Great Pacific War: A History of the American-Japanese Campaign of 1931-33 (27 page)

At 4 p.m. on October 3, thirty-five hours after leaving Port Lloyd, we had covered approximately 700 knots, and had thus approached to within 150 sea miles of Guam. The following day might deliver the foe into our hands! Then, like a cold douche, came a signal from the flagship: ‘Scouts report enemy fleet altered course at 3.30 p.m. and now steering due east. Raise speed to twenty-two knots.’ Whatever this might presage, our battleships were now ordered to work up to within a knot of their maximum speed. Could the quarry be slipping through our fingers? The tension was extreme. Some mercurial officers who had been loudest in forecasting an early victory now went about with gloomy faces. Still, we continued to hope until, at 5 p.m. the Admiral signalled: ‘Enemy has turned and is retreating south at full speed.’ At once we knew that our hopes of battle were dashed to the ground. True, we might, by a long stern chase with full pressure in our boilers, have overtaken the flying foe before he could regain his lair at Truk, but the risks of a dash into enemy waters, with our ships running short of fuel, would certainly not be countenanced by the higher command. At 5.30 the flagship made the expected signal, ‘Reduce speed to twelve knots.’ The chase was over, and we were now cruising slowly towards Guam, which was no longer in danger of attack. If we had failed to destroy the enemy, we had at least thwarted his design, and saved a vital position from possible capture.

It is to be feared, however, that even this crumb of comfort must be denied to the gallant narrator. Guam had never been in the least danger. The expedition whose approach had been so closely shadowed by Japanese scouts, and which had brought the Japanese battle fleet racing down from Port Lloyd, was nothing more than a collection of dummy battleships and empty transports, the latter being old merchant vessels more or less useless for any other service. The ruse had served a double purpose: it had tested and proved the Japanese readiness to fight a fleet action at this stage of the war; secondly, it had diverted attention from any possible interference with the real expedition against the Pelew Islands, which had sailed from Truk a few hours in advance of the decoy armada. Transports conveying the troops for the Pelews had come direct from Hawaii, reaching Truk a week after the Japanese air reconnaissance of that port. Two days later, the battle fleet also arrived, having called on the way at Jaluit, where the destroyers and cruisers had re-fuelled.

When the Pelew expeditionary force sailed on October 2, taking a southerly route to avoid submarines from Yap, the battle fleet covered it for two-thirds of the distance (1400 miles), though standing further towards the west. At the same time a squadron of fast cruisers made a cast far to the north, from which direction the Japanese fleet must come, if it came at all. But all doubts on that head were set at rest on October 4, when American submarines which had previously been sent to scout to the north of Guam reported having seen many Japanese battleships steaming south at full speed, obviously bent on intercepting the “live bait” squadron of dummy ships, which at that time were approaching Guam. It was thus perfectly clear that the Japanese main fleet was at least 800 miles distant from Pelew, and therefore in no position to molest the expedition, which was now only two days’ steaming from the objective. Nothing was to be feared save cruisers or submarines. As we saw, however, practically all such craft had been recalled from the South Seas nearly a month before, to join the great concentration at Yokosuka.

Angaur, the principal settlement in the Pelews, was duly reached on October 6. A reconnaissance by destroyers having drawn fire from a battery of 6-inch guns which commanded the approach, planes from the airplane-carrier
Harvard
flew in and plentifully distributed phosphorus gas and explosive bombs over the position, whose defenders were quickly put out of action. The actual landing took place without the loss of a single life, and at 9 p.m. on October 6, 8,000troops were ashore. Without an hour’s delay the Control Force, which experience in previous landings at Truk, Jaluit, and Ponapi had made highly efficient, began its work of unshipping guns, stores, and equipment. In less than a week, Angaur had been rendered safe against a surprise attack by the mounting of 7-inch and lighter guns, and the establishment of an aerodrome. The defences proved their efficacy on the 12th, when two Japanese planes from Yap, coming to spy out the land, were pursued and shot down in flames.

When news of this successful descent upon the Pelew Islands reached Japan, it created universal dismay, and in many quarters absolute despair. The War Council had to confess itself outwitted at all points, nor did the polite reminder of the naval men, that they had foreseen this precise development and vainly urged the taking of measures to defeat it, allay the mortification of the military chiefs. That the position had now become extremely serious, not to say desperate, was clear to all. By a succession of bold yet well-considered moves the Americans had contrived to modify the whole strategical outlook to their advantage. At the beginning of the war they had been confined exclusively to the eastern sector of the Pacific, apparently with no prospect of breaking the fetters imposed upon them by geographical circumstance. In a fruitless effort to burst through the invisible but rigid cordon they had, in defiance of the elementary laws of strategy, launched their foolhardy enterprise against the Bonins, only to meet with the disaster their folly had invited. But the lesson learned at such bitter cost had not been in vain. From the defeat of the Bonins expedition dated the inception of that new and sounder strategy the fruits of which were now being garnered. With the seizure of the Pelew group the end of the war had been brought within sight, for it could not be long ere Japan was compelled to play her last card as the alternative to owning defeat.

At first sight the American position was still far from satisfactory, and might even have been termed precarious. For while the new post at Angaur was now too strongly defended to be capable of reduction by anything less than a powerful force, it was dangerously remote from any large American base. Hawaii being 3,800 and Tutuila 3,600 miles distant. Moreover, the line of approach to Angaur both from Hawaii and Tutuila was outflanked by the Japanese fortress of Guam, and still more so by the island of Yap, which lay only 300 miles to the north-east. Five hundred miles to the west was the coast of the Philippines, in the harbours of which the Japanese might secretly assemble an overwhelming force for the reconquest of the Pelews. To many onlookers it must have seemed as if the United States, in venturing so far towards the west, had thrust its head into the lion’s jaws.

But a closer survey tended to modify this view. Before establishing themselves at the Pelews, the Americans had methodically secured control of all potential enemy bases lying athwart the main route to the islands, and by promptly making use of these bases for their own ships had been able to institute a fairly efficient patrol along the whole line of communication. Though errant Japanese cruisers or submarines might cause trouble, or even serious loss, by striking at the convoys which were now continually passing to and fro along the route in question, such raids could exert no decisive influence on the fortunes of the campaign. Somewhere behind the line of patrols lay the United States battle fleet, no longer tethered to its eastern bases, but henceforth able to strike with full weight at any point between Hawaii and the Philippines, thanks to the floating fuel reserves now available at Jaluit, Ponapi, Truk, and Angaur. Japan could not hope to recover her lost islands and so arrest this insidious advance into her own waters until she had defeated the hostile fleet. Nothing less would suffice to retrieve the situation.

To ignore the challenge and keep her battleships inactive would leave the Americans free to extend their hold on the western sector of the Pacific by seizing the Mariana Islands, an operation which had now become feasible. Notwithstanding their lack of definite intelligence, the Japanese well knew the military power of the United States to have grown enormously in the past eighteen months. It was not improbable that within this period the Navy had doubled its strength in every type of vessel except battleships, nor was it impossible that the battle fleet had been reinforced. By virtue of her infinitely superior wealth and industrial resources, the United States could by this time have equipped herself with all the materials essential for waging aggressive warfare overseas, while her army might now run into millions. New tonnage, it was known, was pouring out of her shipyards, and this shipping furnished her with all the transports and auxiliaries needed for an amphibious expedition of the first magnitude. While the cost of the war to date had been immense, it had not seriously depleted her coffers. She had an inexhaustible supply of foodstuffs and raw materials of every description. Her people, despite an ingrained aversion to war, were displaying by a hundred signs their inflexible determination to continue the struggle until a lasting and honourable peace had been won. Now that the tide of war was running so strongly in their favour they were less inclined than ever to accept a patched-up truce.

All this was known to the rulers of Japan, who were at the same time painfully conscious of their own less enviable position. The war had been in progress a year and a half. How much longer could Japan afford to continue a struggle which had already taxed her strength to the utmost? She might, at a liberal estimate, carry on for a further six months, always provided her home front stood firm. But the popular temper was not such as to inspire the Government with confidence on this point. Were it possible to achieve some undeniable success, decisive enough to impress American public opinion with the futility of going on with the war, all might yet be well. Japan had previously caused it to be known through neutral intermediaries that she was willing to entertain reasonable terms of peace. She was prepared to waive an indemnity on condition that the insular territories she had wrested from the United States were confirmed to her. These feelers, however, had produced no encouraging reaction in America, and in the meantime the loss of the Pelews had divested such proposals of whatever claim to attention they might otherwise have

But if the gravity of the outlook was realised in Tokyo, there was as yet no disposition to sue for peace on the enemy’s terms. The War Council still pinned its faith to the fleet, which was intact both as to material and morale. With this weapon a blow might be struck at the enemy’s heart. How to employ it under the most promising conditions now became the Council's prime concern. Since the American line of approach lay far to the southward, the Bonins were no longer suitable as a main war base for the fleet. Guam would have been ideal for the purpose so far as position went, but it had neither the anchorage room nor shore facilities requisite for a great naval force. Cavite in Manila Bay, was accordingly selected as the main base, in spite of the considerable distance which separated it from Angaur. The resources of the arsenal at Cavite had been greatly extended under the Japanese occupation, and reliance was placed upon patrols operating from the eastern shores of Mindanao to send warning of any important American movements in time for the main fleet to intervene if Guam — or, as seemed not unlikely, Mindanao itself — were threatened.

On October 15, therefore, the whole fleet arrived at Manila, having come by way of the Balingtang Channel to evade observation. But its passage did not go unremarked, for two United States submarines,
V
7
and
V
11
, which were cruising to eastward of the channel, had sighted the vast procession of ships and duly flashed word to the proper quarter.

Since the climax of the naval war was fast approaching, and a clash between the two fleets had become only a question of weeks, it is desirable at this juncture to examine the composition of the rival forces. The effect of the Washington Treaty, signed in February, 1922, had been virtually to stabilise the American and Japanese battle fleets from that date to the outbreak of war, nine years later. At the beginning of hostilities, each country had decided to augment its fleet by new construction, but the gigantic battlecruisers which Japan was rumoured to have laid down had, in fact, never got beyond the stage of paper design. Foreseeing that these vessels could not, in the most favourable event, be ready for service in less than two years, the Japanese had wisely resolved not to dissipate their energies in building ships which were unlikely to play any part in the war, and which might even be rendered obsolete before completion. Other means of reinforcing the exiguous battle fleet lay readier to hand.

In the
Kaga
and the
Akagi
they had two vessels which, originally designed as capital ships, had afterwards been converted into airplane carriers to save them from destruction under the ruling of the Washington Treaty. Of these, the 23-knot
Kaga
had never been a complete success, the special functions of an airplane carrier requiring her to be swifter by at least seven knots than the battleships with which she co-operates. The
Akagi
had given more satisfaction, thanks to her speed of twenty-eight knots; but the completion in recent years of the
Hosho
and other fast carriers had provided the Japanese Navy with an ample contingent of such vessels. Consequently, as soon as war appeared imminent, the naval authorities decided to restore the
Kaga
and the
Akagi
to their original designs, since in this way the battle fleet would gain two units of matchless power. The work was put in hand immediately, and to ensure prompt completion, most of the guns and armour plates needed to equip the two ships were ordered in Europe. By June, 1932, both the reconditioned ships were ready for sea. The
Kaga
was now a battleship of 40,000 tons and twenty-three knots speed, mounting ten 16-inch guns, her vital parts encased in stout mail. The
Akagi
emerged as a battle-cruiser of 44,000 tons, with a main battery of eight 16-inch guns, and capable of steaming at thirty knots. Each in its way was a more powerful ship than any unit of the United States Navy. Their completion brought the Japanese strength up to twelve capital ships. Five were battle-cruisers, with a squadron speed of twenty-eight knots; the other seven were battleships, averaging twenty-two knots. Of heavy guns this fleet mounted 114 in all, thirty-four being of 16-inch and the remainder of 14-inch calibre. There were also in service four airplane carriers; twenty-three cruisers, including a number of large vessels armed with 8-inch guns; approximately one hundred destroyers, and ninety-four submarines of varying tonnage and power.