target. His first bomb, a looopounder, to go home,
smacked into the middle of Shako's flight deck, just abaft amidships.
By the time he could look back, the entire after section of the flight
SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
deck was ablaze and a great column of smoke was gathering which
he hoped would rise and mark the carrier's finish.
As Commander Hamilton watched the rest of his squadron run in,
he noticed some were missing this comparatively simple target. He
quickly realized that the wind had fooled them for most of their bombs
were falling well down wind. He went on his radio and began giving
corrections and useful advice.
Commander Dixon who was leading his scouts which had been con-
verted into dive bombers carrying one 5oopounder and two 100-
pound bombs also began a concerted attack from the i2,ooo-foot level.
There were some enemy Zekes in the air but they did not reach the
converted scouts in time, or until they were well into their attack dives.
A few Zekes followed them down but they were too speedy and raced
past their targets which were using their air brakes. Dixon's pilots were
thus able to maintain a speed of 250 mph. One or two Japs tried lower-
ing their flaps and some even dropped their landing gear for braking
effect, but it was not enougji. A few tried zooming chandelles to fire
at the planes following, and as a result, all through the dive-bombing
attack they had a terrific free-for-alL The Zekes stayed with the opposi-
tion aH the way down to the water.
The dive bombers all went for the carrier and the unfortunate
Shoho was caught cold. There were a few planes on her deck and one
was being brought up on an elevator. TTie attacking ships released
their bombs at about one thousand feet off the water. The result was
a memorable sight.
The screen craft around the carrier were throwing up a wicked cur-
tain of shells and the attackers and the diving Zekes all had to bore
through this barrage, but in all probability none of them realized
this particular danger. Dixon's attack was perfect and his mates saw
his joo-pounder hit amidships, wrecking the flight deck. Ensign P. F.
Neely, flying behind Dixon, put a joo-pounder in the water, a near
miss on the carrier's port side that blew two burning planes clean off
the deck into the water. Ensign Smith dropped his donation smack
on an antiaircraft battery, and this explosion tossed three more planes
overboard. Ensign John A. Leppla, who had been annoyed all the way
down by Zeke fighters, left them to his rear gunner, John Liska, who
sat firing over his own rudder, driving off anything that irritated him
two in particular took .3o-caliber bullets in their tanks and burst into
flames and fell into the sea. Ensign Leppla, on seeing a Zeke harassing
another Navy dive bomber, eased out of his dive slightly, brought the
FROM CORAL TO MIDWAY l8l
Jap fighter into his sights and shot it down with a short burst In spite
of this distraction and the fact that the carrier had started another turn,
Leppla did get in a telling near miss that must have buckled many
hull plates. Irked by this comparative failure, Ensign Leppla zoomed
away, climbed to four thousand feet and dive-bombed one of the Jap-
anese cruiser-escorts with his two loo-pounders, one of which drilled
her stern, a very vital spot on any cruiser her screws or rudder could
be disabled.
Ensign O. J. Shultz put his bomb smack on the carrier and was
attacked immediately by four Zeke fighters. His rear gunner earned his
day's pay by shooting down one in flames, and driving off the rest.
It was following this heavy attack on Shoho that Commander Rob-
ert Dixon of Lexington made his famous quip: "Scratch one flat-top!
Dixon to carrier. Scratch one flat-top!'* It was the first attack by Ameri-
can carrier aircraft on an enemy carrier. All but three of the attacking
planes were back aboard by 1 138 P.M.
No vessel could have survived such a concentrated attack. After the
first two direct hits, she burst into flames and stalled dead in the water.
More bombs and torpedoes were delivered, and after the abandon-ship
order at 1 1 : 31 A.M., she sank within five minutes.
Both Yorktown and Lexington were ready to launch again by 2:50,
but Admiral Fletcher decided that the sunken carrier's escort force was
not worth the risk. Also he had not as yet learned where Admiral
Takagi's big carriers, Shokaku and Zuikaku, were, although from the
monitoring of enemy radio messages, he was positive Takagi knew
where he was. Thereafter began to deteriorate, and to start a new
search for the enemy carriers did not seem reasonable, since if they
were found, it was too late in the day to hope for a daylight recovery.
Leaving further search to shore^based aircraft of greater range, Ad-
miral Fletcher continued to steam west during the night of May 7-8,
hoping to intercept the Port Moresby invasion group on his side of
the Jomard Passage. He could not know, of course, that Admiral
Inouye had recalled them. But Admiral Takagi was not as timid as
Admiral Inouye, and by 4:30 P.M. he had launched twelve bombers and
fifteen torpedo planes from Shokaku and Zuikaku with orders to search
for Admiral Fletcher's force and to make an attack at sundown, if it
was located. They had bad luck, owing to malevolent weather and
found nothing, but were intercepted instead by fighters from the two
American carriers. When that fracas was over nine Japanese bombers
had been shot down, with a loss of two Navy Wildcats.
182 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
Then a pathetic situation resulted from this intercept. The Japs that
escaped this intrusion were completely bewildered and laid a course
for home directly over the American carriers that they had been search-
ing for. Just after sunset three were off Yorktown's beam appealing
for help in Morse with Aldis lamps. Yorktcwn signalmen blinked back,
not certain who was making the appeal. When the Japs moved to enter
the U. S. Navy landing circle they were treated most inhospitably and
one was shot down. Then Admiral Kara of the Japanese Carrier Di-
vision 5 had to turn on his searchlights so that his planes could find
their way back, and in the ensuing night recovery, eleven more planes
went into the sea. Seven more were not recovered until 9 P.M.
All this alerted the U. S. forces to the fact that the enemy force was
only thirty miles away. Radar aboard Lexington indicated a landing
circle that close, and Admiral Fitch tried to advise Admiral Fletcher
aboard Ycrktawn, but once more a communications foul-up kept the
advice from the commander until eleven o'clock that night. At first Ad-
miral Fletcher put little stock in the report; saying that Yorifcown's
radar disclosed no such intelligence, and Conceded that if the radar
were correct, the Japanese carriers would be miles away by midnight.
Admiral Fletcher had considered detaching a cruiser-destroyer force
for a night attack on Admiral Takagi, but because of meteorological
conditions thought better of it.
At 10 pjk. that night the enemy carriers were actually ninety-five
miles to the eastward, and Admiral Fletcher decided to keep his force
concentrated and prepare for a daylight battle the next morning. By
that time both forces were 170 miles apart. The Japanese had the
better of the deal, for they had moved under a front of low clouds
and a long bdt of inclement weather. Yorktown and Lexington, with
their consorts, were in full view beneath a clear sunny sky.
On or about 9 A.M, of May 8 both forces launched their attack
squadrons. Earlier, scouts from both sides had located their enemy and
the Battle of the Coral Sea was joined. There were eighty-two planes
from American decks and about seventy that flaunted the insigne of
Japan. Only a few hours of life were left for many of these air crews
to enjoy, for a great victory was to be won which side would triumph
no one knew, and history is still not certain.
The attacking planes passed each other without making contact,
aad both groups were over their targets by 1 1 A.M. Yorktowi launched
forty-one planes-twenty-four bombers, nine torpedo bombers, and
FROM CORAL TO MIDWAY . 183
eight fighters. Lexington put out twenty-two bombers, twelve torpedo
bombers, and nine fighters.
All Yorktovm aircraft were in position by 10: 57, and the pilots could
see Zuikaku and Shokaku, each escorted by two heavy cruisers and
several destroyers, steaming southwesterly about eight miles apart.
They saw Shokaku turn into the wind to launch an air combat patrol,
but Zuikaku and her consorts darted to the cover of a rain squall.
Yorfetown's Torpedo Squadron 5, led by Lieutenant Commander Joe
Taylor, went for the flat-top in the open; the first American attack of
the war against a large Japanese carrier.
Whether the torpedo boys had a touch of stage fright, or plain buck
fever, is by now uncertain, but the attack left much to be desired. The
torpedoes either went astray or failed to explode, and only two bomb
hits were registered, although the Yorktovm pilots claimed six bomb
and three torpedo hits. The two bomb hits ignited gasoline well for-
ward on Shokaku and the flight deck was so damaged that although
she could recover aircraft, none could be kunched. One of the bombs
pierced the deck and exploded in an aircraft-engine repair shop.
The Lexington formations ran into hard luck. Taking off ten min-
utes after the Yorktovm force was airborne, they first lost their Wildcat
escort in a cloudy level, and their torpedo squadron went to an area
incorrectly designated, so they put on a box-search until they found
the enemy. In the meantime their dive bombers flew into a thick over-
cast, never did locate the Japanese force, and had to return when their
fuel was low. The rest of Lexington's air-striking force, by now com-
posed only of eleven torpedo bombers, four dive bombers, and six
Wildcats, caught up with the enemy at 1 1 140. The torpedo attack was
made through a small hole in the cloud layer, and the approach had
to be made in a spiraling glide. Once the torpedo boys were out of
the way, the dive bombers went hurtling through the same small openr
ing. During all this the Zekes turned on the Wildcats and shot down
three of them, and this diversion allowed the bombers to make their
attacks unmolested.
But unmolested or not, the attack added little to what small measure
of success the Yorktovm fliers had had. The torpedoes were released
at too long a range, and moved so slowly, the Japanese helmsman had
no difficulty in avoiding them. The dive bombers managed just one
hit on Shokaku, which by then was reported to be burning furiously
and sinking fast. This was something of an exaggeration, for the Jap-
anese carrier, although she had lost 148 men killed or wounded, was
184 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
not yet holed below the waterline. All fires were doused finally, many
of her aircraft ordered to land on Zuikaku, and by one o'clock she was
steaming for Japan. It was touch and go all the way, and once she
nearly capsized, but she got there and lived to fight another day.
The scene now shifts to the other side of the conflict where a strange
situation greeted the returning American aircraft in all probability
some of the air crews must have wondered whether they had been
flying in circles and had returned to the Japanese fleet. They found
both Yorfetowi and Lexington had been hit. The seventy-odd planes
from Shokaku and Zuikaku had been giving the American carriers
much the same treatment that their own were suffering from the U. S.
Navy fliers. In this weird transverse conflict, luck brought a broader
measure of success to the Japanese, chiefly because their planes were
sent direct to the targets, and their strike groups were better balanced
in composition.
Admiral Fitch, who had charge of the tactical program, realized that
once his aircraft had been launched and sent on their way, retaliation
would come swift and sharp. Correctly, everyone guessed that the
enemy attack would open about 11 A.M., and once the main strike
planes were launched, a Wildcat patrol was put up to protect the car-
riers. Lexington's radar picked up the Japs at 10:55, but the protective
fighters were not well directed, and one patrol had just landed and a
second was in the air with very little fuel. They had to stay close to
their flight decks instead of ranging out to stop the enemy bombers
before they could form up for their attacks.
The two carriers that had been steaming northwest, changed course,
went to twenty-five and then thirty knots and launched relief Wild-
cats as fast as they could be refueled. Five were actually available to
stop an enemy many times that number; two stayed low hoping to
harass the torpedo bombers, but the Zekes did some harrying of
their own. Four more F4Fs were vectored out to an anticipated inter-
ception point, found no enemy aircraft and returned to their carrier
with not much to show for their effort. A few Dauntless dive bombers
attempted to take on the role of fighters, but were much too slow for
the task and four of them were shot down, although they were said
to have disposed of as many enemy torpedo bombers. What defense
was put up, came from antiaircraft batteries on U. S. Navy ships.
The full force of the attack broke at 11:18 when the enemy ap-
proached from the northeast, down wind, and down sun, and made
the most of the perfect visibility. Torpedo bombers aimed for both
FROM CORAL TO MIDWAY 185
port and starboard bows of Lexington, launching their missiles from
well over a half mile away. Captain Frederick C. Sherman tried to
maneuver so as to steam parallel with the "tin fish" but Lexington
was not designed for such delicate executions, taking between fifteen
hundred and two thousand yards to make a tactical turn. There were
just too many torpedoes* They came in from every angle, porpoising
and diving. The first smacked home at 11 :2o and lie whole ship stag-
gered with the impact, the next bored into the port bow and sent up
a gusher of flame on which was poised a great block of greenish-white
sea water. As the men on deck stood immobile watching this fantastic
display, a lookout forward screamed: "Dive bombersr
Out of the sun, sparkling and screeching, the first dive bomber be-
gan to flatten out. Every eye followed its long black missile for an
instant, and then there was a terrific smash and explosion on the port
forward gun-gallery as three five-inch weapons were ripped from their
mounts and tossed aside like jackstraws. The Marine gun teams were
never seen again. Aghast and stunned, the deck watchers saw a second
formation of torpedo planes screaming toward them, dropping iheir
evil weapons at two hundred feet altitude. When they were one thou-
sand yards away machine-gun fire was sent against them, but the tor-
pedo bombers replied in kind, and the men who were spotted here
and there were knocked down and twisted into heaps by these hissing
hornets. As the wounded staggered or crawled away almost unnoticed
by their shipmates, great columns of water climbed into the sky all
around Lexington from the blasts of near misses.
Another torpedo struck home on the port side amidships, and more
were carving foamy wakes and pointing glinting fingers of disaster.
Two were seen coming dead on, skipping and diving wildly, but every-
one braced for the shock. This time no explosion resulted as the two
"tin fish" went streaking into nowhere, and the knowledgeable ones
knew that the torpedoes had gone out of control and dived clean under
the carrier. For those men who could give it time, this seemed a lucky
break. Then a light bomb pinged off the smoke-plumed funnel, rico-
cheted with a spatter of sparks and dropped to a catwalk, killing and
wounding several sailors. Noise, confusion, smoke, flame, and incredi-
ble brackets of silence rendered the survivors stiff with fear. No one
moved until another Japanese plane dropped a bomb that plunged
through the space between the funnel and the control island. In its
course it bent a metal tube through which ran a cable that operated
the ship's bull horn; the cable was tightened, and a bellow and moan,
l86 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
like the cry of a stricken whale, continued as Japanese fighters swished
back and forth, wiping off everything with their machine guns.
Captain Sherman kept Lexington wriggling and squirming, still at-
tempting to evade some of the onslaught. Five planes were burning
on the water, and a gigantic waterspout rose into the sky near York-
town. Everyone aboard Lexington believed that she too had been hit,
but it was a near miss. Japanese aircraft were diving or deck-strafing.
Now and then a lone Wildcat was seen to be following, but usually
pursuer and pursued disappeared in a column of smoke and no one
knew what happened. Dive bombers came down from all angles, seven
more torpedo planes roared in from the port side, but the gunnery
from the ships' batteries was so hot that most of the "fish" were re-
leased at ridiculous angles and distances.
A lookout yelled that a Navy airman was floating on a life raft out
in the pattern of torpedo streaks. When he was finally spotted he was
seen to be kneeling in his raft, waving his arms like a cheerleader.
Captain Sherman ordered a destroyer to pick him up, and in a few
minutes he was hauled aboard on a line like a hooked salmon there
was no time for formality.
At this point the executive officer, Commander M. T. Seligman was
handed a message by a ramrod-backed Marine it may be apocryphal,
but worth relating. Commander Seligman is said to have taken his
eyes off the swarms of attackers and scanned the message. He crum-
pled the paper impatiently and growled: "A fine time to annoy me
with a thing like this!"
"What's the trouble, Commander?"
"It seems we have a case of measles in the sick bay!"
By 11:32 the last of the dive bombers had made its pass. It was a
near miss, but close enough. The attack was over and Lexington was
still afloat, steering normally, and the engines were turning over. There
was a slight list to port, and some oil was being lost astern, and reports
of serious fires continued to come from below. More than 103 passes
had been made at the carrier in sixteen minutes, and the antiaircraft
gunners had downed at least nineteen enemy planes.
Yorktown also did not escape unscathed. The first three of eight
torpedoes sent at her were delivered at 11:18. Her skipper put on extra
knots and maneuvers to avoid. Fortunately she had a smaller turning
circle than Lexington and in this case the Japanese did not attack her
port and starboard bows. No hits were scored, but at 11:24 a pack of
dive bombers came in and attacked for more than three minutes, but
FROM CORAL TO MIDWAY 187
only one bomb, an 8oo-pounder, caught her flight deck some fifteen
feet inboard of the island, went on through all the way to the fourth
deck where it exploded, killing or wounding sixty-six men. Fires were
started, but damage control was excellent. It has since been explained
that the skillful handling by Captain Elliott Buckmaster enabled Yorfe-
town to escape with damage that did not interrupt her flight opera-
tions.
The battle itself closed down at 1 1 145, and up to this point the U, S.
Navy held the edge; they had sunk the light carrier Shoho, damaged
Shokaku so that she was out of action for months, and sent one de-
stroyer and several minelayers to the bottom. We lost one destroyer,
an oiler, and had two large carriers damaged; the net result was not
known until later.
With her list, three boiler rooms partially flooded, her aircraft ele-
vators inoperative, and three fires still burning, Lexington struggled
to some semblance of serviceability. The crew soon put the flight deck
back in operation, planes were recovered, and she was brought to an
even keel by the shifting of oil ballast. Throughout TF 17 everyone
believed "Lady Lex" would survive, make a hospitable port, and sail
to fight again. The damage control officer, Lieutenant Commander
Howard R. Healy, reported: "We have the torpedo damage shored up
temporarily, the fires are out, and she's back on even keel," and added
facetiously, "but I suggest, sir, that if you must take more torpedoes,
please take them on the starboard side."
The first "tin fish" had caught the torpedo bulges up toward the
port bow. These bulges are false hulls built along the sides of the
ship below the waterline. They form a protective blister and sometimes
are filled with water, and in some instances are stiffened with light
noninflammable packing. They provide a light wall that is intended
to baffle the full effect of torpedoes or mines, and without such de-
fense, a torpedo could blast a hole fifteen feet in diameter in the main
hull.
Lexington also had about six hundred compartments that could be
closed off with watertight doors and hatches, and when the main hull
was pierced, compartments in that area could be shut off and the sur-
rounding bulkheads shored up, so that in effect, the bulkheads and
doors became the ship's side until more permanent repairs could be
made. How well all these damage-control measures were carried out
wiU be noted when it is explained that most of her aircraft were even-
tually recovered, and there was no decrease in her cruising speed; she
jgg SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
was holding her station and doing twenty-five knots with the rest of
the fleet. Within an hour after the final torpedo had struck, Chief En-
gineer, Commander Heine Junkers, had all sixteen boilers available.
The ship was well squared away, and the fleet was steaming north-
ward, hoping to close for another attack that afternoon.
The first hint of trouble came at 12:45 P.M. when a dull, rambling
explosion was heard. Those on the bridge, or working on the deck
scarcely heard the low thud. To the men working several decks below,
it sounded like a "sleeper" bomb, one that had hit, penetrated a
few decks, and then had detonated with delayed action. A fire-fighting
group, wearing oxygen masks and carrying portable extinguishers,
moved in, but owing to fumes and heavy smoke could not tell what
had caused the explosion. Twenty minutes later a second mystery deto-
nation resounded through the carrier, and more fire and smoke en-
sued. It was realized now that both explosions had occurred near dam-
age-control's Central Station, Commander Healy's office. The second
blast killed this gallant officer and a number of his men who were
working in that area.
Lexington suffered more casualties over the next five hours than
she had in all the action against the Japanese sky raiders. Gasoline
vapors, released by one of the torpedo hits, were being ignited by a
motor generator that had been left running, and these eruptions con-
tinued on a hellish schedule. The damage-control crews fought on with
dogged determination and unbelievable courage; men were blown to
bits, some were seared to a crisp, others were smashed against steel
bulkheads. No one knew it then but Lexington was doomed. They
fought on and on against the unpredictable odds. Crews choked and
vomited, but crawled forward to fight the damnable fires, never know-
ing when the flames would reach and detonate main ammunition
stores. The crews were not all seasoned seamen; some six hundred of
them were on their first cruise, and most of them had not seen the sea
until they had shipped out on "Lady Lex."
Each new, and heavier, blast tore metal watertight doors from their
hinges, massive sted hatches were twisted like cracker box tops, and
what shoring had been done in the torpedoed areas was ripped away.
A few lights remained on here and there, but the corridors and com-
panionways were so dense with smoke that electric illumination was
of no use. Men could not see to fight the damage or haul out their
wounded comrades. It was an inferno set in a blackened crypt, When
certain airtight compartments were punched open, air swirled out and
FROM CORAL TO MIDWAY 189
added to the combustion of the fires, and there were no other doors
or bulkheads to block off this damage.
The flames licked up, ate away the conduits carrying the main power
lines, and all machinery stopped. Where hose and water were availa-
ble, there were no pumps. If by good fortune one area was isolated,
another explosion erupted and undid all the work, or created greater
problems. When it was realized how these explosions were being set
off, damage-control officers discovered that the fuel storage tanks in a
critical section could not be flooded. More explosions thundered along
the Stygian corridors, further damaging storage-tank bulkheads, and
allowing more seepage of gasoline and fuel oil. This mixture was evap-
orating in the heated air, and below-deck compartments were giant
carburetors, producing a fiendish explosive vapor.
One explosion blew off the door of the ship's hospital, fractured
Dr. White's ankle and severely injured his shoulder, but the doctor
ignored his own hurts and for the next three hours carefully attended
the more severely wounded. When dense smoke billowed into the sick
bay the patients were moved amidships to the captain's quarters, and
when the fires began to spread two hours later, they were moved out
to the flight deck and finally taken aboard stand-by destroyers.
By 1:50 P.M. fires had eaten away the power-steering cables and
gear, and it was necessary to resort to an emergency wheel that was
located in a blind area of the ship. In order to keep contact with this
auxiliary post, a human chain was formed that stretched 450 feet
from the bridge to the emergency steering station four decks below,
and steering orders were passed by word of mouth. This was con-
tinued until Lexington was finally yawing dangerously, and the whole
task force had to disperse until either safety control was obtained, or
the carrier was abandoned.
At 4:30 that afternoon, with practically all communications severed,
and the engine rooms unbearable, it was decided that they were fight-
ing a losing battle. All hands prepared to abandon ship, rafts were cast
loose, lines lowered to trail in the water, and a final search made
throughout the ship for the wounded who could not help themselves.
Blood plasma was administered, injections given to relieve pain, tan-
nic acid dressings bound on, and wounds dressed. Finally 150 men in
basket stretchers were lowered into whaleboats, and the order to aban-
don ship was given. Captain Sherman, holding Wags, his ten-year-old
cocker spaniel, was the last to leave the ship. Personal valuables were
stowed in shirts and one group of seamen took time to haul up several
SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
gallon cartons of ice cream from the galley. They thoughtfully brought
handfuls of wooden spoons that added a picnic air to the occasion.
The sea was calm and warm, and no one who went overboard during
the abandon ship routine was lost.
At 8 P.M. "Lady Lex" was pierced by torpedoes from the destroyer
U.S.S. Phelps, and with one final explosion she went down, bows
up, and slid into 2400 fathoms with the bodies of 216 men and what
was left of 36 aircraft 19 aircraft had been flown off and landed on
Yor&own. Thankfully, 2735 officers and men were rescued.
As a gesture of caution Admiral Inouye decided to call off the in-
vasion of Port Moresby, although what force might have stopped him
by now, is uncertain except that the land-based Army Air Force had
been well alerted and might have mopped up the Japanese transports
now that Shoho had been sunk, and no air cover could be furnished
for the invasion group.
The news of the Coral Sea battle was greatly exaggerated back
home. Some newspapers said that between seventeen and twenty-two
Japanese vessels had been sunk, but no mention of the loss of Lexing-
ton was released. In Tokyo the Japanese reported the sinking of bat-
tleships that had not as yet been launched, all of Admiral Crace's force
was said to be wallowing on the bottom of the Pacific, and both
Lexington and Yorktown completely destroyed. Since American au-
thorities neither denied nor confirmed these wild claims, the Japanese
Navy had no idea what had happened, but were amazed to learn years
afterward that, although damaged severely by one large bomb, York-
town was repaired so rapidly, she was available for the Battle of Mid-
way a short time later, whereas neither Shokaku nor Zuikaku were able
to take part. The former was badly damaged and Japanese shipyards
could not compete with the time allowance; as for Zuikdku, she lost so
many airmen and aircraft she was not ready for action again until she
was sent out for the diversionary raid against the Aleutians June 12.
This first canier-against-camer battle was historic since all losses
were inflicted by air attack no ship on either side sighted a surface
vessel but whether the Battle of the Coral Sea opened a new chapter
in naval warfare was not clear. Many mistakes were made by both
sides, communications were haphazard and at times tragic. Port
Moresby had been saved, which meant that the whole Australian con-
tinent was safe; the Louisiades was the limit to which ships of the
Japanese Empire would reach. But more important, the factors that
were to make up both sides in the Battle of Midway were determined,
FROM CORAL TO MIDWAY igi
and in the end success there possibly was the most important victory
in the whole Pacific campaign.
If the designers of earner aircraft did not learn something from the
tragic loss of Lexington, that conflict was a defeat for us. Also, we must
have been convinced that the enemy Zeke fighter was superior to the
Wildcat in speed, maneuverability, and rate of climb. Immediate plans
for new tactics against these Meat Ball gadflies had to be considered.
The TBD was most vulnerable in that it did not have leakproof tanks
(self-sealing), and was much too slow for routine torpedo bombing.
We should have learned a lot in the Coral Sea.
Geographically, the Midway Islands make up a circular atoll in the
mid-Pacific Ocean, about six miles in diameter. They were little known
until 1903 when a small force of U. S. Marines took them over, chiefly
to guard a trans-Pacific cable station built there. The two main islands,
Sand and Eastern, were first claimed by the United States in 1859,
and ten years later $50,000 was appropriated to dredge a channel into
the lagoon, an operation that was discontinued after seven months of
effort and expense.
From early 1900 it was noticed that Japanese poachers were swann-
ing over these islands capturing tern, black gannet, and goonie birds
for their feathers. Fearing that these invaders might become interna-
tional squatters, President Theodore Roosevelt put the islands under
the jurisdiction of the U. S. Navy, and the poachers were ordered off.
Robert Louis Stevenson, one of the first to publicize the Pacific is-
lands, is said to have based his tale, "The Wrecker," on the experience
of the crew of a British bark, Wandering Minstrel, that sank in the
Midway lagoon during a storm. Her Captain Walker, his wife, and
members of his crew subsisted on fish and birds' eggs until they were
rescued.
Pan American Airways established an air service to the Philippines
in 1936, using Midway, Wake, and Guam as refueling stations. An inn
was built at Midway for overnight accommodation, and by 1940 the
base was considered to be an important military outpost, particularly
when the civilian population rose to 437. Midway's strategic impor-
tance first became evident in 1935 when the U. S, Navy held fleet ma-
neuvers around the sandy atoll in which the Marines made practice
landings, and aircraft flew simulated attacks against the dunes. By
1939 the Hepburn Board Report described Midway as second in im-
portance to Pearl Harbor, and suggested that facilities for two patrol
SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
gallon cartons of ice cream from the galley. TTiey thoughtfully brought
handfuls of wooden spoons that added a picnic air to the occasion.
The sea was calm and warm, and no one who went overboard during
the abandon ship routine was lost.
At 8 P.M. "Lady Lex" was pierced by torpedoes from the destroyer
U.S.S. Phelps, and with one final explosion she went down, bows
up, and slid into 2400 fathoms with the bodies of 216 men and what
was left of 36 aircraft 19 aircraft had been flown off and landed on
Yorfefcnvn. Thankfully, 2735 officers and men were rescued.
As a gesture of caution Admiral Inouye decided to call off the in-
vasion of Port Moresby, although what force might have stopped him
by now, is uncertain except that the land-based Army Air Force had
been well alerted and might have mopped up the Japanese transports
now that Shoho had been sunk, and no air cover could be furnished
for the invasion group.
The news of the Coral Sea battle was greatly exaggerated back
home. Some newspapers said that between seventeen and twenty-two
Japanese vessels had been sunk, but no mention of the loss of Lexing-
ton was released. In Tokyo the Japanese reported the sinking of bat-
tleships that had not as yet been launched, all of Admiral Grace's force
was said to be wallowing on the bottom of the Pacific, and both
Lexington and Yorktown completely destroyed. Since American au-
thorities neither denied nor confirmed these wild claims, the Japanese
Navy had no idea what had happened, but were amazed to learn years
afterward that, although damaged severely by one large bomb, Yorfe-
town was repaired so rapidly, she was available for the Battle of Mid-
way a short time later, whereas neither Shokaku nor Zuikaku were able
to take part. The former was badly damaged and Japanese shipyards
could not compete with the time allowance; as for Zuikaku, she lost so
many airmen and aircraft she was not ready for action again until she
was sent out for the diversionary raid against the Aleutians June 12.
This first carrier-against-carrier battle was historic since all losses
were inflicted by air attack no ship on either side sighted a surface
vessel but whether the Battle of the Coral Sea opened a new chapter
in naval warfare was not clear. Many mistakes were made by both
sides, communications were haphazard and at times tragic. Port
Moresby had been saved, which meant that the whole Australian con-
tinent was safe; the Louisiades was the limit to which ships of the
Japanese Empire would reach. But more important, the factors that
were to make up both sides in the Battle of Midway were determined,
FROM CORAL TO MIDWAY 191
and in the end success there possibly was the most important victory
in the whole Pacific campaign.
If the designers of carrier aircraft did not learn something from the
tragic loss of Lexington, that conflict was a defeat for us. Also, we must
have been convinced that the enemy Zeke fighter was superior to the
Wildcat in speed, maneuverability, and rate of climb. Immediate plans
for new tactics against these Meat Ball gadflies had to be considered.
The TBD was most vulnerable in that it did not have leakproof tanks
(self-sealing), and was much too slow for routine toipedo bombing.
We should have learned a lot in the Coral Sea,
Geographically, the Midway Islands make up a circular atoll in the
mid-Pacific Ocean, about six miles in diameter. They were little known
until 1903 when a small force of U. S. Marines took them over, chiefly
to guard a trans-Pacific cable station built there. The two main islands,
Sand and Eastern, were first claimed by the United States in 1859,
and ten years later $50,000 was appropriated to dredge a channel into
the lagoon, an operation that was discontinued after seven months of
effort and expense.
From early 1900 it was noticed that Japanese poachers were swarm-
ing over these islands capturing tern, black gannet, and goonie birds
for their feathers. Fearing that these invaders might become interna-
tional squatters, President Theodore Roosevelt put the islands under
the jurisdiction of the U. S. Navy, and the poachers were ordered off.
Robert Louis Stevenson, one of the first to publicize the Pacific is-
lands, is said to have based his tale, The Wrecker," on the experience
of the crew of a British bark, Wandering Minstrel, that sank in the
Midway lagoon during a storm. Her Captain Walker, his wife, and
members of his crew subsisted on fish and birds' eggs until they were
rescued.
Pan American Airways established an air service to the Philippines
in 1936, using Midway, Wake, and Guam as refueling stations. An inn
was built at Midway for overnight accommodation, and by 1940 the
base was considered to be an important military outpost, particularly
when the civilian population rose to 437. Midway's strategic impor-
tance first became evident in 1935 when the U. S. Navy held fleet ma-
neuvers around the sandy atoll in which the Marines made practice
landings, and aircraft flew simulated attacks against the dunes. By
1939 tk e Hepburn Board Report described Midway as second in im-
portance to Pearl Harbor, and suggested that facilities for two patrol
192 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
squadrons be constructed, and some channel piers built. Late in 1940
a Navy dock was added, and gradually a respectable defense force was
formed that included consideration of an airstrip on Eastern Island
to supplement the seaplane facilities, originally planned.
When the war began the Sand Island seaplane ramps accommo-
dated twelve PBY flying boats, belonging to VP-21 Squadron. Two
Dutch PBY flying boats that had taken off that fateful morning
for the East Indies were recalled and commandeered. There were no
actual fighting aircraft on hand, but three days before the Pearl Harbor
attack, U.S.S. Wright, a seaplane tender, had delivered forty enlisted
men from Marine Air Group 21, who were to receive and service eight-
een Curtiss Helldivers that were to be flown off Lexington on Decem-
ber 7. As related before, Lexington did not deliver the aircraft, since
she was ordered to turn back, and the dive bombers were handed over
to the Pearl Harbor defense forces for the time being. On December
17 these single-engined planes, guided by a twin-engined PBY, flew
from Hawaii to Midway, after a record-breaking flight of nine hours
and forty-five minutes, the longest mass overwater flight of its kind
on record up to that time.
On the night of December 7 two Japanese destroyers Sazanami and
Usio lobbed a few shells into Sand Island that killed two Marines and
two sailors. The roof of the seaplane hangar was burned, one plane
was completely destroyed, as were most of the hangar's stores. The
island's two defense batteries returned the fire and claimed some hits,
that were never substantiated, although Captain J. H. Hamilton who
was flying a PA A. Philippine Clipper out of Wake Island had reached
a point southwest of Midway, and reported noting two naval vessels
bearing southwest, and that one of them was burning intensely.
By Christmas Day Saratoga delivered fourteen Brewster Buffaloes,
belonging to Marine Fighter-22i Squadron. These almost obsolete air-
craft were to reinforce the ancient PBY patrol planes. This haphazard
build-up continued during the spring of 1942, and although Midway
was obviously the key point in the over-all war plans in the Pacific,
very little was, or could be, done about it.
However, as the picture became clearer and the importance of Mid-
way fully revealed, the necessary defensive plans were extended. At
the same time U. S. Intelligence had broken a valuable Japanese code
and learned of Admiral Yamamoto's intent to take either Hawaii
or Midway, By early April twenty-two Marine pilots, seven Wildcat
aircraft, and nineteen Helldivers were delivered by U.S.S. Kitty Hawk.
FROM CORAL TO MIDWAY 193
By the end of May the airfield, spread over one end of Eastern Island,
was cluttered with four 6-265 and seventeen B-iys, belonging to the
Army Air Force, six Navy torpedo carriers, and about sixty planes of
varying categories belonging to the U. S. Marines.
Fuel consumption for continued training and routine patrols was
gobbling up 65,000 gallons of aviation fuel per day, and on May 22
this situation became critical when a sailor yanked the wrong switch
during a demolition drill and burned up 400,000 gallons of gasoline.
From that time on all aircraft were refueled from fifty-five-gallon
drums, which was similar to servicing a Cadillac with an eyedropper.
Even after the setback in the Coral Sea engagement, the Japanese
Combined Fleet Headquarters continued its interest in the occupation
of Midway. Although two of their large carriers had been eliminated
from their Carrier Division 5, they believed the U. S. Navy had also
lost two carriers, and so the available strength appeared to be well in
Japan's favor. Admiral Nagumo still had Akagi, Kaga, Soryu, and
Kiryu to provide his air striking force, and even the Naval General Staff
at home, which had opposed the Midway attack, was now confident
of a successful outcome. They knew that Enterprise and Hornet were
back at Pearl Harbor; they had no idea where Wasp might be, but
agreed she might join any defense of Midway. Ranger was believed to
be in the Atlantic, and Saratoga was known to be still at San Diego
undergoing repairs from torpedo damage. As matters stood on May
28, Japan had the better of the deal when Task Force 16, now under
Rear Admiral Raymond A. Spruance, sortied out of Pearl Harbor.
On that same day Admiral Yamamoto sent off what might be con-
sidered a diversionary force that headed for an unimpeded invasion
of the Aleutians. This was after a week of intensive fleet maneuvers
and tabletop lectures aboard his flagship Yamato. The Japanese plan
consisted of three general operations. Rear Admiral Kakuji Kakuta,
with the Second Carrier Striking Force took over the Aleutians assign-
ment; his flagship was Ryujo. About May 26 (Tokyo time) he moved
out of Ominato harbor on northern Honshu, steamed through the
Tsugaru Strait and set an easterly course across the northern Pacific.
A friendly fog came up and gave him full cover from any U. S. sub-
marines that might have been lurking east of Hokkaido, and, as we
know, the Kakuta force met no opposition and made the landing un-
hindered.
On the morning of May 27 (Tokyo time) the Admiral Nagumo
force departed from Hashirajima anchorage, threaded its way through
194 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
Bungo Strait about noon and by nightfall was well out in the Pacific.
Meanwhile other forces were moving out according to plan. Vice-
Admiral Hosogaya's northern main body, and the Attu and Kiska in-
vasion forces sailed out of Ominato. To the south the Midway landing
forces, escorted by Rear Admiral R. Tanaka's light cruiser flagship
Jintsu, twelve destroyers, the seaplane carrier Chitose, tenders and
other units ranged out of Saipan that same evening. A trick that was
designed to deceive U. S. submarines on patrol, took the convoy
first in a westerly direction, and then it skirted around to the south of
Tinian before heading east. Rear Admiral Kurita's support group of
heavy cruisers steamed out of Guam almost simultaneously and moved
on a parallel course, about forty miles to the south of the invasion
convoy.
The last to move out were the main body of the Midway Invasion
Force, under Vice-Admiral Kondo, and the Main Force under the di-
rect command of Admiral Yamamoto. Five months had passed since
the battleship group had last left home waters as it had remained
in the Inland Sea, carrying out rigprous training for what was hoped
would be a major role in a decisive battle against the American Fleet.
Every officer and man aboard the big ships was confident their fire-
power would send every enemy to the bottom, and now that they had
Yanurfo, the largest battleship afloat, making her maiden sortie, their
confidence was to some extent justified.
As this main force moved to head out of Bungo Strait, patrolling
destroyers reported sighting two enemy submarines. This information,
added to earlier radio intelligence that indicated there might be a
total of six enemy submarines in this area, intensified antisubmarine
operations and search, and as a result all ships of the Kondo and
Yamamoto forces slipped through this danger area without mishap.
On reaching the open sea, Admiral Yamamoto's force went into two
parallel columns of batdewagons, while the light carrier Hosho took a
position between the two columns where she could launch or recover
her antisubmarine planes in shelter and protection. The whole battle-
ship group was screened by twenty destroyers, and the light cruiser
Sendd completed a circular defense force, moving southeast at eight-
een knots.
By May 29, their time, all the Japanese forces were forging ahead
without a hitch. Only Admiral Kakuta, heading for his Aleutian en-
gagement, was plagued with continued ba<i fog. On May 30 rain and
strong winds over the central Pacific made navigation difficult for the
FROM CORAL TO MIDWAY 195
Yamamoto and Kondo forces, and the formation speed was cut to
fourteen knots. To add to this a message was picked up from a U. S.
submarine somewhere directly ahead of the Japanese Transport Group.
Although the message was in code, it was meant for Midway, and
Admiral Yamamoto presumed rightfully that the invasion transports
had been spotted. His staff should have been concerned, but instead
it took the attitude that if United States forces had guessed the pur-
pose of the transport group, they would send out a fleet to oppose
the invasion, and the primary objective of drawing in these enemy
forces for a decisive battle would be achieved.
From this point on many of Yamamoto's well-laid plans went awry.
Two submarines that were ordered to refuel two flying boats off
French Frigate Shoals about five hundred miles northwest of Oahu,
found, instead, two U. S. Navy seaplane tenders at the rendezvous,
and the contact had to be called off. The Japanese flying boats were
to have made an important reconnaissance over Hawaii, and when this
plan had to be discarded, it was impossible to know just what U. S,
Navy forces were still in, or had left Pearl Harbor. Now Admiral
Yamamoto was relying on information from cordons of submarines
that skulked between Hawaii and Midway, and this information would
have to be available by June 2 to be of any value. The weather was
still disturbing by June i and the Yamamoto force was unable to find
its tanker train to refuel. Aircraft were sent up from Hosfto, but they
could not round up the oilers, and radio messages had to be sent
out before this important contact could be made.
With this breaking of radio silence, there came further evidence
that the U. S. forces were cognizant of Yamamoto's intentions. Radio
messages between Hawaii and Midway were stepped up in number
and urgency. A Japanese flying boat encountered an American flying
boat about five hundred miles north-northwest of Wotje that indi-
cated that Midway had extended its patrol range to seven hundred
miles. News of contacts with U. S. submarines continued to seep in
which, when analyzed, indicated that an enemy submarine patrol line
was out some six hundred miles southwest of Midway.
Thousands of airmen and sailors had a rendezvous with death.
The carrier Hornet left Pearl Harbor May 28, and her air group that
had been stationed ashore while she was in port, flew out and went
aboard shortly after the carrier was clear of tie harbor. Within min-
196 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
utes of tying down the planes, her skipper, Captain Marc A. Mitscher,
went on the bull horn to explain the situation.
"This is the captain. We are going to intercept a Jap attack on
Midway.**
The idea of an assault on Midway had been brewing in the minds
of the airmen for some time and few of them were particularly dis-
turbed; only the skipper of Torpedo Eight Squadron felt any con-
cern, for six of his new Grumman Avengers were based on Midway,
and he wished he had a full deck to deal from. Most of the airmen
aboard Hornet had been in special training for months, but none had
actually fired a shot in wrath. As the carrier steamed on for a rendez-
vous with Rear Admiral Frank J. Fletcher's Task Force 17, routine
training was continued.
On June i Captain Mitscher scrawled a message for Commander
Henderson to read out: "The enemy are approaching for an attempt
to seize Midway. This attack will probably be accompanied by a feint
at western Alaska. We are going to prevent them from taking Mid-
way, if possible. Be ready and keep on the alert. Let's get a few more
yellowtails."
By 2 PJWL the next day Hornets force joined Yorktown northeast
of Midway, and Admiral Fletcher assumed tactical command of the
entire American defensive force, but Admiral Chester W. Nimitz, back
at Pearl Harbor, still maintained command of the strategic planning.
Admiral Halsey was indisposed, and Rear Admiral Raymond Spru-
ance was given command of Task Force 16, of which Hornet was a
part.
As has been noted, the Pacific Fleet could not put one battleship
into the Midway action. Vice-Admiral William S. Pye's battleship
force, which had been carrying out important duties over routes be-
tween West Coast ports and Hawaii, was anchored in San Francisco
Bay where the battleship sailors on liberty were treated unpleasantly
by San Franciscans. Admiral Pye wished to get into more dramatic ac-
tion, but Admiral Nimitz refused, explaining that he could furnish
the slower battleships no air cover, and that the Midway planning
promised small opportunity for battleships to tangle with the enemy.
Admiral Nimitz had, therefore, to face a Japanese force that was
composed of battleships, carriers, heavy cruisers, and a full comple-
ment of support vessels, with a much smaller collection. He also had
had to decide whether to confine his efforts to the Midway situation,
leaving the Aleutians to fend for themselves, or to make some token
FROM CORAL TO MIDWAY 197
effort to protect those far-flung islands. The "token" effort had been
decided on early in May when a North Pacific Force, composed of the
heavy cruisers Indianapolis and Louisville, the light cruisers Honolulu,
St. Louis, and Nashville, and ten destroyers, was put under command
of Rear Admiral Robert A. Theobald.
Admiral Nimitz did have one strategic advantage over Admiral
Yamamoto a shorter distance from his base to the scene of the ac-
tion. Midway accommodated more aircraft than any carrier, and Mid-
way could not be sunk. Nimitz also had the benefit of the search
radar, established on Midway, and by now Enterprise, Hornet, and
Yorktown, as well as a few cruisers, were so equipped.
After careful consideration of available information, Admiral
Nimitz believed that the Japanese would make a full-scale attack on
Midway with the idea of an immediate occupation, that Yamamoto's
battleships and carrier aircraft would aim to destroy as much of the
U. S. surface force as possible, and enemy submarines would attempt
to intercept and destroy any American vessels that were two hundred
miles west of Oahu.
In opposition, Spruance and Fletcher were to inflict maximum dam-
age on the enemy by using strong attrition tactics. In landlubber lan-
guage this meant that planes from U. S. carriers were to torpedo,
bomb, or dive-bomb anything that flew the Japanese Imperial Navy
ensign.
Admiral Nimitz explained further in his Letter of Instruction: "In
carrying out the task assigned, you will be governed by the principle
of calculated risk, which you shall interpret to mean the avoidance
of exposure of your force to attack by superior enemy forces without
good prospect of inflicting, as a result of such exposure, greater dam-
age on the enemy."
Admiral Fletcher, who was senior to Admiral Spruance, became
Officer in Tactical Command the minute their rendezvous was com-
pleted. Fletcher had no aviation staff, whereas Spruance had inher-
ited Halsey's, and it was fortunate that Spruance made the most of
what was practically an independent command during the important
actions of June 4-6. Neither Navy man had any control over the avia-
tion forces on Midway, over the submarines in the area, or over the
North Pacific force off the Aleutians. The over-all commander was
Admiral Nimitz at his Pearl Harbor headquarters.
By June i the Japanese transport convoy had reached a point about
198 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
one thousand miles west of Midway and was steaming on a northeast
course at about 240 miles a day, and would thus enter the seven-
hundred-mile patrol radius of American patrol planes out of Midway
by June 3 two days before the date set for the preinvasion strike on
the island by Admiral Nagumo's Number i Carrier Division. It ap-
peared that the transport force was moving too fast for safety a point
to be remembered.
The inclement weather continued and occasional rain fell where
Yamamoto's main body was making a delayed refueling; in fact the
weather turned worse and the refueling had to be discontinued. It
was also learned at this time that submarines of Squadron 5 that
were supposed to be part of the cordon line set up northwest of
Hawaii, had failed to take their assigned positions overhaul delays
had postponed their departure from home bases. This left Admiral
Yamamoto wondering what was going on in the cordon area; only his
I-i68 that was scouting in the Midway area got a few scant messages
through, and this submarine could offer little that Yamamoto did not
know. The skipper of I-i68 did report that many construction cranes
appeared to be in operation on Midway, indicating that the installa-
tions were being expanded.
On June 2 Admiral Nagumo's carrier force was cruising about six
hundred miles ahead of the main force where it entered a very misty
area, clouds hung low, light rain began to fall, and it seemed that
they would eventually run into a foggy condition. Visibility was so
scant there was some danger of ships in the formation colliding, and
at the same time Nagumo was very much in the dark about U. S.
fleet movements; in fact the carrier force commander knew less of
what was going on than did Admiral Yamamoto. He had a suspicion
that the Americans were already alert, but without actual confirmation
either way, his position was most unenviable. Admiral Yamamoto,
holding to the order of radio silence, hoped that the element of sur-
prise had not been lost, and thus put his trust in wishful thinking.
Actually, they were sailing into a trap, blind, but hopeful.
By dawn of June 3 the Japanese carrier force was creeping through
a heavy blanket of fog and the ships steaming at six-hundred-yard in-
tervals turned on powerful searchlights, but these artificial aids scarcely
penetrated the pall. Navigating, and carrying out zigzag courses with
only infrequent glimpses of neighboring ships, must have been nerve-
racking and hazardous, yet these measures had to be maintained since
the waters were patrolled by American submarines.
FROM CORAL TO MIDWAY 199
The fog did afford some measure of cover from aerial observation,
but whatever advantage so gained was more than cancelled by the
navigation and collision problems. They knew, too, that fog interfered
in no way with U. S. Navy radar equipment.
Admiral Nagumo was a very unhappy man. With bad weather de-
manding a change of course by 10:30, he realized that he had been
given two missions that were essentially incompatible. He was first to
soften the Midway defenses by June 5 in preparation for the landing
operations, a mission that limited his general movement, and at the
same time he was expected to contact and destroy the U. S. Naval
forces, an assignment that demanded complete freedom of movement.
Sitting out there in the fog wondering whether to use a low-
frequency radio to advise ships when to change course, Admiral
Nagumo had also to decide which assignment came first the Midway
beat-up, or the attack on American surface ships. His Captain Oishi
made the following suggestion: "The Combined Fleet operation order
gives first priority to the destruction of enemy forces. Co-operation
with the landing operation is secondary, but the same order specifically
calls for our air attack on Midway Island on June 5. This means that
the air attack must be carried out exactly as scheduled, provided that
no enemy task forces are located by the time we are ready to launch.
If we do not neutralize the Midway-based air forces as planned, our
landing operations two days later will be strongly opposed, and the
entire invasion schedule will be upset."
Admiral Nagumo smiled at the simplicity of the advice. "That is
all very well/' he agreed, "but where is the enemy fleet?"
Captain Oishi presumed that the American forces were in Pearl
Harbor, and if so they would have more than one thousand miles to
sail, once they learned of the Japanese strike at Midway. On that
premise Captain Oishi suggested that the scheduled raid on Midway
should be carried out.
Still no radio intercepts were made to give them any idea where
the U. S. Fleet was, or what were its intentions. And the Japanese
force continued on, half-believing that the American Fleet would be
lured out of Pearl Harbor with the news of the raid against Midway;
they had no idea that a heavy force was awaiting them in the waters
around the key island. Later on when Admiral Nagumo learned that
the main fleet had had some such suspicion, he asked why the same
radio intelligence had not been forwarded to him. The answer was
that since he was closer to the enemy, he would naturally have picked
200 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
up the same information. Also, it was too risky to break their order
of radio silence.
Rain fell steadily until June 4 (Tokyo time) and the sky was still
sullen and forbidding. At 8 AJM. that morning Admiral Yamamoto sent
his guard force off from the main body to proceed northeast to
cover the Aleutian operations. A short time later he received a mes-
sage from the admiral in command of the transport convoy that his
ships had been spotted by an American search plane, some six hun-
dred miles west of Midway. Even Admiral Yamamoto realized now
that only a dullard commander would miss the threat against Mid-
way, and it was obvious that some action would result shortly.
That afternoon nine B-iy bombers attacked the transport convoy,
but no hits were scored. Early the next morning more American planes
roared over and made a low-level attack; one of them put a torpedo
into Akebono Maru, a tanker in the rear of the column. The explosion
killed eleven men and wounded thirteen others, but the tanker ignored
the rent in her hull, continued on, and maintained her place in the
formation. This transport formation was supposed to move in well
ahead of the carrier force, but Admiral Yamamoto was planning ac-
cording to the phase of the moon, and this plan was adhered to.
Rear Admiral Kakuta's Second Carrier Striking Force which was
leading the northern thrust, reached its launching position for the
strike at Dutch Harbor. The mercury stood well down the thermome-
ter tube. The pilots were using maps that were made from charts thirty
years old, and no one had any idea what the shoreline portions of their
target island would look like. The planes took off at 2:38 A.M. June 3
from Ryu/o and the light carrier Junyo when the visibility had reached
about three thousand yards.
This attack, which was intended as a diversionary thrust, was a risky
venture. Weather made formation flying impossible, so eleven bomb-
ers, twelve dive bombers, and a dozen fighters headed for Dutch Har-
bor. Fortunately for them, they found a hole in the clouds and no
American defense planes to hamper them. They attacked a radio sta-
tion, oil tanks, and one flying boat that was moored in the water.
While these planes were over Dutch Harbor, an American flying boat,
with a small escort of scouts, flew over Admiral Kakuta's force and
dropped several bombs, but scored no hits.
The opening Japanese attack left much to be desired, although some
photographs were taken that showed modem warehouses, barracks,
FROM CORAL TO MIDWAY 2O1
wharves, good roads, and fuel-storage tanks. A second mission was
sent out, but this time the weather closed in thick, and all planes
had to return without dropping a bomb or firing a gun. Admiral
Kakuta's force then continued to move in until it was about one hun-
dred miles off the Aleutian shore. Two Japanese flying boats were sent
on a reconnaissance mission, but were intercepted and shot down by
American fighters. Two others, sent on a similar assignment, had not
much better luck. They managed to return but the planes broke up
when they landed near their mother ships.
These operations proved only that the United States had air bases
in the Unalaska area, but where, Kakuta never found out. Little dam-
age was inflicted on Dutch Harbor, and the foray was entirely ineffec-
tive in achieving its diversionary objective, since Pearl Harbor was
aware that the main Japanese attack was to be directed at Midway.
Admiral Yamamoto's forces to the south were enduring many kinds
of false alarms. Enemy (U. S.) planes were reported everywhere, but
seldom confirmed. Lights in the night skies believed to be navigation
lights of prowling aircraft generally turned out to be bright stars. As
the zero hour approached, aircraft engines were run up, last-minute
checks were made, and the carrier decks were hives of industry. By
3 A.M. June 4 (Tokyo time) aircraft were being readied for take-off
from Akagi. Thirty-six torpedo aircraft, thirty-six dive bombers, and
thirty-six fighters were picked up by the Midway radar when this force
was forty-three miles northwest of the target point. When the island
alarm sounded, a Marine fighter squadron took off and met the raid-
ers about thirty miles out. Practically every Marine plane was shot
down. The Zekes had a holiday and soon were over Midway, scream-
ing through a wicked curtain of antiaircraft fire. The first bomb load
was released from fourteen thousand feet. The Val dive bombers went
in next, and together they wiped out the Marine command post and
mess hall. They then went after the power station on Eastern Island,
destroyed oil tanks on Sand Island, blew up the seaplane hangar,
burned the hospital and storehouses and damaged the gasoline sys-
tem. Luckily no real damage was inflicted on the runways and only
a few service men were killed on the ground. This attack was over
by 6:50 A.M. It was disclosed later that Marine Corps airmen had de-
stroyed at least one third of the enemy attack group, before the Ma-
rines were shunted out of the play. Again the outdated Buffaloes and
war-weary Wildcats were no match for first-class Zeke fighters.
An American PBY plane out of Midway had in the meantime,
202 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
despite the bad weather, spotted the Japanese force. The pilot took no
chances and radioed in English: "Many enemy planes heading for Mid-
way ." A few minutes later he added: "Two carriers, and battleships
bearing 320 distant 180 (miles from Midway) on course 135 speed
25-"
This was the first real indication as to where the Japanese force was.
The information was not exact, and the position was some forty miles
off, but it was enough for Admirals Spruance and Fletcher. Admiral
Spruance made a quick and valuable decision, ordering Enterprise and
Hornet to proceed southwesterly and attack enemy carriers when defi-
nitely located, and promised to send Yorktovm along as soon as she
could recover the planes of a search mission she had in the air. It
was Admiral Fletcher who made the decision about Yorktown, and
in that resolve he ignited a train of events that was to result in the
loss of four Japanese carriers.
A short time later, 7 A.M. to be exact, while Army 8-175 were trying
to punish enemy carriers from twenty thousand feet, but with no luck,
fighter pilots from Hornet were put on alert and scout bombers were
launched. One of these was Torpedo Eight, in which Ensign George
H. Gay, Jr., was a member. He was to experience an amazing adven-
ture in this battle.
About this time also a Japanese cruiser, Tons, had sent off a float
search plane that was to reach a point some three hundred miles away.
At 7:28 it reported a formation of ten ships, apparently enemy, that
were headed southeast toward Midway. In its warning message it ex-
plained that this force was only two hundred forty miles from Midway,
and doing twenty knots. When the news was relayed to Admiral
Nagumo, his world toppled around him, for he had no idea that an
enemy force could be that close so soon; that enemy surface ships
were in the vicinity waiting to ambush him.
His staff intelligence officer soon figured out that the American
forces were only two hundred miles away from Nagumo's carriers and
that they were within striking distance of Japanese planes, but if the
American commander had any carriers, Nagumo's fleet was within his
reach! The Tone's search plane had not waited around long enough
to learn whether there were any carriers in this unexpected force. At
7:58 A.M., apparently risking another peek, it reported that the enemy
ships had changed course, but again failed to mention whether it
included any carriers, and it was not until Nagumo's staff officers
sent a radio signal demanding to know the composition of the enemy
FROM CORAL TO MIDWAY 203
force that finally at 8:09 A.M. the Tone's search plane's operator re-
plied with: "Enemy ships are five cruisers and five destroyers."
That news pleased everyone until 8:20 when the Tone plane came
through with: "Enemy force accompanied by what appears to be an
aircraft carrier bringing up the rear."
The optimists aboard Akagi put their hopes in the phrase "appears
to be." The identification was not certain. If the enemy had a car-
rier, why hadn't Nagumo's force been attacked by carrier-type aircraft?
Then at 8:30 the search plane reported that two additional ships, ap-
parently cruisers, had joined the enemy force. It was still on a course
of 1 50 and making twenty knots.
Admiral Nagumo was in a new quandary. Most of his bomber planes
aboard Kaga and Akagi had been armed with high-level bombs, weap-
ons suitable for his attack against Midway, but if there were an enemy
fleet somewhere ahead, torpedoes would be the order of the day. But
he was still uncertain and vacillated. The only Japanese planes that
were armed for an attack against enemy surface ships were thirty-six
dive bombers aboard Hiryu and Soryu. To Nagumo's dilemma was
added the problems involved in a dive-bomber attack against the mys-
terious enemy force they would have to go without fighter escort
since all his Zekes were in the air in a defense patrol against the re-
peated attacks by U. S. shore-based bombers. By the time his Midway-
attack aircraft were returning, many in desperate straits, Admiral
Nagumo had to make a quick decision.
The deck space was needed for the incoming planes, but some of
his staff were suggesting an immediate attack against the force that
Tone's spotter plane had reported. The Japanese admiral cautiously
decided to clear his decks by putting his bombers below, and then
bringing in the Midway-strike force. This decision was made around
8:30 A.M. He also removed the 8oo-kilogram bombs and replaced them
with conventional torpedoes. Once his Midway force was safely
aboard he decided that he would head northward to contact "and
destroy" the enemy task force, and he advised Admiral Yamamoto of
his decision, explaining that the enemy force was composed of one
carrier, five cruisers, and five destroyers.
Admiral Nimitz's fleet actually consisted of three carriers, eight
cruisers, fifteen destroyers, and at least twelve submarines, to which
was added the land-based air arm of the Army at Midway.
The Japanese Midway-strike planes were recovered by 9:18 A.M.,
as well as the second wave of fighters that were up on combat air
204 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
patrol. The new northward course was set, mainly to evade the
Midway-based air attacks, and with the hope of gaining an advan-
tageous position over Spruance's fleet.
Admiral Spruance adopted the "commensurate risk" factor of his
orders, and decided to launch his planes around 7 A.M., hoping to
find the enemy carriers' refueling planes on deck in preparation for
their second strike against Midway. He knew that his torpedo planes
had a combat radius of only 175 miles, but this was a risk that had
to be taken. At 7:02 aircraft began roaring off Enterprise and Hornet;
every plane that could fly and carry a war load was put into the air.
All told the force was made up of twenty Wildcat fighters, twenty-nine
Devastator torpedo bombers, and sixty-seven Dauntless dive bombers,
fairly well divided between the two carriers. A force of thirty-six Wild-
cats was held back as combat air patrol to cover the two flat-tops
while the attack planes were away.
Admiral Fletcher, sailing the same course with Yorktawn and Task
Force 17, delayed his launching until after 8 A.M., presuming there
might be other, unreported, Japanese carriers to contend with. Since
nothing further had been added to any of the PBY reports, or from
the Army Air Force bombers by 8:38, he launched half of his Daunt-
less planes and all of his torpedo carriers with suitable fighter escort.
This force was in the air by 9:06, and another deckload was spotted
for immediate take-off, if needed.
The enemy was located about 9:50, after it was realized that
Yamamoto's force had changed course; instead of being on a heading
for Midway, it was found at a point northwest. The four enemy carriers
were boxed in by a screen that was composed of two battleships, three
cruisers, and eleven destroyers. As the flagship, Akagi rode in a flank
position to starboard, and Kaga steamed some distance astern. The
Japanese carriers were in the condition Spruance had hoped all
bomber aircraft were aboard with rearming and refueling going on in
great excitement.
Admiral Nagumo then ordered a new change of course, a go-degree
switch in direction to east-northeast. This evaded the dive bombers
from Hornet that somehow missed the enemy, continued on their orig-
inal bearing, and found nothing to attack. They had to land at Mid-
way to refuel. Two piled up in the lagoon, and all the Wildcats of the
fighter cover had to ditch owing to lack of fuel.
Hornet's torpedo squadron, under Lieutenant Commander John C.
FROM CORAL TO MIDWAY 2 O$
Waldron, went on to some degree of glory and tragedy. Commander
Waldron knew that his squadron had little chance to survive, but each
man was determined to press on against all obstacles.
On discovering that the enemy was not where he was supposed to
be, Commander Waldron turned northward while his fighter cover
apparently headed in another direction. At 9:25 he spotted two smoke
columns, and there found his targets. The Japanese air patrol pounced
within minutes, and Torpedo Eight Squadron was immediately in
trouble, and before they were within eight miles of the carrier force
they were harried by antiaircraft fire. Commander Waldron pressed
on, but plane after plane was shot down until there was only a small
formation left. These continued on bravely and dropped their tor-
pedoes, but they were batted down before they had any idea whether
or not they had scored. Twenty-five-year-old Ensign George H. Gay,
Jr., of Houston, Texas, alone survived of all the pilots and crewmen
in the fifteen planes. He managed to launch his torpedo against a
carrier, and pulled out about ten feet above the enemy deck. An ex-
plosive bullet took out his rudder controls, and his aircraft piled into
the sea. His air gunner was dead, and Ensign Gay realized, after pan-
caking his ship on the waves, that he too had been hit in his upper
left arm and left l^g. The landing was rough and Gay's radioman could
not climb out of the tangle of wreckage.
By 11:00 Gay was floating about with a black cushion and a bag
containing his rubber life raft. He could have inflated the dinghy, but
he had heard that Japanese fliers usually fired on men floating on the
surface, and since he was well inside the Japanese Fleet area, he used
the cushion as long as possible. He spent some time attending to his
wounds, and then realized he was an eyewitness to what became
known as the Battle of Midway.
As he floated about amid the naval carnage, he saw two enemy car-
riers hit squarely by American bombs. He saw tremendous fires and
billows of smoke that burst through great holes in the decks. A pat-
tern of wild flame churned upward to hold aloft great cushions of
black smoke. He heard internal explosions roar from the carriers at mo-
mentary intervals, and as the attack continued one carrier showed fire
from bow to stern.
A minute figure floating about amid the flotsam of battle, Ensign
Gay was almost run down several times by destroyers that were speed-
ing to the stricken carriers. A heavy cruiser steamed by less than five
hundred yards from him, and Gay could see the crew along her rail
206 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
as they endured the gradual destruction of Admiral Yamamoto's force.
When the action waned in the afternoon the young ensign watched
the Japanese make frantic efforts to control the damage. An enemy
cruiser tried to stand by a crippled carrier, but could not move in close
enough, so finally the cruiser stood off, opened up with her big guns
and tried to scuttle the ill-fated flat-top. Some time later a destroyer
came alongside the still floating hulk to take off survivors, as a covey
of Japanese aircraft circled overhead, searching for a deck on which to
land. Darkness finally ended the spectacle.
Ensign Gay then attempted to inflate his rubber raft, but he had
first to repair a number of bullet holes in the envelope before he
dared risk triggering the carbon dioxide bottle. When it was inflated,
he clambered in and began a long night vigil. By sun-up the next day
a Navy patrol plane spotted his yellow raft, swept down out of the sky
and picked up the lone survivor of Torpedo Eight Squadron.
The torpedo squadron off Enterprise, commanded by Lieutenant
Commander Eugene E. Lindsey, had no fighter protection either. His
Wildcat escort inadvertently escorted Waldron's Torpedo Eight for a
while. Commander Lindsey changed course well in time, and decided
not to wait for the dive bombers. The Japanese helmsmen's clever
maneuvering forced the TBDs to circle widely in order to make a
beam attack on Kaga, which gave the Zeke fighters plenty of time-
ten Devastators, including Lieutenant Commander Lindsey's, were
shot down. The few who lived to launch their torpedoes did not score
a hit.
When the last of Enterprise's torpedo bombers had cleared around
10 A.M., Yorfetown's TBDs, commanded by Lieutenant Commander
Lance E. Massey, took off, covered by Lieutenant Commander John
S. Thach's six Wildcats. These fighters were soon shoved out of the
play by a big formation of Zekes, and Commander Massey, emulating
Waldron and Lindsey, went in courageously, hoping to get Soryu, but
instead barged into another slaughter. Seven Devastators, including
Massey's, went down in flames. Five managed to release their tor-
pedoes before they were shot down, but no hits were recorded.
In the final summation, forty-one planes were sent out by American
carriers, but only six returned and not one torpedo bored into a Japa-
nese ship. What can be gleaned from this unhappy exhibition was the
fact that the wild maneuvering of the enemy carriers prevented any of
their aircraft from being launched, and although the TBDs were sitting
ducks for the Zeke air cover, they did clear the air for the dive bombers
FROM CORAL TO MIDWAY
that appeared a few minutes later. This enabled the Dauntless planes
to move in unhindered and drop their bombs on enemy flat-tops while
deckloads of planes were being refueled.
There was little time to enjoy the glory of their victory over the
American torpedo bombers, for the men of the Rising Sun were soon
to see their last effulgence of sunshine. Dive bombers from all three
American carriers, after expending some valuable fuel in searching for
the Yamamoto force, were eventually guided into the right area.
In all probability it was Lieutenant Commander Clarence W. Mc-
Cluskey of Enterprise who took his formation in first, guided by a
radio-telephone appeal from Commander Miles R. Browning of Ad-
miral Spruance's staff. McCluskey found all four enemy carriers still
maneuvering within a circle eight miles in diameter. He had thirty-
seven Dauntless dive bombers under his command, including his own,
and he ordered Lieutenant Commander Wilmer E. Gallaher with
VS-6 to follow him in attacking Kagfi. Lieutenant Richard H. Best with
nineteen SBDs following with looo-pounders, instead of 5oo-pound-
ers used by McCluskey and Gallaher, went in later and cleaned up
what was left.
By a twist of fate a second element of three planes also attacked
Kaga, giving that flat-top more than its share of TNT, and since the
Japanese air cover patrols had dived low to get the torpedo planes,
the dive bombers, roaring down a yo-degree chute, were not molested
by the defending Zekes.
Akagi was refueling forty aircraft that were spotted about her deck
when the barrage started. Thus, she had no sooner stopped evasive
tactics to duck the torpedoes than three dive-bomb hits smacked
home. Captain Aoki in a statement made later, complained, "It was
impossible to evade torpedoes and dive bombers at the same time.
The bombs were dropped from about fifteen hundred feet, and the
first only missed our bridge by thirty feet. The second took out the
amidships elevator, which was enough to finish us, the third ripped
through the flight deck on the port side, aft."
This third bomb exploded in the middle of a group of airplanes
that were being rearmed, or having the bombs that were intended for
Midway changed to torpedoes to be used against the American task
force. The bomb that hit near the elevator exploded in the hangar. It
set off several Japanese torpedoes that started a terrific fire that was
soon out of control. Admiral Nagumo, safe and sound on the upper
208 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
works of the bridge, decided matters were not too bad, but refused
to go below to take a look. The ship's skipper, Captain Aoki, begged
him either to abandon ship, or go below and look for himself. Na-
gumo lost his temper, although his staff officers tried to convince him
that, as commander-in-chief, it was his duty at least to transfer to an-
other ship where he could direct the operations since Akagfs commu-
nications were out and they could not take any command under these
conditions.
Eventually Admiral Nagumo was practically dragged bodily down
the wreckage-strewn companionways and ladders and finally finished
the journey by a line that was hung from a lower portion of the island
structure. Nagumo and his staff carried out the ritual of removing the
Emperor's picture from Afczgi, and were taken off by a destroyer and
transferred to Nagara, a light cruiser, from where the admiral flew his
flag during the remainder of the battle. During the transfer Nagumo
was well aware that both Soryu and Kczga were in distress fires were
raging aboard both carriers but he decided to carry on with the, as
yet, undamaged Hz'ryu.
In the meantime Captain Aoki requested permission to have his
ship sunk by gunfire, but both Nagumo and Yamamoto vacillated and
Aoki returned to his stricken carrier alone. He reached a portion of
the deck that was still clear of flames, crawled forward, and lashed
himself to an anchor to await the end. However, when new orders
seeped through, and it became apparent that the Japanese Fleet was
in for a terrible beating, Yamamoto decided that a torpedo should
send Akagi to the bottom. Before any were fired Commander Y, Miura,
the carrier's navigator, climbed aboard the burning ship and begged
Captain Aoki to be less dramatic, and persuaded him that to live and
fight another day was more realistic. Aoki then followed Miura down
a line and was taken off by a destroyer.
Kaga, which had been hit in the same attack, did not last as long
as Nagumo's flagship. Exactly at 10:24 nin e dive bombers came down
out of the blue, each delivering a single missile. The first three were
near misses that sent up towering columns of water. Four of the next
six were inspired shots that pierced the forward, middle, and aft sec-
tions of the flight deck. One that hit between the bow and the bridge
caught a small gasoline truck and spread flaming fuel over a wide area,
and engulfed all the ladders and entrances to the bridge. Captain
Jisaku Okada and almost all of the bridge staff were wiped out in this
FROM CORAL TO MIDWAY
sudden flash-blast, leaving Commander Takahisa Amagai, the air offi-
cer, in command.
Amid all this horror fires seemed to erupt from every opening in
the vessel, and what men were left to make up a damage-control party
fought these flames and explosions for what seemed hours, but their
heroic efforts were for naught. Commander Amagai tried to maintain
command from the starboard boat deck, but it was obvious that he
hoped soon to be relieved. Within three hours Kaga began an ominous
list and then came to a dead halt. Amagai was so disturbed with his
unwanted command and hopeless problem that he imagined he saw
a submarine. In his early reports he stated that he had spotted a peri-
scope and had actually seen the wake of two torpedoes. Others stated
that two torpedoes missed Kaga, and a third struck but failed to
explode.
Later, however, Amagai declared that he had been swimming in the
water when he first saw the submarine's periscope and the torpedo
wakes. It was stated that when the third struck and failed to explode, it
broke in half, the warhead went to the bottom, but the main chamber
remained afloat and several Japanese sailors climbed on it and used it
for a temporary raft. None of the destroyers standing by Kaga saw a
periscope or tracks of torpedoes. What had finished the carrier was
the continuing explosions from her interior gasoline tanks. Amagai and
his remaining crew abandoned ship about 4:40 P.M., and all survivors
were taken aboard the destroyers Hagikaze and Maikaze.
The third Japanese carrier to go down, Soryu, took only three
bombs, but the devastation was most memorable. Deck parties were
busy preparing planes for takeoff and had little time to watch what
was happening to Kagt nearby. A couple of explosions off their port
bow, followed by columns of smoke, was the first warning. Thirteen
American dive bombers attacked with beautiful precision. The first
bomb hit tore into the flight deck near the forward elevator and com-
pletely wrote off the area. Fire and smoke erupted from below and a
sea wall of gasoline torrented through the hangars, storage spaces,
armament rooms, and workshops. Five minutes after the attack started
Soryu was a hell of fire as explosions erupted all over the ship. Within
ten minutes the main engines came to a halt, the steering gear went
out, and all fire-fighting w^ter mains were devoured. When survivors
from below decks were driven to the flight deck, a great explosion
somewhere within hurled dozens of seamen into the water. The order
to "abandon ship" was given at 10:45 A.M., and all discipline was ig-
21Q SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
nored as hundreds of men leaped overboard and had to be rescued
by destroyer crews. Only a few maintained true naval tradition and
took to boats or rafts, as they had been trained.
In the middle of all this hopeless furor it was learned that Captain
Yanagimoto, skipper of Soryu, had decided to remain aboard the
bridge, but such was his popularity that his men formed a "rescue"
party, headed by Chief Petty Officer Abe, a wrestling champion. When
Abe climbed to Soryu s bridge he found Captain Yanagimoto stand-
ing, sword in hand, staring straight ahead in the classic position of
his kind. When Chief Abe interceded and asked the captain to come
down to a waiting destroyer, Yanagimoto maintained his silence. Abe
then decided to pick him up bodily and haul him down, but after
considering his captain's determined countenance, he turned away
with tears in his eyes as Captain Yanagimoto began to sing Japan's
national anthem. He went down with Soryu when the carrier rolled
over and carried 718 officers and men to their end.
When Afczgz was sunk, the fleet command fell temporarily into the
hands of Rear Admiral Hiroaki Abe who, aboard the heavy cruiser
Tone, commanded the Japanese Cruiser Division 8. The air opera-
tions were taken over by Rear Admiral Tamon Yamaguchi aboard
Hiryu, the only undamaged carrier left, and it was this naval officer
who in spite of the odds and the ill fortunes of the battle, decided
to launch an attack against the American carriers. His available force
consisted of eighteen dive bombers and six escorting Zekes, which
took off at 10:40. This bold launching was made while Afergz, Kaga,
and Soryu were in their death throes.
While the American airmen who had lived through the assaults on
the Japanese ships were making their reports, word was received that
Yorfetown would probably be attacked. Commander R. M. Lindsey's
SBDs in orbit awaiting their turn to land, were immediately ordered
out of the area, and, wisely, they made for the deck of Enterprise;
only two were lost by ditching when they ran out of fuel.
When the critical phase of the Battle of Midway had drawn to its
close around noontime, three enemy carriers had been put out of ac-
tion, the American surface force was still intact, but its air arm had
received heavy casualties. Enterprise lost fourteen dive bombers, ten
torpedo bombers and one fighter; Hornet lost all of her torpedo bomb-
ers and about a dozen Wildcats; Yorftfown was missing all but one of
her twelve toipedo bombers, two dive bombers, and three fighters.
FROM CORAL TO MIDWAY 211
So far the scales had tilted in our favor, but the battle was not yet
over.
Yorktown put up a combat air patrol of twelve Wildcats, and be-
gan refueling a formation that had just been recovered. All fuel lines
were cleared and filled with CO2- Her skipper then put on better than
thirty knots and maneuvered all over the ocean. Eight Japanese dive
bombers got through, although the Wildcats cut the rest to ribbons.
Two more Vals were knocked down by guns aboard the cruisers As-
toria and Portland, which left six that went in for the final attack.
Three direct hits were scored, two of them most serious, for as one
dive bomber disintegrated under the wicked antiaircraft fire, it vomited
a bomb that fell smack on Yorktown's flight deck, killed many men,
and started fires below. A great pall of black smoke spread over the
ship, but quick action with the sprinkler system and water curtains
soon had tie conflagrations under control. The next bomb arced in
from the port side and found the smokestack, started more fires, rup-
tured the uptakes from three boilers, snuffed out five fires of the six
boilers, and cut the speed to six knots. By 12:20 Yorktown was wallow-
ing at a standstill. A third bomb exploded on the fourth deck and
started a fire in a stowage compartment adjacent to the forward gaso-
line tanks and magazines, but the latter were promptly flooded, and
CO2 prevented the fuel from igniting.
Conditions on the bridge forced Admiral Fletcher to move his flag
from Yorktown to the cruiser Astoria. All these measures were com-
pleted by 1:15 P.M., and the cruiser Portland was ordered to take the
carrier in tow. This proved to be not ^necessary, however, as Yorfe-
town's damage-control parties worked like supermen and had four
boilers back in operation by 1:40, and, to everyone's amazement,
Yorktown began to put on eighteen to twenty knots, and planned to
recover and refuel her fighters.
In the meantime Rear Admiral Yamaguchi had learned from a lone
Japanese reconnaissance pilot that the American force had three car-
riers, Yorktown, Enterprise, and Hornet. Startling news, but it must
have been known by then that no one carrier could have launched so
many planes as had attacked Nagumo's force. The big shock was to
leam that Yorktown, believed to have been severely damaged in the
Coral Sea battle, was out here.
With a frantic cast of his dice, Admiral Yamaguchi decided to risk
a second attack against the American fleet. This time he prepared to
launch ten torpedo planes, and six fighters, under command of Lieu-
212 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
tenant Joichi Tomonaga, a reputable wing leader. When all aircraft
were ready for launching it was learned that the left wing fuel tank
on Lieutenant Tomonaga's plane had been damaged during the strike
against Midway and had not been repaired, or replaced. When it was
pointed out, the young lieutenant just smiled and said, "Ignore it.
Just fill up the other."
"You mean, sir, you want the plane spotted for take-off just the
same?"
Although he knew that he would have insufficient fuel for a safe
return to his earner, Lieutenant Tomonaga refused to exchange seats
with any other pilot, though several made the offer. The sixteen air-
craft took off at 12:45 P.M., and at 2:30 the Japanese attack force
spotted Yorktown, screened by several escorts. The carrier had time
just to launch eight Wildcats, each with but twenty-eight gallons of
gasoline in their tanks. There was no more time; they had to join the
four planes that were airborne in the hope of staving off this second
attack. Although other cruisers and destroyers had been detached to
cover the wounded Yorfetown, this was not enough. The enemy tor-
pedo bombers came in at seven thousand feet from the west, and be-
cause of recognition difficulties, no antiaircraft fire was put up until
the Wildcats were actually tangling with the Zeke fighters.
Yorktown's helmsman put her over hard left as the cruisers curled
about in an attempt to keep station. The torpedo planes broke up and
came in from four varying angles at about masthead height The cruis-
ers tried blasting their big guns at the sea to send up towering columns
of water. The shells erupted on impact and built up massive walls of
sea, but four of the enemy planes evaded them and continued on in.
At exactly 2:42 Yorktown dodged two torpedoes, but two others
caught her cold. Both went into the port side where they ruptured
gasoline and oil tanks and jammed the rudder controls. With power
sharply cut Yorktown took on a list of seventeen degrees, and over the
next twenty minutes went over to more than twenty-six degrees.
Counterflooding was out of the question and the damage control
officer advised Captain Elliott Buckmaster that, with what power they
had, maintaining watertight integrity a Navy mouthful meaning
plugging the leaks-was impossible. At 3 P.M. Captain Buckmaster
gave orders to abandon ship and four destroyers moved in to take off
the crew, or pick up men from rafts. The sea was smooth, the water
fairly warm, and the situation none too hazardous. It is believed that
no member of the crew was drowned.
FROM CORAL TO MIDWAY 213
As was to be expected, the heroic Lieutenant Tomonaga never re-
turned, and one of the Japanese pilots who survived the attack said
later: "I remember seeing his plane with the bright yellow tail daring
the heaviest of the antiaircraft fire. It was the worst I had ever seen.
I saw him actually launch his torpedo, and then, before he had any
idea where it was heading, his plane disintegrated under the enemy
fire. His assault on the Yorfctown, carried out as it was, was equally
as heroic as a kamikaze attack/ 7
The pilots who returned to Hiryu after this second strike believed
that they had attacked two different carriers, and for some time were
positive that they had damaged two American flat-tops. What must
have happened was that Yorktown was put back into action so fast
after the first attack, that enemy pilots believed they were attacking a
second carrier of the same type.
Admiral Fletcher had sent out a scouting force to make certain of
the enemy's disposition. He was almost certain that Admiral Nagumo
had but one carrier left, but he wished to be sure. By 2:45 Lieutenant
Wallace C. Short had returned with a very complete report that he
had seen Hiryu, two battleships, three cruisers, and four destroyers
steaming north about one hundred miles northwest of Yorktowrfs last
position. At 3 130 Admiral Spruance ordered Enterprise to seek out the
enemy and attack again. Twenty-four SBDs, ten of them from the
abandoned Yorktovm, were sent out, minus any fighter escort since all
Wildcats available were required for combat air patrol. This formation
was led by Lieutenant Commander Wilmer E. Gallaher who soon
found and lashed at the lone Japanese carrier, Hiryu.
When Hiryu's few planes and pilots returned at 4:30, Admiral
Yamaguchi, although he had very little with which to fight back, was
determined to make a twilight attack that he hoped would be more
successful. A meal was served to all hands and a special dish of sweet
rice balls was prepared to mark the occasion. A small combat air patrol
was maintained above, and as fast as men finished their meager meal,
they were rushed to the hangars or flight deck to prepare aircraft for
this last effort. A fast reconnaissance plane was readied, and was to be
sent off about 5 P.M. when suddenly an American dive-bomber force
appeared overhead. The young Lieutenant Commander Gallaher had
sneaked in from the southwest with the sun at his back, and the Japs,
who had no radar, were caught flat-footed.
Thirteen of the twenty-four planes selected the Japanese carrier, and
the ship's antiaircraft guns went into action. Hiryu's skipper, Captain
214 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
Kaku, put her over hard to the right, a lumbering action that enabled
her to dodge the first three bombs. More planes came down, and four
direct hits were scored in quick order causing fires and wracking ex-
plosions. Columns of black smoke coiled up as the carrier began to
lose speed. All four bombs struck near the bridge, and the concussion
smashed everything nearby, heavy bridge windows went out, men
were decapitated by flying glass, the forward elevator was ripped up
and left standing like a drunken billboard. Fire, borne on torrents of
gasoline, washed down the deck, lapped at the fueled and armed air-
craft, and licked them up like fragile toys. More burning fuel billowed
in other directions, blocking off companionways, ladders, and exits. It
poured down scuttles, made for the hangar decks and engine rooms.
Men who had bravely stayed at their posts to aid in damage control,
were never heard from again; they were either scorched to a crisp or
suffocated by smoke and heat.
With the elimination of this last Japanese carrier, American airmen,
Navy and Army, could concentrate on the screening ships. A few B-iy
bombers out of Midway joined the action at this point, but other than
contributing a few light bombs to the burning Hiryu, their strafing
was not too successful. The battleship Hamna was attacked by four
high-level bombers and two dive bombers, but escaped unscathed.
Tone was attacked by three dive bombers, but also escaped. Chikuma
dodged and darted to evade nine dive bombers in three separate
attacks.
By 9:23 P.M. Hiryu was a wallowing wreck, with a fifteen-degree list.
A handful of men were still trying to maintain steerageway and control
the fires. A few pumps were repaired and a brave effort made to save
her. Destroyers moved alongside to assist and supply the crews with
food and refreshment. Finally, when all access to the engine rooms
was cut off, it was realized that there was no hope of saving her. Ad-
miral Yamaguchi ordered Hfryu's crew to abandon ship. The eight
hundred men remaining were ordered to the deck and the admiral ad-
dressed them as follows: "As your commanding officer, and com-
mander of this carrier division, I am fully and solely responsible for
the loss of Hiryu and Soryu. I intend to remain aboard to the end. I
command all of you to leave the ship and continue your loyal service
to your Majesty and Emperor/'
Admiral Yamaguchi's staff begged to remain with him, but he or-
dered them off, then lashed himself to the bridge structure, as did
Captain Kaku who had also decided to go down with the ship. At
FROM CORAL TO MIDWAY 215
5:40 the next morning torpedoes from screen destroyers, Kazagumo
and Yugumo bored into her, but Hiryu remained afloat until 8:20
A.M. By that time a number of seamen who had escaped the entrap-
ment in the engine rooms, mainly through the explosions of the coup
de grace torpedoes, made their way to the deck, looked around and saw
that they had been abandoned. They put off over the side in a raft,
and were later picked up by an American destroyer.
Now in full retreat to the northwest, Admiral Nagumo aboard his
flagship Nagara knew the full proportions of his defeat. The Navy
General Staff in Tokyo was shocked to learn that the toll was four of
their finest fleet carriers, while American surface strength had suffered
little. Their intelligence was very faulty; they had no idea how many
carriers Admiral Spruance still had available, and so there was no
argument. It would be well to call off the Midway operation.
There were some officials in Tokyo who feared that Admiral Ya-
mamoto, in a desperate bid to wipe out the disgrace of Admiral
Nagumo's defeat, might take another gamble and sacrifice the rest of
the force. But no one made a decisive move to prevent this; after all,
the Japanese Navy stitt had more warships of every category than had
the United States Navy in the Pacific.
At sea, while moving for a safer position, Japanese air officers
thought they could still put a small strike force into the air from the
decks of the light carriers Hosho, still with Admiral Yamamoto's
group, and Zuifco, attached to Admiral Kondo's Midway attack force.
Supplemented by float planes off the battleships and cruisers, it was
believed that enough damage could be inflicted on the American car-
riers to reduce their offensive power and perhaps enable the Japanese
battleships to destroy Spruance's force, and capture Midway. Ex-
perts in gunnery were positive that the big weapons of the Midway
attack force could keep the land-based air squadrons pinned down
long enough to turn the tide. Other officials were convinced that the
Yamamoto group could race through all American opposition by
making the most use of its antiaircraft guns. A combination of aU
these plans was submitted, but Rear Admiral Ugaki, Yamamoto's
chief of staff, turned it down as stupidity, a face-saving plan of suicidal
recklessness and folly. Without mincing words he concluded: "Some
of the enemy's carriers are still intact. The airfield at Midway can still
launch planes, and our battleships, for all their fire power, would be
2l6 SQUADRONS OF THE SE
destroyed by enemy air and submarine attacks, long before we couL
get close enough to use our big guns."
There was no question but that they would have to accept the con
ditions as a defeat. A few of the Samurai class wailed: "But how cai
we apologize to His Majesty?"
Admiral Yamamoto, another realist, ended that discussion with
"Leave that to me. After all, I am the only one who will have to apolo
gize to His Majesty." He was more concerned with the problem o:
rounding up the scattered Japanese forces, and effecting their retire
ment from battle under the ever-present threat of enemy attack.
It will be remembered that the commander of the Combined Fleet
had ordered Admiral Kondo to carry out a night bombardment of
Midway some time prior to the destruction of the Japanese carriers.
Kondo's force included a support body, made up of four heavy cruis-
ers, Kumano, Suzuya, Mikuma, and Mag/ami, and two destroyers of
Destroyer Division 8. Their recall resulted in a pathetic foul-up, im-
portant from a tactical point of view, but of little credit to the oppos-
ing forces.
Rear Admiral Takeo Kurita, in command of this high-speed attack
operation, began his run-in on June 4 when he was some four hun-
dred miles west of Midway. By the time he had reached a point ninety
miles from his objective, the Combined Fleet staff realized that all
hope of a night bombardment attack was off, and Kurita was ordered
to return as quickly as possible. On the way back Kumano which was
leading the division, sighted a U. S. submarine, and emergency turns
were ordered that caused a collision in which Mogami, the last ship
in the line, failed to move fast enough, and slammed into Mikuma's
port quarter. Mogami lost her bow section forward of the front turret
and had to come to a halt. Mikuma was damaged only slightly and
continued on.
Admiral Kurita was notified of the accident and he turned back to
stand by Mogami, now able to limp on at about twelve knots, but
they all knew that they were in a hazardous situation and could be
pounced on at any minute.
Admiral Spruance meanwhile was not certain of the actual situa-
tion; he knew that three and perhaps four Japanese carriers had been
hit. Only Ensign Gay, floating about under an aircraft pillow, had any
idea what losses the Japanese had incurred. The fighters that were
flown off Hiryu had attacked a number of Army 6-175 off Midway,
and the commander of the B-iys, Major G. A. Blakey thought that
FROM CORAL TO MIDWAY 217
these Zekes might have come from a fifth carrier. When this informa-
tion came through, Admiral Spruance naturally wondered how far the
enemy might go, working on the calculated risk theory, and conse-
quently he withdrew Enterprise and Hornet eastward, since he did
not wish to have a night engagement against the heavy guns of Ya-
mamoto's fleet, and also desired to keep close enough to Midway to
have what land-based air support might be there. He did not reverse
his course until midnight. These five hours of steaming eastward
ruined all chances of ever catching up with Yamamoto's tattered
forces. So far as the Navy was concerned, this was the close of the
Battle of Midway.
The Army Air Force and a Navy submarine, Tambor, tried to finish
Admiral Kurita's damaged cruisers. Lieutenant Commander }. W.
Murphy, whose pig boat had caused the collision, kept in touch with
the situation and by 4:12 the next morning, June 5, warned Midway.
A Catalina went out and confirmed Commander Murphy's report, so
Captain Cyril T. Simard ordered a number of Flying Fortresses
to make an attack on the crippled cruisers that were being convoyed
by two destroyers, but they were unable to find their targets, so Cap-
tain Simard then sent off six Marine SBDs and six Vindicators, all
that were left that were capable of flying such a mission. They at-
tacked at 8:05 A.M., but the two Japanese cruisers put up such a tenific
antiaircraft fire, none of the Marine planes was able to hold a clean
run. No hits were scored, but the dive bomber being flown by Captain
Richard E. Fleming was hit just as he was over his bomb-dropping
point. Whether the Marine pilot flew it out as his last effort, or
whether the plane continued on its own is not known, but plane,
bomb, and pilot hit smack on top of Mikumtfs eight-inch gun turret.
Early in the morning of June 6, when Yamamoto had collected most
of his deployed forces, and retired well beyond the range of Admiral
Spruance's carrier aircraft, Enterprise launched a reconnaissance flight
that sighted the two crippled cruisers attempting to escape to the
westward. By 8 A.M. Hornet launched twenty-six SBDs and eight
Wildcats, and at 10:45 Enterprise sent off thirty-one SBDs, three
TBDs and fourteen F4Fs.
This combined attack caught Mogami and Mikama cold. They had
been deserted, and had no air cover of any kind. In the first of several
attacks Mogpmi received two severe bomb hits, one of which dug
deep into her Number 5 turret and killed every man inside. Two more
hits started huge fires, a third sealed up an engine room, but, bearing
2l8 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
a charmed life, Mogami staggered blindly on, finally reached Truk
where she underwent temporary repairs, and a year later rejoined the
fleet.
Mikuma was smothered with bombs, and after two such drench-
ings, her captain ordered her to be abandoned. The destroyer Arashio
stood by to give fire-fighting aid, but could only rescue hundreds of
men from the water. During a final attack by pilots off Hornet a single
bomb hit the deck of Arashio, killing most of the seamen who had
been rescued from Mikuma.
The Battle of Midway was over, a great victory had been scored,
but as is usually the case, there were bitter recriminations when the
second-guessers and historians went over the records. To some the
abandonment of Yorfetown was unjustified. It will be remembered
that on the advice of his damagecontrol officers, Captain Buckmaster
had ordered her abandoned at 3 P.M. on June 4 when she was listing
at twenty-five degrees, but by some mysterious force she had righted
herself and was still afloat twenty-four hours later. Pilots who flew
over her on June 5 stated that she appeared to be intact; certainly
she was not burning, but instead was behaving as though she could
be saved.
The destroyer Hughes had been ordered to stand by the hulk and
sink her with torpedoes if there seemed any chance that the enemy
might capture her. Hughes maintained her watch all that night and
at dawn a lookout reported that machine-gun fire was coming from
the abandoned carrier. A boarding party went over and returned with
two seamen who had been left for dead. One had a fractured skull
and other injuries, the other a serious abdominal wound. The latter
man, who died shortly after being transferred to Hughes, had managed
to crawl to the battered flight deck and fire some machine guns to
attract attention. The boarding party also discovered three coding
machines left intact, and great numbers of secret documents strewn
all over the ship.
It is generally agreed that had a fleet tug been available, Yorktovm
could have been towed to a friendly berth; some critics argued that
she might have been taken in tow by a cruiser, as was done with other
damaged carriers later in the war. But again, this may be a case of
keen hindsight. Actually, Admiral Nimitz did order the fleet tug
Navajo, then off the French Frigate Shoals, the minesweeper Vireo,
patrolling off Pearl Harbor, and the destroyer Gmn to join Spraance's
FROM CORAL TO MIDWAY 219
forces. Vireo arrived first about noon of June 5 and put a towline
aboard, but was unable to make much headway. Later that afternoon
Gmn turned up, but by then Yorktown was listing badly, and was
slightly down by the head. A small salvage party went aboard to jet-
tison the anchors and all loose gear, but little else could be done when
darkness fell.
The next day Captain Buckmaster took over a larger salvage party
of twenty-nine officers and men who had volunteered for the work.
This party worked like Trojans, dousing fires, and correcting the list
so that by midafteraoon considerable progress had been made. Four
destroyers circled the damaged carrier, maintaining a taut screen, but
the Japanese submarine I-i68 that had shelled Midway early on June
4, had moved away and headed for the reported position of Yorktown.
Thus, by the afternoon of June 6 Lieutenant Commander Yahachi
Tanabe had brought his sub up to, and penetrated, the destroyer
screen undetected. At the same time the U. S. destroyer Hammann
was secured to the carrier's side to provide power, food, and water for
the salvage crew.
At 1:30 Commander Tanabe fired four torpedoes, the first missed,
the next went under Hammann's keel and exploded against Yorfefown,
the fourth hit the destroyer amidships, breaking her in two. There was
considerable loss of life, and in the general excitement, the submarine
escaped.
Nine, out of thirteen officers, and seventy-two of 228 seamen were
killed outright, and several more died later of their wounds. Most of
these were probably killed by pre-set depth charges aboard Hammann
that went off when there were many men floating in the water. Vireo
cut her towline, and the salvage party was transferred to the destroyer
Benham. Captain Buckmaster intended to continue operations early
the next morning, but during the night the carrier's list continued, and
by daylight it was evident that there was no hope of saving her. At
6 A.M. every bluejacket in the area stood to attention as Yorfetowi
rolled over and sank in a two-thousand fathom depth.
The Battle of Midway was the first great defeat inflicted on the
Japanese Navy in the Pacific war. It was a staggering blow to the Rising
Sun planners, and it made them cancel their ambitions for the con-
quest of Fiji, New Caledonia, and New Zealand. For the first time they
were on the defensive.
CHAPTER VII
THE CONQUEST OF
GUADALCANAL
THE HISTORY of aircraft-carrier warfare is a continuing story of triumph
and tragedy. The gratification and feeling of relief after the victory at
Midway lasted for two months when on August 8, 1942, the American
public was introduced to a geographical jawbreaker-Guadalcanal.
Few persons could pronounce it correctly, fewer still had the slightest
idea where it was, and most Americans were to wish they had never
heard of this mysterious island in the Solomons group.
Guadalcanal is only ninety miles long and twenty-five miles wide,
with no natural resources but mud and coconuts, and inhabited
chiefly by malarial mosquitoes and fuzzy-topped tribesmen. Yet this
inhospitable island was fought for by the Army, Navy, and Air Forces
of the United States and Japan for nearly six months. Six major naval
engagements took place within the scope of twelve weeks, and the
waters north of Guadalcanal that lapped at the Savo and Florida Is-
lands became the graveyard of so many ships that American seamen
named it Ironbottom Sound.
Guadalcanal, which by some vague processes of European coloni-
zation had become a British protectorate, was populated by about ten
thousand natives, twenty Australian infantrymen, and a squadron of
Royal Australian Air Force PBY Catalinas. The Japanese took it over
with httle trouble in May, but a loyal force of Australian "coastwatch-
ers" hid away and established a small network of radio stations that
played an important role in the conflict that raged through the
Solomons and Bismarcks over the next two years.
Actually, neither Japan nor America took much notice of Guadal-
canal until Admiral King decided that Tulagi on Florida Island to the
north might be important in the lifeline that looped between North
THE CONQUEST OF GUADALCANAL 223
America and Australia; it might provide a jumping-off point for a
drive up the Solomons to Rabaul. General MacArthur also supported
this idea since Rabaul stood in the way of his promised return to the
Philippines. Efate Island in the New Hebrides became the first step-
pingstone in this plan when the forces of Major General Alexander
M. Patch, Jr., moved in and enabled field engineers to develop an air-
field there. U. S. reconnaissance planes that flew out of Efate discov-
ered that the Japanese were working on an airfield near Lunga Point
on Guadalcanal, a base that became the renowned Henderson Field.
This enemy threat accelerated American movement in this area and
triggered Operation Watchtower, a plan to seize and occupy the New
Britain-New Ireland-New Guinea area, including the main enemy base
at Rabaul; all this to be carried out by August i, 1942.
The forces involved were chiefly the ist Marine Division and a
South Pacific amphibious force under Rear Admiral Richmond Kelly
Turner. Over Admiral Turner in the chain of command was Vice-
Admiral Frank Jack Fletcher, aboard the carrier Saratoga, while Rear
Admiral Leigh Noyes had immediate command of the Air Support
Force which was composed of Saratoga, Wasp, and Enterprise, the
battleship North Carolina, five heavy cruisers, sixteen destroyers, and
three oilers. The amphibious force was escorted by eight cruisers-
three of them Australian and a destroyer screen under Rear Admiral
Victor A. C. Crutchley of the Royal Navy. All this organization took
time and the August i target date was forgotten when Admiral Turn-
er's force was delayed and did not round Cape Esperance, Guadal-
canal, until August 7.
The enemy was taken by surprise and the first landings were fairly
successful. Eleven thousand Marines from fifteen landing craft went
ashore on a beach four miles east of Lunga Point, and by the following
afternoon were in possession of the airstrip, then under construction,
and an important Japanese military base at Kakum on the west side
of Lunga Point
It should be noted that all this success took place on the west side
of Lunga Point, but a smaller force that went ashore on the beach on
Tulagi Island to the north ran into bitter opposition. It is true that
small seaplane bases on the islands of Gavutu and Tanambogo off
Florida Island were captured, but we lost several transports, and the
destroyer Jarvis when Japanese torpedo planes, flying out of Rabaul,
roared in. Fighters from three American carriers eventually beat off
these attacks and to all intents and purposes Tulagi and Guadalcanal
224 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
were in our hands. At that time few men would have predicted that
more than twenty-six weeks of stiff fighting would be necessary to se-
cure what had been taken in the same number of hours.
The Japanese were not slow in preparing retaliation, and reports
of important ship movements began flashing out of all corners of the
Western Pacific. On August 8 a Lockheed Hudson of the Royal
Australian Air Force located a force of Japanese cruisers moving south-
west at high speed. A second Hudson reported a strong force of three
cruisers, three destroyers, and two seaplane tenders north of the strait
between Bougainville and Choiseul.
Admiral Gunichi Mikawa, Commander of the Japanese Eighth
Fleet at Rabaul, next sent out a series of float-plane reconnaissance
sorties, and from these gained an excellent picture of the situation off
Tulagi. He was told that the enemy had one battleship, six cruisers,
nineteen destroyers, and eighteen transports in the area, and with that
knowledge the Japanese vice-admiral put on twenty-four knots, and by
4 P.M. of August 8 was in the New Georgia Sound south of Choiseul.
The American landing areas in Guadalcanal were only 125 miles
away. Admiral Mikawa's battle plan was first to make a torpedo at-
tack on the United States ships at the Guadalcanal beachhead, and
then cross Ironbottom Sound where he planned to shell and torpedo
his enemy, before retiring to shelter north of Savo Island.
Although Admiral Turner had no clear picture of the enemy's move-
ments, he knew that he was limited by his task and the narrow waters
between Florida Island and Guadalcanal. He had a general idea of the
enemy's strength, but no idea of his battle plans. This was a different
picture than that at Midway. Would the Japs attack by air, submarine,
or the big guns of their surface ships? Even the ever-reliable "coast-
watchers" were hampered by the fact that Admiral Mikawa had the
shroud of night to cover him. A third Australian Hudson sighted the
enemy at 10:26 P.M. on August 8, but the pilot's report did not reach
Admiral Turner for more than eight hours, since the Hudson radioman
sent his message in code and the news had to be decoded either in
Canberra, Australia, or Pearl Harbor. Both Admirals Turner and
Crutchley, who had already been worked over by torpedo planes out
of Rabaul, presumed that they would be attacked by air in daylight
the following day. Neither supposed that Admiral Mikawa might
make a surface strike that night. Foul weather curtailed any air search
by planes from the American seaplane tenders.
THE CONQUEST OF GUADALCANAL 225
Where were the aircraft from the IL S. carriers?
Long before at the group conference held on July 26, Admiral
Fletcher had warned that he would not remain within supporting dis-
tance for more than two days. Admiral Turner had pointed out that
he could not possibly unload all his transports in less than four days,
and most certainly would need air cover all that time. But Admiral
Fletcher, who had seen the loss of Lexington and Yorfetown, refused
to take such a risk. At 6 P.M. August 8, he radioed Vice-Admiral Rob-
ert L. Ghormley, Commander of the South Pacific Force, at Noumea,
New Caledonia, that his fighter-plane strength had been reduced from
ninety-nine to seventy-eight, and in view of the large number of enemy
torpedo planes and bombers in the area, recommended the immediate
withdrawal of his carriers. At the time Admiral Fletcher's carriers were
one hundred twenty miles from Savo Island actually off the north-
western cape of San Cristobal Island. Instead of waiting for a reply to
his recommendation, Admiral Fletcher moved off southeastward.
What happened has little to do with the history of aircraft-carrier
warfare. It is sufficient to state that in the Battle of Savo Island, "the
first large surface action since Santiago to be fought by a predomi-
nately United States force," the Americans were all but annihilated,
while the Japanese escaped virtually unscathed. An investigation kter
concluded that inadequate condition of readiness on all ships to meet
a night attack, and particularly the complete surprise achieved by the
enemy, were the major causes of this defeat. This was no skirmish,
for it took the lives of 1023 American officers and men, and severely
wounded 709 others. Whether the premature withdrawal of Admiral
Fletcher's carrier force had an important effect on the engagement
can be argued from here to eternity. The more pertinent factor is
that the enemy was prevented from reaching the all-important trans-
ports, which in the end may have resulted in the eventual securing
of Guadalcanal.
The American landings at Guadalcanal and Tulagi stirred up a furor
of planning and action. The Battle of Savo Island had returned the ini-
tiative to the Japanese Fleet, and although the U. S. Marines still clung
to their beachheads, the surrounding waters, to all intents and pur-
poses, were in control of the Japanese. Their commanders of air, land,
and sea forces met at Rabaul to devise a plan to dislodge the U. S.
Marines by the end of August. One phase of this scheme was to land a
force of Japanese on the island, but the Leathernecks soon booted
226 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
them off. It was then obvious that a bigger, and better-supported, land-
ing operation would have to be organized. It was known as Operation
"KA" and was to be supported by the Japanese Eleventh Fleet, naval
bombardment by their Eighth Fleet, and planes off two large carriers
were to dispose of any U. S. Navy surface interference.
Operation "KA" was mobilized by August 21 and Admiral Yama-
moto, riding off Truk, had three carriers, three battleships, five cruisers,
eight destroyers, and a seaplane tender with which to operate. At
Rabaul, Admiral Nishizo Tsukahara had four cruisers, five destroyers,
and more than one hundred planes of the Eleventh Air Fleet.
This time Admiral Fletcher's carrier force of Saratoga, Wasp, and
Enterprise was assigned the task of protecting the sea lanes into the
Solomons, but it was to stay out of the radius of Japanese search
planes. With supporting cruisers and destroyers, Hornet sailed from
Pearl Harbor on August 17 for the Coral Sea. On the night of August
21 a Japanese destroyer, Kawakaze, foxed the U. S. destroyer Blue in
Ironbottom Sound and blew off her stern with a torpedo. Blue was
towed safely into Tulagi, but had to be scuttled there as she was badly
damaged.
Two days later the Japanese Combined Force was advancing from
Truk* It included a diversionary force, headed by the small carrier
Ryu/o, that was intended as bait to pull important American forces out
of the main play. At the same time planes from Admiral Yamamoto's
big carriers would direct their efforts against American carriers and
Henderson Field. It is interesting to note that a U. S. patrol plane
spotted these transports at 10 A.M. on the morning of August 23, and
with the report of this finding, the action began.
The Saratoga air group sent out thirty-one SBDs and six TBFs by
2:45. Ninety minutes later Marines on Guadalcanal launched a twenty-
three-plane strike at the reported transports. Neither group was suc-
cessful in finding the transport force and by twilight all these planes
dropped down at Henderson Field for refueling and refreshment.
Later a night-strike of five PBYs went out to find the enemy invasion
force but were no more successful* Actually, Rear Admiral Raizo
Tanaka had reversed his course to the northwest when he had caught
the patrol plane's radioed warning. More smart switching about by
the Japanese befuddled everyone for another twenty-four hours.
The old problem of refueling came up and Admiral Fletcher sent
Wasp and her group southward for a fueling rendezvous, since it was
thought erroneously that the destroyers were running dangerously
THE CONQUEST OF GUADALCANAL 227
short. This proved most unfortunate as Admiral Yamamoto had or-
dered a nonstop steaming to the Solomons and had refueled at sea.
The American force was deprived of one of its three carriers with a
crucial battle just around the corner. The night of August 23-24 was
overcast and rainy and the Saratogas planes and air crews were still at
Henderson Field, but with a brighter morning all flew back to Sara-
toga, landing on at 1 1 A .M. of August 24.
While this plane recovery operation was being carried out, Lieuten-
ant David C. Richardson, who was leading an element of four Wild-
cats, went after a Japanese snooper some twenty miles from the car-
rier and shot down this airplane, a four-engined Kawanishi flying
boat, the first of this type to fall before Navy guns. At 9:05 the Ryujo
bait group was spotted by a Wildcat as the enemy force steamed south
some 280 miles northwest of Admiral Fletcher's group. At 11:28 an-
other plane reported the bait force about 245 miles away. Evading
another patrol, the Japanese sent off fifteen fighters and six bombers
from Ryu/o to fly over Guadalcanal. These aircraft were joined by a
number of twin-engined bombers from Rabaul, but only minor dam-
age was inflicted on Henderson Field. The pilots of Marine Fighter
Squadron 223 went up and knocked down twenty-one of the raiders.
This forced Admiral Fletcher's hand, and he launched thirty SBDs
and eight torpedo planes by 1:45 P.M. Commander Harry D. Felt led
this formation and went searching for Ryujo. All told, Admiral
Fletcher had fifty-one bombers and fifteen torpedo planes in the air on
various missions, and had only fourteen bombers and twelve torpedo
planes available aboard Saratogfl and Enterprise. While everyone was
concentrating on the Ryu/o-bait force, search planes off Enterprise re-
ported more enemy contacts that indicated there could be other
threats; one 198 miles distant, another 225 miles away, and all three
at different positions. This was exactly as Admiral Yamamoto had
planned it. As may be imagined, Admiral Fletcher was very puzzled.
In addition radio communications between U. S. Navy ships and
aircraft for some obscure reason suddenly went sour. Admiral Fletcher
tried to switch Commander Felt from attacking Ryujo to the more
important Shokaku and Zuikaku that had been reported to be 198
miles away. (The distance was actually nearer 230 miles.)
The winds changed, aircraft requiring refueling had to be accom-
modated, and what plans had been made, had to be reconsidered ow-
ing to problems of possible night landings. It was fully realized, too,
that the enemy might attack the U. S. carriers at any time since two
228 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
more enemy snoopers had been shot down by 12:50 P.M. An extra
combat patrol was put up, and all told, Admiral Fletcher had fifty-four
Wildcats with which to meet any enemy strike.
At 3:15 two patrol planes off Enterprise found Shokaku and roared
down, scoring a light-bomb hit and a near miss that inflicted minor
damage and a few casualties. In the meantime five Avengers off En-
terprise released torpedoes at Ryujo but failed to score a hit of any
kind. Two others that went after the cruiser Tone, were jumped by
Zekes, and one was downed before either could make an attack. Com-
mander Felt from Saratoga was unaware that he had been switched
to the Shokaku group, and he found Ryujo with little trouble. His
SBDs were under the command of Lieutenant Commander Dewitt
W. Shumway, an experienced leader who had been at Midway. Just
as Ryujo turned into the wind to launch planes, his SBDs went down
and made bull's-eye hits on her with at least thirty iooo-pound bombs.
Not content with this, six Avenger torpedo planes, under Lieutenant
Bruce L. Harwood, sat it out until the dive bombers had confused ev-
eryone aboard the light carrier, and then went in on both bows of the
stricken vessel.
Commander Felt then took his planes up to some broken cloud
cover and watched the drama play itself out. Ryujo below was steam-
ing in uneven circles, belching black smoke from her gaping wounds,
and listing twenty degrees to starboard. Finally her engines ground
themselves to junk, and Ryujo came to a halt. The abandon ship order
was given, and Tone moved in to take off survivors. By 8 P.M. that
night the "bait" carrier, which had fulfilled her mission, rolled over,
showed her badly holed hull and sank. Only one American aircraft
had been lost, but Admiral Yamamoto must have been thankful that
Ryu/o had played her part well, for his main force was now free to go
against Admiral Fletcher.
Just before it was shot to rubble by a Wildcat, a Japanese float
plane off the cruiser Chikuma managed to key off the position of
Fletcher's carriers. Admiral Nagumo, still chagrined by the battle at
Midway, knew that he'd never have a better opportunity to repay the
beating. He knew also that most of the American carriers 1 planes were
away, sending poor Ryujo to her grave. So at 3:07 P.M. when Com-
mander Felt's group was enjoying its turkey shoot, the first of two
Japanese air strikes went searching for the big game their bait had
provided.
THE CONQUEST OF GUADALCANAL 229
About four o'clock the first "bogies" were spotted on U. S. radar
screens, indicating that enemy planes were only some eighty-eight
miles away. More Wildcats went aloft to make a total of fifty-three
fighters that were flying a combat-air patrol. The bombers and torpedo
planes still aboard Saratoga were launched and sent to join a like group
that had been flown off Enterprise. They all headed out to attack the
approaching enemy, and the fighter directors aboard the "Big E" sat
back to do some serious work, but just when everything seemed com-
plete, the "bogies" disappeared from the screens. At the same time
so many planes in the limited space, all carrying out routine contacts,
jammed the one narrow radio frequency and added to the confusion.
The radar "bogies" did not reappear until 4:19, and by 4:25 a
fighter-plane element substantiated what the radar had been trying to
explain, but the fighter pilots gave it with more detail. Admiral
Fletcher was positive now that there were thirty-six bombers at twelve
thousand feet, being escorted by many other aircraft above and below.
It was at this point that radio discipline went to the four winds, and
the fighter directors were seriously hampered in determining exactly
where the opposition force was located. And to top all that, the Japa-
nese commander broke up his force into three sections when he was
less than twenty-five miles away. With that the radar picture became
totally confused. There was nothing to do but to allow the fighter
groups to take over and work out the various problems on their own.
During all this one Navy NCO pilot, Warrant Machinist Donald E.
Runyon, who was leading a Wildcat fighter section, had a field day.
He worked his way into the sun from about eighteen thousand feet,
and went down on the enemy dive bombers. He picked out one Val,
gave it a short but accurate burst. It exploded in mid-air. Moving back
into the solar glare, Runyon heeled over and went down on a second.
A burst of incendiary bullets quickly torched that one. In trying a
third time, Runyon failed to see an avenging Jap Zeke that came down
on him. The Zeke missed him and had to pass on ahead, placing him-
self smack in Runyon's sights. Another squeeze of the trigger gear and
the Zeke burst into flames.
Convinced that this was his day, Runyon zoomed, turned, and came
dead under another Val. By tilting his nose gently the U. S. Navy man
fired and started another aerial conflagration. As he curled away to
clear this debris, another Zeke nosed in to interfere. This time Runyon
was able only to bespatter him and chase him out of the play.
During all this aerial aggression two of Runyon's section mates dam-
230 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
aged four more Japanese bombers and nudged two more out of their
attack glides.
While returning with a squadron of ten SBDs from the Ryu/o sink-
ing, Lieutenant Commander L. J. Kim came upon four enemy dive
bombers that were roaring along at about five hundred feet. Com-
mander Kirn took his mob down, firing their nose guns, but more im-
portant, giving the rear gunners a fine series of targets. Three of the
enemy ships piled into the sea, the fourth fluttered away dragging a
smoke plume.
All this plane-to-plane action took place well outside the carrier
force area. Enterprise was steaming at twenty-seven knots, holding a
course into the wind, but within the carrier's screen all lookouts were
having trouble finding the enemy. They were dead overhead, and at
4:41 the first attacks began. There was no uncertainty now as to where
die Japanese bombers were. Enterprise wriggled and jinked about as
enemy bombs chugged into the water on all sides.
The first to hit the "Big E" caught a corner of the after flight-deck
elevator and crashed on through the hangar deck into the compart-
ment below. This was a delayed-action baby, and when she decided
to let go started a number of fires, twisted decks and hull plating,
and killed thirty-five officers and men. A fire main, ripped by the blast,
automatically doused one of the worst fires, but large fragments tore
holes in the hull, sea water spouted through, and Enterprise took on a
slight list.
Thirty seconds later a second bomb smacked in, penetrated an am-
munition locker and the cumulative effect of the explosions wrecked
a brace of five-inch guns and killed the entire gun crew of thirty-eight
men. The area was a flaming cauldron of death. At 4:45 a third bomb
pierced the flight deck aft of the island structure, but fortunately either
the detonator was defective or the explosive content faulty, for it
caused only minor damage. With this the attack seemed to be over.
The damage-control officer, Lieutenant Commander Herschel A.
Smith, led his teams in the valiant effort to save the carrier, which, in
spite of her wounds, was stifr putting on thirty knots. Every man
aboard who had any knowledge of fire-fighting, electrical work, car-
pentry, or the myriad intricacies of her pumping systems was put to
work. They fought burning ammunition, riveted metal plates over her
gaping wounds, or jettisoned wreckage and damaged material. Within
an hour after the last bomb had pierced her deck Enterprise was doing
twenty-four knots and had turned into the wind to recover her air-
THE CONQUEST OF GUADALCANAL 231
craft. By 5:50 the first incoming plane hooked into an arrester-gear
cable, and in no time twenty-five more followed in safely. At that
minute all damage, loss, and casualties were forgotten temporarily.
But unfortunately it would appear that aircraft carriers are prone to
delayed-action problems. When all seemed well Enterprise suddenly
started to misbehave. It was disclosed later that water and fire-fighting
chemicals had gushed through a broken vent above the steering-
engine room, grounded a motor and jammed the rudder over hard at
twenty degrees right.
The men working in this compartment were knocked out by the
accompanying fumes and were unable to switch over to a stand-by
plant. Enterprise ran wild and narrowly missed a collision with the
destroyer Bdch. With the rudder jammed in this manner the carrier
could not be towed until Chief Machinist's Mate William A. Smith,
after being knocked out twice by fumes, made his way into the com-
partmentabout thirty-eight minutes later and cut in the stand-by
motor.
Had Admiral Nagumo's second aerial attack been timed during this
critical half hour, Enterprise might not have escaped. As it was, an
enemy force of eighteen dive bombers, nine torpedo planes, and three
fighters, the same force that had tangled with Commander Kim's for-
mation, took a wrong turn out of that skirmish and missed the
floundering carrier. Such are the fortunes of war.
Although both sides decided to break off the action, neither con-
sidered the battle over, and during the night of August 24-25 several
of Admiral Tanaka's destroyers bombarded American positions off
Lunga Point, while float planes distributed annoying anti-personnel
bombs. Making the most of a gaudy moon, eight Marine dive bombers
took off from Henderson Field to pound the Japanese destroyers. No
hits were scored, but the effort relieved the tension.
On a later foray, Lieutenant Colonel Richard C. Mangrum's SBDs
unexpectedly encountered Admiral Tanaka's light cruiser Jintsu
which was leading the Japanese Trans^^rt Group. Second Lieutenant
L. Baldinus scored a direct hit on Tanaka's flagship, a shot that bored
a great hole between her two forward guns. Sixty-one men were killed
and several b$d fires were started, A hit was also scored on Kinryu
Maru which was loaded with troops. The transport had to be aban-
doned and the soldiers transferred to the destroyer Mutsuki, while
Admiral Tanaka hauled his flag over to the destroyer Kagero. This was
232 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
a fortunate move, for MutsuK was sunk a short time later by a pattern
of bombs dropped by a formation of Flying Fortresses out of Espiritu
Santo.
This smash, grab, and run business went on day after day. The fight-
ing on both sides was very bitter, as all who went througji the Guadal-
canal campaign will attest. On August 31 Saratoga collected another
wound stripe. With Wasp and Hornet she had been patrolling the sea
routes into Guadalcanal, and that evening after a day of stalking a per-
sistent enemy submarine, the monotony of routine patrol activities was
suddenly enlivened.
The submarine, 1-26, had bided its time, made no attempt to pierce
the destroyer screen, but had moved ahead and was sitting quietly at
a position off Saratogas bow. Knowing the risk of moving inside, the
Japanese commander fired a spread of six torpedoes at the massive
carrier. Captain Dewitt C. Ramsey caught a warning signal from the
destroyer MacDonaugfi, swung away hard, and called for top speed,
but there just wasn't time to evade the full spread, and two torpedoes
thumped into Saratogas starboard side, abreast of the island. Twelve
men, including Admiral Fletcher, were wounded, but none seriously.
Only one fireroom was flooded, but her new electric propulsion units
were shorted and it was some hours before the damage-control crew
could give Captain Ramsey anywhere near thirteen knots. Later Min-
neapolis put a tow rope aboard, and, aided by a friendly southeast
wind, Captain Ramsey launched all his planes and sent them to Hen-
derson Field where they flew for some time with the Marine aviators
there. Saratoga crept away and eventually made a Navy base at
Tongatabu, a small island southeast of Fiji. She was not available for
action for more than three months.
The invasion and counterinvasion of Guadalcanal was a dog-eat-
dog affair. The Americans would win during the daylight hours, but
at night the Japanese took over. Night after night, more troops were
sneaked in, regardless of the sacrifice. There were bitter feelings
throughout most American commands, since none attempted to ap-
preciate the position or viewpoint of the other. The Navy did its best
with what it had. The Marines fought with their traditional valor.
The Army Air Force, learning as it went along, did what it could with
what it had. Prejudiced journalists, beating the drum for their particu-
lar service, added little to public understanding or inter-service co-
operation*
By the middle of September the situation on Guadalcanal was criti-
THE CONQUEST OF GUADALCANAL 233
cal, despite the gallant efforts to hang on, and particularly to retain
Henderson Field. On September 14 six transports, bearing the yth Ma-
rine Regiment and its equipment, sailed from Espiritu Santo. There
were plenty of enemy bases en route, but Guadalcanal had to be re-
inforced and Admiral Ghormley ordered Hornet and Wasp to furnish
the escort. In order to do this properly the full task force had to steam
out of sight of the transports to keep the knowledge of the reinforce-
ment ships from the enemy until they were ready to land.
Admiral Kelly Turner's task force itself was snooped by noon of
September 15 and he realized that the enemy had carriers north of
Santa Cruz Islands, and land-based bombers on Rabaul and Bougain-
ville. The snooper would unquestionably also alert the small fleet of
Japanese submarines that were operating in all Solomon Islands wa-
ters. Turner wisely decided to retire and await a more favorable
opportunity, but ordered the convoy to continue on its course. Con-
tact was maintained by routine air patrols, and with a smidgin of luck
the transports would have little trouble getting in and disembarking
their troops.
The carriers, steaming on a westerly course, were about one hundred
miles away. It was a beautiful day and as they swung now and then
into southeasterly headings for take-offs and recoveries, there was little
excitement, except the shooting down of a Japanese Kawanishi flying
boat that had been first detected by radar while she was on a recon-
naissance mission. There was no reason to believe she had spotted the
U. S. task force, but all routine alert operations were carried out.
Wasp was handling the combat-air and antisubmarine patrols, and
at 2:20 P.M. she eased down to launch and recover aircraft. A number
of SBDs and Wildcats took off, and others returning from routine pa-
trols were recovered. All this was observed by the Japanese submarine
skipper of I-IQ, one of those that had been sent into the area to inter-
cept the Marine transports. Up to then I-ig had evaded all destroyer
search, and as Captain Forrest P. Sherman signaled for a turn back to
her base course, lookouts spotted a number of torpedoes porpoising on
the starboard side; they were coming on hot, straight and normal. Four
torpedoes were fired and in spite of the quick rudder response, two
warheads smacked Wasp hard.
Ensign John J. Mitchell, one of the survivors, endured a remarkable
experience. He was in charge of a gun station at the time and had just
been relieved by a seaman, a member of his gun crew. He remembers
seeing the man squinting out to sea and then plucking at Mitchell's
234 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
arm in the best Nelsonian tradition and asking, "Hey, Mr. Mitchell,
w'as *at funny looking thing out there?"
Mitchell recognized it immediately and sounded an alarm and man-
aged to squeak, "That's torpedo wake." His alarm was heard and
Wasp began to turn and Mitchell started to move for the bridge. His
plan was expedited, as they say in the services, for the next thing the
ensign knew he was hoisted bodily, hurled through the air and depos-
ited on an open section of the bridge.
"I held the world's record for an involuntary high jump thirty feet
high and sixty feet away," he explained later from a hospital cot. "They
tell me I landed right at the feet of my superior officers on the bridge
in a posture unbecoming even to an ensign. I was flat on my back!"
Mitchell was thought to be dead, but "the body" was removed from
the bridge and strapped to a stretcher. Lieutenant Courtney Shands
hauled the stretcher down a companionway, and across the flight deck
under the storm of ammunition going up from the gun boxes of the
burning aircraft. The stretcher was lashed to an aircraft raft and the
package was launched. The top-heavy raft immediately rolled over
with Mitchell strapped in the stretcher. Others came to the rescue,
and in spite of the sea being infested with sharks, the raft and its load
were righted and Mitchell eventually wound up safely in the hospital
with only a broken leg.
The explosions from the two torpedoes, both on the starboard side,
were terrific not only against the armored walls of the hull men,
planes, tractors, and heavy equipment were hurled in all directions.
Fully loaded planes that were on the flight and hangar decks were
lifted bodily and dropped bgck with a smash that rammed their under-
carriage legs up into the wings or cockpits. An engine-room switch-
board was ripped out and flung across banks of generators. Fires broke
out, and the resulting flames were carried to aircraft, fuel tanks, oil
supplies. Huge tongues of fire licked -at everything. In her initial con-
vulsion Wasp broke all forward water mains, and when the ship todk
on a heavy starboard list, her decks canted wildly, and loose objects
tore about like berserk juggernauts.
Providentially, most communications stayed secure and Captain
Sherman could contact his damage control and the after-steering or-
ganization. He had the engines cut to ten knots, and put Wasp over
full left to get the wind on her starboard bow. He then went into
reverse to keep the fire away from her undamaged sections.
Quick damage control brought down the list to four degrees, and
THE CONQUEST OF GUADALCANAL 235
electricians worked furiously to get the generators and switchboards in
running order. All this had to be carried out to maintain Wasp's head-
way, otherwise smoke would have suffocated every man aboard.
While this work and heroism was going on, another Japanese sub-
marine, 1-15, that had been patrolling with 1-19, fired a torpedo at
Hornet. It missed the carrier, passed under the destroyer Muster, con-
tinued on and struck the battleship North Carolina forward on the
port side about twenty feet below the waterline. Five men were killed
as it ripped through and opened a gash thirty-two feet long and eight-
een feet high. This resulted in flooding through four bulkheads, but
after reasonable precautions were taken, this battlewagon maintained
twenty-five knots, struggled back from a five-degree list, and main-
tained her station.
Matters were not so routine with Wasp. She was being gobbled by
fierce fires and at 3 P .M. a tremendous explosion shook her from bow
to stem, pumping clouds of deadly gas and smoke into all command
areas. Admiral Noyes was blown from his post to the signal bridge.
Most of the admiral's clothing was burned off, and he suffered bad
body burns as well. Just as the bridge staff moved off to take stations
at Battle Station II, well aft, another severe explosion billowed up from
the hangar deck, hurled the Number 2 elevator high into the air and
dropped it with a crash that left the platform crazily askew.
In spite of the terrible beating Wasp had taken there were still many
men left alive on her forecastle. A number of officers and men who
had been below never had a chance; they probably were blown to bits.
Others who had lived through the initial battering were wiped off
with heat, smoke, and lethal fumes. As the carrier wallowed uncer-
tainly, asphyxiating gas rolled forward and forced many seamen to
jump into the sea where sharks and burning gasoline left little in the
way of an alternative. A few braver or more desperate men dove
overboard, hissed through the flaming waters and swam under the
sheet of fire until they could come out in clear water. Those who
stayed aboard formed small groups and tried vainly to extinguish the
flames, but there was no power and no water in the fire lines.
Every trick in the trade was tried to control the fires, but the raging
volcano that was now the hangar deck, roared up the open elevators
and ate everything before it. There was no choice but to abandon,
and the order was given at 3:20 P.M. The wounded who could be
moved were floated away on rafts or mattresses, and carpenters quickly
hammered together any contrivance that would keep an injured man
2j6 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
afloat. Destroyers moved in and picked up what men they could, as
they still tried to trace the submarine that had fired the torpedoes. At
9 P.M. that night three torpedoes from the destroyer Lansdowne sent
the valiant Wasp to the bottom. Of the 2247 men on board 192 had
been killed and 366 wounded. All but one of her twenty-five planes
were flown off and landed aboard Hornet.
The continued struggle and strife for Guadalcanal, particularly for
control of Henderson Field, reached something of an impasse by Oc-
tober 26. The Japanese bombardment force had received a wicked lash-
ing from airmen at Henderson Field, and enemy ground forces had
been repulsed at three major points, Matanikau, Hanneken's Ridge,
and that entrancing piece of real estate known as Coffin Corner. The
Japanese had suffered thousands of casualties, and the world knew by
now that the U. S. Army and Marines could dish out as well as take
the punishments of war.
Then, as the thud and crash of land action slowed down, the navies
of both sides took up the cudgels and staged what is known as the
Battle of Santa Cruz Islands. It was here that we lost another carrier;
Hornet went to the block.
In spite of the setbacks his auxiliaries and invasion forces had sus-
tained, Admiral Yamamoto still had four carriers, five battleships,
fourteen cruisers, and forty-four destroyers with which to fight. Ad-
miral Halsey's Enterprise and Hornet, heading up Task Forces 16 and
17, had only the battleship South Dakota, and nine cruisers, screened
by about a dozen destroyers. The South Dakota, a brand new battle-
wagon, was commanded by Captain Thomas L. Catch, who had built
up a reputation of being the finest leader in the U. S, Navy. Captain
Catch, a weird mixture of religious piety and shipboard slovenliness,
wielded a strange power over his men. He was forever reading the
Scriptures, spreading the confidence that comes with religion. He al-
lowed his crew to wear anything, or nothing, and had only contempt
for the theory of a taut spick-and-span ship. "I want men who can
shoot and fight, not holystone heroes/' he would say, "We can clean up
the ship and put on our best duds just before we go into port on
liberty." As a result he was practically worshiped by his staff and men.
On October 24 Admiral Halsey ordered the two task forces, and a
battle-cruiser group known as TF 64, under Rear Admiral Willis A.
Lee, Jr., to rendezvous at a point about 273 miles northeast of Espiritu
Santo, with orders to make a sweep north of the Santa Cruz Islands,
THE CONQUEST OF GUADALCANAL 237
and then to almost reverse that course to the southwest with the idea
of intercepting any enemy vessels that were heading for Guadalcanal.
At the same time Admiral Yamamoto laid it on the line to Admiral
Kondo, and added that Henderson Field was to be in Japanese hands
by the evening of that date, October 24. At least, that is what he told
his Army opposite-numbers, explaining that unless the American war-
planes there were neutralized, his fleet would not be able to stay any
longer in those waters. The Japanese Army, unfortunately, was not
able to oblige, and, although many boastful statements were made
over the Nippon radio, Henderson Field remained in the hands of the
U. S. Marines.
This left Admiral Kondo bewildered. On the one hand he was told
he had nothing to fear, but reading between the lines he felt that U. S.
warplanes were still on the Guadalcanal airstrip. In this state of in-
decision he moved his four-carrier force up and down in an area three
hundred miles north of Guadalcanal. On shore Japanese liaison officers
explained that the taking of the airfield had been delayed temporarily
because of the difficulty of the terrain, but everyone had high hopes
that the base would be in Japanese hands by midday of October 25.
All this intelligence was interesting, but Admiral Kondo still had no
idea where Admiral Halsey's two carriers were.
While Kondo gnawed his cuticle, the American force was steaming
on their run around Santa Cruz Archipelago, which is north of the
New Hebrides and to the east of the southern Solomons, with full
knowledge of the Japanese force, since a PBY had sighted two enemy
carriers at noon of October 25, about 360 miles from the U. S. Fleet.
At this point Rear Admiral Thomas C. Kinkaid, commander of Task
Force 16, decided on a combined search and strike; his search aircraft
left Enterprise at 1 130 P.M., and the striking force left at 2:20. Nothing
much came of this for the snooping PBY had alarmed Kondo who
ordered a reversed course to the north. Admiral Kinkaid's planes,
which returned after dark, met bad luck; one crashed on the flight
deck, and six others were lost when they landed in the water, indi-
cating that American carrier pilots were still not especially adept at
night-flying operations.
All through October 25 Catalinas and Flying Forts made contact
with Kondo and even went after his battleships. No hits were estab-
lished, although early that morning two Catalinas, carrying torpedoes
and bombs, came close to seriously damaging the carrier Zuikaku and
the destroyer Isokaze.
238 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
Putting together what meager information he had Admiral Yama-
moto ordered the Army to storm the airfield that night, explaining
that he fully expected a critical engagement with the American Fleet in
waters northeast of the Solomons. Both sides had spent every available
minute in seeking out the other, and shortly after midnight one of the
Catalina snoopers had picked up the scent, and later another PBY
confirmed that Kondo's force was less than two hundred miles away.
This information was delayed in reaching Admiral Fitch's headquar-
ters, but when it did arrive and was fully confirmed by 5:30 the morn-
ing of October 26, Admiral Halsey gave the order: "Attack Repeat
. Attack!"
The morning promised a fair day. A light eight-knot breeze gently
stirred the waters, and above cumulus was spotted about the sky.
Perfect conditions for dive-bomber pilots.
A light formation was sent off from Enterprise to search definite
sectors. In this group were Lieutenant Stockton B. Strong and Ensign
Charles B. Irvine who were aboard SBDs that carried bombs. They
found nothing in their assigned area, but overheard a report of busi-
ness elsewhere and turned off and found Nagumo's carriers. They
sneaked in undetected, went down with no opposition of any kind
and planted two bombs on the carrier Zuifto's stern. This was a most
fortunate attack, for one of the bombs opened a hole fifty feet wide
in the Sight deck, canceling flight operations, and at the same time
blasting away all aft antiaircraft batteries. The Japanese combat air
patrol dove on the SBDs as they pulled out of their attack dives, but
the rear gunners in the SBDs shot down two of the Zekes.
The Japanese fleet staff also learned of the whereabouts of Admiral
Kinkaid's ships for one of their float planes sighted Hornet at 6:30
that morning. Nagumo had more than sixty planes spotted for take-off
aboard his three carriers, Shokaku, Zuikaku, and Zuiho. Fortunately,
the planes on the latter had been flown off before Lieutenant Strong
and Ensign Irvine plugged her deck. This attack formation was sent
off at 6:58 A.M,, and another element of forty-four aircraft was readied
to follow.
At the other end of the board, American planes were more than
twenty minutes behind their enemies in getting aircraft off, but at
7:30 Lieutenant Commander William }. Widhelm led fifteen dive
bomber SBDs, six Avenger torpedo planes, and eight Wildcats off
Hornet. Thirty minutes later Enterprise launched nineteen aircraft
under Lieutenant Commander Richard K. Gains. At 8:05 Com-
THE CONQUEST OF GUADALCANAL 239
mander Walter F. Rodee led twenty-five planes of varying types off
Hornet's deck, which brought the full force of American strike planes
to seventy-three. The two opposing forces passed each other, each
eying the other and probably wondering which would have a flight
deck to return to.
This is not to say that they waved as they went by. A formation
of Zekes went down on the smaller Enterprise element, making clever
attacks out of the sun. Three Wildcats were shot down into the sea,
while a fourth was badly damaged. With these fighters out of the way,
the Zekes went for the torpedo planes and repeated their score but lost
two planes and pilots in the venture. The four remaining Wildcats
staged a heroic stand and drove off the enemy after shooting down at
least one more. It will be noted that the Enterprise formation was cut
almost in half when it was still one hundred miles from the target.
However, the fracas did serve as an early-warning message to both
Hornet and Enterprise.
Admirals Kondo and Kinkaid must have been enduring the same
pre-action pains. Each knew the other was fencing for him, and that
their naval fortunes lay in the hands of Lady Luck. Kinkaid had one
strike against him in that the fighter-director aboard Enterprise was
new to his job, since the man who had served so well in the Midway
conflict had joined Admiral Halsey's staff at Noumea, New Caledonia.
The Japanese attacking force went into action first, of course, and
at 8:57 the U. S. combat-air patrol spotted the enemy Vals Aichi
99-is coming in from seventeen thousand feet. Because of our failure
to interpret the radar screen blips, since there were so many aircraft in
the air at the time, the dive bombers were not completely identified
until they were well within ten miles of the carriers. This was too close
to allow for deliberate action and by the time Wildcat air patrols could
sort out the various formations, small parties of Vals were swooping
down on Hornet. Some were destroyed before they could release their
bombs, but the enemy kept working in this manner, making the most
of the bewildering radar situation, and eventually darting in from
every angle.
At 9 A.M. Enterprise slipped into a local rain squall, but Hornet
was well out in the clear, and the enemy planes concentrated on her.
The sky above was a tangle of action. Wildcats were trying to head
off small parties of Vals. Zekes were slipping in and out, picking off
fighter pilots who were engrossed in their defense duties. Other small
wads of bombers or fighters curled in and out, looking for a dive
240 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
position or a target to knock down. The surface ships spattered the
sky with antiaircraft shells with some success but not enough.
A bomb came out of nowhere and clipped the starboard side of
Hornet's flight deck. Following this, a Japanese squadron leader who
had been badly hit and his plane damaged, managed a kamikaze,
struck the smokestack, glanced off, and ripped through the flight deck,
after which two of his bombs exploded and strewed destruction in all
directions. In the middle of this confusion torpedo-carrying Kates
Nakajima 97-25 came in astern, flying very low, and put two tin fish
deep into Hornet's battered hull. These exploded in the engineering
spaces and brought the carrier to a halt. Smoke and steam combined
to cause hell in all directions. The kamikaze shot had taken out most
communications, and as Hornet wallowed drunkenly three more 1500-
pound bombs caught the flight deck. One of these bored all the way
through to the fourth deck before letting go, and another plowed
through four deck levels to the forward messing area before its delayed
action fuse touched it off. Words are not necessary to heighten the
imagination.
But all this was not enough. While afire, adrift, listing, and com-
pletely helpless, another suicide pilot in a damaged Kate piled into
Hornet on the port forward-gun gallery and blew up near the elevator
shaft. Twenty-seven enemy aircraft had attacked Hornet, and although
about twenty-five had been shot down or badly damaged, they had
done their work.
The fire menace was serious, but not such as to deter a good combat-
control officer. There was no power for pumps, and bucket brigades
had to be formed, and crews with carbon-dioxide extinguishers and
Foamite went to work. The destroyers Kussett and Morris moved
alongside and supplied some measure of hose and pump power and by
ten o'clock the fires seemed to be losing ground. The black gang de-
cided that three of Hornet's boilers might produce steam, and gave it a
try. The cruiser Northampton put a tow aboard and started to haul her
away. At that instant a single Val roared out of the sky and whanged
another bomb that missed Hornet but broke up the towing and pump-
ing operations.
While the heroic action was going on around Hornet a Japanese
submarine started popping off torpedoes; one hit the destroyer Porter
which was on a mercy mission picking up air crews. She had to be
abandoned and sunk, but her survivors were put aboard the destroyer
Shaw.
THE CONQUEST OF GUADALCANAL 241
The lone Val that had attacked Hornet was one of an element that
had taken off from Zuikaku and Shokaku at 8:22 and either had not
seen Enterprise, or had ignored her. Later, however, a force dared the
heavy antiaircraft fire put up by San Juan and South Dakota, which
were protecting the "Big E", but eventually one bomb caught Enter-
prise's flight deck close to the bow, bored fifty feet through the fore-
castle and out the ship's side before exploding. A parked aircraft was
fanned over the side, taking with it a sailor, S. D. Presley, who had
been standing in the rear cockpit flailing away with a machine gun
at anything that roared past. Available records do not disclose whether
this gallant man was rescued.
During all this excitement an unbelievable incident occurred. A
second bomb crashed near the forward elevator. This one mysteriously
broke in two parts, one half exploded at deck level, while the other
bored its way through to the third deck causing a second explosion
that killed or wounded many men and ignited several small fires. Still
a third bomb, a near miss, was close enough to buckle numerous
plates along the starboard side, and is believed to have damaged a
turbine bearing.
While Enterprise's repair gangs went to work and corpsmen were
caring for seventy-five wounded men, Lieutenant S. W. Vejtasa, who
was leading a formation of Wildcats, stood by waiting for any enemy
torpedo planes to turn up. He had already shot down three during
the attack on Hornet, and, as he expected, eleven sea-green Kates
roared up from the south. Lieutenant Vejtasa knew his job and skill-
fully led his pack into the raiders. Before their ammunition had been
expended they had shot down six Kates.
Even this was not enough, for more than a dozen others waited their
turn out on the periphery of the engagement, and when they moved
in Enterprise became their main attraction. The antiaircraft gunners,
using high speed 4o-mm. Bofors, mounted four to a bracket, took five
of these out of the play, but nine others squirmed through the defenses
and dropped five torpedoes to starboard and four to port. Warned of
the starboard attack,. Captain Osbome B. Hardison brought Enter-
prise hard right. Another quick turn dodged a fourth torpedo that
missed by less than one hundred feet.
One Kate pilot, evidently enraged by the elusive tactics of the car-
rier, and the torrent of antiaircraft fire, made a suicide attack, bashing
himself, his plane, and his torpedo smack into the forecastle of the
destroyer Smith. A horrible fixe resulted, but Lieutenant Commander
242 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
Hunter Wood, with the aid of Chief Quartermaster F. Riduka, ran
Smith up under the quarter of South Dakota where the battleship's
crew provided fire-foam that helped to quench the blaze.
While this was going on, although she had twenty-eight dead and
twenty-three wounded scattered about her decks, Smith 's antiaircraft
gunners, true to their trust, continued to fire on any plane seen head-
ing for the wounded Enterprise.
The "Big E" fought fires, mechanical damage, and enemy aircraft,
but Lady Luck finally relented and moved heavy cloud cover into the
area. It could have sheltered enemy raiders, but at the same time the
carrier could use it for her own salvation.
It was a tense situation, no matter how it was viewed, for by now
planes from both carriers were reaching the end of their range, and
pilots were begging for permission to come in and refuel and rearm.
The deck crews aboard Enterprise were working at top speed to clear
an area large enough to land a plane on. It was at this point that some
alert lookout spotted a submarine's periscope. Another, handling the
radar aboard South Dakota, picked up a suspicious gathering of air-
craft, and with the routine warning, every antiaircraft gun in the force
opened up carefully selecting six fuel-hungry SBDs that were wait-
ing to land aboard Enterprise. The U. S. dive bombers "got the hell
out of there, fast," and moved off until some of the confusion below
had subsided.
At 11:21 a formation of twenty-nine planes off the Japanese carrier
Junyo came pouring down out of the cloud cover above. Since the
clouds were low there was little visual space to permit much selection,
and the enemy pilots had to take what they encountered. This also
allowed the American gunners a chance to pick them off as they floun-
dered about looking for a target, and in less than two minutes eight
of the raiders were shot down. One of these did manage a near miss
against Enterprise that buckled a few more hull plates.
But as usual, the law of compensation took over, and at 11:27 strag-
glers from this strike formed up, broke out into the open, and at-
tacked South Dakota and San Juan. One 25o-pounder smacked into
the battleship's Number i gun turret, doing little harm, but a shell
splinter from the casing struck Captain Thomas L. Gatch in the neck.
When Captain Gatch went down, someone switched the steering con-
trol to the executive officer's station aft, upon which the telephone
system fouled up and for a minute or so South Dakota ran wild and
almost steamed into poor old Enterprise. Her crew was alert, how-
THE CONQUEST OF GUADALCANAL 243
ever, and quick action hauled "Big E" out of the way. The bomb that
hit tie battleship killed one man and wounded fifty others.
The antiaircraft cruiser San Juan was hit by an armor-piercing bomb
that bored all the way through and out the ship's bottom before the
igniter went off. The explosion under water jammed the rudder hard
right, and with that San Juan began to run in crazy maneuvers, pulling
tight spirals, heeling over hard and just missing other ships as every
gun aboard continued to spit at the enemy. Hanging on the whistle,
and with the "breakdown" flag streaming, Captain James E. Maher
finally managed to get San Juan under control. The cruiser Porter also
fouled her steering gear and went into dizzy turns for a few seconds
but her trouble was soon corrected and she did no damage.
With the last of the enemy planes either being driven off or
"splashed," Enterprise finally turned into the wind to recover aircraft,
although, because of the congestion, a dozen SBDs had to be flown
to a strip outside Espiritu Santo. At 2 P.M she managed to launch a
new combat air patrol and pull out of the battle area.
About 11:30 Hornet showed signs of recovery and Northampton
finally took up the slack on her towline. The carrier was actually under
way for. a time and then the inch-and-three-quarter steel towing cable
parted. A two-inch cable was then attached and this held well enough
to provide about three knots by 1:30 P.M. Admiral Murray transferred
over to Pensacola and Captain Charles P. Mason ordered all wounded,
who were collected on the fantail, and nonessential men to be trans-
ferred to the destroyers Russell and Hughes.
At 3:15 six torpedo planes came in unmolested, simply because
there were no fighters available to provide cover, and Northampton
had to slip the tow since she was a sitting-duck target while hauling
Hornet's hulk. Another antiaircraft cruiser Juneau, should have been
available, but she had misunderstood a signal and had roared off to
support Admiral Kinkaid's group; her sixteen five-inch guns could
have provided the defense. Hornet was now an easy target but only one
torpedo hit her. Commander E. P. Creehan, her engineer officer, was
on the third deck, port side, above the aviation storeroom and related
later what happened:
"I saw a sickly green flash that momentarily lighted the scullery de-
partment and seemed to run both forward toward Repair Station 5,
and aft into the scullery department for about fifty feet. This was pre-
ceded by a thud so deceptive as to almost make one believe that the
torpedo had struck on the other side. Immediately following the flash,
244 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
a hissing sound of escaping air was heard, followed by a dull rumbling
noise. The deck on the port side seemed to crack wide open and a
geyser of fuel oil, which quickly reached a depth of two feet, swept all
personnel at Repair 5 off their feet and flung them headlong down the
sloping decks of the compartment to the starboard side. Floundering
around in the oil, all somehow gained their feet and a hand-chain was
formed to the two-way ladder and escape scuttle leading from the third
deck to the second deck. All managed to escape in some amazing
fashion through this scuttle, and presented a sorry appearance upon
reaching the hangar deck/'
Hornet was in a bad shape by now, her engine room was flooding,
her starboard list had gone to fourteen degrees, and although her gun-
ners still available fought bravely, Captain Mason decided to have his
crew stand by to abandon ship.
At 3:40 more Japanese dive bombers appeared overhead but scored
no direct hits. The antiaircraft gunners had no luck either. Ten min-
utes later six Kates, flying a ceremonial V formation came in and
Hornet received another hit on the starboard corner of the flight deck.
The dreary business of abandoning ship was then begun.
Admiral Nagumo's fliers made their last run at the hulk at 5:02 that
afternoon, when six fighters and four dive bombers flew over and made
one hit that started a new fire on the empty hangar deck. The de-
stroyers then raced back again and took off the rest of the survivors.
By that time 111 men had been killed and 108 wounded, and there
was no alternative but to scuttle the remains and clear out. The de-
stroyer Mitstin fired eight torpedoes in unhindered succession but only
three hits were scored and Hornet refused to go down. This mournful
business was continued until 1:35 in the afternoon of the next day.
Every U. S. ship that could fire a gun was brought in and more than
430 rounds were put into her before she went down.
There, of course, is another side to the Battle of Santa Cruz Islands.
While the enemy were getting in the first licks against Hornet, fifty-
two planes of her air group, led by Lieutenant Commander William
J. Widhelm were approaching the Japanese force. He had fifteen dive
bombers and four fighters in the front element which sighted enemy
cruisers and some destroyers at 9:15 that morning. A few minutes later
they passed to the east of Admiral Rondo's Advance Force, of which
the carrier Junyo was a part. Enemy combat-air patrols tried to head
off Widhelm, but he got through although two of his Wildcats were
THE CONQUEST OF GUADALCANAL 245
shot down. At 9:30 he came upon Shokaku and Zuiho, the latter still
smoking from the hits made by Lieutenant Strong and Ensign Irvine.
Another heavy air-combat patrol closed in and Widhelm's SBD was
hit. He tried to continue on, but the damage was heavy and Widhelm
had to ditch. He and his gunner took to their raft, floated about, and
calmly took notes. His command was assumed by Lieutenant James
E, Vose who had only eleven planes left to carry out the job. They
all pulled a tight bead on Shokaku, and roared down through the cur-
tains of flak, with Zekes snapping at their tails. It was risky, and almost
hopeless, but the gamble paid off. Several looo-pound bombs caught
the carrier's flight deck and ripped it to shreds, the hangars below
went up in flames, and everything within was scorched to a crisp. Fires
spread everywhere and gunnery control was obliterated Shokaku was
out of action for nine months. Had Lieutenant Vose had a few torpedo
planes, Shokaku might have been sent to the bottom. The Avengers,
unfortunately, had become separated from the dive-bomber force,
since they had missed Widhelm's message concerning the position of
Nagumo's carriers, and as a result the torpedo bombers made an in-
effectual strike at one of Admiral Abe's cruisers.
The second wave of aircraft to leave Hornet that eventful morning
also missed the main carriers, and after a fruitless search, Lieutenant
John J. Lynch took his SBDs against the cruiser Chikuma. Two bomb
hits were scored, but although she was knocked out of the fight, the
cruiser crawled home. At the same time a strike force off Enterprise
had a hard time at the hands of enemy fighters, and was broken up
into two small elements. Three dive bombers went after the battleship
Kirishima, with no luck, and four torpedo bombers hurriedly launched
their "fish" at a heavy cruiser, but all missed.
This was the total of American effort when the last of the American
planes pulled out by 9:27 A.M. At the same time the Japanese knew
that they had set Hornet afire, and learned that there was still another
American carrier available. We have seen how close they came to de-
stroying two of Admiral Kinkaid's flat-tops. Measured in combat ton-
nage, the Japanese had won a tactical victory, but, according to
Admiral Nimitz, other losses had forced them back to their Truk hide-
out. Kinkaid's force moved southward during the night of October
26-27 and en route South Dakota and Mohan collided while making
evasive tactics against an enemy submarine contact. The damages were
such that for a time it was believed that South Dakota would have to
return to the United States for repairs. Enterprise was patched up and
246 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
remained with the force and took part in the Battle of Guadalcanal
sometimes called the Battle of the Solomons that was fought over
November 12-15.
The Battle of Santa Cruz, the fourth carrier battle in six months,
disclosed that something of a pattern had been established. Very little
that was new had been added, but at the same time there was con-
siderable criticism of the fighter-direction efficiency. American fighter-
plane technique had improved greatly, as had the gunnery provided
by the new 4O-mm. antiaircraft weapons. So far, the Japanese had
shown superior efficiency in torpedo attack and long-range search, but
most important, the Battle of Santa Cruz gained some valuable time
for Admiral Nimitz days in which to check mistakes, reinforce, and
prepare.
The indecisive results at Santa Cruz left the Guadalcanal situation
more frustrating than before. Admiral Halsey at Noum6a faced the
prospect of stepping up the movement of supplies and reinforcements
in order to hold the island, while Admiral Yamamoto at Truk was
equally determined to push the Americans out of their foothold in the
Solomons. Halsey's job was to move in troops and supplies over air-
ways and sea lanes while Yamamoto relied on a somewhat similar
schedule of interdependent troop and ship movements. It will be seen
that such operations, if they were to succeed for either side, could only
result in one crucial and decisive naval engagement that would bring
a definite decision.
In the days following the carrier battle, both sides nibbled and
thrust. The Japanese continued to sneak in additional troops at vari-
ous beaches and U. S. Navy vessels shelled their positions. More Japs
crawled into Koli Point east of the American lines, and U. S. Marines
had to attack and attack until this enemy force was annihilated. Be-
tween November 2-10 some sixty-five destroyer loads of Japanese
troops were off-loaded in western Guadalcanal, another addition to
the build-up that threatened the American position.
Bitter skirmishes occurred hour after hour in Ironbottom Sound.
Majaba, a Navy cargo ship, was torpedoed by a Japanese submarine,
the destroyer Lansdowne went in search of the sub and wound up
shelling Japanese shore positions east of Metapone River, PT boats
out of Tulagi raced up and down and the Japanese destroyer Mochi-
wki was torpedoed but not sunk, the minesweeper Southard found
THE CONQUEST OF GUADALCANAL 247
and sank submarine 1-172 off Cape Recherch, San Cristobal Island,
south of Guadalcanal.
When a large force of reinforcements stood off waiting to move into
Guadalcanal, U. S. intelligence reports indicated that Truk, Rabaul,
and the Shortlands were glutted with enemy shipping a warning that
a new heavy thrust might be expected at any moment. Admiral Halsey
realized that if he hoped to get the reinforcements in and prevent Ad-
miral Yamamoto from doing the same, he would have to put what was
left of Task Force 16 into action at the first opportunity. Since "Big E"
was under repair at Noumea, the battleships and four destroyers had
to be detached for the job.
At Truk, Admiral Kondo had two light carriers, four battleships,
eleven cruisers, and more than thirty submarines to cover his high-
speed transports that were poised for a quick dash in with men and
supplies by November 14. He planned to bombard Henderson Field
the night before, and it was obvious that Admiral Kondo realized that
his task would not be easy.
As the U. S. reinforcements headed out of San Cristobal they were
spotted by an aircraft that had been launched from an I-class sub-
marine. It was clear that this snooper's report would result in trouble,
so everything was rushed into the waters off Lunga Point north of
Henderson Field, and the Marines quickly off-loaded. This activity was
interrupted by a dive-bomber force from the carrier Hfyo, but an alert
coastwatcher and radar gave ample warning and the enemy Vals were
given a hot reception. This continued all through November 11-12;
bombs were dropped on Henderson Field, and search parties went
looking for Admiral Kondo's fleet, but not until early afternoon of No-
vember 12 was the information sent by a coastwatcher that Japanese
bombers and fighters were on their way.
Admiral Richmond K. Turner who was in charge of this bob-tailed
organization, now known as Task Force 67 the transport group of
this South Pacific Force quickly halted the unloading, pulled his
transports out of the limited waters, and set up parallel lines of ships
that were to be guarded by the antiaircraft weapons of the various war-
ships. They all headed toward Savo Island, and as a result the enemy
planes were badly beaten up, and only one U. S. destroyer re-
ceived any serious damage. The cruiser San Francisco had a suicide
plane land on its after-control station, wounding fifty men. All this was
followed by a tense calm.
Early the next morning intelligence indicated that a strong Japanese
SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
force was steaming in some 335 miles to the northwest, and another
was spotted two hundred miles to north-northwest. By midafternoon
two carriers and two destroyers were seen only 265 miles away, and
since none of these forces was escorting transports, it was clear that
the enemy was heading for Guadalcanal with intent either to blast
Henderson off the map, or to engage any U. S. Navy fleet available.
Admiral Kinkaid's carrier-battleship force was too far away to offer any
hope of assistance.
Admiral Daniel J. Callaghan, in command of the Support Group
that had included San Francisco, had only four cruisers and a respect-
able force of destroyers to use in getting the cargo ships away. From
this point on what began as a surface action, soon went into the most
savage sea engagement since the Battle of Jutland in 1916. Through
November 12-13 both sides lost heavily, but although it cost him his
life Admiral Callaghan succeeded in holding Admiral Abe's raiding
group and saved Henderson Field.
On the morning of November 13 Admiral Kinkaid's Task Force 16,
with the partially repaired Enterprise, was racing up from Noumea.
On the way fitters and welders continued the refit work but when the
"Big E" was 340 miles from Guadalcanal the forward elevator still re-
fused to function. However, Enterprise launched a ten-plane search
and an attack group was prepared, in case some of the Japanese war
vessels should be within range. Admiral Kinkaid then donated a few
of his carrier aircraft to the Henderson Field force since Enterprise
could not handle too many in an efficient manner.
A small element of these transferred planes came upon the Japanese
Hiei, the battleship that had been damaged the day before. She was
north of Savo Island and accompanied by several destroyers. Lieuten-
ant John F. Sutherland, with a number of Avengers, made runs on
both bows, scored two torpedo hits and escaped unscathed. One of
these hits disabled the rudder and Hiei began to run in wild circles,
but even this did not send her down, so Lieutenant Sutherland led
his element to Henderson Field, there rearmed, and, accompanied by
eight Marine SBDs and two additional fighters, returned to finish the
job.
This time the Avengers launched five torpedoes from a ninety-
degree angle when Hiei was almost stationary. Two bounced off with-
out exploding, a third ran out of control, but the last two hit clean
THE CONQUEST OF GUADALCANAL 249
and exploded. The battlewagon still refused to go down although by
now she was a dead hulk in the water and utterly useless.
Next, fourteen B-iys flew up from Espiritu Santo, and dropped
fifty-six bombs only one hit Hiei. She was abandoned eventually, and
her crew removed as she was sinking stem first about five miles off
Savo Island.
Enterprise was kept out of the heat of the Guadalcanal fight as
much as possible; the slugging was left to the battleships and avail-
able land-based aircraft. However, on November 14 when she was two
hundred miles south-southwest of Guadalcanal two of her search
planes reported sighting ten unidentified planes about 140 miles to
the northward that were heading toward the carrier. Captain Hardi-
son launched an attack group for a look-see and to nail some rewarding
target, if possible. They were scarcely off the deck when a new report
came through: "Two battleships, two heavy cruisers, one possible con-
verted carrier, and four destroyers/' Their position was ominous, but
later the group, under Admiral Gunichi Mikawa's command, proved
to be retiring to the southward in a somewhat disorganized state.
Lieutenant Commander James R. Lee, who was leading the Enter-
prise flight sent out to intercept this enemy formation, made a contact
by 9:50 A.M. and thoroughly searched to find a carrier, but had to be
content with a number of cruisers. His dive bombers scored two direct
hits on Kinugasct and a near miss ruptured hull plates, opening a large
gasoline tank and starting a bad fire. A short time later this cruiser listed
sharply and went to the bottom. Other heavy cruisers, Chokai and
Maya, the light cruiser Isuztz, and a destroyer Michishio were heavily
damaged, but reached the safety of Shortland Island.
In the meantime Admiral Tanaka's reinforcement ships, which were
well escorted, were steaming down what was known as The Slot, the
waters leading down between Choiseul-Santa Isabel and the New
Georgia Group, making a bedine for the Henderson Field area. This
formation was spotted at 7 A.M. and identified thirty minutes later, but
it was not until 8:30 that they were found for business purposes by
two SBDs off Enterprise. They picked out a large troop transport and
made a near miss and a probable hit. In turn they were set upon by a
unit of Zekes that had taken off from the carrier Hyo, and one SBD
was shot down but the other escaped and returned safely to Enter-
prise.
Aircraft based on Guadalcanal were fully alerted to the transporl
force and went out in mixed groups for the rest of the day and harassed
250 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
the Japanese troopships. This set up many aerial skirmishes that had
various results. At 1:10 P.M. eight dive bombers off Enterprise, es-
corted by twelve Wildcats, went in search of the enemy transport
group, then about sixty miles northwest of Savo Island. They found it
by 3:30 just as Admiral Tanaka was attempting to re-form his force
after earlier attacks. There were few enemy fighters in the sky so the
SBDs took their time and made precision runs from fifteen thousand
feet. Some good hits were registered and the fighters, following them
down in escort formation, made the most of their chances and wiped
off the enemy decks with machine-gun fire. They then headed off and
landed safely at Henderson Field.
Despite all these varied attacks and subsequent damage, Admiral
Tanaka decided on a bold move. He moved in eleven destroyers for
a close formation and placed what transports he had left about six-
inside the destroyer screen, and doggedly continued down The Slot.
A good-sized element of Zekes was mustered, and the original plan
was continued.
Admiral Tanaka had a point. He must have known that his enemy
could not continue to fly and fight all day long, no matter what slaugh-
ter they had wrought. There is a limit to any man's stamina and skill.
Thus, when Lieutenant Commander James A. Thomas of Enter-
prise's Bomber Ten outfit took off again from Henderson Field, there
was no available fighter escort. Seven SBDs went out and three were
knocked down quickly by Zekes, two others were damaged, and the
two that remained to pierce the destroyer ack-ack curtain were con-
siderably hindered, to say the least. Little was accomplished, but be-
fore nightfall two Marine flights were flagged off Henderson Field, and
before the day was over Admiral Tanaka had to admit to the loss by
American air attack of seven transports, with their supplies and most
of the troops they carried.
He now had four transports and eleven destroyers with which to
continue his race toward Guadalcanal. With only eighteen fighter air-
craft on board, Enterprise moved to the cover of a weather front south
of Guadalcanal, and the next day was ordered back to the comparative
safety of Espiritu Santo. The battle foj Guadalcanal was left to the
surface Navy, land-based aircraft at Henderson Field, and the Marine
ground sloggers. No American carrier took any part in the historic
naval conflict fought during the night of November 14-15 that joust
of the giants that resulted in the complete consolidation of the island
THE CONQUEST OF GUADALCANAL 2J1
and an assurance that American ground forces were at last on the of-
fensive.
The world will long remember the savage land fighting that con-
tinued over the next nine or ten weeks. The name Guadalcanal made
us all cringe and shiver, regardless of the nibbles of success that our
ground forces experienced, and it was not until late January 1943 that
it became obvious that the Japanese would have to evacuate what
small portion of the island they still retained. Our best minds believed
that the enemy would start moving out by April i, but reconnaissance
reports indicated an ever-increasing number of Japanese transports
gathering at Rabaul, and Buin in southern Bougainville. At the same
time carriers, battleships, and their required screens, were noted in
various movements near Ontong Java, north of Guadalcanal. To some
authorities this indicated a move out, but the staff at Pearl Harbor and
Noumea believed that the Japanese were planning another rein-
forcement.
Plans were made, therefore, to relieve and reinforce the Marines on
the island, the ingoing transports to be escorted by five separate task
forces in the hope that Admiral Yamamoto would accept the chal-
lenge. Three groups of this force never got into the resulting action,
but Enterprise, now completely repaired and under command of Rear
Admiral Forrest P. Sherman, did take part. "Big E" somehow managed
to get into every scuffle.
On the afternoon of January 29 Task Force 18, now under Rear
Admiral Robert C. Giffin aboard Wichita, started to rendezvous with
the transport group at a point fifteen miles off Cape Hunter on the
southwest coast of Guadalcanal. After that Admiral Giffin planned to
make contact with a four-destroyer force, and then while the trans-
ports were off-loading at Lunga Point, Task Force 18 would turn up
Ironbottom Sound and make for The Slot.
Admiral Giffin had two light, or escort, carriers, Suwannee and
Chewngo, each carrying a small element of Wildcats and torpedo or
dive bombers. These vessels were converted oilers, comparable to the
earlier British Audacity-class ships. It should be explained that Ad-
miral Giffin who had had some experience in the Mediterranean and
had considerable respect for submarines was not fully appreciative of
the value of carrier aircraft as they were being employed in the Pacific.
And therefore when it was apparent that he would have to put on
about twenty-four knots to make his rendezvous, he dropped off Su-
252 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
vfannee and Chenango and two screen destroyers, considering them
nothing but "his ball-and-chain." That afternoon he was warned of
submarines in his area, so he put on more speed to join the destroyer
group, presuming that what air cover he needed would be supplied
by planes that were based on Henderson Field.
At the same time, well aware of Admiral Giffin's movements
through their submarines, the Japanese alerted attack aircraft on
Munda Field, Baku, New Georgia, and possibly at Rabaul. Thirty-
one twin-engined Betty bombers took off late that afternoon when
Task Force 18 was fifty miles north of Rennell Island and steam-
ing northwesterly. By sunset Admiral Giffin's radars were showing
"bogies" some sixty miles to the westward. Unfortunately, Giffin did
not order a change of course, nor did he alert his ships for an air
attack; in fact most ships of the fleet had secured from dusk General
Quarters and were totally unprepared for any such emergency.
Moving out of the area of the twilight glow, the Japanese air com-
mander moved around to the south and split his bomber force into
two parties. They came in low and fast and the lead Betty pumped a
torpedo at the destroyer Wdler, another was aimed at Wichita, a
heavy cruiser, and a third torpedo bomber roared between Chicago
and Wichita and launched a torpedo at Louisville, but this cruiser
wriggled clear. Over the next few minutes the Japanese torpedo planes
threaded in and out like great bobbins weaving a war tapestry. The
antiaircraft gunners, alerted at last, mounted every weapon available,
adding silver, gold, saffron, sable, and gray to the pattern. One Betty,
broken in flight, splashed in a blossom of flame and green-white sea
water. Miraculously, no damage was done to any vessel, and Admiral
Giffin continued on, doggedly pursuing the same course and by 7:30
P.M. had given up zigzagging. His idea was to make his rendezvous on
time, and to hell with the air torpedoes.
The Japanese, however, had had a taste of the kind of action that
appealed to them; here was a large juicy task force with no air cover.
As the twilight eased into the folds of night they came back and
brought their illumination with them. Blinding white flares blossomed
on the water, yellowish flares, dangling from small parachutes, hung
over the task force, strange red and green lights appeared in the sky
that enticed antiaircraft gunners to waste belts and chargers of ammu-
nition since there were no enemy aircraft between the lights. Actually,
they were other parachute flares that scout planes dropped to mark
THE CONQUEST OF GUADALCANAL 253
the general position, course, and formation pattern of the American
force. Here was something new!
At 7:31 an element of torpedo bombers made their formal call. The
leader released a tin fish that only missed the heavy cruiser Chicago
by inches. Louisville stopped one, but, gratefully, it failed to explode.
At this point U. S. Navy antiaircraft gunners tried out the new Mark-
32 proximity fuse shell. This did not require the usual mechanical
timing; if it passed close enough to the target, a small electronic device
was activated by impulses rebounding off the target's surface, detonat-
ing the shell. As small and complicated as it was, this device appeared
to work most efficiently as several Bettys were shot down.
The Japanese ignored their losses and came back. One tight ele-
ment made a concerted run against the cruiser column and ran into
wicked antiaircraft fire. Another was shot down, a second caught fire
and its pilot probably made a kamikaze run for the torpedo bomber
bounced off Chicago's port bow, spewing flaming gasoline all over the
vessel. This provided brilliant illumination and two Bettys came in
for a one-two punch. At 7:45 P.M. one torpedo smacked in, pierced
Chicago's starboard side and ruptured two important compartments
that flooded immediately. The aftermost fireroom began to fill up,
three of the four shafts ground to a halt, control of the rudder from the
bridge was hacked away, and in a few minutes a second torpedo bored
another hole that flooded Number 3 fireroom, taking out the fourth
drive shaft and then there were none.
Captain Ralph O. Davis realized that his chances of saving the
cruiser were minimal, but he roused his damage-control forces to their
utmost. All around her antiaircraft gunners were blazing away and
taking a grim toll, but with the eruption of each five-inch gun everyone
aboard was blinded temporarily by the intense glare. No one thought
to put on a screen of protective smoke, and the wild air-sea battle con-
tinued until the radarscopes looked like disturbed wasps' nests. Not
until after 8 P.M. when U. S. gunners were ordered to fire only on
definite targets, and the force had turned some 120 degrees and slowed
to douse the glare of phosphorescent wake, did the enemy aircraft give
up and return to their bases.
Two of the fires aboard Chicago were soon doused, and the damage-
control parties went to work shoring bulkheads, counterflooding, and
getting water out of living compartments by bucket brigades. The
emergency generators were undamaged so that the workers at least
had light and power, but the cruiser still had an eleven-degree list
254 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
and was hanging low by the stern. It was apparent that the only way to
save her was to tow her out of the shore-based plane range. A tow line
was passed from Louisville and, working in total darkness, she was
moving once again. It was then discovered that her rudder was jammed
left, but fast work remedied that matter so that by early on January 30
Chicago began to limp toward Espiritu Santo at a weary four knots
an hour.
When Admiral Halsey learned of this operation he ordered the dis-
carded escort earners Chenango and Suwannee to move up and pro-
vide air cover. A Catalina flying boat went out to maintain a security
patrol and Admiral Sherman was sent with his Enterprise group to
furnish additional combat-air patrol.
Still the enemy refused to give up this victim, and after breakfast
that morning an Enterprise patrol spotted an enemy reconnaissance
plane snooping around twenty miles away. At this Louisville was re-
lieved of her towing job, and the hawser was taken over by Navajo,
a Navy tug. Things went so well that by 3 P.M. Admiral Halsey ordered
all undamaged cruisers to proceed independently to Efate, a base
south of Espiritu Santo in the New Hebrides. With that, Admiral Gif-
fin, still aboard Wichita, signaled his farewell and good wishes to
Captain Davis and left the crippled cruiser in tow with six destroyers to
provide a screen. The Enterprise group was still more than forty miles
away to the southeast. The escort carriers were moving into the area
too, but so far had not been advised that Admiral Giffin had taken his
heavy cruisers out of the picture, so they sailed on, hoping to be avail-
able to put up a ten-plane combat-air patrol late that afternoon.
At 3:45 P.M. Enterprise picked up a twelve-plane enemy formation
that indicated they were sixty-seven miles from the carrier, but pos-
sibly only twenty-five to thirty from the disabled Chicago. The car-
rier's fighter director vectored a six-plane patrol from Admiral Giffin's
forcepresumably from the escort carriers and these Wildcats inter-
cepted a flight of torpedo-carrying Bettys. This induced them to turn
back and take on the helpless Chicago instead. In making this move
they became entangled with the ten Wildcats that had been launched
by Enterprise. In the ensuing dog fight three Betty bombers were
knocked down, but the remaining nine raced away at three hundred
mph., leaving the Navy fighters standing. Lieutenant Commander
James H. Flatley, who was leading another fighter element, tried vainly
to intercept, but the bombers were all racing at the wallowing Chicago
before the Wildcats could interfere.
THE CONQUEST OF GUADALCANAL
Ntfva/o made a game effort to haul Chicago's bow into line with
the spread of torpedoes; every antiaircraft gun in the group opened
fire, and once more the dazzling picture of action was plastered against
the Pacific sky. Torpedoes drew their geometric design, guns splashed
their venom against the blue, airplanes smashed into the green seas,
and fast-moving destroyers darted about like giant water bugs. Four
more torpedoes pierced Chicago's hull.
The destroyer La Vallette enjoyed a few minutes of glory hammer-
ing at the incoming torpedo planes until a torpedo bored its way
into her engine room and killed Lieutenant Eli Roth, the damage-
control and engineer officer, and twenty-one of his men. Others man-
aged to plug the leaks, shore the bulkheads, and M. W. Tollberg,
Watertender Second Class, crawled up the forward fireroom ladder,
groping blindly until he finally closed the oil-control valve to his fire-
room. The superheated steam had partially blinded him and seared
the flesh from his hands. He collapsed and died of his injuries. Because
of a dozen other such heroic actions aboard La Vdlette Commander
Harry Henderson had his destroyer under way again within two min-
utes and moving at slow speed on the after engine.
Chicago went down within twenty minutes and Captain Davis had
to work swiftly to clear all survivors. The evacuation was well carried
out with 1049 members of the crew taken aboard Sands, Wdler, Ed-
wards, and Navajo.
This battle of Rennell Island marked the beginning of Japanese
night air operations and the technique of parachute flares and float
lights, and it Was not until the Pacific Fleet turned its attention to and
developed the trick of carrier-based night-fighter proficiency that the
new menace was properly countered.
The Guadalcanal campaign was costly in men and materiel on
both sides. Both Japan and the United States lost twenty-four naval
vessels, with a tonnage of 126,240 for the American forces, and 134,-
839 for the enemy. Japan lost two battleships, but no carriers. We
lost two carriers and six heavy cruisers. The Yamamoto force sacrificed
eleven destroyers and six submarines, while Halsey lost fourteen de-
stroyers and two light cruisers. No U. S. submarines were lost. These
figures do not include transport vessels.
Both sides learned many tactical lessons.
CHAPTER VIII
BREAKING THE BARRIER
THE GREAT aircraft-carrier battles fought in the Pacific by the Ameri-
can and Japanese Navies, those historic long-range conflicts that raged
over the Coral Sea, Midway, the Eastern Solomons, and Santa Cruz,
were never again staged on such a stupendous pattern. With the close
of the Guadalcanal savagery, the duels between the opposing flat-tops
came to an end, and with the exception of the Battle of the Philippine
Sea fought in midsummer of 1944, which saw something of a recapitu-
lation of what had gone before, the carrier no longer basked in the
naval spotlight
One of the chief reasons for this was that both sides had fought to
a standstill, and it was necessary to rebuild depleted carrier strength
and train new air groups. Another factor came up when the first Allied
offensives, roaring up through the South and Southwest Pacific, could
be supported by land-based planes, and what contribution the carriers
made was in furnishing aircraft for strikes against enemy island strong-
holds. The carrier had reverted to the role of a mobile air base.
By the summer of 1943 carriers of the new Essex-class 27,000 tons
and a number of escort types of the then Independence-class
11,000 tons were beginning to join the Pacific Fleet. With the addi-
tion of this varied equipment came a new phase in naval warfare, some-
times known as the hit-and-stay offensive. That fall Essex, the new
Yorkt own, and Lexington, together with the new light carriers Bellectu
Wood, Independence, and Cowpens, were sent into action against
Wake and Marcus Islands. In November Saratoga, Princeton, Essex,
Bunker Hill, and Independence took part in a vicious onslaught against
Rabaul, and here, for the first time since Hornet's strike against Tokyo,
United States carriers emerged from an all-out attack without damage.
There were reasons for this. The F4F Wildcat had been replaced
BREAKING THE BARRIER 257
by the speedy F6F Hellcat. The sleek gull-winged Corsair, F4U, took
on Japanese aircraft that had not been improved since they first ap-
peared over Pearl Harbor. Then too, American planes were better
armed with new .5ocaliber guns, and carried larger ammunition
boxes. New antiaircraft weapons bristled from the deck turrets of all
carriers. Our five-inch guns had improved controls, and the Swedish
Bofors 4o-mm. weapons, complete with very efficient tracking sights,
added greatly to this phase of ship defense. Radar was improving by
leaps and bounds, and the blued screens were furnishing important
data for the Combat Information Centers. As a result friend was
quickly distinguished from foe, and the fighters provided with reward-
ing targets with rare proficiency.
All conditions were not yet perfect. Carrier bombers could deliver
only one bomb of any size, but with improved techniques and bomb-
sights it was possible to increase the size of the bomb and gain greater
impact rewards. The new Allied rocket launchers were also ready for
U. S. Navy aircraft, and with these, fighters were in many instances
converted into fighter bombers. Torpedoes still gave considerable
trouble in that they were risky items when delivered from high-speed
aircraft, and to approach enemy warships at slow speed invited disas-
ter. By the simple expedient of a drag ring that was fitted to the nose
of the torpedo, its falling speed was lowered considerably, improving
its chances of starting its water run against the target and getting
there.
Carrier support of amphibious operations went through many stages
of trial and error, but by the time the Okinawa campaign was under
way, the carriers had developed new and valued programs of support
and furnished the land forces with various kinds of strikes. In some
instances they reported to the ground co-ordinators for target assign-
ments, just as though they were working from land bases. As the action
moved inexorably toward the enemy home islands, damage control
improved and fire-fighting methods were so effective that after 1943
only one fast carrier, Princeton, was lost, although Franklin and
Bunker HiU were seriously damaged. Intricate compartmentation, the
fog nozzle, fire-fighting practice, and the employment of screening ves-
sels as fire boats saved many damaged flat-tops, and brought them
safely to hospitable repair depots.
After the first Allied victory in Europe, the success of Operation
Torch in French North Africa, and the American successes at Mid-
2j8 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
way and Guadalcanal, there came a revision of strategic planning,
and although the fundamental Allied concept was based on beating
the European Axis first, it was obvious that the Pacific situation could
not remain dormant.
Everyone who did not have to pick up a rifle and fight for it, was
screaming for a second front in Europe. There were some Americans,
still smarting under the Pearl Harbor defeat, who wanted no part of
the European war and were intent only on defeating Imperial Japan.
But once it became evident that American naval power was win-
ning the war in the Pacific, it was clear that this campaign would have
to be continued Contrary to expectations, the British Chiefs of Staff
were in full support of America's intention to keep that campaign in
high gear.
The chief problem was to redistribute all available forces so that a
second front could be opened in Europe, so that the Mediterranean
could be held secure, so that the Battle of the North Atlantic could
be continued, and so that an Allied invasion of the European main-
land could be prepared once the big break came.
The historians have recorded this from varying points of view, de-
pending on their service allegiances and just what theater of war they
were covering. Every commander whether he was in North Africa,
Sicily, Italy, or any of the islands of the Pacific, believed that he was
fighting the crucial battle of the war. American citizens along the West
Coast ignored the European war; wounded service men who had "only
fought in Europe" were looked on as malingerers, correspondents who
had not as yet covered a Pacific battle were simply cub reporters with
little or no experience; what had happened between September 1939,
and December 7, 1941, was quickly erased and relegated to a series of
skirmishes, reminiscent of the African veldt of the Boer War. Every-
thing depended on the point of view.
A few rational-minded men ignored the headline screamers and, fol-
lowing the Casablanca Conference in January 1943, wound up with
a strategic bargain. The British were to continue their all-important
Mediterranean operations through 1943. It was generally agreed that
any invasion of Western Europe would have to be delayed until the
middle of 1944, a decision that would release men and equipment for
a real Pacific offensive. This program was to resume Operation Watch-
tower, a continued thrust up from Guadalcanal through New Guinea
until Rabaul was taken and the Bismarcks Barrier breached. New ad-
vances were to be made toward Trufc and Guam. The Aleutians were
BREAKING THE BARRIER 259
to be made as secure as possible. In addition an advance was planned
to move along the New Guinea-Mindanao axis as far as Timor; and to
aid China, Burma was to be recaptured by a very elaborate campaign
of amphibious assaults and combined land operations.
Throughout the greater part of 1943 aircraft carriers were not im-
portantly engaged in the heavy fighting that marked America's switch
from the defensive to the offensive phase of battle. The reason has
been explained earlier in this chapter, but by early November of that
year it was more than apparent that Rabaul, by now a very important
Japanese base, would have to be eliminated if the Bismarcks Barrier
was ever to be broken.
American successes at and around Empress Augusta Bay off west-
ern Bougainville that resulted in military landings on that island,
stirred considerable panic in the Japanese forces, and Admiral Minei-
chi Koga, then Chief of the Japanese Combined Fleet, decided to
reinforce Admiral Tomoshige Samejima's naval forces at Rabaul.
Seven heavy cruisers of their Second Fleet, and a light cruiser and
four destroyers were rushed to this critical area. It was agreed that this
force not only strengthened the Rabaul base, but became a real threat
to the American amphibious forces already ashore around Empress
Augusta Bay. Admiral Halsey ordered Admiral Sherman's Task Force
38, one built around the carriers Saratoga and Princeton, to stand by
for any eventuality. Providing air strikes against enemy bases as strong
as Rabaul was hardly within the combat compass of large carriers, but
all these risks had to be assumed.
On the night of November 4 an order was received aboard Saratoga
demanding immediate attacks on enemy effects in Simpson Harbor
at Rabaul. Duplicate copies of this order were forwarded to General
Nathan F. Twining, commander of air forces in the Solomons, and
to General Douglas MacArthur. From this it is presumed that any
attack on Rabaul was to be something of a co-operative effort. We are,
by now, well acquainted with Saratoga, but Princeton was a new light
carrier under Captain George Hendeison. Their screen was composed
of the antiaircraft light cruisers San Diego and San Juan, and nine
destroyers. All these vessels were to be at a rendezvous point 230 miles
southeast of Rabaul at 9 AJVC. November 5. To get there from near
Rennell Island, south of Guadalcanal, some twenty-seven-knot steam-
ing had to be put on, but with the luck of "good" weather that pre-
vented their being spotted by the enemy, Admiral Sherman had his
force where it should have been in plenty of time.
260 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
Saratoga sent seventy-one aircraft of varied categories into the air,
and Princeton launched nineteen Hellcats and seven Avengers. What
combat air patrols were to be canned out would be provided by the
land-based forces of the Air Solomons Command.
Two hours after launching, this ninety-seven aircraft strike roared
into Rabaul where it was understood that the enemy had at least 150
aircraft to afford a defense. From all accounts they had fully that many
and the U. S. Navy raiders were greeted warmly. The main idea, of
course, was to beat up the concentration of enemy heavy cruisers and
other naval shipping in Simpson Harbor. These orders read well on
paper, but none of the pilots had any reliable maps or charts of this
area, and on their arrival much valuable time was spent in whipping
back and forth searching for the mooring bases, or in determining
which were cruisers and which were military transports.
All this gave the Rabaul forces time to put many fighter aircraft into
the air, but Commander Henry H. Caldwell, leader of Saratoga's Air
Group 12, kept his force intact and did not break it up for individual
assignments until it was roaring along St. George's Channel, ignoring
the curtain of flak and darting thrusts of some seventy enemy fighter
planes. As the dive bombers deployed for their approaches with the
idea of attacking immediately after the SBDs, both formations had to
hurl themselves through heavy enemy flak and machine-gun fire that
came from every ship in the harbor. By now, too, practically every ves-
sel had up-anchored and was trying to make a run for the open sea>
with the result that important heavy cruisers were dispersed among
rust-bucket transports and oilers. The torpedo-bomber pilots had to
skid, jink, bank, and wriggle through a forest of masts to get at the
cruiser targets, which not only made it almost impossible to put a sight
on the ships of the Japanese Navy, but redoubled all the antiaircraft
hazards. Yet, when it was all over only five fighters and five bombers
were missing. It should be added, however, that results were not too
satisfactory and not one Japanese ship was actually sunk, but the over-
all damage sustained put Admiral Kurita's Second Fleet out of action
for some time.
One bomb went straight down the stack of the heavy cruiser Maya
while she was tied up fueling, went on through, exploded in the engine
room and put Maya out of action for five months. Takao received two
hits that opened a great gash at her waterline. The famed Mogami,
damaged at Midway, was battered badly by bombs. Ag<mo and
Noshiro were hit, the latter by a dud torpedo, while Atago, Wakat-
BREAKING THE BARRIER 2 6l
suki, and Fujinami were damaged by near misses or duds and were
able to limp out of Rabaul Harbor. All of these vessels, except Maya,
were lucky to retire, and the Japanese never again sent heavy cruisers
into these waters.
The minute his planes were recovered Admiral Sherman took his
force out of the area. A few searching Kates found TF 38 early that
afternoon, and later Admiral Kusaka sent out more bombers to finish
this carrier force. Something went wrong somewhere, for the Japanese
pilots attacked instead LCI-yo, a gunboat; and a PT boat that was
escorting an LCT back to a repair base in the Treasuries in the Solo-
mons. The Japs attacked this small force in the twilight and for a few
minutes the little gunboat had a picnic. Then one of the Kates col-
lided with the PT boat's antenna and crashed, but her torpedo ran
free, passed through the bow and wound up in the crew's head with-
out exploding. LCI-yo took a beating, but fortunately her shallow
draft allowed all torpedoes that were fired at her to run beneath her
keel. However, one started porpoising and at the critical instant plowed
into the engine room without exploding, but the impact killed one
man. Lieutenant H. W. Frey ordered "abandon ship," but after a rea-
sonable interval had passed without an explosion, a damage-control
party went aboard and LCI-yo was towed back safely to Torokina
beachhead in Empress Augusta Bay.
The Japanese radio then invented the First Air Battle of Bougain-
ville and claimed to have sunk one large carrier, set ablaze a medium
carrier, two heavy cruisers, one light cruiser, and sunk a destroyer. It
was their biggest propaganda lie of the Pacific war.
Admiral Halsey had gambled high with his canieis and had been
lucky, but Rabaul was still a formidable base, its communications with
Truk were still intact, and although the withdrawal of Admiral Ku-
rita's heavy cruiser force enabled us to continue with the important
Bougainville operation, the Gilbert Islands action was just around the
comer, and Admiral Nimitz still had no heavy cruiser force to spare to
protect U. S. shipping en route to the Bougainville beachheads.
Hindsight tells us that it was unfortunate that Rabaul could not
have been attacked again within a couple of days. Another strike
against the enemy base was scheduled for November 11 with a force
commanded by Rear Admiral Alfred E. Montgomery. This was built
around Essex, Bunker Hill, and Independence. The Saratoga and
Princeton group were to get into this action also, but because of the
262 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
weather conditions their air groups encountered, no important dam-
age was inflicted.
Admiral Montgomery's force organized at Espiritu Santo and
moved up to a position 160 miles southeast of Rabaul after an all-
night, high-speed approach. More than an hour was absorbed in ren-
dezvousing the aircraft, which gave the enemy time to put up his
combat-air formations. Bad weather neutralized strikes that had been
planned by Lieutenant General George C. Kenney's land-based
bombers over three previous days, and consequently about sixty-eight
Zekes were awaiting the raiders as they flashed by Cape St. George.
What started out as a definite strike against enemy shipping turned
into a pointless dog fight, and it was impossible for the U. S. Navy
fliers to present any reliable details of the attack. Later the Japanese
admitted that the light cruiser Agano received one torpedo hit, the
destroyer Naganami was seriously damaged by a torpedo and had to
be towed back into the harbor, and the destroyer Suzunami was dive-
bombed while she was loading torpedoes and her hull was badly split.
She went down near the entrance to Rabaul Harbor. The light
cruiser Yubari and tie destroyers Urakaze and Umikaze were slightly
damaged.
In response to this assault, Admiral Kusaka sent out more than one
hundred fighters, dive bombers, and torpedo bombers to attack Ad-
miral Montgomery's fleet, and early that afternoon they started to bore
in from all sides. U. S. interceptors put on a good show, but ran out of
ammunition eventually, and the defense had to be taken up by the
ship batteries. From 1:54 P.M. until 2:30 P.M. the sky above Mont-
gomery's force was wild with aircraft, falling bombs, exploding shell-
fire, and general wreckage.
Bunker Hill took the worst of the enemy bombardment. Eleven
U. S. Navy aircraft were lost, but only ten sailors were wounded
aboard any of the surface ships. As usual the enemy made extravagant
claims of having sunk a cruiser, damaged two carriers, and three other
vessels. But the enemy didn't completely believe this himself, for that
night Admiral Kusaka at Rabaul sent out more strikes, hoping to drive
the American carriers back to Espiritu Santo and thus give him some
temporary peace.
These strikes against Rabaul, although affording no lengthy list of
sinkings, did have certain far-reaching effects. They dissolved Japanese
carrier strength at a time when Tarawa was in the ofEng. They drew
enemy air pressure from Bougainville, and forced Admiral Koga to
BREAKING THE BARRIER 263
withdraw the remnants of his carrier aircraft from Rabaul airfields the
next day. These were replaced by inferior equipment and inexperi-
enced pilots drawn from the Marshalls. Further accounting discloses
that in the Rabaul attacks the Japanese lost more than half of their
fighters, 89 per cent of their dive bombers, and 90 per cent of their
torpedo bombers in less than fourteen days. And to top that the great
gamble of risking American carriers against land-based aircraft had
paid off, and considerable valuable experience had been gained.
To continue a chronological review of the Pacific war action to en-
able the reader to retain a grasp of the actual course of events, it
should be explained that during the last few months of 1943 when
Allied forces were flailing at islands and airfields in the Bismarcks and
Bougainville, American naval planners organized two impressive am-
phibious operations. One provided footing for invasion power in the
Gilbert Islands, the second found us well lodged in the Marshalls.
The Gilberts and Marshalls, along with the lesser Carolines and
Marianas, make up the area known as Micronesia, and are strategi-
cally scattered across the main sea lanes linking the United States and
the Philippines, China, and Japan. Thus, Kwajalein in the Marshalls,
Truk in the Carolines, and Saipan in the Marianas each became a cen-
ter of a defensive system that could be of tremendous value to Japan.
In this ocean network air and naval forces could be organized and
deployed, planes and ships could be serviced and air and surface raids
launched in all directions. No Allied search planes could reach these
depots from any existing bases, for Marshall Island, the nearest, lay
1100 miles from Guadalcanal, 1130 from Canton Island, and 1230
from Johnston Island.
At the time there were conflicting views as to the value of attempt-
ing to take these bases, island by island, but it was clear that the farther
west the United States projected its sea power, the more dangerous it
became to leave these Micronesian bases in enemy hands. Eniwetok,
a little more than one thousand miles from Saipan, would be worth a
dozen Wake Islands. The naval bases of Truk and Palau in the Caro-
lines held a great threat over General MacArthur's possible advance
after the Bismarcks Barrier was breached. Saipan and Guam, while
held by the Japanese, stood as a screen before the Philippines, but if
they could be captured, American 6-295 might be brought up to
threaten the main islands of Japan. There was very little choice. The
Gilberts and Marshalls had to be taken.
264 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
There is no space here for a complete history of this broad opera-
tion, but by midsummer of 1943 Admiral Nimitz presented the Joint
Chiefs of Staff with a tentative plan for the simultaneous occupation
of Kwajalein, Wotje, and Maloelap in the Marshalls, but after some
high-level consideration this plan was enlarged and divided into six
phases of advance; the Gilbert Islands and Makin, the Marshall Is-
lands, Wake and Kusaie, Ponape, the central Carolines, including
Truk, Palau and Yap, and finally the Marianas. On paper this mass
advance was most impressive, but many believed that the plan as a
whole was too risky since it would take valuable ships well beyond the
range of Allied land-based air power.
In the Solomons the United States Navy had never ventured more
than three hundred miles from a friendly airfield, and when escorting
amphibious forces usually operated within one hundred fifty miles of
such support. It was pointed out that Tarawa was more than seven
hundred miles from the nearest Allied air base Funafuti. To do what
Admiral Nimitz had planned meant leapfrogging, using the new Es-
sex-class carriers as the Pogo sticks.
There were extended fleet maneuvers, target practice, and much
shore bombardment throughout the summer of 1943. All types of anti-
aircraft drills were held hourly, for by now more than half of the ships
in the Fifth Fleet were new and very few of the sailors had seen action.
Navy expansion had been so great since Pearl Harbor that even vet-
eran vessels were officered by more than 75 per cent reservists, and
manned by almost 50 per cent of sailors who had never been to sea.
The new carriers coming out with only partly trained air squadrons
provided more problems. Escort carriers, most valuable in the North
Atlantic and the Mediterranean, had not found their true place in the
peculiar actions in the Pacific. With no more opportunities to engage
enemy carrier fleets, the large fast carriers, nevertheless, offered all the
old difficulties of screening and protection. Excepting Enterprise and
Saratoga, the large flat-tops that had fought at Coral Sea and Midway
were either in repair yards or resting on the bottom. The newcomers
with their attendant battleships, cruisers, and destroyers needed much
team training, and their flying men were shy of good combat practice.
In the Gilberts and Marshalls operations they were given work in a
series of raids that were devised mainly for training and combat expe-
rience, rather than for any hope of actual military benefit.
For instance, Marcus Island, which is 1560 miles from Midway and
less than one thousand miles from Tokyo, was attacked on September
BREAKING THE BARRIER 265
i by a task group that flew off Yorktown, Essex, and Independence.
Dauntless dive bombers and Avenger toipedo bombers made six
strikes that day with negligible results. Over September 18-19 another
carrier task force, composed of Lexington, Princeton, and Belleau
Wood, made strikes against Tarawa and Makin. Four aircraft were
lost, but nine Japanese planes were destroyed and a large number of
the military forces killed. More important was a set of low oblique
photographs of the lagoon, taken by photographers off Lexington,
that became of great value in later planning of the assault on Tarawa.
Wake Island was given a going-over on October 5-6 when aircraft
off the decks of Essex, Yorktown, Lexington, Covtpens, Independ-
ence, and Belleau Wood made 738 combat sorties against stiff opposi-
tion. Twelve planes were shot down in combat and fourteen more were
lost "operationally/' meaning in take-offs, recovery, or somewhere be-
tween the carrier decks and the targets. While the U. S. planes were
beating up the enemy area, destroyers and cruisers moved in and
shelled any available target. At least twenty-two Japanese planes were
destroyed.
With the opening of Operation Galvanic in November 1943, the
planned attack against the Gilbert Islands, some 200 ships, carrying or
escorting 27,600 assault and 7600 garrison troops, 6000 vehicles, and
117,000 tons of cargo, had to be readied and moved to their destina-
tion. Included in this was the fast carrier forces of the Pacific Fleet
TF 50 commanded by Rear Admiral Charles A. Pownall. This was
the greatest carrier force hitherto assembled anywhere. It was made
up of four new Essex-class, five light carriers, the Enterprise and Sara-
toga, and a screen composed of six new battleships, three heavy cruis-
ers, three antiaircraft cruisers and twenty-one destroyers.
All this was divided into: i) A Carrier Interceptor Group Lexing-
ton, Cowpens, and Yorfetown. 2) The Northern Carrier Group En-
terprise, Belleau Wood, and Monterey. 3) The Southern Carrier
Group Bunker HUl, and Independence. 4) The Relief Carrier Group
Saratoga, and Princeton.
The island of Makin was taken by November 23 with not too great
a toll of men, but the Navy had the bad luck to experience a turret
explosion aboard Mississippi that killed forty-three men and wounded
nineteen.
Tarawa Atoll was next, one of the worst experiences of the whole
Pacific campaign, being, to all intents and purposes, an impregnable
fortress. Batteries from the surface vessels did their best to break down
266 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
the opposition, and bombers from Essex, Bunker Hill, and Independ-
ence joined in the assault against Betio, the fortified island that con-
tained the all-important airfield. Despite all the men and equipment
that were hurled into this action, Tarawa was not secured until late
in November, and by that time 980 Marines and twenty-nine sailors
had been killed, with 2101 wounded.
The Gilberts operation was quickly followed by a fast carrier strike
against Kwajalein, center of Japanese air power in the Marshalls. An
incidental pass was also made at Wotje. All this took place over De-
cember 4-8, and again Rear Admiral Pownall was in command of
Task Force 50.
An ocean rendezvous was made by the carrier force and fleet oilers
out of Pearl Harbor. After moving east and north in order to make a
wide sweep around the Marshalls, the force divided into two groups
and changed course for a direct run toward Kwajalein. This line of
approach was unexpected, for the Japanese had anticipated that any
such attack would come from a sector south and east of the target.
At 6 A.M. on the morning of December 4 TF 50 had reached a
position thirty-six miles east-southeast of Rongerik Atoll. The flat-tops
swung into the trade wind as a rosy dawn greeted the sailormen. Caw-
pens launched the air-combat patrol for one group, and Betteau Wood
contributed fighters to cover the other. At 6:30 Lexington and York-
town began sending off aircraft for the first strike. By 7:15 all planes
were away, hurtling through the cloud-land formations in perfect
Vs, and the flat-tops turned easterly toward the planned rendezvous.
The enemy had concentrated his main force of fighter planes at
Maloelap in the belief that that would be Admiral Pownall's initial
objective, but eventually about fifty Zekes turned up and, supported
by a terrific antiaircraft-gun barrage, gave the U. S. Navy fliers a rough
time. Again, there was no worth-while information of details of the
Kwajalein base and few accurate charts from which to work. Several
fluffs were made, and aircraft lost in attacks that had no possible
future. As an example, twelve Hellcats went down to beat up the Roi
airfield, but having no real idea of what they were attacking, and com-
pletely fooled by Japanese camouflage, ran into serious trouble. In
spite of their determination they destroyed only three bombers and
sixteen fighter planes, leaving between thirty and forty unnoticed in
their revetments.
The light cruiser Isuzu and several freighters lay at anchor in the
lagoon, and forty-one SBDs and thirty-six Avengers from Essex and
BREAKING THE BARRIER 267
Lexington went to work, but the mass attack was only slightly success-
ful. The bomber boys had had no experience against moving ships and
wasted their missiles, once the Japanese ships slipped their anchors.
Of the thirty-six torpedoes released by the Avengers, only five found
a mark. When it was all over Asakaze M&u, a 65oo-ton freighter carry-
ing ammunition, went up with a roar, and the light cruiser had her
rudder blown away, but managed to get out of the lagoon, appar-
ently in serious condition.
While these planes were wasting a great deal of effort over Roi,
others from Yorfefown and Enterprise went searching for business at
the other end of the island. They found the principal naval base and
an airfield under construction. After a concentrated attack against
some thirty ships of many types, Avengers, armed with regular bombs,
sank three freighters and claimed to have hit the light cruiser Nagara.
Another group of planes attacked a seaplane base on Ebeye Island
and sank or destroyed eighteen float planes that were anchored there.
In the effort expended over this forty-five-minute strike only four
surface vessels were sunk and fifty-five aircraft destroyed for a loss of
five American planes. A great deal of valuable naval craft and bomber
aircraft had escaped scot-free. But in all this we begin to see the
limitations of the aircraft carrier when it is used for such sea versus
land attacks. Carrier fliers require first-class intelligence, inspired han-
dling from combat control, and full assurance that the carrier deck
will be where it is supposed to be when the strike is over.
In any dispassionate analysis of the value of the aircraft carrier, the
limitations of the vessel must be considered, particularly in relation
to aircraft from either land bases or opposition carriers. Proponents
of carrier warfare have argued that the vessel can steam six hundred
miles a day and with that range have almost certain immunity from
enemy aircraft. But it must be remembered that this giant vessel, sail-
ing six hundred miles a day, is attempting to evade an aircraft that
presumably can fly six hundred miles an hour. Concealment under
those conditions may be very difficult, and once found, we have seen
how simple it is for well-trained naval airmen to put the flat-tops out
of action.
Improvements in long-range radar have increased the carrier's woes,
and as land-based air power continues to extend its range, vulnerability
becomes more apparent. Enlarging the size of the carrier to handle
more planes, to provide greater speed, or a more flexible program of
operations in no way relieves the carrier of the air-bomber problem.
268 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
The modem 8o,ooo-tonner is simply a larger target, one which the
attackers can dispense with precision bombsights.
We have seen how up to now British aircraft carriers enjoyed some
small measure of triumph and filled in valued roles against the U-boat
menace. They never had carrier combat against an enemy carrier force,
although ancient torpedo bombers off Ark Royd did set up the Bis-
marck for disposal by guns of the battleships. Whenever they tried
to compete with land-based aviation, they were in trouble.
We have also seen that in conflict between opposing carrier forces,
luck plays an important part in every engagement. Whether the bombs
or torpedoes of one force damage and sink an opposing carrier de-
pends much on where the damage is inflicted, and what eventual
destruction follows. One bomb or torpedo may just pierce a hull or
flight deck, and, all being equal, the carrier will be able to continue
on course, launch or recover aircraft, and make repairs as she goes
along. However, because of the complex construction of the flat-top
a hundred other hazards may arise that will seal her doom. Although
providing a glorious pageant of naval action, we have seen, so far,
that carriers suffered a dreadful toll. They have been lost to enemy
submarines, the bombing hail of enemy-carrier aircraft, or sunk by
land-based aircraft.
Once the great carrier-versus-carrier battles were concluded in the
Pacific, U. S. carriers found themselves assigned to what was listed
as "fast carrier strikes" against enemy land-based strongholds. It was
then discovered that the effective striking range of the carrier is not
defined by the attacker, but instead is fixed by the performance ca-
pacity of the defender. As Major Alexander P. de Seversky, the noted
aviation analyst, has pointed out, if the enemy aerial force can reach
out for three thousand miles, the carrier aircraft need a range of three
thousand miles plus the inland distance to the target to be attacked.
All goes well as long as the sky is in friendly hands, but if the enemy
has any percentage of air control, the carrier is in a hazardous situa-
tion. The major's figures are, of course, based on present-day ranges
and operational considerations.
The problems in the series of fast carrier strikes that were planned
in the Pacific, can be re-emphasized by further reference to Major de
Seversky's doctrines. He points out that in the early stages of World
War II Allied bomber offenses both in the European and Pacific thea-
ters were in great need of fighter escort, and there were periods when
the entire strategic bombing offensive against Germany was in danger
BREAKING THE BARRIER 269
of collapse. From self-appointed militaiy experts came the inquiry as
to why a few carriers were not moved in close to the German coast
from where they might provide fighter cover for the Aimy Air Corps'
fleets of bombers. By that time wiser heads had realized that naval
carriers that were moved anywhere near major land-based aircraft
would not stay afloat long enough to launch a full squadron of fighters.
At any rate the Allied navies never took this risk. It would have
been sacrificial to have sent carriers into the North Sea to furnish
fighter cover for our Forts or Liberators. And no attempt was ever
made to afford carrier-fighter cover for the 6-295 that roared into Japa-
nese home areas late in the Pacific campaign. It was obvious too that
carriers could risk such operations only when full command of the
air involved was enjoyed but by that time the bombers would be able
to carry out their raids, unescorted and unmolested.
All this must be considered when we trace further the operations
of U. S. Navy carriers through the next stages of fhe Pacific war. The
preceding strike against Kwajalein was to have been followed by a
second that was to have been launched by noon that same day, De-
cember 4, but Admiral Pownall decided to call off everything but a
snap strike at Wotje, and retire. In all probability he was discouraged
by the meager results obtained. He also realized that his pilots had
not fully recovered from the heavy going they experienced in the Gil-
berts. Probably, too, he wished to put as much distance as possible
between his ships and the Japanese land bases, for he had no adequate
defense agaiust an enemy night attack.
Whether or not his decision was questioned and there is reason
to believe it was Admiral Pownall was a realist, for he now knew
that "fast carrier strikes" provide an equation of risk against possible
result, and once the enemy land-based force is enticed into the air the
defender will be in the more advantageous position, and even the loss
of a destroyer would be too great a price to pay for the destruction
of the few pknes that were presumed to be left at Kwajalein. After
all, this was the center of a real defensive system, and Admiral Pownall
knew that the longer his flat-tops stayed around, the greater would
be the risk.
Between 10 and 11 AAI. the carriers were busy recovering aircraft,
but by noon Yorktovm launched thirty planes for a raid against
Wotje, a strike that accomplished little but did result in a few fairly
valuable nhoto^raDhic reconnaissance orints. A few minutes after these
270 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
planes had left, the enemy sent a short attack against Lexington; three
Kate torpedo bombers from Maloelap came streaking out of a purple
sky, nosed down and roared on across a sapphire sea. Lookouts smartly
spotted them, and the Lexington's guns opened fast all three Kates
were splashed with a gush of orange flame, very close to the American
flat-top.
While policing up her deck after launching the Wotje strike, York-
town was attacked by four Kates that had come in very low while the
air-combat patrol high above was frisking about, enjoying the beauti-
ful afternoon. Gunners aboard the cruiser San Francisco, and the de-
stroyers Taylor and LaVallette, crashed two of these before they could
release their torpedoes. A third sheered off, apparently in fright, with-
out releasing his torpedo, and the fourth rode boldly down the center
of the formation until American gunners shot him to pieces.
It was then, after the aircraft of the Wotje mission were recovered,
that Admiral Pownall signaled: "Mission completed. Retire northeast-
ward course 35, speed 25 knots." It was hoped that they would soon
steam beyond enemy bomber range, but that came under the head of
wishful thinking. None of the carriers in this force could boast of a
night combat-air patrol; that is to say, they had no carrier fighters
trained in night operations. Fortunately, the antiaircraft gunners had
had considerable experience the month before and put up a fairly
effective defense.
The Japanese night attacks followed a definite pattern, as explained
before. Just before sunset one or two snooper planes began trailing
the surface formation and when darkness fell they dropped a series
of marker float lights to set up a guide track leading into the carrier
force. The oncoming bombers and dive bombers first picked up these
lights as their rendezvous point. Once the attackers were in position,
the snoopers went on ahead, sailing high over the surface formation
and dropping bright parachute flares that clearly illuminated the tar-
get. With their flare path laid down, the bombers simply went roaring
at the carriers and their screen vessels that were clearly outlined be-
neath the parachute glare.
Kates and Bettys charged in from every available point and con-
tinued this attack for nearly forty-five minutes. This was a very eco-
nomical manner of offense for the attackers required no fighter cover,
and considering everything, could bore in from any angte, height, or
manner. The original idea, tried out in the Solomons campaign,
reached its greatest pitch on this night, December 4-5, 1943.
BREAKING THE BARRIER 2J1
Another factor in their favor was the way all this crisscrossing fouled
the U. S. Navy radar screens. It was impossible to tell the flare-laying
snoopers from the bombers or torpedo pknes, and even when a plane
pilot had released his explosive load he stayed in the area, circling
and crisscrossing through the maze of attack and generally raising
merry hell with the men who were attempting to sort some semblance
of order out of this electronic chaos.
A later compilation figured that from thirty to fifty aircraft were
involved. About fourteen definite strikes were made by bombers and
torpedo carriers before the giddy evening was over. Little damage was
done over the first thirty minutes, but by 10:55 more enemy aircraft
came in from port and starboard and caused Admiral Pownall to ap-
peal to his support ships: "Anyone with a good setup, let 'em have
it!" By then the sky was beautifully clear and the moon, glaring like
a brand new silver dollar, brought out anything the parachute flares
missed. Every ship in the formation stood out as clearly as by day,
although the gunners were still trying to eliminate the air raiders by
firing on radar contact.
At 11:23 P.M. a snooper released three more parachute flares from
about five thousand feet off the formation's port bow. A plane,
screeching down-moon, roared at Yorktown with everything full out.
Gunfire from the carrier and the destroyer LdVdlette headed it off
just when things looked their worst, but a few minutes later another
came out of the glare and scored a torpedo hit on Lexington's stern.
The explosion took out the compartment that contained Lexingtons
steering plant. The rudder was jammed over tight, nine men were
killed and thirty-five wounded. For a minute or two the big carrier
went wild and threatened the whole formation, but finally Captain
F. B. Stump, using the radio-telephone, explained that he could make
speed but could not steer. His men worked hard to install five sub-
mersible pumps, and someone had set up an emergency hydraulic
unit in the steering compartment before leaving port, but the man
who knew how to operate it had been wounded. He did his best to
explain by telephone from the sick bay how to put it to work. By that
time the emergency pumps were clogged with rags and other waste
that had been left around by careless sailors. Another twenty minutes
of wild effort, mostly by Chief Electrician's Mate L. R. Baker and
Quartermaster D. E. Woods, brought the rudder amidships. Under
these conditions Lexington could make headway, steering on her en-
gines, although one main shaft had been broken by the torpedo. By
272 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
midnight she was making twenty-one knots. All this had taken place
while the Japanese airmen continued their attacks, and were driven off
as fast as they came within antiaircraft-gun range. By 1:24 the next
morning the raiders had cleared off, the moon had set, and all hands re-
laxed for a peaceful Sabbath. By December 9 the task force steamed
into Pearl Harbor and Lexington was quickly repaired.
Through the weeks and months of early 1944 the aircraft carrier
had to assume the role of a mobile air base and furnish aviation sup-
port for the island-hopping campaign that was to follow. Kwajalein
and Eniwetok were taken, and the grand sweep of the Central Pacific
was under way. The bulk of the task was accomplished by the am-
phibious forces, but unquestionably the carriers had a dangerous but
decisive part. This combined striking force, commanded by Rear Ad-
miral Richmond Kelly Turner who was considered to be America's
foremost amphibious expert, mounted every type of available naval
weapon and included several top-secret items.
The surface force consisted of some of the U. S. Navy's newest
battleships, mounting sixteen-inch guns that were used to lay down
f oimidable barrages before the troops stormed up the beaches. The air-
craft carriers contributed hundreds of planes. In the area of Kwajalein,
an atoll about seventy miles long and eighteen miles wide, there was a
lagoon that could accommodate the largest fleet, and once this area
was captured the problem of seizing the rest of the Marshalls group
was made easier, Truk, Japan's Pearl Harbor, was 950 miles to the west,
Wake was 600 miles to the north, and with the capture of Kwajalein
the great question was whether the full Japanese Fleet would come
out of its sheltered harbors and fight. The U. S. Navy was to be as
frustrated in this as was the Royal Navy when it hoped the German
pocket battleships would risk a chips-down engagement. The Japanese
Navy never accepted the challenge.
Victory came hard, but success followed success, and the assault on
Truk in the Carolines presented problems that had never been faced
before in any land-sea operation. Truk is not a single island, but a
scattering of a score of volcanic eruptions that form islands of various
size and elevation and are surrounded by a snag-toothed coral reef
about thirty miles in diameter. Every island and sand bank contrib-
uted to its fortress possibilities. But this vital step in the destruction
of Japanese naval power had to be taken.
Following the successes at Kwajalein and Eniwetok, the assault was
BREAKING THE BARRIER 27-
carried out with such speed that the Japanese at first assumed it was
"merely a reconnaissance in force." Later they admitted the fora
was "exceedingly powerful." They had no idea whether the American
forces planned a landing on Truk but acknowledged that "the situa-
tion had increased with unprecedented gravity."
It was no walk-over for the ground forces, however, and the casual-
ties were heavy. Fortunately, by now, Japan began to feel the shrinkage
in her merchant fleet and had difficulty in keeping columns of sup-
plies moving into Truk. Great convoys of these ships were trapped,
sunk, or dispersed. During the attacks of February 16 and 17 carrier
aircraft destroyed 201 enemy aircraft, 127 of which were shot down
in air combat. As a result there was scarcely any enemy air opposition
on the second day of this assault. The Japanese also lost two light
cruisers, three destroyers, one ammunition ship, one seaplane tender,
two oilers, two gunboats, and eight important cargo ships. A cruiser
or a large destroyer two oilers and four cargo ships were badly
damaged and just managed to limp away to safety. Shore facilities on
the principal islands, including runways and installations on an air-
field, were bombed and shot up.
American losses in this period were seventeen aircraft, and some
moderate damage to one surface ship.
The great American noose was being drawn tight, cutting inter-Axis
communications. Blockade runners attempting to get into the Far East
ports were trapped, attacked, and destroyed. Four German blockade
runners trying to slip out of the same ports were intercepted and sunk.
They carried sixteen thousand tons of rubber, ten thousand tons of
tin, and quantities of edible oils, gum, resin, quinine, and wolfram
(a tungstate of iron and magnesium) that were intended to replenish
Hitler's diminishing supplies.
With the fall of Truk came increasing evidence of the Japanese
reluctance to fight. They were desperate, exhaustion was setting in,
and by April 1944, when afforded an excellent opportunity to use
what ships and weapons were still available, it became obvious that
the Imperial Japanese Navy was in no shape to fight on any but its
own terms.
A British task force of carriers and warships, commanded by Ad-
miral Sir James Somerville, staged a surprise attack against the Japa-
nese on Sumatra and taunted them into an area over which they had
kept a constant air reconnaissance. If ever there was a chance to repeat
their earlier success in this general region, this was it. However, they
274 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
made little effort to put their available fleet against the Royal Navy
force, and bombeis and fighter bombers took off from British carriers
to pound the airfield and docks at Sabang at the northern end of
Sumatra. Sabang had a fine harbor which was of great value to the
Japanese in any large-scale operations in the Indian Ocean, and a large
number of fuel dumps were located there.
This attack on Sabang, apart from testing the measure of Japan's
willingness to fight, had, in addition, struck a severe blow at their
communications with Burma. Admiral Somerville's fleet was never
any closer than one hundred miles to Sumatra when this important
raid was made, but its new Barracuda aircraft made many direct hits
with heavy missiles on the dockyards, power stations, wharves, bar-
racks, hangars, workshops, and the radio station at Sabang. Large
bombs fell on two merchant ships, two destroyers and an escort vessel
were set afire, twenty-two planes were destroyed on the ground, and a
iooo-pound bomb fell smack on a large oil tank.
The airfields at Lho Nga were also attacked and several aircraft
destroyed on the ground. Three Japanese torpedo bombers that were
sent off to harass the Allied Fleet were all shot down by British carrier
fighters. This attack, coming four days after Admiral Mountbatten
had moved his headquarters from India to Ceylon to be more closely
linked with the Naval Command, was particularly timely and effective.
All the aircraft, but one, returned safely, and the British naval force
suffered no damage of any kind. Even with the chain of victories the
Americans had been scoring in the Central Pacific, it was somewhat
puzzling, but on studied reflection it became clear that the Japanese
would never fight again in the Indian Ocean. Within the shelter of
the Andamans, the Nicobars and their protecting islands in the Neth-
erlands Indies, their ships had been able to operate with land-based
air cover. In that way they could avoid any Allied fleets that by now
had overwhelming superiority in aircraft carriers. It was a principle
that the Japanese had carefully observed in all their Pacific engage-
ments.
In the meantime another vigorous offensive was launched by Ameri-
can and Australian forces, backed by the powerful naval arm, against
Hollandia in Dutch New Guinea. Landings were made at Humboldt
Bay, Tanahmerah Bay, and at Aitape. Beachheads were secured, and
strong forces of shock troops captured a fighter-bomber airfield at
Tadja near Aitape. Thousands of Japanese troops were bottled up
between a rampart of mountains that ran down the center of northern
BREAKING THE BARRIER 275
New Guinea, and a sea completely dominated by Allied naval forces.
More than 80,000 additional Japanese were suffering a like fate in the
Bismarck Archipelago and the Solomon Islands to the east. The com-
munication of all these trapped forces had been severed, but by some
military miracle most of them escaped in spite of heavy attacks made
by carrier aircraft on their fleets of landing barges.
The Allied landings were comparatively easy and suffered no great
toll of life, which allowed immediate landing of engineers, technical
units, and large equipment for rebuilding bridges, roads, defenses, and
airfields.
By now even the most conservative men in all forces were ready to
think that the war in the Pacific would be over much sooner than had
been anticipated eighteen months before; all that was needed to cap
this opinion was for the Japanese to "come out and fight" This did
not imply that the war against the Japanese had overnight become a
push-over. The enemy still had considerable naval and air power. He
had strong bases among the islands of the inner barrier. Much would
depend on how he used what he had. Obviously, he had no intention
of chancing an all-out major sea battle with his American opposition.
Japan could not win this war, for she could not compete indus-
trially with America's Arsenal of Democracy. In twenty-eight months
of war United States forces had hacked great portions of her sea
and air power to wreckage, and the United States naval force was rec-
ognized as the greatest sea-air power in the world. America had proved
that she could outbuild Japan in ships, aircraft, and weapons of war.
Only the Japanese war lords in Tokyo refused to recognize the in-
evitable.
The victory grind continued on and on. In mid-May General Mac-
Arthur reported that a coordinated air strike against Surabaya, that
involved forces from the Southeast Asia area and the Central Pacific
area, had been completed. This involved British, American, Australian,
French, and Dutch units of various services. Operating in conjunction
with supporting naval forces, the Japanese naval base there was first at-
tacked after dawn by fleets off American and British aircraft carriers.
The pattern was repeated; shipping, naval installations, an oil re-
finery, and several airfields were heavily damaged by direct hits. Ten
vessels in the harbor, totaling 35,000 tons and including a small tanker
and a small naval warship, received direct hits. Two floating dry docks
were damaged, and at Wonokrono an oil refinery was destroyed com-
pletely, and its power house demolished by a direct hit Storage tanks
276 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
and another refinery were set ablaze and a column of smoke from the
carnage rose to a height of five thousand feet Also important naval
installations were badly damaged by direct hits.
Land-based bombers followed up the attack made by the carrier
planes, and nineteen enemy aircraft that were grounded at Malang,
Tanjong, and Perak airfields were battered to bits. Two fighter planes,
sent up to intercept, were quickly shot down. Because of the com-
pleteness of the surprise attack, the Allied forces lost but three air-
craft, and the surface fleet received no casualties or damage.
Continuing the attack that night, the land-based heavy bombers
went back to the same target; this time selecting railroad marshaling
yards and rolling stock. Again no real opposition was met and all
planes returned safely although their raids had involved flights of
2500 miles.
From this time on, events of this kind happened with monotonous
regularity. Light naval forces and naval aircraft sank a number of
Japanese barges at New Ireland, small craft were badly damaged in an
air attack at Bougainville, land-based medium bombers attacked three
looo-ton ships in the Tanimbar Islands one was set on fire, the second
was run aground on a reef, and the third heavily damaged. At
Manokwari, Netherlands New Guinea, one krge and two smaller
vessels were destroyed by aircraft attacking Japanese shipping there.
Fighter bombers sank three small barges and other light craft at Duke
of York Island, New Britain, and an air patrol damaged two large
barges in the Buka, Solomons, area.
In the meantime Wake Island had been taken over completely by
Allied troops. On May 18 United States bombers intercepted a Japa-
nese patrol vessel east of Paramushiro in the Kuriles, and runways,
power stations, and piers in the Marshall Islands were badly hit in
raids staged by various U. S. aircraft over May 18-19, 1944.
Then came the great assault on Saipan in the Marianas where the
enemy found himself fighting for his life in what might be termed
his own front yard. Pre-assault operations began as early as June 3 with
a bombing strike on Palau in the Carolines by land-based planes out
of the Southwest Pacific bases. After several forms of interdiction mis-
sions by Army flying men against Japanese airfields at Peleliu, Woleai,
and Yap, Admiral Mitscher's four fast carrier groups took over. The
following U. S. earners played an important role in what was to hap-
pen: Essex, Ixmgfey, Cowpens, Hornet, Yorktown, Betteau Wood,
Bataan, Bunker Hill, Wasp, Monterey, Cabot, Enterprise, Lexington,
BREAKING THE BARRIER 277
Princeton, and San Jacinto. (The above Wasp was a replacement for
the one lost in 1942.)
On June 11 when this four-group formation had reached a point
two hundred miles east of Guam, 208 fighters and eight torpedo
bombers were launched and sent against Saipan and Tinian. The idea
here was to lessen the danger of enemy air attack over the following
night, and to eliminate as much shipping as possible. From all ac-
counts, this effort paid off since at least thirty-six Japanese aircraft
were disposed of.
That evening Rear Admiral Joseph J. Clark, commanding TG 58.1
(Hornet, Bataan, Betteau Wood, and Yorfefown) continued to head
for Guam while the other three carrier groups moved toward Saipan
and Tinian. Early the next morning the Japanese made one of their
flare- and float-light attacks against the northern group but no damage
was inflicted and one of the attacking aircraft was shot down in flames.
As compensation Rear Admiral William K. HanilTs group (Essex,
Langfey, and Cowpens) encountered a convoy of twelve Japanese sup-
ply ships that had just left Saipan for Yokohama. They were escorted
by a torpedo boat, nine patrol craft, and subchasers. Just before they
were intercepted they were joined by sixteen fishing vessels that had
been bound for Truk to provide fish for the Japanese garrison there^
but when it was dear that they would never get through, they at-
tempted to join this convoy and return to Japan.
Aircraft from Admiral HarrilTs carriers never had it so easy. One of
the worst debacles of its kind took place on June 12, and when it
was all over the convoy was devastated, the torpedo boat Otori, three
subchasers, and ten freighters were sunk. This same air group also
carried out air strikes on Saipan and Pagan in which another naval
auxiliary that was undergoing repairs was sunk, and another large
freighter had to be beached. At the same time air attacks by planes of
the other three groups reduced enemy air power on and near the main
islands to practically zero.
Meanwhile Admiral Clark's group was carrying out heavy bomb-
ing strikes against Orote airfield on Guam. A search plane from
Hornet spotted a six-ship convoy some 134 miles west of Guam. The
report on it was delayed, but since the convoy hung around in the
area, hoping to get into Apra Harbor, it eventually came to the atten-
tion of a formation of Hellcats and received a savage beating. Never-
theless this convoy did land some reinforcements on the island.
By June 13 United States carrier aircraft were streaking back and
2?8 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
forth over every island, seeking targets to bomb or shoot at. Captain
William I. Martin, pilot of an Avenger off Enterprise, had a remark-
able experience at this time. He had been sent off to bomb aircraft
installations near the Charan Kanoa air strip on Saipan and immedi-
ately after he had punched his bomb release at a 35oofoot level, a
shell from an antiaircraft battery scored a direct hit on his plane when
it was over the lagoon. This shell fouled the controls and the aircraft
went wild and tossed out Martin and his two crew members from a
height of about three thousand feet. Both crewmen were killed by
the immediate shock, and Martin found himself hurtling through the
air, unable to get his parachute to function. He had been through
something like this before when he flew off Hornet during the Battle
of Santa Cruz.
There is a popular notion that airmen who are caught in such diffi-
culties suddenly remember forgotten prayers, unfamiliar Psalms, or
lengthy passages from the Scriptures. True or not, Martin remembered
the first few lines of the Twenty-third Psalm:
The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not -want.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures;
He leadeth me beside the still waters. . .
Still waters! Psalm or no, Martin suddenly recalled reading a report
of a pilot at Guadalcanal who had found himself in this same un-
enviable situation, but had miraculously survived by wriggling into a
perpendicular position and then straightening his body like a dart,
just before he hit the water.
"There wasn't much time to argue about the possibility of getting
away with this legendary feat, but I got one break. Just before I hit
the water, iny parachute partially opened, and must have checked my
speed. At any rate, I chugged into shallow water, as stiff as an arrow,
and the next thing I knew I was sitting on the sandy bottom with
nothing worse than a bruised hip. I saw my plane splash in and begin
to burn fiercely. Pieces of the broken-up structure were still fluttering
down from the sky/'
Captain Martin had escaped one form of death, but some Japanese
soldiers ashore took pot shots at him with their rifles, so he ducked
back under the water, towing his seat-pack which contained his un-
opened life raft He eventually reached the reef and the rifle fire died
down.
"I don't remember how I got to that reef/' he explained, "but next
BREAKING THE BARRIER 279
I sensed that two boats were putting off to take me in, I suppose. I
slithered back into the sea and lay on the slope of the reef with my
nose just out of the water/*
While resting there he figured out just where he was, and took
time to make a few pertinent observations. When some 2omm. fire
began splashing nearby he decided to make a run for it.
"I clambered across the reef and dived into the breakers off its sea-
ward edge. This broiling surf made a good cover-screen, and to play
it safe, I now inflated my life raft. Fortunately, at this point another
American air strike was coming in, and when the bombs began to
fall, the jokers who had been picking on me had something more
important to occupy their minds. I rigged the parachute and seat pack
as a sea anchor, filled the raft with water to cut down the yellow glare
and visibility, and started drifting seaward, I knew by then that if I
wasn't soon picked up, I'd wind up in the Philippines. I'd beat Mac-
Arthur to it Fortunately, I had some food and water in my raft pack,
and I decided to sit it out"
From that point on matters proceeded according to rote. A Hell-
cat and an Avenger spotted him after he had caught their attention
with a mirror and a package of marker dye. When they came down
low to identify, the Japanese on shore began firing again, but the
pilots stayed around long enough to drop an emergency kit. Captain
Martin then dispensed with the sea anchor, rerigged his parachute as
a sail and began to move at a speed of about three knots toward the
fire support area. Around noontime two float planes from Indianapolis
landed nearby and one of them flew him back to the flagship.
Admiral Spruance was most interested in this airman and had a
long talk with him- He was impressed with Captain Martin's obser-
vations of the reef, and considered them important enough to send
out by dispatch. Martin thoughtfully had remembered the depth of
the water in the lagoon, the details of the coral heads, the absence of
underwater obstacles, the length of the reef, and the height of the surf.
To cap this story, Captain Martin was returned to his carrier by the
destroyer MacDonougfi, and on the way this vessel had one bombard-
ment assignment. The rescued airman was able to direct her fire, and
had the satisfaction of seeing MacDonaugh. knock out the antiaircraft
battery that had shot him down.
That was the happy side of this June 13, but as usual the law of
compensation demanded its toll, A number of Avengers in Lexing-
ton's air group had been equipped with rocket launchers. This form
280 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
of missile had been used in Royal Air Force antisubmarine squadrons
for months, but the weapon was new out here in the Pacific, and there
were few airmen who knew how to use them under all attack condi-
tions.
This particular formation of Avengers, which was led by Lieutenant
Commander Robert A. Isely, went out to make runs on Aslito airfield,
Saipan. These attacks were to be made from shallow glides, and the
rockets were to be launched at ranges between one thousand and two
thousand yards. Commander Isely's lead plane and two more follow-
ing closely behind were hit by intense antiaircraft fire as they were
making their approach glides. Two of these Avengers burst into flames
and crashed, the third was severely damaged but managed to get back
to its carrier.
Commander Isely's loss was irreplaceable, for he was one of the
most skilled pilots in the U. S. Navy, and for a time there was some
concern about using these rocket missiles, particularly in long-range
approaches or against intense and accurate antiaircraft fire.
Two carrier groups of the force had to move out to refuel, and as
a result the fast carrier strikes had to be cut down. However, by June
15 the enemy had been given such a beating he no longer could put
up much of a defense over Saipan. That night, while Rear Admiral
John W. Reeves, Jr., and Rear Admiral Alfred E. Montgomery's task
groups were recovering aircraft some forty miles west of Saipan, enemy
planes were detected coming out of Guam. A combat-air patrol sent
up from San Jadnto shot down seven of these bogies and broke up a
first attack. After sunset, another developed, and two night fighters off
a carrier intercepted and drove off the Japanese fighter cover. About
twelve torpedo bombers broke into the clear and concentrated on Lex-
ington and Enterprise, and for a time matters were hair-raising, but
eventually all the torpedoes were evaded, and the fighters had a turkey
shoot, knocking down eleven of the twelve torpedo planes.
The surface fleet had supported the carriers for about four days, and
in turn the carriers had made raids that had pounded this key Japanese
base, and when all aerial opposition had been driven off, the long-range
guns of the battleships, cruisers, and destroyers moved in to add to the
carnage. On the fifth day the transports made their rendezvous outside
the coral reefs that guarded the island, and landing craft began wild
dashes toward the beaches, American infantry and Marines swarmed
ashore at Agingan Point, and the Japanese who had survived the bom-
BREAKING THE BARRIER 281
bardment, made a brave stand with murderous enfilading fire and mor-
tar shells.
This action at Saipan, involving the 2nd and 4th Marine Divisions
and the U. S. Army's 2yth Infantry Division, provided the bitterest
fighting since Tarawa. The Navy's air attack, and bombardment by
long-range guns had pounded the island with wicked intensity, but the
topography was too mountainous for the initial attack to have much
effect* It must be admitted that the defenders, who were abandoned by
their own naval and air forces, fought with savage tenacity. They no
doubt knew they faced hopeless odds, but they made the most of the
ground cover in the central uplands, and surrendered the southwestern
end of the island to the invaders who captured untold amounts of
military supplies and stores. The defenders, however, hung on and
fought to the end. It was almost a month before the island could be
considered to be cleared of the enemy. A bloody conquest, but it
brought Tokyo within fifteen hundred miles, easy range for the new
B-29 Superfortress bombers. More important, Saipan was a base that
could be readily supplied by sea and unlike those in China where
every gallon of gasoline and every pound of explosive had to be flown
in by air.
While all this action at Saipan was taking place, General Douglas
MacArthur had moved an amphibious force ashore on the lightly de-
fended Noemfoor Island off northwestern New Guinea. Once a
beachhead had been established, he next sent in a force of jungle-
trained paratroopers to outflank the Japanese defenders. In five days,
Noemfoor Island, with its three airfields, put General MacArthur ex-
actly eight hundred miles from Mindanao in the Philippines. His
promised return was only a matter of time.
CHAPTER IX
THE NATURE OF A BATTLE
BY EARLY autumn of 1943 the Japanese Imperial Headquarters staff
realized that if a decision was to be reached in their favor before their
manpower and war supplies were exhausted, the full strength of the
Emperor's fleet would have to be hurled against the United States
Pacific Fleet "whenever and wherever it appeared," in order to de-
stroy it with one blow.
This decision resulted in the Battle of the Philippine Sea, a carrier
conflict, the like of which had never been experienced before. At the
time, during the high emotion of triumph, a certain school of journal-
ists facetiously presented this action as the Marianas Turkey Shoot, a
catch phrase that was based originally on American claims that 476
Japanese aircraft were destroyed in this two-day battle, whereas U. S.
forces sacrificed but 130. How reliable these bold figures are is diffi-
cult to assess, for at this writing, a complete War College analysis has
not been completed.
Whatever the toll, the Battle of the Philippine Sea still might be
regarded as the greatest carrier action of all time, had it been fought
to a successful conclusion.
In this chapter we shall learn of the successes and failures, the de-
cisions, ill and good, the roll of the dice, and the second-guessing that
follows every savage or friendly conflict. While applauding the suc-
cesses of our fighter aircraft, critics of the action have complained that
although the enemy carrier fleet did move within range, it was not
sunk. Other critics, who took part, have stated that the results of the
battle were disappointing since important units of the Japanese Fleet
that had come out into the open for the first time in more than a year
and actually made several air attacks on our superior force, were able
to escape without our coining to grips with them.
i v;
Q Id ! &)
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III
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5
THE NATURE OF A BATTLE 285
It is true that our troops, fighting to secure Saipan, had to be well
screened and protected against the enemy surface force, but it was con-
sidered unfortunate that our entire strength was deployed for this pur-
pose, and therefore not permitted an opportunity to take the offensive
until too late to prevent the enemy's retirement. It will be remem-
bered that the strategic island of Saipan had been invaded by U. S.
amphibious forces on June 15, a few days before the Philippine Sea
battle was drawn.
One of the chief factors in this conflict was the reorganization of the
Japanese Fleet, effected in March 1944, in which carriers had replaced
their battleships as the dominant weapons of the force. Their First
Mobile Fleet, under the command of Vice-Admiral Jisaburo Ozawa,
who previously had commanded all carriers and their destroyer
screens, was a force in which the battleships were now under the car-
rier admiral's tactical command. This was not a naval innovation; the
same reorganization had been established in the U. S. Navy about
eighteen months before.
So now carriers were to take the naval war to the Americans, and
while Japan's determination to engage the U. S. Fleet was proclaimed
loudly, and unquestioned success promised, Admiral Ozawa's new
command was seriously handicapped by the lack of immediate sup-
plies of efficient fuel oil. American submarines had played havoc with
the enemy's tanker fleet, and the great supply of fuel captured early
in the war, and the acquisition of the oil fields of Tarakan and Balik-
papan, Indonesia, had been somewhat canceled out. Japanese officials
had to plan with short-range action in mind, and any proposed offen-
sive would have to be fought as near the standby area of the Mobile
Fleet as possible.
This fuel-oil situation had many angles and features at the time, one
of them being that Borneo oil, although pure enough to be piped into
fuel bunkers without routine processing, still contained highly volatile
elements that in some cases created dangerous fire hazards aboard
ship, or possessed impurities that fouled the boilers. All these con-
siderations limited the proposed operations of the Japanese to a short-
radius arc out of Yap and Woleai in the western Carolines.
The Japanese plan, listed as Operation A-Go, hoped to entice the
U. S. Pacific Fleet into waters south of the Woleai-Yap-Palau line
where Admiral Ozawa would be able to fight well within his fuel-oil
range. At the same time the insular air bases to the west and south
would provide considerable aid, and it was hoped that these land-
286 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
based aircraft would sink many American ships. If, on the other hand,
the U. S. Pacific Fleet commander decided to switch his forces into
the Marianas area to work over Saipan the battle to be fought
would be relegated to the Japanese ground forces, under General Ya-
heita Saito, who would be expected to drive off General MacArthur's
amphibious troops still clinging to a hazardous beachhead.
With all this in the planning stage, Admiral Ozawa's Mobile Fleet,
with nine aircraft carriers set up into three divisions, moved to the
naval anchorage at Tawitawi, off eastern Borneo in the Celebes Sea.
It occupied a central portion of the main convoy route from the Ka-
dassar Strait to Manila, Formosa, and Japan. Since it lay only 180
miles from Tarakan, any fleet there could obtain quick deliveries of
Borneo's unprocessed petroleum. The only drawback was that Tawi-
tawi had no airfield on which to train new carrier air groups, and also
offered good-hunting waters for prowling submarines.
Once more Intelligence luck came our way, and the U. S. Seventh
Fleet was advised of Admiral Ozawa's plans when a copy of the pre-
liminary outline of Operation A-Go was captured at Hollandia. From
this, and the reports from several smart submarine reconnaissance mis-
sions, Vice-Admiral Thomas C. Kinkaid was warned that a powerful
striking force was gathering at Tawitawi, and the admiral sized up
the opposition with masterful clarity.
The Japanese order "Prepare for Operation A-Go" was issued by
May 20, and all land bases, comprising what was known as their First
Air Fleet, were alerted, and additional aircraft were deployed to Sai-
pan, Tinian, Guam, Truk, Yap, Palau, and several other less important
islands. All these land bases were alerted in the hope that the U. S.
Pacific Fleet would oblige and decide to fight Admiral Ozawa in his
own backyard. Instead, Admiral Nimitz decided to strike in the Mar-
ianas, an area in which the Japanese had only 172 land-based planes.
Ozawa had hoped that his First Air Fleet would attack and destroy
at least one third of the enemy's task force carrier units.
Admiral Ozawa should not have moved in blind. Reconnaissance
forays by several snoopers had spotted portions of the American fleet
and he should have suspected Nimitz's intentions. All this informa-
tion, combined with the U. S. diversionary raids on Marcus and Wake
Islands, failed however to warn him that an attack on the Marianas
was being planned. General MacArthur was already landing forces on
Biak Island, New Guinea, an operation that led to the hope that the
THE NATURE OF A BATTLE 287
U. S. Fleet would steam straight into the area of the Japanese land-
based air power.
All Ozawa's hopes were gradually dissipated by the continual at-
tacks by U. S. submarines in the Tawitawi anchorage. U.S.S. Puff er
sank two tankers. During June 6-7 U.S.S. Harder sent the destroyers
Minazuki and Hayanami to the bottom. Then on the night of June
8 the Japanese destroyer Tanikaze thought she had a victim when her
sonar picked up a trace of Harder. Moving in fast to depth-charge the
U. S. sub, the skipper of Tanikaze was amazed to see Commander
S. D. Dealy beat him to the punch with a salvo of torpedoes; the
Japanese destroyer buckled in the middle and never saw Yokohama
again.
Admiral Ozawa now began to wonder just what was going on; Tawi-
tawi was far from a safe anchorage, and none of his well-laid plans was
paying off. In an attempt to relieve Biak by troop-carrying destroyers,
he suffered another setback when General George C. Kenney's airmen
demolished the destroyer Hantsame.
Calling on more aid to regain the all-important air strips at Biak,
Admiral Soemu Toyoda, now in command of the combined fleet,
hoped to lure the American force into this area by reinforcing this re-
lieving group with two battleships, a light cruiser, and half a dozen de-
stroyers. However, before this new group could be formed, American
carriers made a new strike at Saipan (June 11) which gave Toyoda the
impression that his enemy was moving into the Marianas, and to coun-
ter this, a new force was ordered to steam northeast at once to support
Admiral Ozawa in the Philippine Sea.
This gives some idea how all vessels gradually moved on to this
historic rendezvous. The Tawitawi force left on June 13 but was
spotted by the submarine Redfin, which quickly reported the move.
Three days later Admiral Toyoda sent an important message from his
flagship to all flag and commanding officers.
On the morning of June 1 5, a strong enemy force began landing op-
erations in the Saipan-Tinian area. The Combined Fleet will attack the
enemy in the Marianas area and annihilate the invasion force. Activate
A-Go Operation for decisive battle.
From that point on about twenty-five Japanese submarines fanned
out for advance scouting and patrol duty, but as it turned out they were
of no value whatsoever. They afforded no important information, and
288 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
they sank no American ship although they did claim a W0s-class
carrier and an Iowa-class battleship off Rota and Saipan respectively.
But there was no truth in these reports. Seventeen of the twenty-five
submersibles were sunk by American destroyers, destroyer escorts, or
aircraft.
To accelerate this account, it should be explained that the Japanese
Mobile Fleet, which moved out from Tawitawi on June 13, steamed
northeast toward the Philippines, cut through the Visayan Sea north
of Leyte and moved into the San Bernardino Strait between Samar and
Luzon Islands where it was first sighted by our submarine Flying Fish
on June 15. Redfin had reported the start of the movement, but at
first it was difficult to ascertain just what Ozawa's objective was. From
this point the Japanese main body turned east for its rendezvous with
the smaller Batjan force, commanded by Vice-Admiral M. Ugaki, and
a supply force that had been awaiting the call at Davao Gulf in Min-
danao. A second supply force moved on a course parallel with that
.of Ozawa's, and refueling was carried out in the eastern end of the
Philippine Sea on June 16-17, an operation that was quietly watched
by lookouts aboard U. S. submarine Cavatta.
All these reports were sifted through to U.S.S. Lexington, Vice-Ad-
miral Marc Mitscher's flagship, and gradually the stage was set for
what proved to be a grim debacle. The forces involved were made up
as follows:
Light Battle- Heavy Light De-
Cairiers Carriers ships Cruisers Cruisers stroyers
Japanese 5 4 5 n 2 28
American 7 8 7 8 13 69
The disparity was even greater in aircraft. The U. S. Fleet had 475
fighters to put up against 222 for the enemy. We had more than twice
as many dive bombers and torpedo bombers, and in a general sum-
mary we had twice as many aircraft available as did Ozawa. In addi-
tion shore-based aircraft available mounted to another 879; the
Marines had 352, the Army 269, and the Navy 258 at shore establish-
ments.
Admiral Ozawa placed great reliance on his land-based assistance,
for he had two major airfields and several small strips available in the
Marianas, to say nothing of the aircraft based at Saipan and Guam.
If portions of the American Fleet stayed close enough to these is-
lands, Japanese carrier planes could strike, and then fly on to Guam to
U. S. XAVT PHOTO
Above, XVII. What carrier-based planes can do. This is a mop-up scene put on by
aircraft from USS Intrepid during the air strike against Roi Xarnur in 1944. On many
occasions in the Pacific, carriers played an important role in the amphibious operations.
Beloic, XVIII. Hands across the flight deck. The British carrier Victorious joined a task
force of the U.S. Pacific Fleet and took part in numerous offensive sweeps in the Coral
Sea, Southwest and Midwest Pacific areas. At one time both sides exchanged squadrons
of planes and pilots and no difficulty was found in carrying out operations and invalu-
able tactical experience was gained by both groups. Below a group of American pilots
off Saratoga sen-ing aboard Victorious, pose with the carrier's crest and the British
White Ensign.
BRITISH INFORMATION SERVICE PHOTO
Right, XIX. A sequence of events. This
Fleet Air Arm Avenger was returning
from a strike against the Sakishima
Islands in support of the American in-
vasion. The pilot had to make a one-
wheel landing and this dramatic series
of pictures shows how well he man-
aged. The aircraft was only slightly
damaged.
BRITISH INFORMATION SERVICE PHOTO
Below, XX. America's most beloved
aircraft carrier, the famous "Big E,"
USS Enterprise which served through-
out World War II. She fought through
practically every major engagement
and was only just recently decommis-
sioned and hauled away to the
wreckers.
U.S. NAVY PHOTO
U.S. NAVY PHOTO
Above, XXI. The U.S. Navy's first helicopter assault carrier, the USS Tfefto Bay which
was placed in commission in 1956. This vessel was designed to exploit the P^
helicopters to be used by the U.S. Marine Corps in amphibious operations. She can
carry 20 (HR2s) 22-passenger, or 40 (HRS) 10-passenger hencopters . Tfcrt* Bay has
a complement of 700 officers and men and accommodations for 1000 Mannes.
Below XXII. The modern aircraft carrier. This view of USS Banger, todays attack
^rcleariv shows the deck layout of angled deck and the five ^S "
le black box off to the right, is the housing for the "magic mirror. The angled flight
deck allows more rapid recoveries, safer operations and more efficient handling of air-
craft on the deck during flight operations.
U.S. NAVY PHOTO
U.S. NAVY PHOTO
Above, XXIII. The "magic mirror" as it is mounted aboard USS Independence. The lights
around the framework take the place of the paddles of the deck landing officer. The mirror
is optical glass and costs $11,000. Using this device, the incoming pilot approaches at
such an angle he keeps a bright red light centered in the mirror. The mirror frame can be
adjusted for any type plane, to compensate for the height of the pilot in the cockpit, and
for the pitch and roll of the flight deck.
Below, XXIV. In times of trouble. In the event an aircraft is unable to make a normal
landing, due to loss of its hook or damage to the deck arrester gear, provision is made to
immediately erect a heavy nylon net known as the "barrier." Here is shown an F9F-5
Panther, being caught in this lifeguard device, each of which costs about $10,000. These
nets can be used only once.
U.S. NAVY PHOTO
Right, XXV. The -arrester gear, all five
cables. i* controlled from this post sev-
eral decks be!t;w the fiizht deck. Here
a skilled operator adjusts the tension of
the cables t,r each individual aircraft.
Light, fast fighters do not require as
much arrester power as a heavy
bomber. Here, too ? are shown the mas-
sive cylinders cr "engines" that absorb
the tremendous shock of snubbing the
incoming aircraft.
U.S. NAVY PHOTO
Below, XXVI. Gently does it. This Douglas AD6 (Skyraider) one of the few propeller-
driven planes still in senice, has picked up a cable" and is being snubbed to a halt.
The mirror landing device can be seen to the right. The deckhand running carries a
special hook used to release the plane's hook from the cable.
U.S. XAVY PHOTO
U.S. NAVY PHOTO
Above, XXVII. Catapult take-offs require first class equipment, timing and trustworthy
teamwork on the part of the deck crew. Here a plane director is shown guiding an A3D
Skywamor into position for a launching. This work must be carried out in rapid sequence
andno mistakes will be tolerated. All is noise, confusion and the lash of wind and ]et engine
exhaust, but teamwork usually prevails.
Eight, XXVIII. Rigging for take-
off. The heaviest aircraft in car-
rier sendee, the Skywarrior has
been moved up to the catapult
shuttle and a 190-pound steel-
cable bridle is hooked in. A re-
straining cable is also linked to
the tail section and a metal lug
machined down to break at the
required "pull" is inserted in the
rig. The rope loop seen hitched
to the bridle, rides along to keep
the heavy cable from being
tossed overboard once the plane
has been launched.
U.S. NAVY PHOTO
Left. XXIX, When the aircraft has been
ringed for catapultin2 ? ari operator, sev-
eral decks bfc!n\v. \vhf; seldom sees the
aircraft, r.oies that a:! phases of the
catapult sequence have* been carried
out. The uuth/T is shown standing be-
fore the console from which the air-
craft are launched.
U. S. XAVY PHOTO
Below, XXX. The heart of all aii operations, concerning the handling of aircraft over the
carrier, on the flight deck or in the hangars below is the office of Primary Flight Control.
This is Pri-Fly activity aboard USS Franklin D. Roosevelt, seen in a special office at the
aft section of the bridge superstructure.
U.S. NAVY PHOTO
U.S. NAVY PHOTO
Above, XXXI. Carrier activity does not always involve fighting or bombing. Important
reconnaissance must be maintained at all times and special planes and equipment are
continually being designed for the many phases of this work. Here we see the Grumman
S2F specially equipped for weather reconnaissance and antisubmarine warfare.
Below, XXXII. An artist's conception of the U.S, Navy's first nuclear-powered aircraft
carrier, the USS Enterprise. She is being built at the Newport News shipyard and at this
writing her nuclear reactor was being installed. This vessel is considered an experimental
type, and whether any more nuclear carriers will be built depends much on the future
pattern of the political picture.
U.S. NAVY ILLUSTRATION
THE NATURE OF A BATTLE 289
refuel and rearm. Under these conditions their attack value would be
increased greatly, and if several hundred land-based planes could give
additional co-operation, American aircraft superiority might be can-
celed out.
Ozawa's program called for his land-based planes to dispose of at
least one third of Mitscher's carrier force, and most of Vice-Admiral
Turner's amphibious force before any fleet action took place. As it
turned out, Japanese aviators were poorly trained, their equipment did
not measure up, and postwar investigation discloses that the Japanese
admiral had been cruelly deceived in his understanding of the number
of land-based aircraft that actually were available.
When the large Nipponese forces were spotted moving through the
San Bernardino Strait, Admiral Spruance knew that the Japanese were
risking an engagement in the Marianas. By June 19, U. S. submarines
Cavdla and Albacore sank two enemy carriers, Shokaku and Taiho
these were 3O,ooo-tonners that Ozawa could ill afford to lose. Early
that morning Japanese aircraft from the seven other carriers of the Mo-
bile Fleet, were spotted approaching Guam, and in a fight that fol-
lowed thirty-five planes were destroyed in ninety minutes.
An interesting feature of the above submarine action was that War-
rant Officer Sakio Komatsu, who was taking off with a f onnation head-
ing for Admiral Mitscher's force, spotted a torpedo track streaking for
the carrier Taiho. This was the one fired by Albacore. Komatsu made
a gallant attempt to crash-dive on the torpedo, but succeeded only in
killing himself; he failed to stop the torpedo and his carrier was lost.
By June 17 American carriers had made important strikes against
enemy airfields on Iwo and Chichi Jima, where their bombing and
strafing was most profitable. About ten Zekes were shot down in the air
and seven more blasted to wreckage on the ground at Iwo Jima. At
Chichi Jima no airborne planes were met, but twenty-one seaplanes
were destroyed, a hangar burned, and three small freighters set afire.
In these two strikes we lost three aircraft and their pilots.
On June 19 more enemy planes began to appear on every horizon,
and many turned up west of Guam. It was at this point that the appel-
lation Turkey Shoot was first conceived. The day before Task Groups
58.1 and 584 which included Hornet, Yorfetown, Belleau Wood, Ba-
taan, Essex, Lcmgley, and Cowpens had moved north, and under the
cover of almost gale-force weather hit Chichi Jima again when the
Japanese could hardly expect an attack and had their aircraft carefully
staked out for a cleanup. Fifty-four carrier aircraft claimed to have
SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
destroyed sixty-three planes on the ground, a claim later denied by
Japanese authorities. Today, even the most conservative agree that at
least thirty enemy aircraft were disposed of.
Aircraft recovery, after this very satisfactory mission, was most diffi-
cult; the seas were heavy and rain came in blinding squalls so that
landing on the pitching wet decks was especially hazardous. But only
one battle-damaged plane had a serious crash landing.
Prior to all this activity Admiral Spruance had been puzzled by the
reports from Redfin and Flying Fish that the Japanese force consisted
of about fifteen naval ships when he was positive that at least forty
would make up the opposition. When U.S.S. Seahorse sighted the Bat-
jan force moving up from the Biak operation late on June 15, the full
picture began to focus in, and Spruance maneuvered his fleet so that
he could have the battleships and their antiaircraft batteries available
to protect the carriers.
Admiral Ozawa issued several important messages, all couched in
terms of attacking and destroying the enemy, but he appears to have
had no worthy information as to the disposition of the U. S. carrier
fleet, and in truth, he was fighting this very important battle practically
blind. What strikes he set up, had to be canceled, and postwar second
guessing has it that some of these, had they been carried out, might
have been rewarding. But there were so many factors to consider that
any decision that Ozawa made, could have been questioned.
By the night of June 18-19 the Japanese admiral planned to keep
his main body about four hundred miles, and his van about three hun-
dred miles, away from the American carrier force or beyond its pre-
sumed striking range. He trusted that his aircraft outranged the heavier
U. S. Navy planes, and he hoped that his land-based aircraft would
carry out their assignments. Furthermore, he believed that the friendly
bases on Guam and Rota would be available for refueling and rearm-
ing those that had taken off for the initial strikes. All these sanguine
hopes convinced Ozawa that June 19 would be a day of great triumph
for the Japanese Navy.
On the morning of June 18 all four American carrier groups had so
converged that they were within sight of each other. The three
strongest were lined up some twelve miles apart on a north-south line,
perpendicular to the general wind direction. In this formation one task
group could carry out flight operations without interfering with the
others. Vice-Admiral Willis A. Lee, Jr.'s battleship line was formed up
in advance, leeward on the enemy side and about fifteen miles west of
THE NATURE OF A BATTLE 291
the flagship Lexington. The weakest carrier group was to afford air
cover for the battleship line. In this arrangement the fleet moved west-
ward during the daylight and retired eastward at night, so as to re-
duce the possibility of the enemy passing them in the darkness.
Toward midnight news was received that the enemy's fleet might
be about three hundred miles WSW of the American fleet's position.
Admiral Spruance did not double back immediately, but continued
to increase his distance from the enemy, and by daylight he was in
no position to attack. The optimum launching distance was between
150 and 200 miles. The maximum distance, if the bombers were to
return, was 300 miles. At this point Admiral Mitscher suggested that
they turn immediately, a move that would put the carriers in an ideal
position for launching an air strike at daybreak.
After some lengthy consultation with his staff, Admiral Spruance
rejected the suggestion. He had been through some of this before,
and he had respect for the manner in which Japanese carriers had been
handled. He had no intention of risking an "end run" maneuver in
which the enemy feinted at the center and then sent other detach-
ments around the flanks. This trick had been tried in the Coral Sea
engagement, and again at Guadalcanal, and it was a smart naval
movement that had been attempted at Midway.
War plays tragic tricks. What proves out three times in a row, turns
up to be the booby move on the next try. On this occasion Admiral
Spruance appears to have been wrong. Admiral Ozawa was playing it
straight and had but one intention; to meet the U. S. Fleet head-on,
and then start throwing everything he had. Spruance could not know,
of course, that the Japanese admiral was much in the dark about where
the U. S. fleet was, and was in no position to devise any tricky ma-
neuvers.
During all this pro and con, the submarine Finback reported seeing
searchlights well northwest of the enemy's presumed positions. Com-
ing at 1:15 A.M., this news had everyone puzzled, for why would a
naval force turn on searchlights at this point.
The strategists figured it could be a smart stratagem. Admiral Spru-
ance decided to take no chances, and continued eastward. He also had
a bad break, for he was not advised that a U. S. Martin Mariner re-
connaissance plane had made a very definite radar contact on some
forty warships that were aligned in two groups at a position only
seventy-five miles northeast of the presumed position of the enemy
fleet. It was learned later that this fix was absolutely correct, but the
292 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
report was not transmitted promptly, or Spruance might have
doubled back on his westward course.
Actually, at 2 A.M. the two fleets were about three hundred miles
apart, and had Spruance returned to his westward course, and had
Ozawa continued on, the American carrier aircraft would have been
within easy striking distance by dawn, but the Martin Mariner report
did not reach Spruance's bridge until nearly eight hours had passed.
Since the Battle of the Philippine Sea several explanations have
been offered, and all reflect the minor foul-ups that beset the com-
plicated system of modem communications. A trailing antenna was not
reeled out for long-distance transmission; the Mariner commander re-
ceived no formal acknowledgment of his report so he hurried back to
his base and filed his message from there. A nearby Navy tender may
have picked up the message, but if so, someone failed to pass it on to
Spruance. In all probability, however, atmospheric conditions in the
area west of Saipan were such that most radio transmission was faulty.
In the final analysis we must presume that it was another communi-
cations failure for which no one could be blamed.
In the end the error contributed little to the outcome of the action;
it simply gave postwar strategists some sparse tinder or fuel with which
to heat their opinions, views, or criticisms. The fact remains that Ad-
miral Spruance continued his easterly course, a Japanese reconnais-
sance aircraft out of Guam found the U. S. Fleet, dropped a flare,
and returned to its base. Enterprise launched fifteen radar-equipped
Avenger torpedo bombers to make another search, and other routine
reconnaissance forays were carried out, but for some unaccountable
reason the Japanese Fleet was not located.
By 5:20 A.M. another snooper turned up, took a look, and escaped.
At 6 A.M. another enemy aircraft was sighted and shot down only
thirty-seven miles SSW of the U. S. carrier fleet. By that time it must
have been obvious to any cabin boy that Admiral Ozawa was moving
fast.
Daylight gilded the sky at 4:30 that historic morning as the sun,
climbing over the horizon, transformed the service gray of superstruc-
tures to ceremonial gold, and the trade winds moved a few cloud muf-
fins about. Ceiling and visibility were unlimited. Atmospheric condi-
tions were such that all aircraft dragged vapor trails, a spectacle that
was to help American pilots to intercept attacking planes with little
trouble. In other words, it was a perfect setting for a dog fight, but
THE NATURE OF A BATTLE 293
even now not one man of the 98,618 Americans in Task Force 58 had
any idea where the enemy lay, or when he would strike; they just
sensed that something unusual was in the air, and probably wondered
why so mighty a fleet was steaming east when the enemy, obviously,
would be approaching from the west.
One hour later when our fleet was about 155 miles W by S of
Tinian, all routine duties were resumed. Dawn-search, combat-air,
and antisubmarine patrols were sent up. Then at 6:19 A.M. the fleet
changed course to WSW, a direction that could not be maintained
for long, since the carriers had to head into the southeast wind to
launch planes, and as a result, by 10:23 it was only a few miles farther
west than it had been at daybreak. This is a point to remember when
amateur naval strategists attempt to assay the value of the aircraft car-
rier. No matter where the fleet wishes to go, or how fast, the carriers
must always turn into the prevailing wind to launch or recover air-
craft.
At this point Admiral Spruance suggested to Admiral Mitscher that
Guam and Rota might be ripe for a few neutralization strikes, a de-
cision that was to have an important bearing on the outcome. Ad-
miral Mitscher, who by now found himself in the position of having
to fight a defensive battle close to the lee side of several enemy land
bases, and on the windward side of enemy carriers, was not taken with
the idea of a strike against Guam, and argued that he did not have
suitable bombs for that type of ground-installation attack. He did
agree to keep Guam under fighter-plane surveillance. Truth be known,
there were only fifty aircraft of all types at Guam, and although this
was a mere pittance, fifty planes handled intelligently could have been
a real threat to surface ships.
As a matter of fact the first enemy strike was made at 5:30 A.M. by a
bomb-carrying Zero that flew out of Guam, but was shot down by
antiaircraft fire from U.S.S. Yarnall as it was attempting to attack two
picket destroyers. This flare-up of little importance, ushered in an hour
of comparative calm until a combat-air patrol off Belleau Wood was
ordered to intercept a bogey over Guam, then some one hundred miles
away. On arrival these Hellcats were attacked by a number of planes
that took off from Orote airfield. Holding their own, and reporting the
engagement, they maintained contact with the enemy until help was
sent from Belleau Wood, and from off the decks of Cabot, Yorktown,
and Hornet. While not actually deserting the area, the enemy aircraft
avoided action as much as possible. A few were trapped and shot
294 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
down, but many eventually returned to their field and taxied into con-
cealed dispersal bays. They may have been ordered to do so in order
to save them for more important engagements.
Shortly after 8 A.M. a group of enemy aircraft was spotted about
eighty miles to the southwest, heading toward Guam. They were prob-
ably reinforcements from Yap or Truk. Each U. S. task group was
ordered to launch twelve Hellcats for interception. The original Hell-
cat group had been ordered back at 8:24, but the new formations were
soon involved in heavy air fighting in the Guam area and finally ac-
counted for thirty-five Zeros and bombers. Then, as the victorious
Hellcats turned to start back, more Japanese planes were to be seen
taking off, presumably to carry out Admiral Ozawa's orders, but most
of them flew into the claws of the Hellcats and were severely mauled.
During all this fringe action Admiral Ozawa had come to some defi-
nite decisions, and probably realized that both fleets were now only
250 miles apart. Mitscher's force was maneuvering back and forth one
hundred miles west of Rota. Guam lay about the same distance to
the southeast of the carrier fleet; Saipan and Tinian were about 140
miles northeast. Ozawa's first, second, and third carrier divisions were
deploying back and forth on a northwest-southeast pattern, and only
his aircraft crews ever saw Spruance's task force. In this we have a
clear example of carrier warfare. This was not just a battle between
surface fleets that were using long-range aircraft as their weapons. Both
sides had the problem of carrying out, or preventing, a very important
amphibious operation. The battle for Saipan has since been con-
sidered the decisive battle of the Pacific war. Its loss ended all hope
for a Japanese victory. The Battle of the Philippine Sea was not just
a turkey shoot, or an over-all attack against the enemy's carrier force;
it was the blow that sealed the victory at Saipan.
The actual battle opened exactly at 10 A.M. At that minute Admiral
Mitscher is said to have sent out the "Hey Rube!" message the old
circus cry to his Hellcats over Guam. Formations of enemy aircraft
had been picked up on radar when they were 150 miles west of
Spruance's forces. At 10:20 the whole task force turned into the wind,
a full gaggle of fighters was launched, and the Battle of the Philippine
Sea was on.
Referring again to the Japanese records, it is known now that their
search planes were first sent out at 4:45; one flight was made up of
Navy float planes that picked up traces of two of our task groups. Of
THE NATURE OF A BATTLE 295
the first fourteen search planes sent out, only seven returned, the others
tangled with Mitscher's dawn-search group and the carnage began. A
second group was trapped by elements of fighter interceptors, and
was badly cut up. A third, composed of thirteen planes, carried out
an important reconnaissance mission and lost but three aircraft.
Following this, Admiral Ozawa launched his first raid force, com-
posed of sixteen Zeke fighters, forty-five other Zekes that were rigged
to carry bombs, and eight torpedo-carrying Nakajimas. This launching
was made around 8:30, and was picked up by the U. S. battleship
force radar at ten o'clock when they were, as stated above, 150 miles
away. At 10:10 Mitscher issued an order that every available fighter
plane be alerted, and nine minutes later he sent them away.
From that time the whole United States fleet began a series of sur-
face maneuvers that were totally unlike those used when battleships
were the important capital ships. Instead of steaming for strategic bat-
tle areas from where the big guns could be trained on opposite num-
bers, attempting to complete the traditional "crossing of the T," mov-
ing to gain the most favorable light, or to cut off the enemy from his
home shelters, Admiral Mitscher ordered every vessel in his com-
mand to "stay on course into the wind." This, of course, allowed con-
tinued flight operations that were more important than attempting to
bring the enemy within battlewagon gunfire. The "guns" were the air-
craft, the "shells" the bombs or torpedoes they carried, and the "range"
was limited only to the fuel tankage of the aircraft.
It might not be admitted universally, but the battle was now in
the hands of the fighter directors whose job it was to deploy fighter
aircraft to meet successive attacks. In this case most of the responsi-
bility rested on the shoulders of Lieutenant Joseph R. Eggert, aboard
Lexington. Lieutenant Eggert had to see that enough Hellcats were
vectored out to intercept each enemy raid, and that an adequate re-
serve was kept in hand to use in later raids. All this was done by voice-
radio contact with other group fighter directors, Lieutenants C. D.
Ridgway, R. F. Myers, E. F. Kendall, }. H. Trousdale, and Lieutenant
Commander F. L. Winston. Each task-group fighter director main-
tained general control over his own group but often allotted intercept-
ing planes to the fighter directors of individual ships, who in turn con-
trolled these planes until their missions had been accomplished.
Considerable difficulty was encountered in handling the high-fre-
quency radio gear since all this took place at the time when the Fifth
Fleet was in the process of making many important changeovers in
2 g6 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
communications equipment. Nevertheless, although the channels that
were available were overcrowded, Lieutenant Eggert and his confreres
met every situation. Throughout the battle interceptions were made
and directed intelligently, sufficient aircraft were made available to
meet each attack as it developed, and in practically all cases were prop-
erly stacked to provide the initial altitude advantage so necessary to
head off any high flying formation. Co-ordination between the fighter
directors in this engagement was as nearly perfect as battle conditions
allowed, and in many cases the vital interceptions were made like
clockwork.
Once the battle seemed imminent, Admiral Mitscher signaled all
ships to expect repeated attacks, and by 10:36 the first enemy raid
force, composed of more than sixty aircraft, was only sixty miles away.
While Mitscher's message was flashing out, Hellcat fighters, stacked
between 17,000 and 23,000 feet, sighted the Red Ball craft and a joy-
ous tallyho rang out. The first punch was delivered by eleven Hellcats
from the deck of Essex, led by Lieutenant Commander C. W. Brewer.
The enemy pack consisted of more than twenty Zekes flying in a
tight formation at eighteen thousand feet; sixteen more were riding
cover above and behind. Commander Brewer selected the leader of
the main formation and opened fire from three hundred yards. His
sight was true, and the Japanese plane exploded immediately. Brewer,
unable to change course, had to slam through the debris and a curtain
of flaming fuel. He pulled up hard and fired at another and saw large
chunks of metal fly off before this enemy burst into flames and dove
into the sea. Turning fast, Commander Brewer then went for another
Zeke, and his short burst took out the enemy's wing-roots, so she folded
everything and went down.
Making a quick survey, Brewer saw a Zeke heading for him, but
by maneuvering fast he turned the tables and came out on the Jap's
tail. Three short bursts forced the Zeke to half-roll violently so that he
continued on his back. Brewer stayed with this acrobat, pouring burst
after burst into the wings, fuselage, and cockpit until at last the enemy
fighter burst into flames, wrenched itself into a tight spiral and hit
the drink.
This particular Zeke pilot had an unfortunate wing man who was
taken care of by Brewer's wing man, Ensign R. E. Fowler. Fowler then
accounted for two other Zekes and a Mitsubishi Navy fighter.
Lieutenant (jg) G. R. Carr, who led the second division of four
THE NATURE OF A BATTLE 297
Hellcats, chipped in to help Brewer sheep-dog the enemy formation on
the first overhead runs. Carr contributed generously to the day by
taking on the first bomber he saw and blowing it to bits. He, too, had
to bore through a curtain of fragments, but when he emerged he came
out with his nose smack on a second bomber. He fired, because this
aircraft was in his way, and that too burst into flames and screwed into
an uncontrolled spiral.
Then, deciding to get his breath and pull his formation together,
Lieutenant Carr was attacked by a Mitsubishi that became decidedly
aggressive and the American lieutenant had to nose down to a 450-knot
dive and wriggle out with an aileron roll before he could shake off the
Mitsubishi. Once in the clear, he roared back for the action level and
soon found himself all alone with a Japanese bomber that was moving
in for an attack. Outmaneuvering the heavier craft, Can put a pre-
cision burst into the engine cowling and wing root, which ignited a
hot fire and an eventual explosion. He yanked out of that tangle and
spotted two more bombers that were flying a parallel course some two
thousand feet above. Carr worked into a stern position, gave one a
short burst, and saw something bulky leave the plane, which he con-
sidered might be the pilot, but he was too busy to make a detailed
examination. He skidded over to get on the tail of the second, pooped
off a long splashy burst, and that bomber went down in flames. He
followed it down to get in a final burst but saw it explode before he
could draw a good sight. With little ammunition left and no more
aircraft to shoot at, Lieutenant Carr then returned to the Essex.
Another fighter element off Bunker Hill, led by Lieutenant Com-
mander R. W. Hoel, answered the initial tallyho in time to peel off
and get into what seemed to be Brewer's private war. Two Zekes and
a bomber were knocked down by Hoel, but while polishing off the
latter, a Zeke slithered into his tail area and fired several bursts before
Hoel's wing man chased him off. There was enough damage to justify
a return to the carrier, and on the way Hoel found himself in a new
difficulty; his stick suddenly jammed in a forward position and the
Hellcat went into an uncontrolled power spin, and he had to bail out.
Luckily, he was soon picked up by one of our destroyers.
It is gratifying to relate that Commander Hoel's was the only air-
craft lost during this interception. Observers aboard the picket de-
stroyers saw nothing of the action, since it was carried out at such a
high altitude. One seaman scratched his head, and pondered: "What-
298 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
ever was going on up there, I have no idea, but Jap planes were falling
like overripe apples."
Another interesting observation was made by Brewer and Carr who
related that the enemy seemed to work under no sound defense tac-
tics. When the American planes moved in, the bombers generally scat-
tered instead of maintaining a tight formation to make the most of
their gun power. The fighters made no attempt to provide a protective
cover but instead staged a dizzy set of frantic aerobatics, obviously
obeying some law of self-preservation. And as a result some forty-two
of the sixty-nine planes that made up Ozawa's first attack failed to
return to their decks.
It should be explained that Brewer's fighter squadron did not claim
all these interceptions, and rightful credit was given to fighters off
Cowpens, Bunker Hill, Princeton, Lexington, and Enterprise. Some
of these fighters were directed to a 23,ooo-foot level, and kept flying
westward, in the hope that another Japanese formation would be fol-
lowing in. Unfortunately, Ozawa's second attack force did not take
off until 8: 56A.M.
Not all the planes of the first assault were successfully driven off.
About forty of the full complement of raiders avoided contact with
the F6Fs, and headed for the main targets. What few managed to
make a direct strike had to be satisfied with an attack on the picket-
line destroyers, such as Yarndl and Stockham which were well west
of the battleship line. Their antiaircraft gunners stood firm, however,
and the raiders were driven off.
Three or four bombers broke through and reached Admiral Lee's
battlewagons which by now were making twenty-two knots, and mov-
ing in a circular formation. One bomber scored a direct hit on South
Dakota, a brave effort, considering everything. The hit killed twenty-
seven men and wounded twenty-three, but no serious mechanical
damage was suffered, and the veteran battleship maintained her sta-
tion. Minneapolis took the effect of a near miss, but none of the air
raiders reached any of the carriers. By 10:57 tf 16 fi rst major attack had
been completely broken up.
The situation must have been most disheartening, but at 8:50 Ad-
miral Ozawa decided to counter with a very large raid on the U. S.
carrier fleet. This pack was made up of forty-eight Zeke fighters, fifty-
three Aichi D4Y dive bombers, and twenty-seven Nakijima torpedo
bombers. Of this assigned covey 119 planes actually got off the deck
THE NATURE OF A BATTLE 299
without the usual aborts or engine trouble. Once they had headed
east a new foul-up beset them. When they were making their rendez-
vous and forming into their proper elements a large number of them
inadvertently flew over Admiral Kurita's van force where they at-
tracted the attention of overly excited antiaircraft gunners; two planes
were disposed of and eight more seriously damaged before the error
was noted. The damaged aircraft had to turn back and seek sanctuary
aboard their own carriers.
The remaining Japanese planes huddled together in one mass group
and were picked up quickly by U. S. radar when they were 120 miles
away, which gave the Hellcats off Lexington time to get into the air
and prepare a reception. Commander David S. McCampbell, who led
a dozen fighters off the carrier Essex, went into the second half of
this action at about 11:39. The commander first took on a dive
bomber, sitting out on the coffin corner of a tight element, and with
just a short spurt his target burst into fire and then exploded. The
pattern of debris forced Commander McCampbell to zoom over the
main formation and fly into the area where every gunner in the group
could potshot at him, but he reached the other side safely with his
wing man, Ensign R. E. Foltz, still hanging on. The commander then
found time and opportunity to destroy two more dive bombers, while
Foltz paid his way by getting two others.
More Hellcats followed McCampbell's example, and when this
fight was over thirty-two Zeke fighters, twenty-three torpedo bombers,
and forty-two dive bombers failed to return to Ozawa's carrier force.
About seventy of these casualties occurred in the initial interception
the sky was streaked with planes falling in flames, or screaming down
minus their wings. The remainder, seriously damaged, were lost as they
tried to return to their flight decks.
About twenty Japanese planes did break through the American de-
fense, and reached a position where they could attack. The Stockham,
a destroyer, was under fire for nearly twenty minutes but was not dam-
aged seriously. The carrier Yorfetown, with thirty-six of her fighters in
the air, flagged off sixteen more as a secondary intercept. Heavy ack-
ack fire from Alabama held the raiders in check, however, and two
torpedo bombers that were heading for South Dakota were also di-
verted by Alabama's gunfire. Two others with designs on Indiana were
broken up, but a torpedo bomber smacked its missile against this
battleship's waterline. Luckily the torpedo did not explode. Two near-
miss bombs splashed Alabama, and Iowa had to wriggle quickly to
jOO SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
evade another torpedo-bomber attack. All this action took place be-
tween 1 1 : 50 and a few minutes past midday.
Half a dozen dive bombers that eluded the interception and the
battle fleet's ack-ack fire, found Admiral Montgomery's carrier task
group shortly before noon. Four of them headed straight for Wasp.
No direct hits were scored, but one bomb burst overhead prematurely,
killing one man and wounding twelve others. Wasp's flight deck was
covered with chunks of phosphorus that ignited when stepped on and
this created some confusion while first-aid measures were going on.
Bunker Hill was attacked by two dive bombers that only scored a
near miss, but fragments from these bombs killed three crew members
and wounded seventy-three, one of the plane elevators was dam-
aged, and the hangar-deck fuel system was ruptured. This started
several fires but smart damage control soon quenched them. The two
attacking dive bombers were shot down by the screen-defense gun-
ners, and two others suffered the same fate.
Admiral Reeves' task group, which was sailing a short distance to
the north, was attacked by a small formation of torpedo bombers.
One torpedo exploded in the propeller wake of Enterprise, but did
no damage. Two other torpedo bombers in a shallow-glide attack
against Princeton were broken up by antiaircraft fire before the pilots
could release their projectiles. Two minutes later a third torpedo
bomber attacked Princeton, but antiaircraft fire from the flagship Lex-
ington flamed the attacker, and Princeton had to make a quick change
of course to avoid being hit by the falling aircraft.
During all this a Japanese air co-ordinator a plane that carried an
airborne combat director played an amusing, if involuntary role.
Early in the battle Admiral Mitscher's flag communicators tracked
down the enemy co-ordinator's circuit, and Lieutenant (jg) Charles
A. Sims stood by to translate the Japanese orders into English. In
other words Lieutenant Sims was warning all American interceptors
just what the Japs would do next. Later on when someone suggested
sending out a patrol to shoot down the enemy co-ordinator, Admiral
Mitscher grinned and said, "No indeed! He kept Task Force 58 well
informed throughout the action. Let Little Joe go home safely. Who
knows, we may be able to use him again."
Meanwhile the islands of Guam and Rota had to be watched while
our carrier fighters were engrossed in the big interception of Ozawa's
raiders. Throughout the action a few Hellcats from Lexington main-
THE NATURE OF A BATTLE J01
tained a constant patrol to make certain that no land-based strike
could be organized or launched. Then, about 10:30, Hornet sent off
an element of Helldivers, Avengers, and Hellcats to beat up Orote air-
field on Guam. They were in no way harassed by the enemy, and the
bombing pattern was very good and most effective. Later Lieutenant
Commander Ralph Weymouth of Lexington took a flight of Helldiv-
ers over and tried dropping armor-piercing looo-pound bombs on
grounded aircraft. These missiles made very deep holes in the sur-
rounding area but were not very destructive to aircraft or runways.
By 11 A.M. all available planes, including bombers, were sent out
to perforate the island airfields, and in this instance they did such a
masterful job that most of the enemy carrier planes that sought hos-
pitality later that day, went base over apex into the still smoking shell
holes. About 2:30 a large formation of Ozawa's fourth attack was
chased into Guam, and all but nineteen of them were shot down as
they sought an airstrip. As can be imagined, such run-and-chase ac-
tions provided mixed victories and defeats.
Four Hellcats, led by Lieutenant Commander C. W. Brewer who
had been so successful earlier in the day, went down after a Japanese
torpedo bomber, and almost immediately Brewer's element was set
upon by fifteen Army Zero fighters. Commander Brewer, Lieutenant
(jg) J. L. Bruce, and Brewer's present wing man, Ensign Thomas
Tarr, were shot down and killed, but in reprisal the Japanese fighter
formation was hacked to wreckage.
This side show at Guam ran up some serious losses. Six Hellcats
and one bomber were lost along with all their airmen; four of these
seven were hit by enemy antiaircraft that was especially intense and
accurate.
In comparison, the main interception fights involved about three
hundred American planes, and of these only twenty-three were shot
down, and six more written off during take-offs or landings. The net
casualties, after rescues, were reported to be twenty pilots and seven
air crewmen killed, along with four officers and twenty-seven enlisted
men in the three vessels that were hit or near missed. These are offi-
cial figures, but they are difficult to accept when we have been told
that three crew members were killed and seventy-three others were
wounded aboard Bunker Hitt from fragments of an enemy's near miss.
These are the problems that beset the historian when consulting many
available sources.
The third Japanese raid consisted of forty-s^en aircraft; fighters,
302 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
fighter bombers, and torpedo bombers. These were launched from the
carriers Hiyo, Ryuho, Junyo, and Zuikaku. They failed to find any
American ships at the expected areas, so they headed for Rota and
on the way were diverted when Admiral Montgomery's carrier group
was finally sighted. Six of these aircraft evaded the combat-air patrol
and appeared above our carriers when they were recovering planes.
The leaders started their attack glide from six thousand feet, but an
alert lookout aboard Mobile spotted them and opened fire. This
alerted Wasp which turned sharply as the bombs began to fall. Three
more dive bombers came out of the clouds and made for Wasp and
Bunker Hill, but the attack was fainthearted and no damage was in-
flicted. In this foray eighteen planes off Zuikaku became embroiled
with a formation of Hellcats, and nine were soon shot down.
Another formation that had gone to Guam was trapped to some
extent. They dropped their bombs, and were forced into a fight with
a number of Hellcats off Cowpens. This element was led by Com-
mander Gaylord B. Brown who, when he saw the size of the Japanese
formation, gave a loud tallyho, and was soon joined by Commander
McCampbell from Essex, and eight fighters off Hornet that were led
by Lieutenant William K. Blair. These twenty-seven Hellcats shot
down thirty of the forty-nine-plane Japanese formation that was at-
tempting to land on Orote airfield; of the nineteen that did land safely,
most of them were so badly damaged they had to be discarded.
It was obvious that with Such figures Admiral Ozawa had lost his
battle. More than half of his original complement of aircraft had been
wiped out, and with this Admiral Mitscher allowed several of his
carriers to secure from General Quarters and relax to a condition of
readiness "One-Easy ." A search mission was sent out but it failed to
find the enemy fleet. It did encounter Japanese search planes and some
of the fighters on this assignment failed to return.
And so ended the greatest carrier battle of the Pacific campaign.
The forces that participated were between three and four times larger
than those at Midway, and the air victory was so complete, the Japa-
nese were never able to gather such a force again. June 19 afforded
eight hours of continuous action in the air, maintained, directed, and
supported by fighter directors, information centers, deck crews, and
the accuracy of the battle-line antiaircraft gunners. Without all this,
the skill, initiative, and courage of the aviators would have been
wasted.
The U. S. submarines Albacore, Stingray, Finback, and Bang per-
THE NATURE OF A BATTLE 3OJ
formed important tactical tasks. ALbacore, commanded by Com-
mander J. W. Blanchard, sighted and sank the Japanese 33,ooo-ton
carrier Taiho, and Cavalla torpedoed the carrier Shokaku in a classic
submarine-carrier fight, just as the flat-top was recovering her aircraft.
Up to this point everything had worked right; the Japanese air at-
tacks had been beaten off with neatness and despatch, everything had
turned out according to plan everything, that is, except the comple-
tion of the action. With most of his aircraft safely back aboard, Ad-
miral Mitscher might have completed the task and wiped out the
First Mobile Fleet completely. The American skippers knew what
had happened to the Japanese air fleet, aad could they have found the
enemy in time, might have had a sitting-duck shoot. At this time Ad-
miral Ozawa was completely in the dark, for he had little idea what
his aircraft losses were, since he was under the impression that most
of them had landed safely at Guam or Rota. What few pilots did re-
turn assured him that at least six, and perhaps eleven, American car-
riers had been sunk.
At the opposite end of the field neither Admirals Mitscher nor
Spniance had any idea where the Japanese fleet lay, or where it was
heading. Apparently only the submarines had any information, and
they had gone deep after sinking the two Japanese carriers. One or
two reconnaissance planes went out and returned with conflicting data
concerning the disposition of the enemy fleet.
After milling around trying to decide whether to refuel his force
where he was, or to move farther west, Admiral Ozawa chose to
play it safe and rendezvous with his tanker fleet. But no one aboard
an American ship knew of this move, and since the Japanese admiral
maintained rigid radio silence, it was impossible to obtain a "fix" on
him. Admiral Spniance decided to attack on June 20 "if we know
the enemy's position with accuracy." That was the kicker. As at Coral
Sea and Midway, we were shy of accurate information, and we must
assume from all available records that our search planes hardly held
up their end.
Only two night searches were carried out and these brought in noth-
ing. Admiral Mitscher apparently felt that his flying men had had
enough for one day, to say nothing of the weary deck crews who had
been on their feet for hours on end. Actually, no real effort was made
to seek out the retreating Japanese Mobile Force, and had Mitscher
sent out an aggressive search force, there might have been another
304 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
story. As it was, late the next afternoon when Ozawa's force was still
trying to obtain some order out of many attempts to refuel from the
tankers, he was in a very hazardous position and any real search might
have trapped him. He also learned late that afternoon the full extent
of his air defeat the loss of 330 planes leaving him about one hun-
dred fit for operational duty. Still, he continued to hope that the
land-based equipment on Iwo, Yap, Truk, and a few from Guam would
be available, and optimistically planned another strike against his foes.
In the meantime his cruiser Atago had intercepted a U. S. Navy mes-
sage that indicated that at last Admiral Mitscher had been advised
by an Avenger pilot from Enterprise of the relative position of the
enemy fleet. This message was so garbled in transmission that it was
almost useless to Ozawa. We do know now that actual contact was
made with the Japanese fleet at 3:40 P.M., June 20, by Lieutenant
R. S. Nelson, the first U. S. carrier pilot to sight an enemy combat
ship. Garbled or not, the information received was sufficient to cause
the Japanese admiral to call off his fueling attempts, change course
from west to northwest, and move off at twenty-four knots.
By now Mitscher had been advised that the enemy force had been
broken up into three groups, and was moving slowly, indicating that
refueling was under way. Whether the positions given were exact or
not is difficult to know, but Admiral Mitscher was under the impres-
sion that the nearest enemy group was at least 275 miles from his
carrier decks. Planes would be launched at their maximum range, but
it was now getting on toward four o'clock, making it necessary to
recover them after dark. As pointed out, not too many carrier pilots
had had night training, and those that had were faced with such a
long flight out and back, they were likely to become exhausted and
incapable of the flying skill required to return safely. Moreover, at
least four hours would be required to recover all planes, at which
time the carrier force would have to steam upwind, or on an easterly
course. This would take them well away from the presumed enemy
position at high speed. Any such strike would have to be a one-shot
task. A lot of men and planes could be lost, and few aircraft would
be operational for a next-day dawn attack.
When the word came through Admiral Mitscher was perched on a
high stool in one corner of the flag bridge of Lexington. All around
him were his carriers, their decks cluttered with aircraft and pilots
awaiting his signal to go out and finish the job. Mitscher knew that
darkness would fall in four hours but tomorrow would be too late.
THE NATURE OF A BATTLE 305
A few steps away in flag plot where a torrent of radio insistence chat-
tered, Captain Arleigh A. Burke was pounding his fists and chewing
on a cold pipe. The navigator tried an old joke on Commander Gus
Widhelm, but it fell flat. The deputy chief, Captain Truman Hedding,
gave some pretense of scanning through a dog-eared war novel. The
radio gave out with a message from another search plane: "I see
'em . . ."
Widhelm slipped through to the flag bridge and grinned at the
admiral. "They see 'em, sir. We've got 'em."
Mitscher twirled, and slid down from his stool. "I want to see the
whole message."
Before the transcript could be snagged off the file, another report
came through. The monitor clerks began clacking their typewriters
again. Far to the west a search pilot, flying at the extreme range of
his sector, had noticed strange dots and ripples flickering in the sun's
blinding path. He pointed them out to one of his crewmen, and the
radioman reached for his key and tapped: "Enemy force sighted.
Position . . ."
The navigator wrote the position on a slip of paper and passed it
to Widhelm. Gus whistled and handed it to Admiral Mitscher who
pondered, looked up, and asked, "Can we make it?"
There was a period of strained silence. None of the staff officers
wanted to take the responsibility or give an opinion. They had all
flown against enemy defense guns, and made long flights back when
they were totally exhausted, but none had tried it at night over such
a stretch of black water.
Widhelm finally said, "We can make it, but it's going to be tight,
sir."
Mitscher looked out at his carriers, squinted for a second or two,
and then spoke firmly: "Launch 7 em!"
A white flag with a red diamond in the center went jerking up the
yardarm aboard Lexington, and the launching officer began to twirl a
small checkered flag. The pilots of Fighting 16 who had been staring
at their maps, and looking at the teletype sheet dancing across a blued
frame, couldn't believe a word of it. "You mean we've got to fly out
there?"
There was no horseplay, no racing up the ladders, none of the pre-
flight tense gaiety. The pilots took plenty of time to buckle their flight
gear, adjust shoulder holsters, back packs, and life jackets, and zip
up coveralls. They shook their canteens, wiped off goggles, and
306 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
slapped their pockets to make certain they had jackknives, cigarettes,
lighters, handkerchiefs, and good-luck pieces. There was no wild jos-
tling at the bulkheads and hatches. No one joked. This mission was
one for the book.
Sy Seybert made certain he had his good-luck silver dollar. Alex
Vraciu, who was to lead the third division, was the Navy's ranking
ace. He had eighteen miniature Rising Suns stenciled on his fuselage.
The paint on six of them was still tacky since he had earned them
only the day before in the Turkey Shoot. He wasn't anxious to go on
this one not thai far out. Mike Banazak, a turret gunner, didn't want
to go either. He had lost his good-luck pocket piece, a little plastic
Scotty, and he was still turning out his pockets when the big plane
began to roll. Kent Cushman carried his wallet in his breast pocket,
and along with his ID card he had an English sixpence, the little
silver coin his bride had worn in her shoe when they were married.
Clint Swanson made certain he had his good-luck ring, an ornament
that had been carved for him by a favorite uncle. Clint always set
his ring straight before a take-off or landing. His radioman, Ren6
LeBlanc, brushed his hand tenderly over the Sacred Heart of Jesus
pin on his coverall lapel. A home-town girl had given it to him just
before she became a nun. Grady Stanfill had one of his wife's lacy
handkerchiefs stitched into the back of his helmet. Norman Sterne,
who had moved into Bob Isely's spot, held to his grim superstition
and climbed into his cockpit from the starboard side. He had a dread
of the port side entrance.
"Here we go again/ 7 said gunner Dick Bentley to his pilot Donald
Kirkpatrick, leader of the second division.
"Here we go again," Kirkpatrick repeated as he always did to make
sure they came back. Bentley was the youngest man on the mission.
He had reached nineteen just one month before. Eugene Conklin was
the youngest pilot, and had celebrated his twentieth birthday the De-
cember before. Harry Harrison led the section in Kirkpatrick's SBD
division, and his regular Number 2, Pinky Adams, should have fol-
lowed him off, but Adams' plane was spotted last on the deck, so
Cookie Cleland, flying a much overage aircraft, took off in his place.
Sixteen years later, almost to the day, I sat with Commander Cookie
Cleland on the bridge of U.S.S. Forrestd on the way back from a
Sixth Fleet tour in the Mediterranean. Cookie was now Chief Intelli-
gence Officer aboard, and he gave me much -of the data and detail
that follows:
THE NATURE OF A BATTLE 307
At 4:21 P.M. Task Force 58 turned into the wind and within ten
minutes eighty-five fighters, seventy-seven dive bombers, and fifty-four
torpedo bombers on Hornet, Yorfetown, Bunker Hill, Wasp, Lexing-
ton, and Enterprise were flagged away. All the Hellcats and Helldiv-
ers carried extra fuel in belly tanks. By 6:40 enemy snoopers sighted
these American formations.
Possibly for the first time Admiral Mitscher did not watch the take-
off; he was too busy with his staff in flag plot for he now had to decide
whether he would launch a second strike. After some long soul-search-
ing consideration, he stared down at a chart and said, "No! Hold that
second strike."
The first enemy ships spotted were six of Ozawa's tankers, escorted
by six destroyers that were left well astern when the First Mobile Force
went to twenty-four knots. The seven carriers were well out in front
of the main group, and the battleships and heavy cruisers were dis-
posed so they could deliver a heavy curtain of antiaircraft fire. Few
fighter aircraft got off to intercept, and at most only seventy-five planes
were launched during the following action.
While the American dive bombers and torpedo bombers moved into
position, the Japanese surface ships went into a series of tight circles
and S turns, all the while festooning the sky with varicolored anti-
aircraft fire. Two oilers were quickly put out of commission. Two car-
riers of Admiral T. Joshima's division were attacked savagely, but
probably escaped.
During this action Lieutenant (jg) George B. Brown, who had
sworn to get a carrier or go down himself, led a five-ship pack of
Avengers that were armed with torpedoes. He selected the carrier
Hzyo, slipped into a cloud from which to start his approach, and then
coming out with the sun behind him nosed down into a 5<>degree
dive and headed for his target.
The antiaircraft fire was wicked, part of his port wing was shot
away, and fire burst out, enveloping the center portion of the fuselage
in flames. The radioman had to bail out, and advised the gunner to
go with him. Lieutenant Brown then continued on alone, and on the
way in the fire burned itself out. He completed his attack run and
registered a direct hit. His wing man, Lieutenant (jg) Benjamin C.
Tate, held to his course, but missed. A third torpedo from the plane
of Lieutenant (jg) Warren R. Omark scored, triggering a loud ex-
plosion.
Tate re-formed on Brown near a cloud and saw that his leader's
308 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
plane was badly damaged, and it seemed that Brown was hurt since
he was flying erratically. Tate could not help him, of course, and
Brown's plane finally disappeared.
After floating about amid all this naval strife, the gunner and radio-
man from Brown's plane were picked up the next day when the U. S.
carriers moved into the action area. Like the famous Ensign Gay, they
saw the final torment of a Japanese carrier. Two enemy battleships
attempted to give aid to Hiyo, but she burned herself out, and went
to the bottom.
Some of the other Avengers were not so lucky. They carried only
bombs, not torpedoes, and could not make clean bomb runs because
of the intense antiaircraft fire. The attack did not allow much more
than this, for bombs were of little use in such an action. Small fires
were started, but their damage was inconsiderable. The carrier
Chiyoda was hit and set afire. This seriously damaged her flight deck,
but she did not sink. The battleship Haruna was hit in such a manner
that water flooded her magazines.
Five Avengers off Enterprise, carrying only bombs, were led by
Lieutenant Van V. Eason and made an in-line approach. They received
a savage beating from ack-ack guns so that the line wriggled and
twisted like a blacksnake. Fighter planes went ahead trying to beat
down the gunners aboard Nagato and Mogami, and with this assist
Eason took his Avengers down. When they pulled out, Eason was
positive that they had scored at least eight hits and caused one heavy
explosion aboard the carrier Ryuho. However, postwar records dis-
close that the Japanese carrier's damage was superficial, and did not
necessitate noteworthy repairs.
As Lieutenant Eason's Avengers came out of their dives, four Zekes
slammed in, but broke off when two Hellcats joined in the fray that
turned into a miniature dogfight with the battleships sending up five-
inch shells to add to the din.
Commander J. D. Arnold, who was leading an Avenger group, was
concerned about the failure of Navy flying men to pick out the big
carriers. He ignored the escorts and went after the Zuikaku which
had no Zekes to defend her, but she had what was more important
a lot of luck. All but four of Commander Arnold's Avenger pack
had been armed with 5oo-pound bombs, instead of torpedoes, and
the enemy carrier seemed to have no difficulty in evading the two
"tin fish" that were sent at her.
Dive bombers from Enterprise joined in this attack, and consider-
THE NATURE OF A BATTLE 309
able damage was inflicted with several actual bomb hits and five near
misses. One explosion caused a serious fire on the hangar deck and
Zuikaku was unmanageable for a short time, but all fires were finally
doused, and the big carrier returned to Kure under her own steam.
She was patched up in time to join in the October 25 battle off Cape
Engano on northeast Luzon where she was sunk.
Avengers from Monterey, Bunker Hill, and Cabot ignored the oiler
force and roared on to tackle the main fleet. Again, the 5oo-pound
bombs, although delivered with rare courage, only started a small fire
aboard Chiyoda and damaged her flight deck. Haruna took a direct
hit, but suffered little damage, and the cruiser Maya had a few fires
to quench. No vital damage was scored against any of these vessels,
but only twenty of the 216 American aircraft employed in the attack
were lost. They had sunk one carrier and destroyed two-thirds of Ad-
miral Ozawa's remaining aircraft, and had there been more confidence
in the air torpedo the result might have been far more memorable.
As the U. S. Navy planes broke off, the enemy airmen made no
attempt to pursue, but brave old Admiral Ozawa still cherished a small
hope. He ordered his entire van, including the heavy cruisers Myoko
and Hdguro, plus a destroyer squadron to turn back and make one
last try to intercept Mitscher's force. This effort was fruitless, how-
ever, since he had no idea where Task Force 58 steamed, and the
search had to be abandoned after two hours. By then he had but
thirty-five aircraft operational out of the 473 with which he had started
his attack.
Now began the problem of getting the American planes back to
their decks. In that latitude darkness fell at 7:45, and that night was
very dark since the weather had moved south during the action. Con-
sidering everything, the battle-battered U. S. Navy aircraft were a long,
long way from home. There were other considerations, too. During
the air-strike attack Mitscher's fleet had closed somewhat with the
enemy, but once the recovery operations went into effect, the U. S.
carriers had to turn eastward again to pick up the headwinds. As a
result, there were instances when the two fleets were almost three
hundred miles apart. Knowing all this, and hoping to get back before
nightfall or bad weather set in, many pilots flew at high speed and
ran out of gas earlier than they might have. Others were just unlucky.
Lieutenant (jg) Milton F. Browne of Wasp had to ditch halfway
home because his tank had been punctured, but fortunately, he and
310 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
his gunner were rescued two days later by a Martin Mariner flying
boat that had flown well beyond its reconnaissance-search area.
Admiral Mitscher wisely spread his three task groups wide to af-
ford maneuvering room for the night recovery. He also suggested to
Admiral Spruance that Admiral Lee's battle line be released to steam
ahead in the hope of engaging Ozawa's fleet by the break of day. Ad-
miral Spruance elected to play it conservatively and held to the theory
that his Task Force 58 should be kept tactically concentrated during
the night, making the best practical speed toward the enemy and thus
keep them well within air-striking distance. He also believed that the
battle line had no chance of overtaking the Japanese, and he wished
to keep his battleships within signal contact in order to dispose of
any damaged ships the fliers might encounter the next day.
Tired, and no longer able to make accurate decisions, weary-eyed
pilots began to seek a way back. Knowing these conditions, Admiral
Mitscher ordered all radio silence suspended, and instead of dousing
all lights decided to throw all caution to the winds and illuminate his
fleet like a combined Coney Island and New Orleans Mardi Gras. Each
ship turned on a searchlight and aimed its beam straight up into the
sky. Truck lights blazed, star shells and parachute flares hissed and
glared, and glow lights were flicked on to outline the decks. All this,
against a tar-black night, threatening weather, and intermittent flashes
of lightning, added the touch of a nineteenth-century theatrical melo-
drama to the whole extravaganza.
All fine and well with the carriers and their screens, but the aircraft
were three hundred miles away from this welcome. Under normal
conditions some of the TBMs and SBDs could make the long haul
home, but most of them had been in combat, on and off, for ten
months, and they were battle-worn, their engines old and fuel-hungry
some of them should have been on the "unserviceable" heap weeks
before.
Now all aircraft, dive bombers, torpedo bombers, and fighters, were
bucking a fourteen-knot headwind, and every pilot knew that when
he did reach the task force there would be an indeterminate period
of circling still under full power to overcome the drag of lowered
flaps and landing gear before they could go into the glide-in path.
The multiseat bombers faced the toughest problems, and their lead
pilots took them down to one thousand feet where the atmosphere
was "richer," and throttled back to "automatic-lean" for the greatest
economy of gasoline, but with every mile the pilots could only hope
THE NATURE OF A BATTLE 31!
and figure: "We got three hundred miles to go. We're maybe making
120 miles ground speed, meaning we'll take at least two and one-half
hours. If we're lucky we can find our particular carrier in half an hour,
more likely forty-five minutes. Next we buck into the pattern like
everybody else and take our turn going aboard. Brother, it's gonna
be close!"
After thirty minutes plaintive, panicky, or defiant voices were car-
ried into the ether. Some pilots could not find their groups or their
squadron leaders. Others realized that their fuel was dwindling as if
the tanks had holes three inches in diameter bored in them.
"Hey, listen Pete! I only got ten minutes of gas left. I'll be on
vapor in a minute or two. What'll I do?"
"This is Fifteen Bazooka. Where am I? Will someone tell me where
I am? I'm really lost/'
Tin not staying up here, gurgling along like this. I'm putting my
hulk down while I got power. So long, Pete. Try to pick me up in
the morning, eh?"
The flight leaders wished they could help, but there were so many
kids all asking the same questions. There was nothing to do but turn
the volume down and not listen. But even so the wails continued to
bleat through.
"I can't make it, you guys. I'm going in. Have them look for me."
"I'm not picking up the beacon. Will somebody please tell me
where is home? I'm really lost. Come on, fellers!"
It was true. Some of the pilots were helpless. By now their instru-
ments had failed, or had been shot away. Some of the pleas came
from kid pilots who had not been through anything like this. Night
flying inland behind Pensacola or Corpus Christi was simple. You had
towns, bright lights, and the gleam of railroads to work on. You at
least had a faint horizon to give you a lead.
Then there were the exuberant types who had been so enthusiastic
about tackling the Japanese Fleet they had ignored all warnings con-
cerning fuel conservation, and when they came out of the uproar, had
no idea where they were going, or where the fleet would have been.
One squadron commander listened as five pilots talked over their
situation as matter-of-factly as a group planning a set of team plays
prior to a basketball game. First, they decided whether to keep going
until they had gulped the last ounce of fuel, or whether they should
all ditch together. They took a vote on it and it came out four-to-one
for ditching. It was as simple as that. "Okay, here we go!"
312 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
Another pilot who was listening complained: "You guys must be
nuts. I got sixty . . . sixty-five gallons!"
"So what? Where do you expect to go with sixty-five gallons?"
"You got sixty-five . . . that's the law of compensation. I got five.
I'm going down."
"I'll be with you, pal. I got seventeen, but you know me ... come
easy, go easy."
"That's very kind of you. A real pal. I'm very much obliged. You
ready?"
There were two wide splashes on the sea below. Then three more
... and the rest of the planes of TF 58 flew on in the sable night.
When the fleet was still more than ninety minutes away, someone
yelled, "I can see lights. They got lights up for us, boys."
"Take it easy. That's just lightning."
Someone else chipped in, "Lightning, my eye. They're trigger
happy. They're shooting at the boys already back. That's what they'll
do to us. We get it nine ways to the dozen."
"Yeh! Don't shoot! We're real friendly."
Then silence reigned over the next fifteen minutes. No one talked.
No one rehashed the attack. No one requested confirmation on a tor-
pedo hit or a bomb that had started a fire on something. By now
no one had anything to say. They were talked out, exhausted, or
afraid to show their growing concern or fear. Only the gunners and
radiomen clacked on, asking the same questions over and over.
"You think we got enough gas to get in?"
"Sure, but it'll be ticklish."
"You think we'll make it?"
"We always do. I think we're in the money."
"I sure wish I knew how much gas we really have."
"Then you'd be completely nuts."
"You think we're doing pretty good?"
"I think we should be in good shape. Who knows?"
"That means none of us is going to get home, eh?"
"Why don't you shut up?"
"We ain't lost, are we?"
"We ain't lost. It's just that we got so many planes left, there won't
be room to get into the landing circle when we do get back. That's
what worries me. Can you imagine what it'll be like when we all get
back there?"
"Our Father who art in heaven. . . ."
THE NATURE OF A BATTLE 313
One hundred twenty-five miles to go.
Now physical fatigue and the strain of taut nerves cut in to bring
on a debility none had ever experienced before. Few of them had
heard of vertigo, but this was a perfect beginning. It was inky black
with no visible horizon not even in the west. They had nothing to
work on. No moon, no stars, and the overhead gleam that might have
been of some help was intermittently erased by the low clouds. If
they flew on the navigation lights or the exhaust glare of planes ahead,
they held a temporary course, but at times the lights they formed on,
gradually slipped back as the uneven speeds created a shuttle con-
dition. Some planes had no navigation lights, some kept flicking
on and off, and there was no truth in any of it. A tail light that had
been a godsend for fifteen minutes would disappear suddenly, and
a pilot would find himself flying in an unlighted dome of unknown
proportions. If he searched for comfort in his instruments, he discov-
ered that someone had switched them around and nothing was where
it was supposed to be. Compass cards danced and refused to give a
reading. The artificial horizon played tricks until the poor devil be-
lieved he must be flying upside down. Oh for a star, a gleam of light,
a pencil line of dawn, just one plane that didn't switch its instruments
around when a guy wasn't looking.
If a star was selected to home on for a few minutes, it turned out
to be the tail light of another guy who was also hopelessly lost. Vertigo
was building up with the blinking and straining. Pilots would con-
clude that the needles or index cards on the instruments must all be
stuck. They punched with gloved fists or tried to kick at the tangle of
wires and conduits at the back of the panel.
Oh, this was a lovely night.
The radiomen, hunched up in comparative tunnels, could see noth-
ing and vertigo embraced them quickly. There was no escape visually.
They went slack with the hypnosis of vibration, and the details of the
bulkhead and instrument panel blurred. Nerves were doubly tight, and
the once faint sounds of mechanisms, pulsations, and automatic ac-
tions of the pumps and boosts had now increased to roars, clashes,
and the insane dissonance of a foundry.
Hypnosis also stroked at the pilots as they sat alone in the darkness.
The props sang a taunting melody, the engines beat out a droning
rhythm, and combined into a lullaby that sucked all resistance from
the nerves and will power.
Then the radios clicked on again. Some had one tank left, but
314 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
drowsy pilots refused to believe the needle was that low until the en-
gine coughed and then there was a wild flurry to switch over and wait
for the pumps to punch a new stream of fuel into the carburetors.
"I got fifty gallons left. Where the hell is that fleet? Back at Pearl?"
"Hey! Hey! Hey!" someone cried from out of the blackness beyond.
"I got a homing signal. You hear that a homing signal. I figure we
got only seventy-five miles to go. Any of you guys getting it?"
"Shut up! Get out there in front, and take us in."
"Remind me to buy you a flashlight when we get in. Get out there
and take over, sonny!"
"Christ! We were only a few points off. We were doing swell, eh?
Bunker Hill, here we come!"
What planes were still in the air caught a vertical searchlight beam
at 8:30. It came up from Bunker Hill's group.
"Boy, oh boy, what a relief. We're gonner get in."
"You speak for yourself, chum. I got maybe thirty gallons left."
So far, so good, but the flat-tops of Task Force 58 were spread out
over hundreds of square miles of ocean, and this was not a daylight
recovery. Few of the pilots had ever attempted a night carrier-landing,
and in their present weary-eyed, exhausted condition could no longer
make accurate decisions. Many were shocked by the giddy display of
illumination Admiral Mitscher had ordered for their benefit. One or
two said later that they thought the war was over. Looking back one
wonders whether this reaction may have reduced the normal in-flight
discipline. There was no organization of any kind. The landing pattern
went completely awry. The traffic circuits became hot-rod racing orbits
and the perpendicular searchlights became the pylons.
Too many pilots claimed they were out of fuel when they actually
had sufficient for normal landing operations. Too many decided that
they could not make the deck, and flopped into the water beside any
vessel that would pick them up. One pilot landed with his gun
switches on, and the sea around the carnival area was aglow with the
riding lights of aircraft sinking beneath the waves. Here and there a
few tracers that were carelessly fired, screeched through the wild gleam
and triggered pandemonium. Exhaust flame, blipping on and off, re-
sembled wild fireflies darting through a surrealist jungle.
The whole exhibit provided a frightening kaleidoscope of blinding
lights, intricate flame trails, and inky backdrops of Stygian darkness.
Bunker Hill's air officer, Commander "Wingover" Smith, was killed
during this madhouse display.
THE NATURE OF A BATTLE 315
Aboard Lexington the first of the returning planes appeared about
8:15, and her landing-signal officers, John Shuff and Eugene Hanson,
both experienced pilots, went aft to bring them in. Both knew that
each type of plane had to be handled in a different manner, depending
on its weight and flight characteristics. In fact, different models of the
same plane require different handling.
Among the first to get into Lexington's landing circle were some
SB2Cs, a type not included in this carrier's air group. Still, they had
to be brought in and Hanson said, "You know more about these babies
than I. You take over."
Shuff knew that SB2Cs were "floaters" and that earlier models had
to come in five knots faster, but how he was going to distinguish in
the night, he had no idea. Lexington began to steady after making her
turn into the wind, and Shuff picked up the first plane with his il-
luminated wand, thinking that he was bringing in a SBzC. When it
dabbed in and caught the wire, it turned out to be a TBF.
Admiral Mitscher bellowed down from the bridge: "Whose plane
is that?"
"She's off Hornet, sir."
"Hornet? She's not even in our task group. Holy Smoke, if the boys
are having that much trouble finding their decks, we might as well tell
them to land wherever they can. We can unscramble them in the morn-
ing," the admiral said.
That did it!
A Helldiver from Hornet crash-landed on Bunker Hill, although the
pilot had been given a frantic wave-off, and a display of Very signals
indicating a fouled deck. The plane stood on its nose and hacked its
propeller through the flight deck just in time to cause an Avenger from
Cabot to break off a wing against a gun mount, although this pilot had
also been warned off.
Lieutenant V. V. Eason's tank went dry as he approached the lip of
Lexington. He pulled his wheels up, turned to port, and slithered along
the top of the waves like a skimmed stone, but he was quickly picked
up by a destroyer.
Shuff tried his luck on a second plane, an F6F that had been stray-
ing about when Admiral Mitscher's order came through. Instead of a
single fighter Shuff saw half a dozen aircraft, all headed for the same
flight deck. It was impossible to handle them one at a time. The only
thing left to do was to wave off the lot, for if two were to attempt to
glide in together, they undoubtedly would crash and foul up the deck
316 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
for more than an hour. Finally an F6F was brought in, and then an-
other TBF that lost its engine a few feet ahead of the ramp. Shuff
saw the port wing drop and the plane swing around sharply, threaten-
ing to cut him down as a saber cuts down a musketman. He dove into
the safety net and came up in time to see the TBF splash into the
sea. Three airmen crawled out and waved as they drifted astern.
Almost half of the returning aircraft landed on the wrong carriers,
and in some cases planes and pilots from seven to eight carriers were
on one flight deck. Two men were killed and four seriously injured
when an incoming plane slammed into another being moved from
the flight deck to an elevator. One young ensign pilot mistook the red
truck lights on a destroyer for his own carrier, Monterey, and thought
the dancing lights were the wands of the landing officer. He remedied
this mistake just in time and plopped down in the water alongside the
destroyer where he was boat-hooked out before he was hardly wet.
Another pilot from a light carrier decided that such a small deck was
no place for him under these night-recovery conditions, so he searched
about, looking for the longest deck in the fleet. He landed safely
and discovered that he had plopped down on his own light carrier.
The off-duty men went topside to see the recovery. They clus-
tered around the island, along the catwalks, and on the searchlight
platforms, and some of them clambered up on the 4o-mm. gun mounts.
The first half hour was fun and there were some small bets made
as to who would make it, right side up. It was hilarious for a time and
some rare comments rang out, but the truth finally seeped through
and the fun and comment died down. There was a period of strained
silence, and when another TBF stumbled in, lost a wheel and splashed
over the side, one young seaman crunched up his hat and started be-
low.
"There's nothing in my enlistment papers that says I have to look
at this," he muttered.
"For that, they get flight pay?" another asked.
One by one, they climbed down, suddenly weary, and mumbling
something about hitting the sack.
Out on the flight deck John Shuff brought in a fourth F6F, and
then screamed at a group of men behind him. The fighter dropped
a wing, shoved a wheel leg up into the well and they all had to dive
into the safety net again. The F6F pancaked into the water, but Shuff
was back on his feet in time to safely guide in an SB2C.
So far he hadn't seen one plane of his own air group.
THE NATURE OF A BATTLE 317
Another aircraft appeared in the false glow aft. It had no lights and
was really hitting the knots, and was aiming at the ramp like a projec-
tile. Shuff knew that if it ever hit it would take out two or three arrester
gear cables, and that would be that. No more planes would get in
that night. He waved frantically, but the oncoming bolt did not swerve
an inch.
"Get out of here!" Shuff screamed.
Midway up the flight deck tragedy was being set out, as a child sets
out a toy theater. Lieutenant (jg) Verne Prather, top man of the flight
deck crews, sensed what was coming. He turned and crouched like a
boxer, knowing he had to move fast. He could see Shuff still waving
the wands, and knew this was it. Behind Prather, toward the bow, a
plane-handling crew was securing the SB2C that had just come in.
Bill Long, an aviation machinist's mate, stood front, flicking his fin-
gers, as he guided the SB2C forward over the last few feet to its park-
ing space. Two crewmen crept along close to the wheels, ready to
shove the chocks in when Long was satisfied that she was in close
enough. Eight other men were pushing on the wings, working to fold
them.
The incoming plane shot past Shuff, and someone began twirling
the handle of the crash siren.
"Clear the deck!" Prather screeched, and threw himself flat under
the broadsword blade that was the plane's wing.
Bill Long did his best and bellowed: "Six, get clear. Crew Six, get
clear!"
One or two men rolled into the depressed catwalks, a couple had
little choice but to flop where they were and coil their arms around
their heads. Bill Long and the boys with the wheel chocks stood their
ground they had no choice.
The incoming plane hit with a horrendous crash. There was a blind-
ing flash, and suddenly every light on the deck went out. What might
have been human screams knifed out of the wreckage, and then it all
worked out to mean: "Loose bomb!" Men nearby moved in like phan-
toms, and only the hissing of fire extinguishers could be heard ... no
other sound.
Prather and Dr. Neal Baxter, group flight surgeon, snatched at two
fear-stiff corpsmen and a youngster who hugged a stretcher. A
sickly green spotlight on the bridge flickered, steadied and held until
it brought out the details. Prather and Baxter started a prayer, and
then jumped into the forge-hot tangle.
318 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
The six planes that Shuff had brought in successfully had been
parked at the bow. They were mostly fighters, but there was a TBF
and an SB2C in the tangle somewhere. The pilot and gunner were
still in their seats of one SB2C, as they waited for their wheels to be
chocked up. The berserk plane plowed into them and its propeller
cut the gunner into bloody slices. The tail assembly was shoved up
until it pinned in the pilot. This two-plane mess then slammed for-
ward into the three aircraft ahead, and then there were none. One of
the boys hauling a chock was battered to death. Bill Long was out
cold, having been cut down with a hunk of flying wing. The pinioned
pilot would limp for months, but the pilot and gunner of the SBzC
that had staged this carnage were uninjured.
What was left of the deck crew took every precaution to prevent a
fire. Prather climbed up on the wing of the SB2C to make certain that
all switches were off, for oil and gasoline from ruptured tanks had
spewed out and was splashing across the deck, and torrenting down
into the portside catwalk and gun mounts. All it needed was just one
spark.
Dr. Baxter hauled out the injured men and started pumping his
morphine gun. Long was yammering again, "Six, get clear! Crew Six,
get clear!" His feet were kicking in a pool of dead men's blood, that
in the acid gleam looked like liquid tar.
An ensign in one of the gun mounts was fingering oil from his eyes,
when a crewman who was wearing a set of earphones, hauled him
around. He stood screeching incoherently, and finally managed to gulp
and point at a 2$o-pound bomb, properly fused and ready to blow,
that had rolled across the deck and came to a halt a few feet away.
No one remembers what became of it.
Cookie Cleland who had been flying Old 39, a rust bucket of an
SBD, picked up Irish Caffery and Jack Wright, and tried to guide
them in. It wasn't simple, for slipstreams from stray aircraft tipped his
wings and gave him a bad time. He'd get Old 39 straightened out,
and another storm of slipstream would tilt him over again until he
was finally all alone.
"Boy, was I a dooley. I felt like I was mummified with a brain to
match. Boy, I should have a tape recording of all the dumb things I
thought and said. I tried to get aboard Princeton twice. I made two
dumb passes at Lexington. I think I made two to get aboard Enter-
prise, but I really can't remember. Anyway, I seem to have made Enter-
THE NATURE OF A BATTLE 319
prise finally but I didn't really come to until I was taxiing up the
deck when my engine conked cold. I wanted to jump out and pat
Old 39's cowling, but there wasn't a jump left in me. But she did it on
her last sniff of gas/'
When the crew started to haul Old 39 up the deck they gasped as
they stared at a great hole under the gunner's cockpit. There was a
long rip in the starboard flap, and a zo-mm. hole under the starboard
tank. It was such a hulk that no one considered keeping it, and they
began to yell, "Come on, Cookie, pile out. Get your gunner out, too.
We gotta heave this hunker-junk overboard."
It was then that Cookie Cleland moved. He was out of his cockpit
and on the wing root of his plane in nothing flat. "What did you say?"
he demanded.
"I can't help it, Cookie," the plane captain tried to explain. "This
crate is worthless. There's no room for her. Come on, get clear."
Cookie reached for his gun. "This plane stays aboard, mister. You
heard me."
The plane captain waved a hand, and walked away, as he agreed.
"O.K. sir. If that is the way you want it, she stays aboard/'
"You're damn' right she does," said Cookie.
But there were more planes curling around, trying to get in. Prather
darted from hulk to hulk, figuring how long it would take to get the
crane up, and heave the junk overboard. Officers up on the island
were begging for space and order.
"Give me ten minutes," Prather pleaded. "Just ten minutes . . .
maybe five!"
When the runaway SB2C first hit, someone pulled a master switch
up on the bridge and blacked out the carrier, mainly to warn other
aircraft that the deck was "foul." The planes overhead were stamped-
ing in maverick panic. On each side of the carrier aircraft were hissing
past, only to pancake into the waves ahead. Another dropped nearby
and sank. No one climbed out of that mess. The minutes were click-
ing past.
The lights aboard Lexington had been doused at 9:10. Exactly at
9:20 they went on again and John Shuff saw a lone TBF sliding down
the groove. By the time he had him lined up and steadied, six more
came out of nowhere, edging in for space, and the mad stampede was
on again.
By 10:50 when a check-off concluded that every plane had landed,
320 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
splashed over the side, or been shot down, the carriers moved back
into cruising formation. Some idea of the carnage was then realized.
The sea around reminded one sailor of a summer meadow with hun-
dreds of fireflies carrying out their mating ceremonies. This impression
was created by the dozens of pilots or crewmen who were swimming
about or were huddled in rubber rafts, as they switched on and off
their emergency flashlights. Others added to the pastoral scene by
blowing boatswain's whistles, that came in clear and distinct with the
evening's calm.
Destroyers, flashing their eighteen-inch searchlights, soon spotted
the rafts and swimmers, and Admiral Mitscher ordered most antisub-
marine screening held up until all possible aid had been given the
ditched airmen. All told, only sixteen pilots and thirty-three crewmen
were lost as the result of the hectic night-recovery operation. Seven-
teen Hellcats, thirty-five Helldivers, and twenty-eight Avengers were
destroyed by deck crashes, or ditching near the task force.
An amusing situation was created by Lieutenant Commander K. F.
Musick, the torpedo squadron commander of Bunker Hill. Com-
mander Musick had had to ditch on an earlier operational flight and
had been rescued by the destroyer Hickox. This night he ditched again
for the want of fuel, and was picked up by the same destroyer. To
commemorate this "double" the destroyer's artist painted a caricature
of Musick on the stack beside the insignia of planes shot down adding
a "hashmark" to record the second rescue.
Admiral Ozawa had as bad a time as Admiral Mitscher in getting
his aircraft back. The Japanese carriers were not as well equipped for
such night operations, and of the one hundred planes employed in
attempting to hold off the American attackers, only thirty-five could
be considered to be operational the next day. And with that, at Ad-
miral Soemu Toyoda's order, the Japanese First Mobile Fleet put on
all speed and retired.
Admiral Spruance had ordered a stern chase, but it was not exactly
a relentless one. The high speeds used over the previous two days
had made serious inroads on the destroyers' fuel supplies, and further
high-speed chase was impractical. The only logical reason for contin-
ued pursuit was the hope of catching up with damaged vessels, or other
ships that had been ordered to stand by. Our intelligence, however, -
was none too specific, so Admiral Spruance steamed west at an ec-
onomical speed. Several long-range search flights were sent out from
THE NATURE OF A BATTLE 321
Wasp and Bunker Hill, which also supplied air protection while
ditched airmen were fished out of the sea, but they never got close
enough to harass Ozawa's forces. Orders to break off and retire were
given at 8:30 P.M. on June 21. The final searches were rewarded with
the rescue of fifty-nine flying men who otherwise would have perished
in the Philippine Sea. At the time Ozawa's Mobile Fleet was only
three hundred miles from Okinawa.
This was the nature of an aircraft-carrier battle.
CHAPTER X
LUCK AT LEYTE
EVENTS in the Pacific moved at such a breathless pace, many people
believed that the Japanese war was running out its skein. In less than
four months an advance of more than one thousand miles had been
made, and when it seemed that the Japanese Navy had received the
coup de grace, General Douglas MacArthur began to champ at the
military bit. He recalled his promise to the people of the Philippines
and made plans to take Leyte, one of the central islands, and then
move north to Luzon. President Roosevelt and Admiral Nimitz agreed
to these plans, but when other responsible minds were consulted, they
brought up new problems; the group of planners wondered, once Leyte
had been secured, whether it would be wiser to make for the island of
Formosa, rather than strike at Luzon. Admiral King had conceived a
plan for taking Formosa, together with a beachhead at Amoy on con-
tinental China. Such a move would have put American forces a long
stride nearer the enemy's stronghold, than would the taking of Luzon.
However, the Formosa plan could not be carried out with the man-
power and facilities that were available. Formosa was in Admiral Nim-
itz's area, which meant that he would have to furnish the troops and
equipment for what would have been a major amphibious operation.
At this time none were available, since operations on the European
front were not going according to plan. General MacArthur argued
that the Filipinos on Luzon would be of more use in the over-all cause
than the hostile, or at best indifferent Formosans.
After considerable high-level haggling it was agreed finally that the
Leyte operation would kick off on October 20, 1944, and once that
goal had been made General MacArthur would invade Luzon two
months later, December 20. Admiral Nimitz would provide cover and
CAPE
\ENOANO
_
Track of/
Admiral Ozawa/
until intercepted/
by Admiral Halsey/
/ /
SAMAR
J
'Point from where
Admiral Halsey steamed
North to find Admiral
Ozawa's force, leaving
U.S. escort carrier
group to mercy of
Japanese big guns.
Area where American
light carriers were
trapped by Japanese
heavy cruiser force
ST. LO and GAMBtER
BAY were lost.
BATTLE FOR LEYTE GULF
OCTOBER 24,1944
SHOWING AREAS OF ACTION IN
MIGAO STRAIT, THE BATTLE OFF SAMAR
AND U.S. FLEET'S DEFEAT OF NISHIMURA
LUCK AT LEYTE 525
support in this Philippine thrust. He also promised to give further as-
sistance by invading one or more islands of the Bonin-Volcano group
by January 20, 1945, and optimistically said he would take Okinawa
in the Ryukyus by March i of that year.
The Battle of Leyte Gulf proved to be one of the greatest naval
battles, but also was one of the most controversial engagements in the
Pacific. It was fought in the maze of the Philippine Archipelago, churn-
ing up an area of almost five hundred thousand square miles, and
drawing on every element of naval power from submarines to carrier
planes. In distances covered, tonnages involved, and casualties suf-
fered, it made the Battle of Jutland seem like a harbor skirmish. It
was the naval battle that finished the Japanese fleet.
The battle for Leyte was initiated somewhat precipitously after our
fast carriers, supported by the battleships of Admiral Halsey's fleet,
had investigated and pounded Japanese bases from Mindanao to Lu-
zon. U. S. Naval pilots flew over Manila Bay on September 21 and
found the opposition most feeble, and our intelligence decided the
time was ripe for an immediate invasion. A quick switch in strategy
discarded the planned capture of Yap and the step-by-step moves to
Mindanao in the southern Philippines. Instead an amphibious assault
on Leyte in the central grouping was advanced by two months to
October 20.
Seven hundred U. S. vessels steamed for Leyte Gulf on October
19. Only one Japanese plane was in the air to give battle. This lone
pilot could do nothing against 151 LSTs, 58 transports, 221 LCTs,
79 LCIs, and hundreds of auxiliary craft. By October 21, some 103,-
ooo American troops had been landed with few casualties only three
warships received any damage and General MacArthur had kept his
word. He had returned.
The Japanese were in an unenviable position. Admiral Soemu Toy-
oda, commander-in-chief of the combined fleet, sent out word to "en-
gage and conquer this enemy who enjoys the luxury of material
resources." It was a ridiculous order, considering the fact that he was
in no condition for another major engagement after the defeat in the
Philippine Sea. Worse still, his fleet was divided and could not be
concentrated immediately prior to battle. A few crippled carriers, some
cruisers, and destroyers were still based in the Japanese Inland Sea.
Admiral Kurita's First Division of battleships, cruisers, and destroyers
was based in Lingga Anchorage near Singapore, convenient to its oil
sources.
326 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
These factors, combined with the geography of the Philippines dic-
tated the Japanese plan that had to be modified at the last minute
when it was found that they had practically no carrier aviation avail-
able. However, the Singapore force was ordered to steam northward
toward Leyte, with a stop at Borneo to refuel, where it would split
and the central group under Admiral Kurita, with five battleships, ten
heavy cruisers, two light cruisers, and fifteen destroyers, would head
for San Bernardino Strait at night. The southern group, under Vice-
Admiral Shoji Nishimura, with two battleships, one heavy cruiser, and
four destroyers was to be joined at Surigao Strait by three more cruisers
and four destroyers, under Vice-Admiral Kiyohide Shima, This flotilla
was ordered to steam through Formosa Strait on a run from the home
islands, and make one stop in the Pescadores.
This combined force planned to surprise and attack the American
armada in Leyte Gulf during the dawn of October 26. Unfortunately,
as we know now, the Japanese carrier fleet had been reduced to one
heavy and three light carriers, and these four flat-tops could put only
one hundred aircraft into the sky, but Admiral Toyoda devised a smart
ruse. He decided that this small carrier force, under Admiral Ozawa,
was to steam directly toward Luzon and act as a deliberate decoy, and
in that manner induce Admiral Halsey to give chase and forsake his
job of covering the amphibious invasion of Leyte. As it turned out the
idea paid off, and if it did not afford Toyoda a major victory, it did
furnish fuel for controversy.
Admiral Halsey, commanding eight large attack carriers, eight light
carriers, six fast new battleships, fifteen cruisers, and fifty-eight destroy-
ers, had been assigned to cover the support forces of the Southwest
Pacific command in order to assist in the seizure and occupation of
objectives in the Central Philippines. He was responsible to Admiral
Nimitz, but "necessary measures for detailed co-operation of opera-
tions between the Third and Seventh Fleets was to be arranged by
their commanders." This chart-room phraseology, mystifying to the
layman, must have been somewhat bewildering to all nautical experts
when this multiangled action began.
The Seventh Fleet, under Admiral Thomas C. Kinkaid, was made
up chiefly of five old battleships that had been retrieved from the mud
of Pearl Harbor, but it did have sixteen escort carriers, eight cruisers,
and scores of destroyers, destroyer escorts, frigates, and motor torpedo
boats. It was the Seventh's task to furnish shore bombardment and
LUCK AT LEYTE 327
close air support for the Army, and antisubmarine and air defense for
the amphibious forces.
First blood was drawn by U.S.S. Darter when that submarine inter-
cepted and torpedoed Admiral Kurita's heavy cruiser flagship, Atago.
The cruiser Takao was also damaged by the same pigboat. Dace hit
the cruiser Maya with four torpedoes, and the battle was on. Atago
went down within twenty minutes, and Admiral Kurita moved over
to the destroyer Kisinani, and later to the giant battleship Yamato.
Maya blew up and sank in four minutes, but Takao, escorted by two
destroyers, managed to slip back to Brunei in Borneo.
Search planes were sent out from the decks of the American Third
Fleet, and before Darter and the other subs could radio details of their
exploits and the position of Admiral Kurita's force, the largest task
group of the fleet, TG 38.1, under Vice-Admiral John S. McCain, was
ordered to retire to Ulithi, an atoll between Guam and Peleliu, for
rest and supplies. The remaining three task forces were spread over
three hundred miles of ocean to the east of the Philippines from cen-
tral Luzon to southern Samar. One of these had been tracked for hours
by enemy snooper planes, but while American carrier aircraft moved
out on similar reconnaissance missions, Admiral Kinkaid's ancient bat-
tlewagons were still off Leyte, banging away in support of General
MacArthur's invasion troops.
About 7:45 on the morning of October 24, Lieutenant (jg) Max
Adams, who was piloting a Helldiver, picked up a radar contact that
turned out to be Kurita's attack force. With this warning the whole
U. S. fleet was alerted and even McCain's task group was recalled.
The Third Fleet turned its attention to San Bernardino Strait with
intent to launch strikes against the enemy who was first seen at 8:20
A.M. This was Admiral Nishimura's southern arm steaming on a course
for Surigao.
Aircraft off Enterprise bulled their way through a solid curtain of
antiaircraft. The battleship Fuso's catapult was hit and all her availa-
ble planes damaged beyond immediate repair. A serious fire broke
out and took considerable effort to bring under control. A gun mount
aboard the destroyer Shigure was blasted away, but Admiral Nishi-
mura continued to order full speed ahead. At the same time Admiral
Halsey was concentrating on the Japanese central force, known to be
heading into San Bernardino Strait. Up till now there had been no
morning search to the north or northeast, and Admiral Ozawa's decoy
carriers, still steaming southward, were as yet undiscovered.
328 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
Admiral Toyoda's neck-or-nothing plan was moving toward a dra-
matic climax. Japanese land-based planes that flew out of Philippine
bases furiously assaulted the Seventh and Third Fleets. Langley,
Princeton, Essex, and Lexington, north of Luzon, took the brunt of
this determined fire that required comparable resistance to extinguish.
Seven Hellcats off Essex, led by Commander David S. McCampbell,
intercepted sixty Japanese planes, half of which were Zeke fighters.
After a melee of more than ninety minutes twenty-four of these enemy
planes were destroyed with no losses on the American side. Airmen off
Princeton claimed thirty-four more, while pilots off Langley and Lex-
ington, not to be outdone, made similar claims, which indicated that
the caliber of Japanese airmen was rapidly deteriorating.
But eventually the Japanese scored a "kill," and again proved that
if you drop enough bombs, something will be hit. While a formation
of Princeton's Hellcats was being recovered that morning, a lone Judy
glide bomber that had been skulking in a muffin of cloud, decided this
was the time for glory, and with rare skill and courage planted a 550-
pound bomb on Princeton's flight deck. The missile bore in on the
port side, drilled through three decks and exploded in the bakeshop,
where every man working there was killed instantly.
The blast then mushroomed through the hangar deck, and started
several serious gasoline fires. Fed by fuel spurting from the supply
lines, these flames raced to where six TBFs stood with their bomb-bay
doors open. The flames licked up into the fuselages and detonated
the torpedoes that had been loaded for the next take-off; these missiles
exploded one by one, and hurled the forward elevator mast high. The
great platform seemed to float in mid-air, and then fell back into the
pit, a tangled pile of wrenched steel. The after elevator also went up,
but this platform was folded over and slapped down on the flight deck.
At 10:10 Salvage Control Phase i was ordered, which meant that
all but 490 damage-control men were to abandon ship. Within ten
minutes Phase 2 was set, which would have left 250 men aboard.
A beautiful morning sun had come out to look down on this trag-
edy, a light breeze was blowing, and some ground swell was noted.
The carrier had almost come to a halt with her bow into the wind
and most of her crew gathered well forward to take shelter from the
explosion area. At 9:53 Admiral Sherman had ordered three destroy-
ers to move in and stand by. The Irwin tried to get up to Princeton's
LUCK AT LEYTE 529
forecastle, but the carrier's gun sponsons prevented the destroyer from
moving in closer than thirty feet.
A period of almost panic ensued; many sailors jumped overboard
or went down the lifelines off the flight deck into the water. They
then attempted to swim the narrow gap to Irwin's cargo nets that were
lashed to the destroyer's hull. It was difficult going, even for strong
swimmers, for the concentric wave action between the two vessels
threw the men about like plastic toys in a child's bath. A few struggled
across the gap only to be snatched away by the devilment of the
waves. At times seven or eight sailors would be seen on top of a wave
bulge, all snatching at the same section of net, where it was the
survival of the fittest, as the stronger climbed over the weaker. A num-
ber of men drowned in this vortex, but many managed to clamber
to safety. A few kept their heads and allowed the waves to carry them
well aft where they were picked up by other boats at least those who
evaded the sharks.
The members of Princeton's black gang worked their way up from
below and some managed to climb over to the destroyer's bow, a very
difficult feat as both bows were rising and falling over a vertical gap
of three to ten feet.
The cruiser Birmingham, commanded by Captain Thomas B.
Inglis, next moved in to pick up men, afford antiaircraft protection,
and to assist the stricken carrier. Hoses were passed and a volunteer
party, under Lieutenant Allen Reed, climbed on board to lend assist-
ance to the damage-control crew who were still fighting the several
blazes.
The destroyer Morrison, darting in and out like a disturbed mother
hen, snatched up more than four hundred survivors, and then steamed
up to the lee side of Princeton to return a number of engineers to aid
in damage control and fire-fighting. In that position she was smothered
with smoke from the fires and many of the men were almost asphyxi-
ated. Then her foremast and stack became wedged between two of
Princeton's uptakes and were crushed and mangled when heavy
debris, loose vehicles, and broken equipment tumbled down in a
noisy avalanche. It required considerable hauling and tugging by the
destroyer Irwin to free Morrison from the torrent of broken jeeps,
tractors, and mobile derricks.
In the midst of this confusion another air raid was signaled, and
the destroyer Reno which had moved in close to pass fire hoses, had
to scamper out and take up antiaircraft offense again. The Bz'rmmg-
33O SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
ham's crew which was almost exhausted by its effort to save the
carrier, was warned that an enemy submarine might possibly be ma-
neuvering nearby, so it had to unhook everything and move off.
The threatened air attack was broken up by a formation of Hellcats
from Lexington long before they had come into the Princeton's area.
Another large formation of Judy dive bombers came through but
made only ineffectual passes against Lexington, Essex, and LangLey.
When the air probe had been driven off and the submarine report
proved to be false, Birmingham moved in again to fight the fire and
provide a tow. All these well-meant plans were being carried out by
3:25 and the big cruiser was just nudging in when a tremendous ex-
plosion tore away Princeton's stern. The entire aft section of the flight
deck went up like a great wall and fell back, a tangled heap of wreck-
age. The torpedoes and bombs in the aft section were sizzled by the
heat and exploded, raining death and destruction on the Birmingham.
It was one of the most horrible spectacles in naval history.
When the flight deck went up there were dozens of men preparing
to pass hoses, fight fires, and man the antiaircraft guns. In seconds
the deck area, or what was left of it, was a chopping block of dead,
dying, and wounded. Most of the men were badly torn by the blast,
some bodies were hurled up to the communications platform, blood
streamed down the scuppers and waterways, yet tradition and disci-
pline rose to the occasion. Men with stumps for arms tried to help
men with no legs, some attempted to crawl away to throw themselves
overboard, one man muttered: "Don't waste morphine on me, just
crack me on the head." Some with dreadful head wounds, thumbed
the blood out of their eyes and attempted to aid others. More than
two hundred sailors lay dead in the wreckage.
When first-aid workers made their way below decks, one of the
chaplains was already turning a wardroom into an emergency hospital.
In a short time the space was jammed with wounded or dying men.
A few corpsmen struggled to bring order out of this bloody confusion,
and as morphine gradually slowed down the pain, more advanced care
was possible. Those who were able to stand, wrote out identification
cards and lists required for burial of the dead. Others, tottering and
weaving, held up plasma bottles.
The cruiser Birmingham was only slightly damaged, but her casu-
alties were high. She had, however, set a good example in several new
fire-fighting drills which were put to excellent use later on when
Bunker Hill and Franklin were hit. Birmingham was ordered to bury
LUCK AT LEYTE 551
her dead and pull out. She steamed to the United States under her
own power and was repaired in time to take part in the Okinawa en-
gagement the following March.
Princeton had no such luck. Her hull was seaworthy, but there was
no other available vessel equipped to tow her. Loss of water pressure
prevented flooding the gasoline storage areas, and by 8 P.M. Captain
W. H. Buracker ordered everyone over the side, and abandoned ship.
Realizing that the situation was hopeless, Admiral Sherman ordered
her to be sunk. The destroyer Irwin, which was burdened with some
six hundred survivors, was given the job. Standing off a mile away, her
first torpedo caught Princeton's bow, the second was a miss, the third
porpoised, broached and ran wild, turning back to chase Irwin. By
putting on flank speed and hard-left rudder, the captain managed to
dodge this renegade, which passed less than thirty feet on a parallel
course. The next torpedoes were wild misses, the sixth started off
clean, and then turned suddenly and came hissing at Irwin exactly as
the third had done. Once the destroyer had evaded that rogue, the
task group commander decided that Irwin had had enough, and as-
signed Reno to finish the job. This destroyer had quadruple tubes,
and she went in close for the kill. Her first two "tin fish" bored into
Princeton's hull directly under the forward gasoline tank and more
than 100,000 gallons of fuel went up in flames, ripping the carrier to
blackened junk. She went down in a 27oo-fathom deep, about eighty-
five miles northeast of the Polillo Islands in the Luzon area. Although
her casualties were less than half those of Birmingham, she had seven
dead, 290 wounded, and 101 missing.
While October 24 was a sad day for Princeton, Admiral Kurita was
also taking his bumps. It will be remembered that he had moved his
flag to Yamato, and shortly after midnight his center force moved into
Mindoro Strait. A search plane from Admiral Gerald F. Bogan's
TG 38.2 picked it up early that morning, and this resulted in the
air-surface battle of the Sibuyan Sea.
The Intrepid and Cabot launched a covey of fighters, dive bombers
and torpedo planes, but this strike was hampered by heavy antiair-
craft fire and a second mixed formation was sent away. In the mean-
time Helldivers and Avengers from Lexington and Essex took off,
and before the day was over more than 250 sorties were made against
the center force. Kurita had little air cover and had to rely on anti-
332 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
aircraft fire from every available battery. As a result only eighteen
American planes were shot down during these hours of attack.
The battleship Musashi was heavily damaged by planes from
Cabot and Intrepid, and had to fall astern to be escorted by the
cruiser Tone. Bombers and torpedo planes from every American car-
rier in the area pounded at the enemy battleship over the next few
hours, and eventually she heeled over and went down at 7:35 P.M.,
taking 112 officers and 984 men with her.
Yamato and Nagato suffered two severe bomb hits, and Haruna was
damaged by a storm of near misses, but none of the hits was severe
enough to eliminate the Japanese vessels from further fighting.
The heavy cruiser Myoko received a torpedo in her stern that dam-
aged two of her shafts, and she had to limp away and head for Brunei.
This was too much, and Admiral Kurita decided to withdraw until
Japanese land-based aircraft could make the situation less hazardous,
but this decision upset the over-all plan since it was no longer possible
for the center and southern forces to meet inside Leyte Gulf by dawn.
Although fortune seemed to be smiling on the American forces, Ad-
miral Halsey felt that the picture kcked something vital; all this action
going on everywhere, but no trace of any enemy carriers. The northern
task force had been under attack by enemy carrier-type planes, but this
fact proved little. They might have been flown from land bases. If
there were any carriers in the enemy fleet, where were they? By 7:50
that night Admiral Halsey informed Admiral Kinkaid that he was
pulling out to proceed north with his three groups to search for the
Japanese carrier force.
This left San Bernardino Strait uncovered, an area where Admiral
Shima's 2nd Striking Force and Admiral Nishimura's Force C planned
to rendezvous. Admiral Kurita trusted that they would be there by
eleven the next morning or shortly after Admiral Halsey hoped to be
engaging a fleet of Japanese carriers. We now know that Halsey went
north, believing many of the exaggerated reports concerning the dam-
age inflicted on Kurita's fleet. He presumed that the main force had
been sunk, or at least driven home. At the same time Admiral Kin-
kaid, burdened with protecting the ships and personnel of the Leyte
invasion, was, until the very last minute, under the impression that
Halsey would stay around Leyte Gulf to handle the Japanese rendez-
vous there.
Admiral Shima, who was steaming down the western side of Luzon
with his 2nd Striking Force, believed that he would have a picnic mop-
LUCK AT LEYTE 333
ping up what was left of the U. S. task force after Kurita had worked
it over. Unfortunately, Kurita had not told of his plight, and instead
Shima found himself hours behind Nishimura, and realized that he
would have to take his slim force through the dangerous waters south-
west of Panay and Negros Islands with little or no air cover.
From this point on everything began to go haywire. Rear Admiral
Jesse B. Oldendorf set out a beautiful trap for Nishimura. First, he sent
thirty PT boats to the southern entrance of Surigao Strait, and then
deployed across the Leyte Gulf end of the strait everything he had avail-
able from submarines to the "ghost" ships that had been resurrected
from the bottom of Pearl Harbor. It was inevitable that Admiral
Nishimura would sail into the cauldron of disaster.
The little PT boats put on an ambush late in the evening of October
24, but Nishimura's gunfire drove them off. A destroyer flotilla, under
Captain Jesse G. Coward, fired thirty torpedoes at the Japanese, and
then escaped under its own smoke. At 3:10 the destroyers McDermut
and Monssen launched twenty more torpedoes and sneaked away. The
Fuso was hit and floundered helplessly, the destroyer Michishio was
badly damaged, and all the rest of the way along Surigao Strait the
American "small boys*' hammered at the force and evaded the return
fire, but Nishimura continued doggedly on. Four torpedoes drilled into
the battleship Yamashiro; these were deep-running "fish" that broke
Yamashiro's back and she sank in fifteen minutes.
Admiral Nishimura still plunged on with the cruiser Mogami and
two destroyers, ordering a continuation of his "attack/ 7 which took
them under the guns of another U. S. destroyer squadron that
donated more torpedoes and sneaked away without being hit in re-
taliation.
Their place was taken by three other destroyers, A. W. Grant, R. P.
Leary, and Newcomb, and in attacking from ahead through broiling
waters and the smoke that billowed in the narrows between Dinagat
Island and Leyte the three "tin cans" found themselves surrounded
by dozens of ships. The blips on their radar screens hopped about like
trapped flies and no one knew where to direct the fire until it was
noticed that heavy cannonading came from vessels shifting from a
northerly to a westerly course. This had to be the enemy and the three
destroyers turned westward to run a parallel course. Once in position,
spreads of torpedoes were fired and the Japanese destroyer Asagumo
hit.
Now the American "tin cans" had to retire from the heavy gunfire
334 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
of the enemy, and had the questionable choice of churning up the
middle of the strait, or turning west and then proceeding along the
Leyte shoreline. If they went up the middle they possibly would come
under the heavy guns of their own battleships or cruisers, so they de-
cided on the lesser of the two evils or so they thought. After a short
dash to the west, they turned northward and came under double salvos
from Japanese and American big guns. The last in the column, A. W.
Grant received a terrible blow.
The explosion created a serious situation and Commander T. A.
Nisewaner ordered all torpedoes fired, to get rid of them, but before
they could be cleared other shells struck the wallowing destroyer.
Seven Japanese 47-inch shells and eleven American six-inch armor-
piercing loads hit her. Fires broke out, explosions roared in all sections
of the little sea greyhound, men were cut down and unmercifully
butchered, but A. W. Grant remained afloat and was finally towed out
of Surigao Strait.
By 3:01 A.M., October 25, Nishimura's battered force still steamed
on, but within half an hour his flagship Yamashiro was hit. The de-
stroyer Yamagamo had been sunk, and two other destroyers were run-
ning in circles with their rudder controls shot away. Nevertheless,
Admiral Nishimura issued his last command: "You are to proceed and
attack all enemy ships!'*
The battleship Fuso, the cruiser Mogami, and the destroyer Shig-
ure, in a pathetic effort to comply, churned on toward Leyte Gulf.
At 4 A.M. the Yamashiro burst into flames, and spewed a wild confu-
sion of pyrotechnics, and then another torpedo caught her magazine.
She seemed to tear apart, and the battleship flying Nishimura's flag
went down.
Ft/so carried a similar ticket. She headed straight into the guns of
America's "ghost fleet." These reprisal vessels, steaming back and
forth across the mouth of the strait, belched concentrated broadsides.
Both Fuso and Mogami stumbled into a hell-hail of shells and the
battleship drifted helplessly and then suddenly burst into an inferno
and finally went to the bottom. Mogami was also burning, but man-
aged to turn away. She was finished off later with the other cripples.
The destroyer Shigure miraculously evaded the torrent of steel, owing
to her speed, and slipped off through the smoke and escaped. The
captain was so relieved at being spared after all he had witnessed,
that he forgot to warn Admiral Shima who had been following Nishi-
mura in. All he reported was: *I am having rudder trouble."
LUCK AT LEYTE 535
Not being advised of anything more serious than steering problems,
Shima plunged on into the strait, took one look, fired a handful of
torpedoes, and turned around. He then sailed his flagship Nachi smack
into the burning hulk of Mogftmi which had come suddenly out of
the battle murk, but luck was with Admiral Shima. He backed off, got
his bow all the way around, put on every pound of steam he had, and
headed for the Mindanao Sea and naval obscurity.
At dawn that October 25 Admiral Ozawa's decoy force was east-
ward of Cape Engano. He was spotted by American planes at 7:12, and
although he had but a handful of aircraft left, he gave it a final try.
But it was a hopeless gesture for with little air opposition, Halsey's
carrier planes could pick and choose their targets. The enemy carrier
Chiyoda was soon hit. The Chitose, another flat-top, was hammered
from above and below and sent up columns of smoke. She wallowed
to a stop and began to list. The light cruiser Tama was neatly tor-
pedoed and soon limped in erratic spurts of speed. The destroyer
Akitsuki blew up from a salvo of air bombs, the light carrier Zuiho
was hit, and Admiral Ozawa's flagship, Zuikaku took a torpedo aft,
which eliminated her steering engine, and she had to be guided by
hand.
A second strike by American carrier planes crippled Chiyoda, and
she slobbered to a halt where she lay a practice target for U. S. surface
vessels. Another strike early that afternoon finished Zuikaku, which
had taken part in the Pearl Harbor attack. She rolled over slowly and
went to the bottom. The carrier Zuiho followed her down at 3:57, but
there were two more fat targets left the Hyuga and Ise, dual-purpose
battleships with sections of flight deck aft. These ships were bombed
savagely, and their decks were ripped out. Torpedoes fanged into their
safety bulges, near misses buckled great sections of hull, and the port
catapult aboard Ise was blown away, but these vessels bore charmed
lives and survived.
When Admiral Ozawa's flagship was going down, he transferred his
flag to the cruiser Oyodo, gathered what cripples were left, and hur-
ried out of the Cape Engano area. He had had a bad time. Like all
decoy groups, some sacrifice has to be made for any success enjoyed.
Ozawa eventually lost four carriers, one of his cruisers, and two of his
eight destroyers, but he had accomplished his mission.
Admiral Halsey had left San Bernardino Strait unguarded, and Ad-
miral Kurita moved like a hawk among the chickens.
336 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
Samar, one of the islands of the Philippine group, is best known
today for the famous Battle of Samar, in which the baby flat-tops, or
escort carriers, won their spurs. Task Group 77.4, under Rear Admiral
Thomas L. Sprague, was carrying out a routine midwatch offshore
while Admiral Oldendorf was engaged in the Surigao Strait debacle.
Sprague's force was divided into three task groups, known at the time
as Taffies Taffy i, Taffy 2, and Taffy 3 for radio and communica-
tions convenience. Among them they had the light carriers Sangamon,
Suwannee, Santee, Petrof Bay, Natona Bay, Manila Bay, Fanshaw
Bay, St. Lo, White Plains, and Kdinin Bay. A special carrier division,
under Rear Admiral W. D. Semple, was made up of the light carriers
Marcus Island, Kadashan Bay, Savo Island, and Ommaney Bay. Rear
Admiral R. A. Ofstie had command of Kitkun Bay and Gambler Bay.
All of this carrier force was screened by more than twenty destroyers
or destroyer escorts.
We now see clearly how Admiral Halsey had been lured out to take
care of Admiral Ozawa's decoy force, and Task Group 774 was left
to cany out routine air searches. No one on the American side had any
idea that Admiral Kurita's "beaten force" would continue on and still
look for a fight. Obviously, some of the earlier success had been exag-
gerated, a point used later by Admiral Halsey when he was under heavy
criticism. But within seven hours after breaking off against Admiral
Bogan's Task Group 38.2, and presumably out of the fight, Kurita had
collected his cripples and steamed on for nearly 135 miles, completely
undetected.
Early that morning he was well within American radar surveillance
long before he was spotted by visual lookouts. On the other hand,
Kurita made little profit from his surprise, for when he first came upon
the U. S. Navy ships he was not able to identify them, and for a time
believed that he had joined Admiral Ozawa's carrier force.
On the American side disbelief, amazement, and consternation
reigned, for the silhouettes were recognized immediately. These enemy
ships were supposed to be -west of the Philippines, and Admiral Halsey
with his fast battleships and attack carriers was somewhere north off
Cape Engano. All that stood between Admiral Kurita and the U. S.
transports, supply ships, the amphibious craft in Leyte Gulf, the Army
headquarters and their supply dumps on the beach were the CVE
baby flat-tops. Some old-timers said: "CVE combustible, vulnerable,
and expendable!" They were built on merchant hulls, carried very little
armor, mounted only five-inch guns to protect themselves, and could
LUCK AT LEYTE ^/
accommodate less than thirty planes. In this particular action they
were intended only for air support of ground operations ashore, anti-
submarine operations, and minor air-defense missions.
Within five minutes the Yamato was lobbing over eighteen-inch
shells while Admiral Sprague endeavored to get every available plane
off the jeep-carrier decks. White Plains was damaged by near misses,
and her starboard engine room went out, electric circuits were broken,
and one fighter plane was lifted off its chocks and hurled across the
flight deck. The enemy then switched to Si. Lo and more near misses
and fragments caused severe damage.
The tin-can carriers tried to make smoke for each other, and for a
few minutes this trick worked. Most of the aircraft were launched
safely. They carried small-sized anti-personnel bombs or depth charges
that were designed for their normal missions. There was no time to
rearm with bombs that would even damage battleships. Admiral
Kinkaid aboard Wasatch in Leyte Gulf realized the worst had hap-
pened when he received the news. He did what he could and asked
for battleship support from wherever it could be sent. In Hawaii, Ad-
miral Nimitz, who was warned of the probable disaster, radioed Ad-
miral Halsey: ALL THE WORLD WANTS TO KNOW WHERE is TASK FORCE
34? The first six words of the message were obviously padding to help
in code security, but unfortunately it was later presumed to be criti-
cism of Admiral Halsey.
Kinkaid's appeal fulminated action in Leyte Gulf and along the
Surigao Strait, but the battleships were a long way off, their crews
were worn and weary, and the ships needed ammunition and fuel. In
the meantime, off Samar, Admiral Sprague was fighting for his life.
The jeep-carriers steamed to the east under Admiral Kinkaid's or-
ders. The enemy had them within 25,000 yards range, an easy distance
for their heavy guns, and the American five-inchers were completely
outdistanced. But heroics were the order of the day. The destroyer
Johnston moved in at thirty knots to launch a spread of torpedoes, and
escaped being damaged until she was making the run back when a
salvo of fourteen-inchers and six-inch shells beat her to fragments.
She limped away at less than sixteen knots, and a heavy weather squall
came up which proved a temporary sanctuary.
At 8 A.M. Admiral Kurita sent some of his faster ships seaward to
head off and flank the CVEs. Admiral Sprague had little choice, lie
ordered another destroyer attack, and Heenrutnn, Hod, and the bat-
tered Johnston answered the call Johnston had no torpedoes left, but
SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
her skipper, Commander Ernest E. Evans, argued that they had some
five-inch ammunition to fire, so these three little vessels went out on a
daylight attack against the heaviest available ships of the Japanese
fleet.
But the speedy destroyers made the most of every bit of weather
squall; they covered each other with black smoke, or ejected chemical
smoke from their fantails. As they raced in, coursing like greyhounds,
they could hear the thunder of fourteen-inchers roaring overhead.
They fired torpedo spreads at a heavy cruiser, slammed five-inch salvos
at the superstructure of a battleship, and stayed there until there was
nothing left to fire.
Commander Amos T. Hathaway, skipper of Heermann, calmly
called Admiral Sprague on the TBS telephone between ships and
reported: "Exercise completed, sir/'
That report turned out to be a naval classic, for the destroyers were
"completed'* too. Hoel had lost her port engine and was being steered
manually. Her decks were scarlet with blood, fire control and power
were off, and what few men were left alive tried their best to save her,
but scalding steam, power failures, and the continued raking fire by
the enemy ended her fight. She was abandoned at 8:40 when she had
a twenty-degree list, and went down fifteen minutes later.
The situation was equally grave aboard Heermann; dozens of men
were killed or wounded, but Commander Hathaway skillfully fish-
tailed his ship away under a storm of shells and escaped. The gallant
Johnston, still bold and impudent, sneaked in to fire her pop-guns, but
she was soon sighted and an avalanche of enemy metal, enough to
capsize her by its sheer weight, sent her to bottom shortly after Hoel
went down.
Undaunted by this, four slower escort destroyers, Raymond, John
C. Butler, Dennis, and Samuel B. Roberts sailed in for their chunk
of glory. Dennis soon had her guns knocked out, but Samuel B. Rob-
erts came out of the smoke of battle and fired a few rounds, and then
went down under the weight of enemy fire; only Raymond and John C.
Butler crawled out of the inferno.
All this heroism and gallantry were not enough, for Admiral Kurita,
sniffing victory, sent his cruisers seaward to intercept the lumbering
flat-tops. Wounded and crippled, they were strung out miles apart,
and all making a desperate effort to get to Leyte Gulf where succor
might be possible. The Fanshaw Bay was hit by six bad blasts from
eight-inch shells, and caught fire. Kalinin Bay was battered with fifteen
LUCK AT LEYTE 339
direct hits. White Plains, although raked from stem to stern, enjoyed a
strange twist of fortune. Her thin-skinned hull was not solid enough
to detonate the enemy armor-piercing projectiles and they bored clean
through without detonating. Gambier Bay, which was lumbering
along in an area unaffected by the smoke screens received a direct hit
on her flight deck, and a near miss alongside, the force of which
halted an engine. Her half speed soon dropped to a mere wallow where
she was caught cold. She took a shell a minute over the next half hour,
and finally went down when a Japanese cruiser, standing off at two
thousand yards, riddled her mercilessly.
Although he had a great naval victory within his grasp, Admiral
Kurita suddenly broke off at 9:25 A.M., and turned his ships to the
north, and ended the surface phase of the Battle of Samar.
The rest of that day and over most of the next, American air and
naval forces hammered at what remained of Admiral Toyoda's fleet.
Enemy land-based planes tried to hold the line, and in sheer despera-
tion the Japanese launched a number of kamikaze planes, one of which
sank the carrier St. Lo, but American air attack later sank the famous
Tone as she tried to sneak back through San Bernardino Strait. U. S.
surface forces intercepted and sank the destroyer Nowaki, and the next
day, October 26, the destroyer Noshiro was sunk. A cruiser, Abukuma
and the destroyer Hayashimo were trapped and eliminated, while the
monstrous Yamato, armed with eighteen-inch guns, was again hit
twice, and had her superstructure blasted to wreckage.
What was left of Admiral Toyoda's fleet crept back to Brunei Bay.
He had lost one large and three light aircraft carriers, three battleships
including one of the two largest in the world, six heavy cruisers, four
light cruisers, and eleven destroyers. Between 7500 and 10,000 Jap-
anese seamen had died. Leyte Gulf was a blow from which the enemy
did not recover.
The United States lost 2803 men, several hundred aircraft, one light
carrier, two escort carriers, and the gallant destroyers that had fought
so well to turn the tide of battle at a critical time.
Smoke was still billowing up from the Leyte Gulf conflict when the
forces that were assigned to the Luzon landings, left Leyte. Con-
cerned about the plans for the recapture of the Philippines, the Navy
admirals gathered for a conference with General MacArthur on Hol-
landia. The Army chief belittled the possibility of Japanese air opposi-
tion over Leyte and the Central Visayans, despite the fact that both
340 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
Army and Navy aviation experts had warned him that it was unlikely
that this opposition could be eliminated by December 5. For good
or evil, nothing would move MacArthur's determination to keep his
original date.
While this conference was in session Japanese kamikaze aircraft
were battering Allied shipping in Leyte Gulf, and when the final de-
tails of the proposed attacks were considered closely, it was apparent
that the original target dates would have to be postponed. MacArthur
finally agreed to set back the Mindoro operation to December 1 5, and
the Lingayen landings to January 9, 1945.
The Divine Wind activity of the suicide planes became more threat-
ening with each day, and Vice-Admiral John S. McCain, who had
relieved Admiral Mitscher as commander of Task Force 38, knew that
he had inherited many problems. The kamikazes were so determined
and deadly during the final strike of the Leyte campaign that all hands
realized that the mop-up would not be a practice milk-run.
The carrier Hancock was set afire on her flight deck when a wing
and part of a disintegrated suicide plane piled up and exploded. The
light carrier Cabot was damaged by the explosion of a near miss. Essex
was also hit, but had only superficial damage.
The kamikazes were not one hundred per cent lethal, but one in
every four found a good target and racked up some damage, and one in
every thirty-three sank a ship. In his report covering the periods of
October 27-30, and November 9 to December 15, 1944, Admiral Hal-
sey stated: "One fact is becoming increasingly evident. The Japanese
air command, profiting by bitter experiences, has at last evolved a
sound defensive plan against carrier attacks. He has co-ordinated and
centralized his command responsibilities, but decentralized and dis-
persed his air forces, taking advantage of dispersal opportunities he
had previously rejected."
Admiral McCain's first countermeasure was to reorganize Task
Force 38 into three, instead of four, task groups, each consisting of
a larger number of carriers, supported by a heavier screen. For exam-
ple, these fast carrier groups were made up as follows :
TG 38.1 TG 38.2 TG 38.3
CV Yorfetoivn CV Lexington CV Essex
CV Wasp CV Hancock CV Ticonderoga
CVL Cowpens CV H met C VL Langley
CVL Monterey CVL Independence CVL San Jacinto
CVL Cabot
LUCK AT LEYTE 341
Battleships: Battleships: Battleships:
Massachusetts New Jersey North Carolina
Alabama Iowa Washington
Wisconsin South Dakota
Cruisers: Cruisers: Cruisers:
San Francisco Pasadena Mobile
Baltimore Astoria Biloxi
New Orleans Vincennes Santa Fe
Miami . Oakland
Cruisers: (antiaircraft) San Juan
San Diego
Eighteen destroyers Twenty destroyers Eighteen destroyers
The Franklin, Intrepid, and Belleau Wood were undergoing major
repairs, and the "Big E" and Independence were being refitted for
nighttime operations, but a number of new Ess^x-class carriers were
due to join the fleet shortly.
Admiral McCain, who was reputed to be an expert in the handling
of aircraft carriers, was assisted ably by Rear Admiral Wilder D. Baker
and Captain James Thach, members of his staff. These three put their
heads together to formulate important tactical innovations to foil the
kamikaze attacks. First, radar picket destroyers equipped with the lat-
est in electronic gear and aircraft homing devices were to be stationed
sixty miles out on each side of the target-bearing line. Their duty was
to give advance warning of enemy aircraft approaching the carrier
groups. Planes returning from previous strikes would then make a full
turn over the picket ships to "de-louse" themselves of any kamikaze
planes that might have joined the returning formation of U. S. Navy
aircraft. This separation was to be effected by aerial specialists flying
a combat-air patrol over the destroyers. This also helped in keeping
the radar screens clear of friendly aircraft over the line of the most
probable enemy approach. For instance, if any aircraft adopted any
but the standard approach, they were identified quickly for what they
were.
Another important consideration was a change in the complement
of aircraft to be carried by the big flat-tops. Previously each Essex-
class usually carried thirty-eight fighters, thirty-six dive bombers, and
eighteen torpedo bombers. Under this new plan they would have
seventy-three fighters, fifteen dive bombers, and fifteen torpedo bomb-
ers. The idea here was that McCain had had his Hellcat and Corsair
fighters turned into all-purpose planes; now they could carry up to
two thousand pounds of bombs and fly a bombing mission unes-
342 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
corted, they could intercept enemy strikes, or fly combat-air patrols.
All this added materially to the carriers' effectiveness. With this re-
vamped force, Task Force 38 was able to throw a blanket-cover of
fighters over the Luzon airfields day and night, which kept the enemy
aircraft pinned down and halted their attacks on the Mindoro con-
voys. During the short intervals when fighter formations were being
relieved, the carrier bombers would sneak in and cut up the airstrips
and grounded planes. In these operations 270 Japanese planes were
destroyed, 208 of which were wiped out while in their dispersal bays.
Many other enemy planes were victims of two smart interceptions,
the first taking place on December 14 when eight fighters from Tzcon-
deroga that were making their last sweep of the day came upon
twenty-seven Nakajima fighters and Zeros off the northeast coast of
Luzon. In this scramble the U. S. Navy pilots claimed to have sent
down twenty enemy planes, and not one American plane brought back
a bullet hole. Again on December 16 during the first patrol of the day
off the decks of the Lexington and Hancock eleven Japanese aircraft
were spotted headed for the task force, but within a very short time
every one was down in the sea.
From this it was apparent, as Admiral McCain stated later, that
"the offensive air strength of tie fast carriers had to be spread to cover
the enemy in his large island systems and land-mass dispersions/' At
the same time the force found it necessary to concentrate its defense
to a degree never considered necessary before. Previous to the innova-
tion of suicide attacks, destruction of 80 or 90 per cent was consid-
ered an eminent success. Now 100 per cent destruction of the attackers
was necessary to maintain the safety of the task force. These new offen-
sive and defensive requirements, always in conflict, made immediate
and sound compromise the continual task of the force commander.
The success of this new planning renewed Admiral Halsey's hope
to make his long-desired raid into the South China Sea where what
vessels were left, or had escaped from the Leyte Gulf battle, had
sought shelter. But both Admirals King and Nimitz thought that our
land-based aviation at Leyte was not as yet strong enough to risk mov-
ing the carriers from positions where they could cover Luzon, and so
withheld their consent. It turned out to be an unfortunate decision,
for before Task Force 38 could make any definite move it encountered
the famous typhoon, the worst storm of the year in the Philippine
Sea.
Possibly nothing equal to this disaster has ever been suffered by any
LUCK AT LEYTE 343
modern navy. Tremendous losses in all classes of vessels were en-
dured. The U.S.S. Spence and U.S.S. Monaghan, noted destroyers,
were lost. Other destroyers were severely damaged and were lucky to
ride out this mad typhoon. Stacks were torn out, complete bridge
structures were hacked off, and many foremasts were knocked down.
High winds cut down radio and radar antennas so that much of the
inter-communication was lost, making it impossible to maintain sta-
tion. Damaged ships of the Third Fleet were scattered all over the
ocean.
The carriers had to be deployed for safety, and by the afternoon of
December 18, Task Force 38 and its attendant fueling groups were dis-
persed over an area estimated at fifty to sixty miles. Every ship was
laboring heavily, few were in visual contact, and many could only lie
dead, battered in the violent troughs of the sea, as their aircraft crashed
about, or burned themselves to hulks as the result of the heavy
weather. No carrier man had ever seen the like before. The rain was
so heavy that visibility was almost nil. The light carriers stood up on
their fantails or plunged their bows into the wild waters. To get about
the decks men had to crawl along safety lines. One hundred degree arcs
were standard performances. Planes that had been lashed to the decks,
broke their bonds, yanked out the hold-down lugs, and slithered up
and down. They collided with others and burst into flames. The
Monterey caught fire and lost steerageway a few minutes later. The
blaze was finally doused, but her skipper, Captain Stuart H. Ingersoll,
let her lie dead until temporary repairs could be made. Monterey lost
eighteen planes before the nightmare was over; some were burned on
the hangar deck, and others blown overboard. Sixteen aircraft were
seriously damaged, three of her 20-mm. guns were lost and the whole
ventilation system was disrupted.
The carrier Cowpens had seven planes blown overboard. Langley
pitched and rolled through seventy degrees which injured a number
of crewmen and broke up valuable equipment. A fighter airplane went
adrift on the San Jacinto and before it could be pinned down again it
had wrecked seven other aircraft. Fires broke out on the flight deck
of the Cape Esperance but were doused quickly. The Kwajalein had
a maximum roll of thirty-nine degrees, her port catwalks scooped up
water, and three of her aircraft had to be jettisoned from the flight
deck. Three other escort carriers lost a total of eighty-six aircraft, but
other than that escaped with little material damage to themselves.
Total aircraft losses in the Fleet, including those that were blown
344 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
overboard or jettisoned, amounted to 146, but the carriers' crews never
flinched or failed. They disregarded their own safety to bring these
hurtling, exploding, burning aircraft under control, but in mastering
this typhoon many men lost life or limb.
As soon as the Third Fleet had recovered from the battle with Na-
ture, Task Force 38 gave support to the Lingayen Gulf landings, but
after recent experiences the aircraft complement of some carriers was
revised. Two squadrons of Marine Corps Corsairs were established
aboard the Essex, the first use of the Marine Corps air arm by TF 38.
Essex and Wasp each carried ninety-one fighter planes and fifteen
Avenger torpedo bombers. Then, in order to improve and extend night
operations, a special night-flying carrier-task group, consisting of In-
dependence and the newly converted Enterprise with a six-ship de-
stroyer screen, was formed early in 1945.
When Admirals Halsey and McCain sortied from Ulithi on Decem-
ber 30 with the Third Fleet and Task Force 38, they were command-
ing the most powerful naval striking force the world had ever known.
Both admirals were determined that 1945 would see the final wrap-up
of Japanese sea power. They were to have their wish, but the imme-
diate road ahead was rough. Halsey had hoped for air strikes on
Formosa over January 3 and 4, a strike against Luzon on the sixth, and
others against Luzon and Formosa on the seventh. After fueling on
January 8 he would strike Formosa again the next day. If all these
attacks brought the anticipated results, Halsey felt that he could move
into the South China Sea.
Through the week of January 3-9 Task Force 38 flew a total of
3030 target or combat sorties, dropped 9110 bombs, and lost 86 air-
craft. These operations, combined with the all-out efforts of the Army
Air Force, must have saved hundreds of American lives in the Linga-
yen landings. Admiral Halsey was then permitted to steam out into
the South China Sea in the expectation of rounding up the pennants
of the Imperial Japanese Navy.
At the same time it was hoped that the first available squadrons
of the new Super-Fortresses would be able to take over the task of
keeping Formosa under control. Thus, the 8-295 that were land-based
in India and China played an important role in the Philippine cam-
paign. The 2oth Bomber Command, which had been hitting industrial
targets in Japan since June 1944, also co-operated with the Third
Fleet in the strike at Formosa, but these operations were restricted
LUCK AT LEYTE j^
by the fact that fuel had to be moved to the advanced bases by tanker
aircraft that flew over the Hump through variable weather. Mainte-
nance and repair facilities were less than adequate, and vast prepara-
tions had to be made for each major strike that was launched from
the Chinese bases. Because of all these problems it was not possible
to provide frequent attacks.
General Kenney's Far Eastern Air Force, having moved much of its
equipment to Mindoro and Leyte in the Philippines, and Morotai in
the Dutch East Indies, was also co-operating. Thus, when Admiral
Halsey decided to risk a dash into the South China Sea, all available
air and surface forces were mobilized to defend the Mindoro-Linga-
yen line.
While the combined operations occupied the enemy with raids on
Formosa and other strategic points, the Third Fleet moved through
Luzon Strait and into the South China Sea, and the fast-fueling group
steered a southerly course through Balintang Channel without being
spotted by the enemy. This force cleaned up dozens of enemy convoys
and snooper aircraft, while fighter and bomber sweeps from the carrier
decks mauled airfields and dispersed airplanes. The destroyer Haia-
kaze and a high-speed transport were sunk off Takao, Formosa"? Other
strikes off Mako in the Pescadores finished an ancient destroyer,
known as the Tsuga, and a Japanese weather station and radio instal-
lations on Pratas Islanda reef were bombed by eight night-flying
planes off Enterprise.
By January 15 the carriers moved to a striking position east of Hong
Kong, hoping to complete the pattern of devastation of enemy ship-
ping off the China coast, but bad weather was a great handicap, and
our torpedo planes took beatings in the low-level attacks from intense
antiaircraft fire. At the same time many of their torpedoes, with depth
settings that were adjusted too deep, buried themselves in the harbor
mud instead of in the bowels of ships.
Filters swept enemy airfields along the coast of China from the
Luicfiow Peninsula north to Swatow, but the results were not too re-
warding. Admiral Halsey claimed to have sent five ships, aggregating
13,000 tons, to the bottom, but postwar investigation shows that only
one freighter and one io,ooo-ton tanker were sunk. The first day's bag
of planes was thirteen, but the Third Fleet operational losses were
twenty-seven planes, and combat losses twenty-two more, mostly
from antiaircraft fire.
Japanese reports now said that TF 38 was bottled up in the South
346 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
China Sea. To some extent this claim was valid, and the situation
turned out to be Admiral Halsey's main problem. What with threat-
ening weather, refueling contacts, and the fact that the Japs still held
Mindanao, he was indeed fortunate to move back to safety. During
the eleven days of his intrusion, however, the Third Fleet had logged
3800 miles without serious mishap. It was well conceived and brilliantly
executed, and it was unfortunate that more important targets the
capital ships of the Japanese Navy were not within reach.
It will be remembered that the proposed major operations for 1945
were many, complex, and all crowded into a very short space of time.
Lingayen Gulf was booked for January 9, Iwo Jima for February 19,
Okinawa was down for April i, and Kyushu November i. It will be
seen that in January, Admiral Nimitz had two major operations to
carry out, and at the same time support General MacArthur and the
Seventh Fleet until the Philippines were properly secured. Each com-
mander considered his job the most important, and the distribution
of naval forces between the Philippines campaign and those still on
the docket was often the occasion for lively discussion, and the art of
compromise had to be practiced constantly.
While General MacArthur and Admirals Nimitz and Kinkaid con-
tinued to press for their particular requirements, Admiral Halsey
hewed to the line of his original plan to lead the Third Fleet through
a series of actions designed to support the Philippines campaign. He
earned some measure of success, but Task Force 38 was left hanging
on the nautical ropes.
On January 21, after steaming through Balintang Channel to the
north of Luzon, the carrier force changed course and headed for For-
mosa and a launching position about one hundred twenty miles east
of Takao on southern Formosa. Early that morning all three task
groups were launching fighter sweeps against Formosan airfields. Later
fighter strikes were directed against enemy shipping when the weather
was the best encountered that month. The airfields at Takao, Tainan,
and Kirun were well worked over, and in a total of 1164 sorties flown
104 aircraft were destroyed on the ground. A postwar check disclosed
that ten ships, including five tankers, were sunk, and the destroyer
Harukaze damaged.
Although this air-strike effort brought some success, the surface
Task Force was still fighting a grim war. The kamikaze furies came to
life again, and American ships took a savage, damaging attack for the
LUCK AT LEYTE 347
first time since November. The Japanese were far from defeat the
Divine Wind had once more turned into a hellish gale.
At noon of January 21 the carrier force lay about one hundred miles
east of the southern spur of Formosa. Rear Admiral Arthur W. Rad-
ford's Group i was twelve miles south of Rear Admiral Gerald F.
Bogan's Group 2. Group 3, under Rear Admiral Frederick C. Sherman,
was farther north, and caught the hate first. Picture, if you can, four
destroyers being fueled from the battleships North Carolina and
Washington, while the vessels steamed at sixteen knots. Just then four
kamikazes, with three escort fighters, came roaring in. Six minutes
later a lookout aboard LangLey spotted a single-engined aircraft com-
ing in down sun for an astern attack. The ack-ack boys took her on,
but she managed to eject two small bombs that hit the forward sec-
tion of the carrier's flight deck, opened up a gash ten feet by fourteen
feet, and started small fires that were doused quickly.
The refueling was broken up, of course, and everyone moved out to
diminish the target area. It took Langley three hours to effect tem-
porary repairs before she could recover her aircraft. Below decks three
men were dead and eleven wounded.
Two minutes after Langley was attacked a kamikaze came but of
the sun and crashed the Ticonderoga. The hulk, carrying a 55opound
bomb, went through the flight deck and exploded between the hangar
and gallery decks. A raging fire swept up among the closely spotted
aircraft, which were gassed-up and armed for the next strike, and then
spread to the second and third decks. For a time the situation ap-
peared hopeless, but Rear Admiral Sherman ordered his group to take
up positions of support while the crew of Ticonderoga carried out
battle-damage and fire-control measures.
At the height of this anxious period seven kamikazes, escorted by
six fighters, headed for Group i. Apparently they had come out of the
Babuyan Islands to the south. Eight Navy fighters from Cowpens
were alerted and vectored to intercept, and so well was this fighter
control carried out that a majority of the enemy formation was de-
stroyed and the rest dispersed.
At 12:50 a second raid of eight kamikazes, with escorts out of For-
mosa, headed for Group 3. Some were intercepted immediately, six
were shot down, but two escaped and attempted to dive on the
harassed Ticonderoga. Despite their trials aboard the carrier the anti-
aircraft gunners shot one out of the sky, but the other fulfilled his
mission and crashed into the carrier's island structure. Once again
348 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
flaming gasoline enveloped the vessel and many aircraft that were
spotted about the deck were damaged, but quick and efficient work
had all fires under control by 2:15, and steps were being taken to cor-
rect a nine-degree list that had developed. At six o'clock that night
the list had been reduced to three degrees, all compartments had been
cleared of smoke, and the gunnery department was making a valiant
effort to restore her fighting gear. Again, a severe price had been paid.
Casualties included 143 killed or missing, and 202 wounded, including
her skipper, Captain Dixie Kiefer who, although seriously hurt, recov-
ered later.
The destroyer Mad dox, in company with Brush, was on picket duty
thirty-five miles closer to Formosa. It was their job to report planes
flying toward the carrier force, recover dunked pilots, and carry out
combat-air-patrol control. In spite of keen vigilance they were tricked
by a kamikaze that had joined a returning flight of American planes.
He should have been "de-loused," but at the right moment he peeled
off and crashed the Maddox amidships at i : 10 P .M., or less than twenty
minutes after Ticonderoga had been attacked the second time. His
bomb exploded, but the result was comparatively minor and the fire
was soon brought under control. Casualties were seven killed and
thirty-three wounded.
When things start to go bad, the dice can be heavily loaded. At
1:28 a torpedo plane returning to the Hancock, Vice-Admiral Mc-
Cain's flagship, made a successful landing, but just as it was being
taxied up the deck a joopound bomb tumbled from its bomb bay
and exploded. This caused heavy fires on the flight, hangar, and gal-
lery decks. The one on the hangar deck was quenched within fifteen
minutes and by 2:05 all fires were under control and emergency re-
pairs under way. Again, the casualties were heavy. Fifty-two men were
killed and 105 were wounded.
A special task group composed of two light cruisers and three de-
stroyers, including the Maddox, was assigned to escort the Ticonder-
oga back to Ulithi. The rest of TF 38 headed north for more strikes
against the Ryukyus. En route seven night-flying torpedo bombers
were sent against Kirun Harbor. They sank a io,ooo-ton tanker, but
three of the aircraft failed to return.
Okinawa in the Ryukyus became a primary objective when on Jan-
uary 22 a photographic reconnaissance in anticipation of the campaign
was carried out. A mixed bag of equipment was sent out, since it was
desired also to destroy shipping and bomb airfields. How such a be-
LUCK AT LEYTE 349
wildering array of objectives was to be obtained is a mystery, but pre-
dawn searches were started about 6:15 A.M. A total of 682 sorties were
flown, of which forty-seven were photoreconnaissance. Fortunately,
there was no enemy air opposition, and twenty-eight planes were de-
stroyed on the ground. Admiral Halsey claimed that a very complete
job had been done, but apparently there was a great deal left for the
Fifth Fleet to work over before the landing was attempted in April.
TF 38 then turned south and returned to Ulithi for a well-earned
rest. The work of the Third Fleet in the support of the Luzon cam-
paign is worth consideration. More than 300,000 tons of shipping was
sunk or destroyed and the number of enemy aircraft destroyed was
615. The cost to the United States Navy was 201 carrier aircraft, 167
pilots and air crewmen, and 205 seamen killed in kamikaze crashes.
According to Admiral Halsey, "the outer defenses of the Japanese
Empire no longer include Burma and the Netherlands East Indies;
those countries are now isolated outposts, and their products are no
longer available to the Japanese war machine except with staggering
and prohibitive losses en route."
On January 26, 1945, Admiral Halsey turned over the command of
the Third Fleet to Admiral Raymond A. Spruance.
Admiral Halsey's foray in the South China Sea brought an end to all
major carrier operations in the Pacific war. Luzon was liberated and
General MacArthur began his long trek toward Manila, and on March
11, as General of the Army, he returned to Corregidor from where
he had been driven on March 12, 1942. Now the war went amphibious
and the dread island-hopping was next on the calendar. Palawan and
Zamboanga were secured after heavy fighting. The Southern Visayas,
Panay, Negros, Cebu, and Bohol were taken after much sweat and
bloodshed. Mindanao and the Davao Gulf demanded heroic measures
and the co-operation of the PT boats. But the bloody attacks and
advances went on until an Army Air Force 6-29, named Enola Gay,
spewed an atomic bomb that finally set up the complete capitulation
of the enemy.
This then is the history of the aircraft carrier and its performance
in its first major campaign. In previous pages we have seen that the
flat-top played a very important role in the Pacific operations, and in
those waters completely overshadowed the battleship as the prime
weapon of the Navy.
In the European conflict, British carriers had no opposite numbers
350 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
and were limited in their activity, especially after the Mediterranean
became the vital area of combat and strategy. It should be explained,
however, that a number of British carriers had an active part in the
Japanese war, once they could be released from their home waters.
For instance, early in 1945 part of the British Fleet was based at Ceylon
and Sydney, and a token force of four fleet aircraft carriers, Illustrious,
Indomitable, Victorious, and a new 3o,ooo-ton Indefatigable was in
the Pacific.
These carriers came into prominence at the time with a program
of attacks, one of which aimed at Palembang, Sumatra, proved to be
most important. This was the site of the principal Japanese oil refinery
from which more than three quarters of the aviation fuel for the South-
west Pacific was drawn by the enemy.
For some time American officials had planned to wipe out this plant
with high-level precision bombing, much on the same scale as the
U. S. air attacks on ball-bearing plants in Germany, but they had en-
countered the problems of weather. The refinery site was almost con-
tinuously obscured by low mist and tropical cloud and the chances
of a successful high-level raid were very slim.
The British Naval Air Arm was given the opportunity of staging a
surprise attack with the stipulation that it be completed in a very
short interval, since the task was of primary importance to coming
operations.
Aboard Indefatigable was a squadron of Fairey Firefly two-seater
reconnaissance fighters. These planes are not to be confused with the
earlier Firefly biplane. This aircraft could be armed with rocket
projectiles, a weapon that the British had been using with rare skill
and success for many months. In this case, however, this Firefly squad-
ron had left British waters with practically no experience with these
missiles, but by the time Indefatigable had reached the Japanese area
sufficient practice had been made to risk this important attack. The
main British force was led by Major S. B. G, Cheesman, a Royal
Marines pilot of great valor and distinction.
The squadron took off in vile weather, made a flight of more than
two hundred miles through low cloud and misty conditions. When
they arrived over the target, the weather had cleared and Major Chees-
man and his neophytes had a picnic. They went in for the attack and
wisely concentrated on one particular section that housed important
refinery equipment. Their salvos of rockets worked wonders, and
LUCK AT LEYTE 351
eventually this site was destroyed completely by resulting explosions
and fire.
The success was almost immeasurable and the plant was out of
commission until some time after the war. Japanese aviation squadrons
were grounded because of this fuel shortage, and the Palembang
complex exploit stood out as one of the most important British actions
in the Pacific war.
At the same time other attacks, staged at regular intervals, extended
from the Andaman Islands in the Bay of Bengal to Tokyo Bay. These
were made by Avenger and Barracuda dive bombers off carriers in the
Indian Ocean area, and by Fireflies, Corsairs, and Seafires a naval
version of the Spitfire in the Pacific. On another occasion a task al-
lotted to four British fleet carriers attached to the U. S. Navy was, in
broad terms, to protect the left flank of the American advance on to
Japan. This meant action in the Sakishima Islands' area off Formosa
where the Japanese launched many kamikaze suicide bombers. Sev-
eral British carriers were hit in these attacks, but owing to their heavily
armored decks, damage was superficial. None of their carriers was out
of action for more than two hours, and none had to withdraw from
battle.
So far as is known, the U. S. Navy has not as yet adopted a truly
armored carrier deck.
CHAPTER XI
THE MODERN CARRIER
THE READER will by now have begun to wonder about the future of
the aircraft carrier. Unquestionably, it rendered a major service in the
Pacific campaign against a foe who started with a series of unbeliev-
able victories and then failed to furnish reserves in men and materials
to consolidate his gains. It performed with great profit for the British,
but in Europe there were no enemy carriers to counter it. The carrier
was simply a mobile airfield for Great Britain and was employed ac-
cordingly. The police action in Korea afforded little opportunity to
use the carrier in an important role; or any other modern weapon, for
that matter. Only napalm, delivered by light bombers, paid its way.
Was the 1939-45 campaign the aircraft carrier's greatest period of
triumph? Will it continue to hold its place as the Queen of the Seas?
Will the thermonuclear weapon, which conceivably might decimate a
whole task force, prove its undoing? Will it be replaced by a new type
of nuclear submarine that can deliver atomic warheads, or even launch
military aircraft?
It has been proved that had not the flat-top been developed, the
airplane would have had a very limited function in World War II
naval operations. It would have contributed only a negligible assist
over the vast ocean areas that lie thousands of miles from land bases,
and had the navies involved relied on the float planes catapulted from
battleship or cruiser decks, their range and missions would have been
of secondary importance only.
Because of these queries it may be of interest to review briefly what
our present-day carrier forces have to offer, and what contribution they
are likely to make in the future. Where will the carrier fit in the
nuclear, thermonuclear, push-button conflicts we have been told lie in
the future?
THE MODERN CARRIER 353
The modern aircraft carrier is one of the most complex devices
created by man for the defense of his homeland. Its present-day prog-
ress and ftiture employment may prove to be as important as any gains
we may make in the science of nuclear warfare. Whether this type of
warship will furnish the all-important deterrent in any future inter-
national strife, or whether the nuclear submarine, or the long-range
ballistic missile have signed the death warrant of the carrier, are ques-
tions that face and puzzle our Joint Chiefs of Staff.
Our potential enemy has no aircraft carriers, and from all evidence
at hand, has no intention of matching the United States Navy or the
British Royal Navy in this very technical field. Whatever his status in
the nuclear weapons armory, in the development of intercontinental
strategy, or the production and training of fighting manpower, he has
small hope of ever reaching a parity in the science of aircraft-carrier
operations. Nevertheless, we should be warned by experience never
to accept the military standards of today as the rules and techniques
of tomorrow. In order to reach reliable conclusions, we should know
how far the aircraft carrier has progressed since the Korean conflict
when it was used chiefly in seaborne tactical aviation.
As has been shown, the carrier started out as a long-range weapon
to protect the main surface fleet, but that concept was discarded after
the Battle of the Marianas. Flight-deck ships of today make up the
force of the front line, whether on attack or defense, for with their
ability to launch long-range, heavy-attack planes, the carrier force can
deliver practically any impact of offense from a rack of fragmentation
bombs to a nuclear warhead. It can release conventional bombs that
are capable of destroying enemy strong points, centers of communi-
cation, or vital transportation facilities. Its aircraft can deliver special
projectiles for the disruption of enemy merchant shipping; its fighters
can pour heavy machine-gun fire in support of friendly ground forces.
If a global war threatens, the carrier can transmit full-power nuclear
or thermonuclear weapons to any theater. In many cases, the carrier
and its air group should be able to replace or augment the forces of
the Army or Air Force. As of this writing, it cannot furnish much man-
power for amphibious operations, except in cases where light carriers
have been modified for helicopter-troop operations, but it can put up
protective air cover to assure their success.
Possibly no modem weapon has reached the carrier's pinnacle of
combined defense and offense. There is stowage, handling, and main-
tenance facilities for the Sidewinder, Sparrow III, and the Bullpup
354 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
guided missiles. This mechanical support system is divided into two
divisions conventional and special weapons. The carrier has stowage
for over 1800 tons of conventional ammunition that is tucked away
in 175,000 cubic feet of magazine space. This includes bombs weigh-
ing from 250-pound (general purpose) to 2Ooo-pound, low-drag mis-
siles designed for mass pyrotechnics, 20-mm. ammunition, guided
missiles, and rockets. This great store of ammunition takes up 84
magazines, and 24 electric hoists are available to carry this explosive
tonnage from the magazines to the hangar and flight decks.
The modern carrier is a most amazing, all-inclusive weapon. It can
attack practically any military target, and at the same time defend it-
self. In theory it is not shackled to any land or sea area exce/tf when
launching or taking on its aircraft. It is highly mobile, flexible in
action, and free to select its battlefield if an enemy puts it on the
defensive. As an attacking force, today's carrier can take on any major
concentration or critical center, regardless of the distances involved.
Its air weapons are co-operative, and give mutual support. Long-range
targets can be attacked, and the aircraft involved are assured of extra
range by refueling in the air from companion planes. Enemy shoreline
bases or naval establishments can be attacked from one area, and the
attacking planes can return by another route to avoid interception,
and be assured of finding their carrier in any predetermined position.
This phase of action is a definite feature of modern carrier work.
All these factors are important, but the inherent weaknesses of this
weapon cannot be ignored; weaknesses that have been noted in previ-
ous chapters. Most Navy officials are confident that the aircraft carrier
is capable of defending itself, and they point out that it has a gunnery
department, built around a five-inch weapon, and a fully controlled
fire system beneath protective turret accommodation. These weapons
can fire twenty-five rounds a minute through an accurate chart of de-
fense. The fighter planes should provide an immediate pattern of
defense in meeting, engaging, and destroying attackers before they
can reach a position from where tftey can launch their main at-
tack, whether by torpedoes, dive bombs, or high-altitude saturation
bombing.
But does the aircraft carrier actually retain this deterrent? Will it
stand up in any future war, brush-fire or global? Is it worth the astro-
nomical s nr -pent in its building and upkeep? Can we continue to
recruit the legions of skilled manpower that are required to keep it
THE MODERN CARRIER 355
at sea? Is it, as many sound minds in the Navy Department believe,
the ultimate weapon?
One researching group in the Navy assumes that a nuclear stalemate
will continue to exist, and points out that our nuclear stockpile can
wipe out any enemy several times, but by the same token the United
States is endangered by the nuclear capability of its most likely ad-
versary. Each side has fears and qualms; each knows the other is
capable of massive retaliation. Any sane consideration of this shows
the need for residual power in the event of enemy attack. This leftover
and intact power can be built up by the Navy to a very high degree,
and could spell the difference in our retaliation and survival. Better
still, it could be the prime factor in deterring the enemy from making
his attack.
Carrier forces and Polaris (nuclear) submarines are the principal
means of maintaining this leftover and intact power. The range of
their weapons, the enemy's difficulties in locating them, and their mo-
bility through the oceans give them special advantages. Mobile land-
based weapons can, and perhaps will, be difficult for the enemy to
locate, but meanwhile the Navy is determined to keep itself in the
van of the shifting nuclear picture until it is made abundantly clear
what its weapons can contribute, and what can be achieved with mo-
bile land-based weapons.
From an engineering standpoint today's carrier is unbelievably mas-
sive. The main propulsion plant non-nuclear occupies an area 280
feet long and 90 feet wide, and is located in the mid section of the
hull. Power for the main propulsion is generated in four spaces, each
containing two boilers, two turbines and their reduction gears, in ad-
dition to miscellaneous auxiliary equipment. Each main propulsion
space drives a shaft to a twenty-two-foot propeller. The boilers gen-
erate steam at 1200 psi pounds per square inch and at 1000
Fahrenheit to supply energy to the turbines. Each boiler is capable
of producing 300,000 pounds of steam per hour. The turbines in turn
develop a total of 280,000 hp under full power.
The water used in these boilers and for the various domestic uses
is distilled from sea water in four evaporators, each capable of produc-
ing 50,000 gallons per day. Boiler feed-water storage capacity is 180,-
ooo gallons, while potable-water storage capacity reaches 315,000
gallons.
Considerable fuel is required to produce this power, and 2,650,000
356 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
gallons of heavy oil is usually carried. This oil is a thick low-grade
product that must be heated to enable the pumps to deliver it to the
fire nozzles. The electric power necessary in this mechanical complex
is generated by eight isoo-kilowatt turbine-driven generators. Two
25<>kilowatt, 40o-cycle motor-generator sets, and two 6oo-kilowatt,
4oocycle turbine-driven generators supply power for general purposes.
An emergency service is furnished by three looo-kilowatt diesel-driven
generators.
These factors and statistics are interesting and important, but the
carrier's prime mission is the launching and recovery of her aircraft,
the weapons that deliver her war impact. In a 6o,ooo-8o,ooo-ton car-
rier of the U. S. Navy, aircraft are launched faster than from any other
type carrier in any other navy. Her four catapults are powered by
steam from the ship's boilers, and the refinements in the operating
mechanisms enable the flight-deck officer to launch four planes every
thirty-eight seconds. In the rest of the sequence the hydraulic arresters
will stop 70,000 pounds of jet aircraft within 150 feet after it touches
down at speeds better than one hundred miles an hour.
The formula for launching and recovering aircraft, whether a drill,
general operations, or wartime combat offers a fascinating experience.
Both aircraft crews and pilots are alerted by a bugle call known as
"Flight Quarters" which puts a thousand men to work. Deck hands
rush to their stations, the air crews charge out of the Ready rooms,
and the Primary-Flight officer, known as Pri-Fly, gives the order: "Re-
spot the deck!" Blue-shirted plane handlers move like shuttles rear-
ranging the planes for a quick launching operation. Three elevators
groan and rattle as they bring required aircraft from the hangar to the
flight deck. The first aircraft off are two helicopters, known as Angels,
which hover or fly nearby over the starboard quarter to set up rescue
operations in case any plane is forced into the water.
Red-shirted crewmen finish topping off the tanks and secure the
tip-tanks while their G-suited pilots or air crews make themselves
secure and comfortable, assisted by the plane captains who help adjust
belts and shoulder straps.
The flight plan, set up by the Air Operations schedule and previ-
ously sent to the squadrons for briefing, is fully understood, and all
pilots have condensed copies in metal frames strapped to their thighs
for convenience. This data includes code names for the carrier, the
operation, and the squadron. It gives required radio frequencies, bear-
ings, and distances to the nearest land bases. It also has clear spaces
THE MODERN CARRIER 357
for filling in information as it is compiled, which is used later in the
pilot's official report of his whole operation. Prior to the launch Air
Operations has sent all weather and navigation information to the
Ready rooms. Thirty minutes before the launch, "Man Your Planes"
is sounded and pilots and aircrews are rushed to the flight deck by
means of a special escalator; to climb all the ladders and companion-
ways necessary to make this journey, would be exhausting with the
weight of clothing and equipment.
Pri-Fly next gives the command: "Stand Clear of all Props, all In-
takes and Exhaust . . . Start Engines!" Propellers flash or jet engines
scream and whine. The propeller-driven aircraft are started fifteen
minutes before take-off, the jets five minutes kter.
The officer of the deck orders the ship brought into the wind for
the first launch. The planes taxi forward and are turned over to the
yellow-shirted plane director who stands well clear of the jet blasts
and in a position where he can be seen by the pilot. Before arriving
at the catapult rigging position, the director gives the "Stop" signal,
and the hold-back unit is rigged or attached. Next, the heavy cable
bridle is hooked in and tension is checked by the director who points
at the deck at a 45 angle. He requests partial power and then turns
the tune-up and control over to the catapult officer who wears a green
shirt.
The air officer lowers the white launch flag from the Pri-Fly bridge
while the catapult officer drops to one knee and thrusts out his arm.
When everything is ready, the catapult gear stiff, the pilot alert, the
take-off clear, the catapult officer points a forefinger at the deck and
somewhere below at the catapult console, a button is pushed and the
plane screams away for its take-off.
The activity, timing, and training of these deck crews are an out-
standing feature of carrier operations. While the piloting and airman-
ship witnessed are almost unbelievable, and the skill necessary to fly
planes on and off these decks is something only a few will ever see or
appreciate, it is the work of the deck crews who prepare the planes for
catapult or fly-off take-offs, and recovery, that first strikes the lands-
man.
A plane will move out of a spotted space under the guidance of a
deck worker. It will roll into position over the catapult shuttle, and
almost instantly it is set, the heavy bridle which weighs 190 pounds,
is hooked in not only to the aircraft, but to the recovery lines that
prevent the cable from being hurled into the sea. All these hookups
358 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
must be made with clocklike precision, and every adjustment must be
perfect or the take-off may end in tragedy. The signals from the men
huddling under the plane must be sharp and clear to the catapult
officer. All this is carried out while the men scurry, lie on their bellies,
or stand crouched under the nose of the plane as the propeller or jet
engines scream and a plume of murky, excess steam drifts through this
Dante-like tableau. If one item of the sequence is incorrect, the
take-off will fail; it may switch the aircraft over the side, it may spin
it around and tear it to shards, or it may snap the plane toward the
lip of the deck and then refuse to release it. Again tragedy will result,
for, still shackled to some portion of the catapult gear, the plane will
have its underbody ripped out and the wreckage and all it contains
tossed under the knifelike prow of the carrier or sucked into the ship's
whirling screws.
A dozen important signals must be made, received, and understood.
Only keen teamwork contributes the daily meticulous accuracy, and it
is noticeable that in practically all cases there is perfect co-ordination,
sincerity of effort, and even affection between the air crews and the
plane handlers. In fact, after a long cruise and many exercises, pilots
tell me that the co-operation is refined to what almost amounts to a
transference of thought. In this case, many of the signals can be
dispensed with, and all operations are carried out with simple facial
expressions or lip reading. But only after many months of continual
practice can this spirit be risked.
Once a plane or squadron is in the air, control is passed from Air
Operations to the Combat Information Center (CIC). From here in
a darkened vault below decks, voice circuits in key positions through-
out the ship keep everyone advised of the progress of the launch. The
air controller in CIC follows the planes or plane on his radar during
the full cycle of eighty to ninety minutes until the return to the carrier.
Once they leave CIC control they are turned back to Pri-Fly or to
the Carrier Controlled Approach officer for landing instructions.
A few years ago a pilot on landing his plane aboard a carrier relied
on the arm and paddle movements of the Landing Signal officer. To-
day he is guided in his approach by a grouping of colored lights set
around the Mirror Landing System, with the L.S.O. only assisting.
This Magic Mirror is mounted on a flexible bracket that compensates
automatically in a small way for the pitch and roll, if any, of the flight
deck. It can be adjusted to the difference in the position of pilots in
different planes. For instance, one pilot may be sitting in a relative
THE MODERN CARRIER 359
position of fifteen feet above the deck, the next may be only nine
feet above it. To accommodate this the mirror can be raised or tilted
to change the pilot's angle of approach, making each one come in at
the proper angle, according to his particular line of vision.
A pilot using the Magic Mirror simply brings his aircraft to the
stern of the carrier. Ahead he sees a square mirror into which a red
light is reflected. All he has to do, once he is in his glide path, is to
keep the red light centered in the minor and fly in under its guidance.
The mirror in this particular piece of equipment is precision ground
and costs $11,000. The pilot may be in radio communication with Pri-
Fly or the Flight Deck officer, but if it seems necessary to wave him
off because of a faulty approach, a series of bright red lamps snap on
around the mirror, and he "goes around" again to remedy his error.
These recovery operations demand the same fidelity and trust be-
tween the pilot and the landing crew. He must not only rely on his
own skill and judgment, but he must believe every instrument before
him, as well as the guidance provided by the landing mirror. It might
be noted here that the U. S. Navy is experimenting with a new gun-
sight landing system, in which the pilot, after setting all controls for
a normal landing, peers down a gunsight tube at a deck light or
marker. Once he has this target spot centered, radar control takes over
and brings him in. So far this has been worked out only on a land-
based "deck," but from all accounts it will be tried aboard an actual
carrier deck shortly.
The arrester gear, which began with a series of ropes strung across
a small platform aboard the old U.S.S. Pennsylvania, has gone through
many phases and improvements. Today it is a very elaborate and com-
plex device, and in general consists of five or more 2Vi-inch steel cables
held a few inches above the deck by curved bars resembling auto-
mobile springs. Each cable is 1700 feet long, and only a small portion
of this is seen above the deck, the rest runs down into a cable room
several decks below where it is taken into a maze of pulleys, and con-
trolled by hydraulic pistons.
The layman observing a series of deck landings will note that the
average plane coming in sets up a number of immediate problems.
In the first place it will be approaching at about 120 knots (about 137
statute miles per hour), or about 90 knots (103 statute miles), allow-
ing for the 3o-knot speed of the carrier. To stop the plane dead is out of
the question. It must be allowed some flexibility of movement and
360 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
gradually snubbed to a halt. The average snubbing distance is about
two hundred feet.
Once the cable has been caught by the hook, inertia carries the
plane forward some sixty-five yards, which means that from 400-500
feet of cable not 200 feet is pulled out because extra cable has been
drawn from wells on each side of the deck in a long V. At rest, these
five or six cables pass through apertures in the deck, run over a series
of pulleys to each side of the arrester-gear compartment some distance
below where they are wound over a series of drums, and their ends
connected to piston heads set in long buffer chambers. The whole
device acts similar to a large hydraulic shock absorber, except that the
cables are more flexible and must be free to run at high speed to
handle this type of snubbing.
In order to accommodate all types and weights of aircraft, the snub-
bing can be adjusted quickly by operators who are advised of the type
coming in by an officer on the deck. These arrester-gear operators
never see the aircraft they are controlling. Jet planes come in at speeds
between 120-145 knots, and propeller airplanes land at 90-100 knots.
Each arrester-gear cable has its own "engine," and there is always an-
other for the special emergency barricade made of webbed nylon. This
device will halt safely a plane if for any reason it is out of action, such
as breaking its hook, or if the regular arrester gear is not working. In
this case the pilot comes in, makes a normal landing and brakes as
best he can until the nylon-web barrier brings him to a halt. Usually
the barrier is cut to ribbons and some damage inflicted on the aircraft,
but in most cases the pilot is uninjured, and the plane can quickly be
made serviceable.
Here again the carrier pilot relies completely on the deck crew, and
almost every member is in grave danger while the incoming aircraft
is engaged with the arrester-gear cable. If the landing is normal and
correct, if the hook grabs, and the cable holds to arrest the plane, all
goes well. But there are many areas for slip-up. If a landing-gear leg
collapses, the plane will most likely slither into a group of deck han-
dlers and maim or kill several of them. Suppose a cable is caught and
arrests the plane up to a point and then breaks some five hundred
feet of wild, flailing steel cable writhes, and slashes at everything within
reach.
A short time ago a chief petty officer and two crew members were
kilhd and nine others injured by a wild cable. A man need not be
standing on the flight deck; he may be crouching in the catwalk and
THE MODERN CARRIER 361
have his head suddenly snapped off by a flailing whip, or he may be
crushed to death by a plane that has slithered off the landing area.
Nevertheless, these men are always in their assigned positions, wait-
ing to help their pilots. An airplane may catch fire after making a
normal landing; the pilot may be injured and need immediate atten-
tion; he may be unable to help himself in a dozen emergency situa-
tions. The deck men are always on hand to lift him clear of the wreck,
free an entangled cable, or simply guide him to his proper parking
area.
If his plane is fit and serviceable, just requiring refueling, the pilot
gives a "thumbs-up" signal. If it is in no state to fly again, he signals
the reverse, and it is moved to an elevator or spotted where temporary
repairs can be made.
Most aircraft carriers of today are built with the angled flight deck,
an arrangement of landing space that permits more efficient launching
and recovery operations. It was originated by the British Navy which
also contributed the Magic Mirror and steam catapult.
The angled deck, seen in several of the accompanying illustrations
in this book, is a portion of the deck that is angled out about ten
degrees to port from the stern lip. With this arrangement incoming
planes have no trouble "going around" again if their attempt to land
is unsuccessful. If an aircraft coming in fails to pick up a cable, it
continues on, banks away, goes around and is termed a "bolter." If
it takes a cable, and then loses it for some reason, it continues on and
either flops into the sea or flies clear. In the previous arrangement
where the flight-deck line ran down the center of the ship, any such
faulty landing would result in the plane's crashing into a number of
aircraft parked on the forward portion of the deck. The angled section
also allows more space for plane parking and routine deck work, since
the recoveries are confined to a small section reserved for just that
How long the angled deck will be standard equipment is a moot
question. Plans for a new generation of aircraft carriers for the British
Navy are now being worked out by service experts; being considered
are vessels somewhat larger than Great Britain's present-day 43734-
ton Ark Royd, that would be capable of handling not only aircraft
in service within ten or twelve years' time, but also cope with aircraft
flying with the Royal Navy twenty-five years from now.
These future carriers will show radical changes in the flight deck;
the angled deck will be dispensed with and the island structure
moved from its position on the deck edge to a point farther inboard.
362 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
Aircraft landing on the port side will taxi to a parking and refueling
position set up on the other side of the island, and the forward section
of the deck will be reserved for launching operations.
The island itself may also undergo some alteration. Instead of the
present bulky structure, it may be replaced by a construction, narrower
at the base perhaps only ten feet wide with overhanging bridge and
flying control, something on the order of a railroad signal house. Such
planning would not be feasible with the smaller type of carrier, but
considering the aircraft of the next few years, carriers are not likely
to gross less than 50,000 tons.
This brings up the subject of night-landing operations. The reader
will recall the confusion and tragedy that marked the close of the
Battle of the Philippine Sea when hundreds of American Navy
planes, caught by darkness, had a difficult time in getting back aboard
their carriers. Today, this problem has been faced and mainly over-
come, but during World War II U. S. Navy carrier pilots were not
exactly proficient in the art, and very little experimental work had been
carried out prior to Pearl Harbor. In contrast, night operations were
routine aboard British carriers, and had been for some time before
1939. What was done aboard Japanese flat-tops has never been spelled
out
Contrary to the general impression, night landings are not carried
out under intense artificial illumination. All lighting is kept to a
minimum, chiefly as an aid to the pilot's night vision, which is most
important. The deck itself is marked out with white or yellow lines
that are very helpful, but small hooded white lights, no larger than
a pocket flashlight, are set into the deck which indicate only the out-
lines of the main runways and do not set up a strong glare.
As one pilot pointed out to the author, the ship is always clearly
seen from the air during good weather and the outline of the angled
deck is not difficult to find, but if he came out of the darkness of the
night sky and bored into the strong glare of massive illumination, he
would be blinded temporarily. If he missed the arrester gear and had
to "bolt," the quick change from deck glare to comparative darkness
would be very dangerous, and it would be minutes before night vision
was obtained again.
So all modem night operations are performed in semidarkness. The
deck crews work under the low glow of red torches, and all signals
are made with electric wands that show clearly but do not glare, and
there are several colors, just as there are colored jerseys to indicate
the various tasks.
THE MODERN CARRIER 363
There are, of course, more ''bolts'* and rough landings at night; the
heavy jets in particular seem to come in much faster and when they
hook into the cables they stretch them farther forward than they do
in daytime activities. In one hour of night operations I noticed sev-
eral fast and dangerous touchdowns, and two interceptor fighters each
blew a tire.
The aircraft aboard the modern American carrier cover a wide range
of performance. There are A3D, all-weather bombers; A4D, jet attack
planes; AD-6, propeller attack aircraft; F3H, Demon attack planes;
F4D, Skyray fighters; FnF, Tiger interceptors; and F8U, Crusader in-
terceptors. All these are valuable and important in their particular
roles, but none reaches the pinnacle of performance of Willie Fudd,
the Grumman WF-2. This ungainly beast is the modern Kilroy of the
United States Navy; his opinions, statements, commands, and hair-
raising profundity are to be found all over every carrier with lead
captions running something like this: "Willie Fudd, him'a say . . ."
The name Willie Fudd was created from the WF-2 designation of
this workhorse of most VAW Aircraft Warning squadrons. I was in-
troduced to Sweet William during a cruise in the Mediterranean
aboard U.S.S. Independence.
The primary mission of the WF aircraft is Advance Early Warning.
Its secondary mission is antisubmarine warfare, Willie's chief weapon
is radar, particularly the Navy's new APS-82 type, which is more ac-
curate, powerful, and efficient than any used previously. The WF air-
craft should not be confused with the earlier Grumman "Guppy"
which carried its chief radome in a compartment below the fuselage,
thus the guppy appellation.
As a mobile information center Willie Fudd apparently has no
equal. The WF can take off from carrier decks or land bases. It can
stay in the air on station, operating for six hours. It does not have high
speed, but generally speaking, speed is not important. The platform
is the thing. The WF can range out and search over a wide area, pro-
viding information not only for the surface fleet, but for the fleet air-
craft. Senior controllers aboard can direct fighter formations against
enemy aircraft. They can detect enemy aircraft, pinpoint their posi-
tion, speed, direction of flight, and, most important, they carry a quick-
reading instrument that gives the "bogies' " height They can vector
photography planes to their targets, bring in stragglers, and furnish
reliable information concerning enemy surface activity. In other words
the Willie Fudd teams are Navy men first, and flying men second.
They are experts in all recognition problems.
364 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
The crews, called teams for a good reason, consist of two pilots and
two skilled Naval Air observer controllers who are Combat Intelli-
gence Center-trained. These men are radar and radio experts and are
drilled continually in all types of Advance Early Warning and anti-
submarine problems. The controllers' posts are set up before an in-
tricate panel built behind the pilots' seats. Here they have a ten-inch
radarscope, some flight instruments, and half a dozen other instru-
ments that are used in their varied and intricate duties. Both pilots
are trained controllers and can take over either seat to give the regular
controllers a break, or to check any particular problem where three
minds are superior to two. These men rotate on the various radar-
scopes and relieve one another in the mission problems. The control-
lers can seldom relieve the pilots, although in many instances some of
these men were once pilot candidates who for some reason washed
out, or requested other flying duties. In an emergency, it must be
presumed that one of them might get the airplane back to the carrier
or to a beach strip. One of the pilots also serves as a tactical director.
Another responsibility of Willie Fudd is to relay the picture seen
on his own radarscope, over a radio circuit to a radarscope aboard the
surface flagship. This system is known as the Bellhop and is very im-
portant for it moves out the horizon of the surface vessels and gives
more people the opportunity of interpreting the picture which is well
beyond the range of their own antennas. This factor alone is worth
the price of the aircraft, the crew and their training.
Since it was designed to carry bulky equipment into critical areas,
the WF-2 is hardly a thing of beauty. The radome is a large bulbous
casing mounted about three feet above the wing, and extends back to
the fin point of the fuselage. Inside, the large antenna twirls through
360 degrees and supplies the reception equipment for the main search
radar. It also carries an integral antenna used by the instrument that
registers the height of the enemy aircraft. The radio is handled over
two UHF and one HF circuits, and all three may be used at the same
time.
In addition to all this electronic assistance, the WFs can do COD
Cargo on Deck duty and drop messages to the fleet. They have
quick-jettisoning fuel gear for emergency purposes, but other than the
pilots' .38-caliber pistols, carry no ordnance. They fly at great altitudes
for obvious reasons, and their teams are on oxygen most of the time,
and this service is piped through the aircraft and passes through a
system of coils which transforms it to breathable oxygen. The crew
THE MODERN CARRIER 565
is self-sufficient in that they have galley service, can feed themselves,
and have toilet comfort and sanitation. They take part in search and
rescue work but do not carry rescue equipment. Their task is to find
as quickly as possible the downed aircraft, the surviving crew, learn
the general condition, and vector the rescue helicopters, destroyers, or
flying-boat equipment to the scene. Nothing much can be done until
Willie Fudd finds the target whatever it is.
Our most important defense against enemy submarines is probably
found in the airborne force aboard our carriers. The aircraft employed
are not high-speed jets, but work-horse piston-engined planes that carry
specially trained crews and the latest in track-and-trace instrumenta-
tion, weapons, and radar. Their greatest weakness is the possible
breakdown of the intricate communications necessary to make the
system function.
The available planes are not particularly well-fitted or designed for
the work, and at best are vehicles that have been modified from pre-
vious types, or have been hurriedly equipped to cope with the situa-
tion. One gets the impression that the designers load the aircraft with
a lot of instrumentation, and then hope it will do the mission that was
assigned formerly to two airplanes that worked together. Most of to-
day's antisubmarine planes are overloaded or badly loaded for efficient
flying.
Besides conventional aircraft the Navy also uses H.Si helicopters
that are capable of moving fast to a suspect area and hover for long
periods. They carry sonar and radar equipment, and for the eventual
attack have a homing torpedo that is discharged from a tube fitted
to the side of the cabin.
The conventional type aircraft S.2F Grumman is fitted with a
searchlight and ECM equipment electronic countermeasure with
its antenna in a radome set above the pilot's cockpit. It carries a crew
of four, can cruise for four hours or more on station, and fight with
torpedoes or six five-inch rockets. It also mounts depth charges on the
rocket rails, and various arrangements of these weapons can be set
up. This is the typical all-in-one airplane, and although the electronic
equipment is a great help, the Mark-8 Eyeball, as normal vision is
called, is still the best detector. The S.2F also carries a Julie instrument
and a set of sonobuoys.
The Julie system makes use of the explosive echo-ranging technique
for the detection and location of submarines, which is based on the
366 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
principle that accurate timing between the creation of the sound and
the receipt of its echo permits calculation of the distance between the
submarine and the source of the sound.
Sonobuoys are small but expensive instruments used to find a sub-
marine after it has been spotted and has submerged to hide. The
sonobuoys are dropped in a circular pattern, with one in the center
at the datum point. If the submarine has moved in any direction from
where it was last seen, at least two other sonobuoys will pick it up.
Each sonobuoy is a small transmitting station, and each transmits
on a different frequency. When one hits the water it lowers a micro-
phone that will pick up any sound emitted by the submarine; this
sound can be created by engines, propellers, or interior noises. Thus,
if any sound is picked up, several of the sonobuoys will detect it. The
Number i, or center, instrument will transmit on its frequency, as
will any two others near the sound. These three frequencies will pro-
vide a segment or area, like a slice of pie, in which the enemy sub-
marine is moving. As it moves away the impulses increase or decrease,
furnishing clues that are recorded aboard the airplane. The position
of the loudest sound shows which way the submarine is moving. These
sonobuoy instruments will remain active for about three hours.
Aboard Lake Champkdn, a true antisubmarine warfare carrier, a
special squadron of fourteen helicopters is equipped with most regula-
tion ASW gear, and they generally are first into a suspect area. These
aircraft also carry a fish-line microphone that is lowered into the water
on a ninety-foot wire, while the copter hovers at twenty-five to thirty
feet. This practice relies on sonar evidence of the hunted submarine,
but much of this work is hampered by fast moving destroyers carrying
out their sonar track-and-trace work, or by low-flying fixed-wing
aircraft.
Another antisubmarine instrument that is mounted on some of the
carrier's aircraft is known as MAD Magnetic Aircraft Detection. This
device works through the magnetic field given off by the target; it
checks the changes in the earth's magnetic field that may be caused
by "foreign" bulks in the water, just below the water, or just protrud-
ing from the water. The unusual MAD antenna protrudes from the
rear of the fuselage for about twelve feet and resembles the perforated
exhaust of a racing car.
With all this, and with all the specialized training the various crews
or teams undergo, detection of enemy submarines is not completely
THE MODERN CARRIER 367
satisfactory. Apparently there is no single item that gives a reliable
answer to the submarine threat, particularly against the tactics of the
nuclear submarine. In the first place, the target is very small, is very
fast and maneuverable, and most evasive. Submarines are or were
comparatively cheap to build, operate, and to train crews. Any attack
or defense measure requires too great a force in men, machines, and
money, and although there is no real solution as yet, each service of-
ficer understandably pushes for his own contribution, and probably
believes that he has the answer.
Will offshore or land-based equipment meet the threat?
Will aircraft carriers furnish the answer?
Are long-range patrol boats of any great value?
Will a conventional surface fleet, including submarines, supply the
weapons?
Apparently, what works in one area is a failure in another. There is
one argument, based on the variations of water temperatures, that even
sonar is not of great worth. Recent reports indicate, however, that the
system has been vastly improved. But whatever service is to be saddled
with the problem of the enemy submarine will be haunted by the
rapid turnover of skilled men. Specialists and technicians, particularly
in the electronic fields, are walking about carrier decks with letters in
their pockets from many of the big industrial companies that offer
them jobs, doing much the same work at much better rates of pay.
To compete with these tremendous turnovers in all departments,
long-serving men must be parceled out to support the half-trained
groups, so that at no time can we boast that any vessel is at full
strength.
The United States Navy believes its carrier force is the great deter-
rent, and points out that it can move to any part of the world at a
rate of six hundred miles a day. The greater part of the world is com-
posed of water, and these vessels and their auxiliary support can steam
practically anywhere. They can carry out strategic or tactical warfare.
They can fight brush-fire wars faster than any other service. They can
employ conventional or atomic weapons quicker, and because of all
this play a very important role in the NATO problem.
The Navy's Polaris submarine is perhaps the most important factor
of American defense. It can be used immediately, or at any point of
time. It cannot be blasted out of action, since it is always on the move.
The Navy also argues that Air Force installations probably will be
destroyed by the first enemy attack, and since we have stated over
368 SQUADRONS OF THE SEA
and over again that we will not make the initial strike, we must pre-
sume the enemy will attack first.
Although the U. S. Navy has a number of Polaris missile subma-
rines on station, it would appear that their targets are at present un-
decided. The Strategic Staff wants to aim for: i) enemy missile
centers, and 2) great centers of population. The second target, it is
believed, will have profound effect on the Soviet Government, which
for years has been showing its satellites how strong it is and how well
bound together is the Communist world. If Polaris missiles were to
destroy several large cities, more than a routine military blow would
have been struck; it would indicate the political disintegration of
Soviet strength. This makes these areas prime psychological targets.
This military potential brings up the question: If the Polaris mis-
sile has such capabilities, why do we continue to build expensive air-
craft carriers, train skilled crews, and equip the decks with complex
aircraft and weapons?
As has been explained, the carrier is at its best when engaged in
brush-fire wars. In a thermonuclear conflict, it would not last thirty
minutes, and many a carrier skipper has told me, "Just give me thirty
minutes in which to launch my planes, and what happens to the car-
rier after that will have no effect on the outcome of a war. We will
have delivered a full arsenal of atomic weapons ourselves and paid
our keep." But gaining those thirty minutes might be the great prob-
lem, for any present-day thermonuclear weapon would not only de-
stroy the carrier, it would wipe out the whole task force. Of this we
are certain; only a very alert Willie Fudd will be able to give his carrier
commander that most valuable half hour.
Within many circles of thought, in several admirals' cabins, at
senior officers' tables, and at Air Force dining rooms one gathers the
view that both sides realize the futility of all-out atomic war. All agree
that nothing can be gained by the ruthless use of atomic weapons. No
war can be won by such devastating measures, for there will be nothing
left to invade or "liberate." Whatever campaigns are to be fought in
the future will be carried out within the limits of tactical brush-fire
warfare. Both sides will continue to build up their atomic stockpiles,
but only as a last and final resort will these weapons be used. On this
theory, then, we continue to build, equip, and man aircraft carriers.
TOLL OF AIRCRAFT CARRIERS LOST DURING
WORLD WAR II
NAME
DATE
COUNTR:
Courageous
Sept. 9, 1939
Britain
Glorious
June 8, 1940
Britain
Ark Royd
Nov. 14, 1941
Britain
Audacity
Dec. 21, 1941
Britain
Hermes
April 9, 1942
Britain
Mizuo
May 5, 1942
Japan
Shoho
May 7, 1942
Japan
Lexington
May 8, 1942
U.S.
Soryu
June 4, 1942
Japan
Magi
June 4, 1942
Japan
Hiryu
June 4, 1942
Japan
Kaga
June 4, 1942
Japan
Yorktown
June 7, 1942
U.S.
Eagle
Aug. 11, 1942
Britain
Ryujo
Aug. 24, 1942
Japan
Wasp
Sept. 26, 1942
U.S.
Hornet
Oct. 26, 1942
U.S.
Avenger
Nov. 15, 1942
Britain
Liscomb Bay
Nov. 24, 1943
U.S.
Chuyo
Dec. 4, 1943
Japan
Block Island
May 29, 1944
U.S.
Shokaku
June 19, 1944
Japan
Tdho
June 19, 1944
Japan
Hitaka
June 20, 1944
Japan
Otaka
Aug. 18, 1944
Japan
Unyo
Sept. 16, 1944
Japan
ACTION
Torpedoed
Sunk off Norway
Torpedoed off Gibraltar
Torpedoed in North Atlantic
Sunk by Japanese aircraft
Torpedoed
Sunk by torpedoes and bombs
Sunk by Japanese aircraft
Sunk at Battle of Midway
Sunk at Battle of .Midway
Sunk at Battle of Midway
Sunk at Battle of Midway
Sunk after torpedoing at
Battle of Midway
Torpedoed west of Gibraltar
Sunk off eastern Solomons
Torpedoed by Japanese
Lost during Battle of
Santa Cruz
Sunk during Algerian landing
operations.
Torpedoed off Gilberts
Sunk by torpedoes
Torpedoed in Atlantic
Torpedoed by submarine
Torpedoed by submarine
Sunk by aircraft bombing
Torpedoed
Torpedoed
370
CARRIERS
LOST ]
NAME
DATE
COUNTRY
Princeton
Oct. 24, 1944
U.S.
Gambler Bay
Oct. 25, 1944
U.S.
StLo
Oct. 25, 1944
U.S.
Zuikdku
Oct. 25, 1944
Japan
Zuiho
Oct. 25, 1944
Japan
Chitose
Oct. 25, 1944
Japan
Chiyoda
Oct. 25, 1944
Japan
Jinyo
Nov. 17, 1944
Japan
Shirutno
Nov. 29, 1944
Japan
Vnryu
Dec. 19, 1944
Japan
Ommaney Bay
Jan, 4, 1945
U.S.
Bismarck Sea
Feb. 21, 1945
U.S.
Amagi
July 24, 1945
Japan
Kaiyo
July 24, 1945
Japan
ACTION
Torpedoed off Luzon Island
Sunk off Samar Island
Sunk by kamikaze attack
Sunk by aircraft bombing
Sunk by aircraft bombing
Sunk by aircraft bombing
Sunk by aircraft bombing
Torpedoed
Torpedoed
Torpedoed
Sunk by aircraft bombing
Sunk by aircraft bombing
Sunk by aircraft bombing
Sunk by aircraft bombing
and minefield
TOTALS
Japan lost 22 aircraft carriers
U.S. lost 11 aircraft carriers
Britain lost 7 aircraft carriers
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
As MENTIONED in the Author's Note, I am indebted to many bureaus,
divisions, departments of information and individuals for their help and
guidance in writing this book. Commander R. L. Bufkins, Chief, Maga-
zine and Book Branch of the U. S. Navy's Office of Information was
most helpful. It was Commander Bufkins who cleared the way for my
two aircraft carrier cruises to the Mediterranean, and who later supplied
me with important records, histories, and photographs.
The office of Admiral Arieigh A. Burke, Chief of Naval Operations,
gave me much help and encouragement in attempting this volume, and
Vice-Admiral Robert B. Pirie contributed valuable advice.
I am particularly indebted to Captain E. C. Outlaw, commanding of-
ficer of U.S.S. Intrepid, and his executive officer, Commander L. P.
Smith, for their many courtesies while I was aboard that famous vessel.
Captain R. E. Riera, commanding officer of U.S.S. Forrestal, and his
executive officer, Commander J. M. Tully, Jr., were particularly helpful
and generous with their precious time.
Aboard U.S.S. Saratoga Captain J. J. Hyland and his executive officer,
Commander Paul F. Stevens, contributed much of their time and staff
resources tp me, and increased my knowledge of carrier operations.
Captain J. W. O'Grady, skipper of U.S.S. Independence, and his execu-
tive officer, Commander R. E. Elliott, afforded me many important inter-
views and set up several briefings that gave me valuable information.
Commander Elliott's briefings were especially rewarding. Rear Admiral
Ray C. Needham, then commander of Carrier Division Two, who flew
his flag aboard Independence was particularly interested in my quest and
spent much of his valuable time with me on his bridge and in his Staff
quarters.
Captain R. W. Leeman, commanding officer of U.S.S. Lake Champldn,
and his executive officer, Commander Jere J. Santry, were my hosts dur-
ing a most rewarding trip back from the Mediterranean late in 1959.
Aboard Lake Champldn, too, was Rear Admiral Alfred R. Matter, then
commander of Carrier Division Twenty, who drilled me on the many
372 ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
problems of antisubmarine warfare as it pertained to carrier operations.
My thanks go also to Captain A. H. Wallis, C.B.E., Royal Navy, who
supplied much information and arranged that I visit H.M.S. Ark Royal
when she was off Majorca, an experience that, alas, I was unable to ac-
cept owing to the pressure of time, and time-brackets.
H. E. Bockrath of Grumman Aircraft and Engineering Corporation
contributed information and advice on the aircraft and antisubmarine
equipment his company supplies to the U. S. Navy.
Again, I must express my sincere thanks to Admiral Samuel Eliot Mori-
son, and his publishers, Atlantic-Little, Brown and Company for written
permission to use his History of United States Naval Operations in
World War II as a source in compiling this work.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
I HAVE combed every available shelf for volumes pertinent to this very
complex subject, and many friends all over the world have aided me
with books and records from their own libraries. Dozens of books were
read and studied, and for those who would delve deeper into the story
of the aircraft carrier, any of the following volumes will provide hours
of rewarding reading. I recommend every one.
Perchance, B. J. Hurren, Nicholson & Watson.
Birds and Fishes, Phillip Joubert de la Fert6, Hutchinson of London.
Fleet Air Arm, Lieut-Commander P. K. Kemp, Herbert Jenkins.
The R.N.V.R., J. Lennox Kerr and Wilfred Granville, George G. Harrap &
Co. Ltd.
Proud Fortress, Allen Andrews, E. P. Dutton & Company, Inc.
Battk for the Solomons, Ira Wolfert, Houghton Mifflin Company.
Admiral Doenitz-Memoirs, Admiral Karl Doenitz, The World Publish-
ing Company.
Mission Beyond Darkness, Lieut-Commander Joseph Bryan III and
Phillip Reed, Duell, Sloan and Pearce.
Destroyer Man, Rear Admiral A. F. Pugsley, Weidenfeld and Nicholson.
History of Marine Corps Aviation in World War II, Robert Sherrod,
Combat Forces Press.
Air Power: Key to Survival, Alexander P. de Seversky, Simon and Schuster.
Fleet Air Arm, (Official) British Naval Ministry of Information.
Ark Royd, (Official) British Naval Ministry of Information.
Everyman's History of the Sea War, (3 volumes) A. C. Hardy, Nicholson
and Watson.
History of United States Naval Operations in World War II, (14 vol-
umes) Samuel Eliot Morison, Atlantic-Little Brown.
The Second World War, (6 volumes) Winston S. Churchill, Houghton
Mifflin Company.
The War, (5 volumes) Edgar Mclnnis, Oxford University Press.
374 BIBLIOGRAPHY
Flattop, Barrett Gallagher, Doubleday & Company.
Midway, Mitsuo Fuchida and Masatake Okumiya, United States Naval
Institute.
Combat-Pacific Theatre, Don Congdon, Dell Publishing Company,
Aircraft Carrier, Joseph Bryan III, Ballantine Books.
With Ensigns Flying, David A. Thomas, William Kimber and Com-
pany, Ltd.
Day of Infamy, Walter Lord, Henry Holt and Company, Inc.
The Divine Wind, Inoguchi, Nakajima and Pineau, United States Naval
Institute.
The British Navy's Air Arm, Owen Rutter, Penguin Books.
War in the Mr, Gerald Bowman, Evans Brothers, Limited.
Pocket History of the Second World War, Henry Steele Commager,
Pocket Booh, Inc.
Coastal Command, (Official) Air Ministry of Information.
Queen of the Flat-tops, Stanley Johnston, E. P. Dutton & Company, Inc.
Zero, Martin Caidin, E. P. Dutton & Company, Inc.
Pearl Harbor to Cord Sea, Walter Karig and Welbourn Kelley, Farrar
and Rinehart, Inc.
Battk Report, Walter Karig and Welbourn Kelley, Farrar and Rinehart,
Inc.
Heroes of the Pacific, Ted Shane, Julian Messner, Inc.
The Last Nine Days of the Bismarck, C. S. Forester, Little, Brown &
Company.
The Battleship Scheer, Theodor Krancke and H. L. Brennecke, William
Kimber & Co., Ltd.
73 North-The Defeat of Hitler's Navy, Dudley Pope, J, B. Lippincott
Company.
Victory at Midway, Griffith Baily Coale, Farrar and Rinehart, Inc.
INDEX
Abe, Chief Petty Officer, 210
Abe, Rear Admiral Hiroaki, 210
Adams, Lieutenant (jg) Max, 327
Adams, Pinkv, *o6
Advance Early Warning, 363, 364
Aircraft carrier, evaluation of, 207-69;
modem, 352-68
Amagai, Commander Takahisa, 209
Anderson, Lieutenant Edward L., 142
Angled flight deck, 361, 362
AoS, Captain, 207, 208
Arbuthnot, Vice-Admiral Sir Geoffrey,
160
Arnold, Commander J. D., 308
Arnold, General Henry H., 162
Arrester gear, 359-61
Ault, Commander William B., 1 57, 179
AUSTRALIAN SHIPS:
Australia, 178; Hobart, 178
Baker, Chief Electrician's Mate, L. R.,
271
Baker, Rear Admiral Wilder D., 341
Baldinus, Lieutenant L., 231
Banazak, Mike, 306
Bay of Biscay, <}8
Bayles, William, 57
Baxter, Dr. Neal, 317, 318
Beale, Sub-Lieutenant A. W. Duncan,
79
Beatty, Admiral David, 16
Bellhop system, 364
Bennion, Captain Mervyn S., 131
Bentley, Dick, 306
Best, Lieutenant Richard H., 207
Bigalk, Lieutenant Commander, 99
Birchall, Squadron Leader Leonard J.,
144, 275
Blair, Lieutenant William K., 302
Blanchard, Commander J. W., 303
Bode, Captain H.D., 133
Bogan, Admiral Gerald, 331, 347
Bougainville, 170, 259, 276
Boyd, Captain Denis W., 88, 90, 96
Brewer, Lieutenant Commander C. W.,
296-98, 301
Brewster Buffalo, 38, 124
BRITISH SHIPS:
Acasta, 51; Achilles, 58; Africa, 25;
Africa Shell, 58; Agamemnon, 47;
Ajax, 58; Albatross, 49, 50; Anson, 47;
Ardent, 51; Argus, 32, 33, 50, 81,
101, 104; Ark Royd, 27, 28, 42, 49,
50, 52-04, 361; Athenia, 50; Audac-
ity, 97-100; Avenger, 108, 109, 112;
Ben-My-Chree, 28; Campania, 29
34; Cassandra, 17; Cornwall, 160;
Courageous, 33, 42, 49, 50, 55; Cu-
racoa, 18; Devonshire, 50; Doric Star,
58; Dorsetshire, 80, 160; Dunedin,
97; Eagk, 33,49, 86-88, 101, 103-5;
Echo, 103; Emperor, no; Empress,
28; Engondine, 28; Exeter, 58; Fanad
Head, 54, 55; Faulkner, 55; Fencer,
no; Formidable, 42, 52, 92, 94-^7,
111, 159; Furious, 32, 33, 49, 104,
105, 110, in; Glorious, 33, 42, 49,
51, 52, 59; Gloucester, 97; Hermes,
26, 28, 33, 49, 159, 161; Hermzone,
81; Hibernia, 15; Hood, 65, 75, 78;
Howe, 47; IHustrious, 42, 52, 86-90,
96, 97, 166, 167, 350; Implacable,
42; Indefatifpbk, 42, in, 350; In-
domitable, 42, 91, 104-7, 159, 166,
167, 350; Intrepid, 103; King George
V, 76, 80; Laforey, 83, 84; Legion,
82; Malaya, 81; Manxman, 29; Maori,
37 6
BRITISH SHIPS (cont'd)
80; Nabob, 111, 112; Ndrana, 29;
Nelson, 55, 104; Norfolk, 75; Onslow,
109; Pegasus, 28, 29; Phoenix, (sub-
marine) , 86; Prince of Wdes, 178;
Pursuer, 110; Rdmz'ZKes, 68, 159, 167;
Redoubt, 15, 17, 18, 21; Renown, 58,
68-70, 72, 74, 75, 80, 102; Repulse,
178; Resolution, 159; Revenge, 159;
Riviera, 28; Rodney, 55, 76, 80, 104;
Royal Oak, 33; Royal Sovereign, 109,
159; St. Day, 83, 84; Searcher, no;
Sheffield, 75, 77, 78, 80; SomdZi, 56;
Southampton, 97; Storfc, 99; Suffolk,
75; Trumpeter, in; Vampire, 161;
vanguard, 47; Victorious, 42, 52, 75,
101, 104, 106, no, 350; Vzndex, 28,
32; Vindictive, 33; WdZnwr Cosffo,
98; Warsptie, 159, 178
Brown, Commander Gaylord B., 302
Brown, Lieutenant (jg) B., 307
Brown, Rear Admiral Wilson, 141, 144,
147, 150
Brown, Sub-Lieutenant E. M., 99
Browne, Lieutenant ( jg) Milton F., 309
Browning, Commander Miles R., 207
Bruce, Lieutenant (jg) J. L., 301
Buckmaster, Captain Elliott, 187, 212,
218, 219
Bullpup, 353
Bunkley, Captain J. W., 134
Buracker, Captain W. H., 331
Burke, Captain Arleigh A., 305
Caffery, "Irish," 318
Caldwell, Commander Henry H., 260
Callaghan, Admiral Daniel J., 248
Can, Lieutenant (jg) G. R., 296, 297
Canine, Lieutenant G. A., 90
Carver, Lieutenant E. S., 77
Casablanca Conference, 258
Casson, Lieutenant Commander J., 62
Charlier, Sub-Lieutenant R. S., 71
Cheesman, Major S. B. G., 350
Churchill, Sir Winston S., 38, 50, 90,
91, 97, 101, 103, 135, 166, 167
Clark, Rear Admiral Joseph K., 277
Cleland, Commander Cook, 10, 306,
3 l8 > 319
Clement, Lieutenant Colonel William
T - *37
Clifford, Lieutenant E. W., 88, 90
Combat Information Center, 358
INDEX
Conklin, Eugene, 306
Connolly, Captain Richard L., 164
Convoy PQ-i7> 109
Convoy PQ-i8, 108, 109
Coode, Lieutenant Commander T. P.,
Coral Sea, Battle of, 162, 169, 182-90
Coward, Captain Jesse G., 333
Grace, Rear Admiral John G., 177, 178,
190
Creehan, Commander E. P., 243
Crutchley, Rear Admiral Victor A. C.,
223
Culley, Sub-Flight Lieutenant Stuart D.,
15, 17-22
Cunningham, Admiral Sir Andrew
Browne, 86, 87, 92, 94, 95
Curtiss, Glenn, 23, 25
Cushman, Kent, 306
Dalyell-Stead, Lieutenant Commander
Darlan, Admiral Jean, 63
Davis, Captain Ralph O., 253, 255
De Gaulle, General Charles, 167
Denny, Admiral Sir Michael, no
Dicken, Chief Signalman R. J., 176
Dickenson, Lieutenant Clarence E., 142
Di6go-Suarez, Madagascar, 166, 167
Dixon, Commander Robert, 179-81
Doenitz, Admiral Karl, 49, 112
Doolittle, General James H., 36, 37,
136, 162, 164, 165
Douglas Captain Archibald H., 139
Draemel, Rear Admiral Milo F., 141
Duncan, Captain Donald B., 162
Eason, Lieutenant Van V., 308, 31 5
Edmonds, Flight Commander C. H. K.,
26,28
Eggert, Lieutenant Joseph R., 295
Egusa, Lieutenant Commander Taka-
shige, 128
Elias, Sub-Lieutenant P. R., 76
Ely, Eugene, 23, 24
Eniwetok, Marshall Islands, 272
Esmonde, Lieutenant Commander Eu-
gene* 75
Espiritu-Santo, New Hebrides, 170, 233
Evans, Commander Ernest E., 338
Everett, Lieutenant R. N., 66
Fabre, Henri, 25
INDEX
Fain, Ensign Edgar M., 1 34
Fairey aircraft:
Albacore, 91; Fulmar, 53, 67; Sword-
fish, 53
Farrow, Lieutenant William G., 166
Felt, Commander Harry D., 227, 228
Fitch, Rear Admiral Aubrey W., 170,
173-75, 184
Flatley, Lieutenant Commander James
H., 254
Fleet Air Arm, 87, 90
Fleming, Captain Richard E., 217
Fletcher, Rear Admiral Frank J., 144,
145, i?> 174. 1 75> *17> i7 8 1 97>
211, 223
Fletcher, Sub-Lieutenant G. R. P., 98
Foltz, Ensign R. E., 299
Ford Island, Hawaii, 124, 125, 127, 133
Fowler, Ensign R. E., 296
Francke, Leutnant Adolf, 56, 57
FRENCH SHIPS:
Bearne, 37; Bretagne, 64; Bevetieres,
167; Bougainville, 167; d'Entrecas-
teaux, 167; Dunkerque, 63, 64; Joftre,
37; Pdnleve, 37; Provence, 64; Stras-
bourg, 63, 64
Frey, Lieutenant H. W., 261
Gaida, Aviation Machinist Bruno, 147
Gains Lieutenant Commander Richard
K., 238
Gallaher, Lieutenant Commander Wil-
mer E., 207, 213
Gatch, Captain Thomas L., 236, 242
. Gay, Jr., Ensign George H., 202, 205,
206, 216
Gayler, Lieutenant Noel A. M., 1 57
Genda, Commander Minoru, 40, 130
GERMAN SHIPS:
Admired Graf Spee, 58, 59; Admiral
Scheer, 58; Mimark, 59; Bismarck,
58, 75-79J Gneisenau, 51, 72, 75;
~ '" ppelin, 38; Hipper, 51; Qrt-
, , 34, 46; Prinz Eugen, 75, 76;
Scharnhorst, 51, 62, 72, 75,' 112;
Tirpitz, 109-12; Uhenfels, 58
Submarines: 11-90, 50; U-3O, 55;
U-39, 50, 55; U-73, 105; U-8i, 81;
U-88, 109; 11-751, 99
Gensoul, Admiral Marcel-Bruno, 63
Ghormley, Vice-Admiral Robert L., 225
Gibraltar, 65, 66, 68, 70, 8o 7 82, 84
Giffen, Rear Admiral Robert G, 251,
377
252, 254
Gilbert Islands, 1
Glassford, Vice-
Goebbeb, Dr. Joseph, 55, 57, 84
Goering, Field Marshal Hermann, 57
Going, Lieutenant G. R. M., 88, 90
Goto, Rear Admiral, 179
Graves, Lieutenant V. N., 72
Great Yarmouth, England, 17, 18, 26
Gregory, Lieutenant, 25
Guadalcanal, Battle of, 169, 220
Guam, 138, 258, 293
Guggenberger, Leutnant, 81
Hale, Lieutenant Commander J. W., 90
Hall, Leading Signalman J. E., 54
Hallmark, Lieutenant Dean E., 166
Halsey, Admiral William F., 139, 140,
145, 146, 164-66, 236, 238, 336,
Hamilton, Captain J. H., 192
Hamilton, Lieutenant Commander
Weldon L., 157, 158, 179, 180
Hanson, Eugene, 315
Hanson, Lieutenant M. C. E., 61
Hara, Rear Admiral K., 182
Hardison, Captain Osborne B., 241, 249
Harrill, Rear Admiral William K., 277
Harrison, Harry, 306
Hart, Admiral Thomas C., 1 35, 137
Hartley, Sub-Lieutenant J. V., 75
Harwood, Lieutenant Bruce L., 228
Hathaway, Commander Amos T., 338
Haynes, Ensign Leon W., 148
Healy, Lieutenant Commander Howard
R., 187, 188
Helfrich, Admiral C. E. L., i53> *54
Henderson, Captain George, 259
Henderson, Commander Harry, 255
Henderson Field, 223, 226, 227, 231,
237, 247
Hepburn Board Report, 191
Hickam Field, 121, 122, 124, 128
Hill, Chief Boatswain E. J., 132
Hitler, Adolf, 86
Hobby, Lieutenant Commander Wil-
liam H., 133
Hodgkinson, Lieutenant Commander
G. B., 66
Hoel, Lieutenant Commander R. W.,
Holland Captain C. S., 59, 63, 73
378
Hollandia, New Guinea, 274
Honolulu, Hawaii, 121, 126
Hoover, President Herbert, 119
Hopping, Lieutenant Commander Hall-
sted L., 146
Hosogaya, Vice-Admiral B., 194
Howard, Petty Officer Airman L. G. }.,
Hutchinson, Sub-Lieutenant D. A., 98
Ingersoll, Admiral Royal E., 101
Ingersoll, Captain Stuart H., 343
Inglis, Captain Thomas B., 329
Inouye, Vice-Admiral S., 137, 170, 175,
179, 190
Ironbottom Sound, 221, 224, 226, 246,
251
Irvine, Ensign Charles B., 238
Isely, Lieutenant Commander Robert
A., 280, 306
ITALIAN SHIPS:
Bolzano, 93; Cavow, 89; Cavour-
class, 68; Corzdzottere-class, 69; Conic
Rosso, 32; Duttio, 89; Fiume, 95;
Italia, 89; Libeccio, 89; Lz'ttorio-class,
68, 89, 90; Pessango, 89; Polo, 94;
San Casimiro, 72; Trento, 89; Vzt-
torio Veneto, 68, 92-95; Zara, 95
Itaya, Lieutenant Commander Shigeru,
126, 127
Iwo Jima, 346
aluit, Marshall Islands, 145
apanese aircraft (catalog), 123-24
apanese Navy, strength, 114-19
APANESE SHIPS:
Submarines: 1-15, 235; I-ig, 232, 235;
1-26, 232; 1-70, 142; I-i68, 198, 219;
1-172, 247
Abukuma, 159, 133; Agano, 260,
262; Akagi, 32, 38, 39, 117, 119, 125,
128, 159, 161, 201, 203, 207, 208,
210; Akebono Mam, 200; AJtitsuki,
335; Anuzgz, 40; Arashio, 218; Asa-
gunio, 333; Asakazi Mara, 267;
Atago, 260, 304, 327; Bordeaux.
Mam, 146; Chikuma, 129, 159, 214,
245; Chitose, 194, 335; Chiyoda,
308, 335; Chokai, 249; Fujinami,
261; Fuse, 327, 333; Ha&kaze, 209;
HaguTO, 170, 309; Harukaze, 346;
HCTUTUL, 159, 214, 308, 332; Haru-
same, 287; Hatokaze, 345; Hayanami,
INDEX
287; Hayashimo, 339; Hiei, 121, 159,
248, 249; Hfryu, 38, 119, 129, 159,
203, 208, 210, 213-16; Hz'yo, 247,
249, 307, 308; Hosho, 32, 38, 39,
119, 194, 215; Hosyo, 32, 40; Hyuga,
335; &<*> 335J ^sokaze, 249, 266;
Isuzu, 249, 266; Jintsu, 194, 231;
Junyo, 200, 242; Kaga, 32, 38-40,
117, 119, 125, 203, 207-9; Kagero,
231; Kanto Mam, 146; Kashimar
Maru, 146; Kfltori, 146; Kawakaze,
226; Kazagumo, 215; Kikuzuki, 173;
Kinryu Mara, 231; Kinugasa, 249;
Kirishima, 159, 245; Kisinani, 327;
Kongo, 159; Kongo Maru 9 158; Ku-
manOy 210; Maikaze, 209; Maya, 249,
260, 261, 327; Michishio, 249, 333;
Mikuma, 216-18; MinazuM, 287;
Mochizuld, 246; Mogami, 216-18,
260, 308, 333; Musashi, 39, 117, 332;
Mutsukz, 231; Myofeo, 170, 309, 332;
Nachi, 335; Naganami, 262; Nagara,
208, 215, 267; Nagata Mam, 146;
Ndgato, 308, 332; NoshiTO, 260, 339;
Nowdfef, 339; Otori, 277; Oyodo,
335; Ryuho, 308; Ryu/o, 32, 119,
137, 160, 200, 226, 228; Ryuzyo, 32,
38; Sendai, 194; Shigure, 327, 334;
Shoho, 179-81; Shohdku, 38, 119,
123, 159, ijo, 181, 183, 184, 190,
228, 245, 289; Soryu, 38, 119, 124,
125, 128, 129, 159, 203, 206, 208,
209, 214; Suzanami, 192, 262;
Suzuya, 216; Taiho, 289; Taiyo, 119;
Tazyo Mow, 120, 121; Takao, 260,
327; Tama, 335; Tama Maru, 173;
Tanikaze, 287; Tofezwd, 146; Tone,
129, 159, 202, 203, 214, 228, 332,
339; Tsuga, 345; Ushio, 192; Wakat-
suJti, 260; lamagumo, 334; Yamd-
shiro, 333, 334; Yamato, 39, 117,
iQ4> 3 2 7 332> 337, 339J Yubflri, 262;
Yugumo, 215; Yuzufa, 174; Zuzho,
119, 215, 238, 335; Zwkaka, 119,
127, 150, 170, 181, 183, 184, 190,
r 237> 3<4 3.9> 335
elucoe, Admiral John, 31
'essel, Commander R. S., 82
eweU, RM3/c J. B., 158
bhn Rogers Airport, 121
bhnson, Ensign Joseph Phillip, 158
bhnstone, Lieutenant Commander
Mervyn, 67, 68
INDEX
omard Passage, 174
oshima, Admiral T., 307
ulie system, 365, 366
linkers, Commander Heine, 188
urika, Lieutenant Stephen, 164
utland, Battle of, 31
Kaafjord, Norway, 109, no
Kai-shek, Generalissimo Chiang, 164
Kaku, Captain, 214
Kakuta, Rear Admiral Kakuji, 193, 194,
201
Kamikaze warfare, 340-51
Kaneohe Naval Air Station, Hawaii,
122, 128
Kemp, Lieutenant Commander P. K.,
107
Kendall, Lieutenant E. F., 295
Kendari, Celebes, 159
Kenney, Lieutenant General George C.,
262, 345
Kenworthy, Commander Jesse L., 133
Kidd, Rear Admiral Isaac C., 1 32
Kiefer, Captain Dixie, 348
Kimmel, Admiral Husband E., 139-4!
King, Admiral Ernest J., 101, 140, 162,
220, 322
Kinkaid, Rear Admiral Thomas C., 237,
243, 286, 326, 332, 337
Kirkpatrick, Donald, 306
Kirn, Lieutenant Commander L. J., 230
Koga, Admiral Mineichi, 259, 262
Komatsu, Warrant Officer Sakio, 289
Kondo, Vice-Admiral N., 155, 194, 216,
Kurita, Rear Admiral T., 194, 216, 260,
299. p5> 33*> .33?
Kusaka, Admiral Jimchi, 121, 261
Kwajalein, Marshall Islands, 140, 145,
266, 272
Leary, Vice-Admiral Herbert F., 144,
153, 178
LeBlanc, Ren6, 306
Lee, Lieutenant Commander James R.,
249
Lee, Jr., Rear Admiral Willis A., 236,
290
Leppla, Ensign John A., 180, 181
Leyte Gulf, Battle of, 325-44
Lindsey, Lieutenant Commander Eu-
gene E., 206, 210
Lingayen Gulf, Philippines, 346
379
Liska, Gunner John, 180
Lockhard, Joseph L., 122
Long, Aviation Machinist's Mate Bill,
V7> 3 l8
Lowry, Captain Frank J., 140
Lucy, Lieutenant W. P., 61
Lynch, Lieutenant John J., 245
Lyster, Rear Admiral Arthur L. St
George, 104
MacArthur, General Douglas, 137, 223,
259, 275, 281, 322, 349
McCain, Vice-Admiral John S., 327,
340-42
McCampbdl, Commander David S.,
299, 302, 328
McCluskey, Commander Clarence W.,
207
McConnell, Commander Robert P.,
154, 155
McEwen, Lieutenant B. E., 56
Mackendrick, Commander D, M., 99,
100
Magnetic Aircraft Detection (MAD),
366
Maher, Captain James E., 243
Makeig-Jones, Captain, 50
Makin Island, 145
Malaya, 137, 138
Maloelap, Marshall Islands, 145, 146
Malta, 100-7
Mangrum, Lieutenant Colonel Richard
C., 231
Marianas, 264
MARINE DIVISIONS:
2nd, 281; 4th, 281
Marshall Islands, 264
Martin, Captain William I., 278, 279
Marumo, Admiral Kuniori, 179
Marusan Program, 39
Mason, Captain Charles P., 243
Massey, Lieutenant Colonel Lance E.,
206
Matapan, Battle of, 93-95
Maund, Captain L. E. H., 73, 81, 82, 84
Midway, Battle of, 194-217
Midway Islands, 130, 143, 162, 166,
191
Mikawa, Admiral Gunichi, 224, 249
Mirror landing system, 358, 359
Mitchell, Able Seaman E., 81
Mitchell, Ensign John J., 233, 234
3 8o
Mitchell, Brigadier General William,
34> 3 6
Mitscher, Admiral Marc A., 162, 196,
276,291,304,315,520
Miura, Commander Y., 208
Montgomery, Rear Admiral Alfred E.,
261, 262, 280
Mori, Chief Petty Officer Juzo, 124-26
Morison, Admiral Samuel Eliot, 10, 101,
119, 134, 141
Mountbatten, Admiral Louis, 274
Murata, Lieutenant Commander Shige-
haru, 124
Murphy, Lieutenant Commander }. W.,
217
Murray, Admiral George E., 139, 243
Murray-Seuter, Captain F., 29
Musick, Lieutenant Commander K. F.,
320
Mussolini, Benito, 86, 91
Myers, Lieutenant R. F., 295
Nagoya, Japan, 164, 165
Nagumo, Vice-Admiral Tadaichi, 122,
123, 129, 142, 159, 161, 193, 199,
202, 208, 215, 288
Namsos, Norway, 60
Narvik, Norway, 61
Naval Limitations Treaty, 114
Neely, Ensign P. F., 180
Nelson, Lieutenant R. S., 304
New Britain, 156, 276
New Guinea, 156
New Ireland, 148, 276
Newton, Rear Admiral John H., 139,
141
Night-landing operations, 362, 363
Nimitz, Admiral Chester W., 196, 197,
264, 286, 322
Nisewaner, Commander T. A., 334
Nishimura, Vice-Admiral Shoji, 326,
Nordholz, Germany, 19
Noyes, Rear Admiral Leigh, 223, 235
Oahu, 122, 123, 128, 129
Ofstie, Admiral R. A., 336
O'Hare, Lieutenant Edward H., 150-52
Oishi, Captain, 199
Okada, Captain Jisaku, 208
Oldendorf, Admiral Jesse B., 333, 336
Oliver, Lieutenant Commander A. G.,
83
INDEX
Omark, Lieutenant (jg) Warren R.,
307
Onishi, Rear Admiral Takijiro, 40
Operation A-Go, 285, 286
Operation Grab, 67
Operation Ironclad, 167
Operation "KA," 226
Operation Pedestal, 104, 107
Operation Smash, 67
Operation Torch, 257
Operation Watchtower, 223, 258
Oraie, Leading Airman R. N., 74
Osaka, Japan, 164, 165
Ozawa, Vice-Admiral Jisaburo, 160,
285-87, 289, 290, 298, 309, 320,
336
Partridge, Captain R. T., 62
Patch, Jr., Major General Alexander M.,
223
Patterson, Sub-Lieutenant N. H., 98
Pearl Harbor, attack on, 41, 114, 131
Philippines, 137, 138
Philippine Sea, Battle of, 282-321
Phillips, Captain J. S., 176
Polaris submarines, 355, 367, 368
Port Moresby, New Guinea, 156, 169
Power, Captain A. J., 54
Pownall, Rear Admiral C. A., 266, 269-
7 1
Prather, Lieutenant (jg) Verne, 317-19
Presley, Seaman S. D., 241
Pridham-Wippell, Vice-Admiral Sir
Henry, 92-94
Primary flight operations, 356, 357
Proell, Kapitanleutnant, 19
Proximity fuse, 253
Pye, Vice-Admiral William S., 1 33, 196
Rabaul, New Britain, 144, 147, 224,
258
Radford, Rear Admiral Arthur W., 347
Ramsey, Captain Dewitt C., 232
Reed, Lieutenant Allen, 329
Reeves, Jr., Rear Admiral John W,, 101,
280
Rennell Island, 259
Richardson, Lieutenant David C., 227
Ridgway, Lieutenant C. D., 295
Riduka, Chief Quartermaster F., 242
Rodee, Commander Walter F., 239
Roosevelt, President Franklin D., 101,
119, 166, 191, 322
INDEX
Rosenbaum, Lieutenant Commander,
105
Roth, Lieutenant Eli, 255
Royal Air Force, 47, 100
Royal Flying Corps, 25, 27
Royal Naval Air Service, 16, 17, 24, 26
Runyon, Warrant Machinist Donald E.,
229
Saipan, Marianas, 276, 277, 281
Saito, General Yaheita, 286
Sakamoto, Lieutenant Akira, 124
Samejima, Admiral Tomoshige, 259
Samoa, 143, 145
Samson, Commander Charles Rumney,
16-18, 24, 25, 28
Saunt, Lieutenant Commander W. H.
J., 92-94
Savo Island, Battle of, 174, 225
Savoia-Marchetti aircraft, 79, 96
Scapa Flow, Orkney Islands, 30
Scarlett, Lieutenant N. J., 89
Scheer, Admiral Reinhard, 32
Schofield Barracks, 122
Schuhart, Lieutenant Commander, 50
Seligman, Commander M. T., 186
Sellstrom, Ensign Edward R., 148
Semple, Rear Admiral W. D., 336
Seversky, Major Alexander P. de, 268
Seybert, Sy, 306
Seymour, Acting Petty Officer Airman,
, Lieutenant Courtney, 234
Sherman, Captain Frederick C., 139,
148,150,185,186,189,347
Sherman, Rear Admiral Forrest P., 233,
251, 261
Shima, Vice-Admiral Kiyohidi, 326,
33 2 > 334> 335
Shimazaki, Lieutenant Commander
Shigekazu, 127, 128
Shindo, Lieutenant Sasburo, 128
Short, Eustace, 26
Short, Horace, 26
Short, Lieutenant Wallace C., 213
Short, Oswald, 26
Short, Seaman L. V., 133
Shuff, John, 315-19
Shultz, Ensign O. J., 181
Shumway, Lieutenant Commander De-
witt W., 288
Sidewinder (missile), 353
Simard, Captain Cyril T., 217
3 8i
Sims, Lieutenant (jg) Charles A., 300
Sleigh, Lieutenant J. W., 99
Smeeton, Rear Admiral Richard M., 65,
69
Smiley, Commander Curtis S., 147
Smith, Chief Machinist's Mate Wil-
liam A., 231
Smith, Lieutenant Commander Her-
schel A., 230
Smith, Commander "Wingover," 314
Solomon Islands, 148, 275
Somerville, Vice-Admiral Sir James, 63,
159, 160,273,274
Sonobuoys, 366
South China Sea, 344, 345
Sparrow III (missile), 353
Spate, Sergeant Harold A., 166
Sprague, Rear Admiral Thomas L., 3*6
Spruance, Rear Admiral Raymond A.,
139, 164, 193, 196, 197, 204, 279,
291, 320
Stanfill, Grady, 306
Stanley, Lieutenant Onia B., 148
Sterrie, Norman, 306
Stewart-Moore, Lieutenant Commander
J. A., 69, 78
Strong, Lieutenant Stockton B., 238
Stump, Captain F. B., 271
Sumatra, 273, 274, 350
Surabaya, 275
Sutherland, Lieutenant General R. K.,
Suzuki, Lieutenant Commander Suguru,
120, 121
Swann (Schwann) Commander Oliver,
25, 29
Swanson, Clint, 306
Takagi, Vice Admiral Takeo, 174, 175,
181
Takahashi, Lieutenant Commander
Kakuichi, 124
Tanabe, Lieutenant Commander Ya-
hachi, 219
Tanoka, Rear Admiral R., 194, 226,
231, 249, 250
Tarawa, Gilbert Islands, 265
Tarr, Ensign Thomas, 301
Task Group Organization, 340, 341
Tate, Lieutenant (jg) Benjamin C., 307
Tawitawi, Philippines, 286
Taylor, Ensign Thomas H., 132
Taylor, Lieutenant Commander Joseph,
*73 l8 3
Thach, Captain James, 341
Thach, Lieutenant Commander John S.,
148-52, 206
Theobald, Rear Admiral Robert A., 197
Thomas, Lieutenant Commander Fran-
cis J., 132
Thomas, Lieutenant Commander James
A., 250
Tinian, Marianas, 277
Tjilatjap, Java 153 i 154
Tokyo Raid, 162-66
Tollberg, Watertender 2/c M. W., 255
Tomonaga, Lieutenant Joichi, 212, 213
TORPEDOES:
Trondheim, Norway, 60-62
Trousdale, Lieutenant J. H., 295
Truk, Caroline Islands, 148, 258
Tsukahara, Admiral Nishizo, 226
Tulagi, Solomon Islands, 170, 174
Turner, Rear Admiral Richmond Kelly,
223,233,2^7 272,289
Twining, General Nathan F., 259
Tyce, Robert, 122
Tyrwhitt, Commander Sir Reginald, 16,
18-20
Ugaki, Rear Admiral ML, 21 5, 288
Ulithi, Caroline Islands, 349
UNITED STATES FORCES:
Army, 27th Div., 281; Air, 2oth
Bomber Command, 344; Navy, 119,
120
UNITED STATES SHIPS:
Submarines; Albacore, 289, 302;
Bang, 302; Cavalla, 288, 289, 303;
Dace, 327; Darter, 327; Dolphin, 145;
Finback, 291, 302; Flying Fish, 288,
290; Harder, 287; Puffer, 287; Redfn,
287, 288, 290; Seahorse, 290; Sting-
ray, 302; Tarnbor, 217
Alabama, 209; Arizona, 122, 127,
131, 132; Astoria, 139, 174, 211;
Balch, 231; Bataan, 289; Belleau
Wood, 256, 265, 289, 293; Benham,
219; Birmingham, 329, 330, 331;
Blue, 226; Bobolink, 134; Boxer, 10;
Brush, 348; Bunker Hill, 256, 262,
265, 300, 314; Cabot, 293, 340; CaU-
INDEX
fornia, 122, 131, 133, 134; Cape
Esperance, 343; Cassin, 122; Che-
nango, 251, 254; Chester, 145, 146,
174; Chicago, 139, 177, 252-55;
Cimarron, 163; Colorado, 139; Cow-
pens, 256, 265, 289, 343; Curtiss,
122; Dennis, 338; Downs, 122; Ed-
sail, 154, 155; Edwards, 255; Enter-
prise, 36, 120, 123, 130, 139-42, 145,
147, 204, 2O6, 207, 210, 217, 226-
28, 230, 231, 236, 237, 239, 241-43,
- 8, 278, 292; Essex, 37, 256, 265,
280, 340, 344; Fanshaw Bay, 336,
ijB;Forrestal, 10, 306;
.- 336, 3395 GwiTi, 218,
219; Grant, A. W., 333, 334; Ham-
mann, 174, 219; Hancock, 340, 348;
Heermann, 337, 338; Helena, 122;
Henley, 177; Sickox, 320; Hoe/, 337,
338; Honolulu, 122, 197; Hornet, 30,
120, 136, 162-65, *95> 20 4 210 >
217, 218, 226, 232, 233, 235, 236,
238, 239 241, 243, 244, 277, 289,
301; Hughes, 218, 243; Idaho, 140;
Independence, ip, 37, 256, 265; In-
diana, 299; Indianapolis, 141, 197,
279; Intrepid, 10; Irwin, 328, 329,
331; Jarvis, 223; John C. Butler, 338;
Johnston, 337, 338; Juneau, 243;
Jupiter, 35; Kadashan Bay, 336;
Kalinin Bay, 336, 338; Kitkun Bay,
336; Kitty fwwfe, 192; Kwajatein,
343; Ixzfee Champlain, 10, 366; Lang,
103; I^ngfey, 35, 36, 119, 153-55.
28 9> 343> 347; Lansdovme, 236, 246;
Ld Valtette, 255, 270; Leary, R. P.,
333; Lexington, 10, 36, 43, no, 130,
139, 141 147-49 152, 156] 157,
170, 181-84, 186-88, 190, 256, 265,
270, 288; Long Island, 37; Louisville,
145, 147, 197, 252, 254; Mac-
Donougfi, 232, 279; McDermut, 333;
Maddox, 348; Mdhan, 245; Majaba,
246; Manila Bay, 336; Marcus Island,
336; Maryland, 122, 127, i33;Minne-
<#oKs, 140, 142, 173, 232, 298; Mis-
sissippi, 140, 265; Mobile, 302; Mo-
naghan, 343; Monterey, 265, 343;
Morris, 240; Morrison, 329; Musier,
235; Mustin, 244; Nashville, 1^3,
105, 197; Nafond Bay, 336; Navaho,
218, 254, 255; Neches, 144; Neosho,
173-74; Nevadd, 122, 132, 133; New-
INDEX
UNITED STATES SHIPS (cont'd)
combe, 333; New Mexico, 140; New
Orleans, 173; Northampton, 139,
145, 146, 240, 243; North Carolina,
25, 35, 120, 235, 347; Oglaga, 122;
Oklahoma, 122, 131, 133; Ommaney
Bay, 336; Pennsylvania, 23, 122, 131,
132; Pensacola, 243; Petrof Bay, 336;
Phelps, 190; Phoenix, 153; Porter,
141, 240, 243; Portland, 139, i4i,
211; Princeton, 256, 259, 260, 265,
300, 328-31; Raleigh, 122; Ranger,
36; Raymond, 338; Reno, 329, 331;
Rochester, 145; Russell, 173, 240,
243; Sabine, 164; Salt Lake City, 142,
145, 146; Samuel B. Roberts, 338;
San Diego, 259; Sands, 255; San
Francisco, 247, 270; Sangamon, 336;
Son Juan, 241-43, 259; San Jacinto,
343; Sante, 336; Saratoga, 10, 36, 43,
119, 139, 144, i9 2 226-28, 232,
250, 259, 260; Savo Mind, 336; Sea
Witch, 153; Shaw, 122, 240; Sims,
175, 176; Smith, 241; Southard, 246;
South Dakota, 236, 241, 242, 245,
298, 299; Spence, 343; Sterett, 103;
St. Lo, 336, 337, 339; St. Louis, 145,
147, 197; Stockham, 298, 299; Su-
wannee, 251, 254, 336; Taylor, 270;
Tennessee, 122, 131; Ticonderoga,
342, 347; Utah, 122; VestaZ, 122,
132; Vincennes, 163; Vireo, 134, 218,
219; WaCer, 252, 255; Wasatch,
337; Washington, 120, 347; Wasp,
36, 101-3, 120, 226, 232-36, 30
? ---' P; W/li
Whipple,
;oo,
tite
t**t, J*JS+, 11 *mn*"* *r ,.. --, ^ / 7
West Virginia, 122, 131; Wright,
192; YarnaH, 293, 298; Yorfetown, 36,
120, 140, 144, 147, 156, 158, 173,
178, 181-84, l8 ^> 1 9 X 9"' 20 4' 2 6 '
210-13, 218, 219, 256, 265, 270, 289
Valkenburgh, Captain Franklin van,
132
383
Vejtasa, Lieutenant S. W., 241
Vose, Lieutenant James .,245
Vraciu, Alex, 306
Wainwright, General Jonathan M., 175
Wake Island, 129, 143
Waldron, Lieutenant Commander John
C., 204, 205
Washington Conference, 114
Wavell, General Sir Archibald, 91, 97,
*53
Wells, Vice-Admiral L. V., 54
Welsh, Flight Lieutenant W. L., 29
Weymouth, Lieutenant Commander
Ralph, 301
Wheeler Field, 122, 124
White, Commander Arthur J., 153, 189
Widhelm, Lieutenant Commander Wil-
liam J., 238, 244, 245, 305
Williams, Sub-Lieutenant H. E., 99
Williamson, Lieutenant Commander
K., 88, 89
Willie Fudd, 363, 364, 368
Winston, Lieutenant Commander F. L.,
295
Wintour, Lieutenant Commander J. M.,
98
Wood, Lieutenant Commander Hunter,
242
Woods, Quartermaster D. E., 271
Wotje, 145
Wright Brothers, 22, 23, 26
Wright, Jack, 318
Yamada, Rear Admiral Sadoyoshi, 170
Yamaguchi, Rear Admiral Tamon, 210,
211, 213, 214
Yamamoto, Admiral Isoroku, 41, 170,
193-95, 198, 200, 208, 215, 216,
226
Yanagimoto, Captain, 210
Yashiro, Rear Admiral, 146
Zeppelin L.53, 19-21
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