Great Pacific War: A History of the American-Japanese Campaign of 1931-33 (30 page)

Once more, it seemed, the foe had escaped us. But two problems remained unsolved: what could have reduced the American squadron which had bombarded Yap from ten units to nine, and where was the rest of the American fleet? As to the first, we could only hope that one battleship had fallen a victim to gunfire from the island, or perhaps to our submarine patrols. As to the second puzzle, we judged the remainder of the fleet to be at Truk or somewhere in that neighbourhood. In any case it was not within reach. The urgent need of the moment was to determine our next step. As we were now scarcely sixty miles from Yap, the Commander-in-Chief decided to push on to the island, where the small craft could re-fuel. By that time we might have received fresh intelligence to guide our future movements. So at 2.30 p.m., reducing speed to sixteen knots, we pursued our way to Yap, having meanwhile detached planes to reconnoitre the Pelews and surrounding waters. Once more we had drawn blank. There seemed no end to this aimless game of hide-and-seek with an opponent who, whatever his other defects, had proved himself master of the art of mystification.

Then, of a sudden, philosophic apathy was transformed into breathless excitement. Again there came news that the enemy fleet had been sighted — not, however, where we supposed it to be, some hundreds of miles to the east, but almost due west of us, and only one hundred miles away! At first we flatly refused to believe the apparently impossible tidings, which came from patrol submarine Ro. 57. But our incredulity was soon resolved by messages from another submarine scout, who reported ‘Great enemy fleet in sight,’ giving a position and course which coincided closely with the previous message from Ro. 57. Instantly the Admiral ordered the fastest airplanes to make for the position indicated, and a few minutes later we saw machines rising from the decks of their carriers. At the same moment the fleet was ordered to turn eight points to port in succession, which had the effect of changing our course from due east to due north. Even as this order was obeyed, a thrill ran through the whole fleet. By instinct rather than knowledge we knew the hour of action to be approaching. In my ship (the
Nagato
) we prepared quietly for battle. Nothing remained to be done when, half an hour later, we heard that course had again been altered, this time six points to port — which meant we were heading straight for the enemy — and the signal ‘Action Stations’ flashed from the flagship. But in spite of this suppressed excitement, one asked one’s self repeatedly: What does it all mean? How is it possible for one great enemy fleet to be in the west and another in the east? Can it be that the Americans have created entirely new battle squadrons? But in that case, why have they divided their forces, instead of keeping them united in one overwhelming armada?

As our eloquent Japanese historian proceeds to devote several pages to speculative answers to the questions he himself propounds, we will now take leave of him and transfer our attention to the United States Fleet.

CHAPTER XX

Composition of United States fleet — Conflict in the air precedes main action — The Battle of Yap — Superior strength of American forces results in victory after desperate fighting — Japanese lose five capital ships, Americans only two

WHEN Admiral Templeton sailed from Truk, the force under his immediate command was organised as follows: Fleet flagship,
West
Virginia
. Battleship Divisions: No. 1,
Colorado
,
Maryland
, with
West
Virginia
incorporated for tactical purposes. No. 2,
California
(flagship of Vice-Admiral McArthur, Second-in-command),
Tennessee
,
Idaho
,
Mississippi
. No. 3,
New
Mexico
,
New
York
,
Oklahoma
,
Nevada
. No. 4,
Pennsylvania
,
Arizona
,
Texas
,
Florida
,
Wyoming
. Cruiser Divisions: No. 1,
Hartford
,
Olympia
,
Columbus
,
Atlanta
. No. 3,
Albany
,
Kansas
City
,
Los
Angeles
,
Portland
. No. 4,
Troy
,
Cleveland
,
Denver
,
Wilmington
.
[7]
No. 5,
Cincinnati
,
Richmond
,
Raleigh
,
Detroit
. No. 7,
Omaha
,
Memphis
,
Milwaukee
. No. 8,
Pittsburgh
,
Huron
,
St
.
Louis
.
[8]
Six destroyer squadrons, numbering 115 destroyers. Air squadrons Nos. 1, 2 and 3, comprising the carriers
Lexington
,
Saratoga
,
Alaska
,
Montauk
and
Curtiss
,
[9]
carrying between them 190 airplanes. Two submarine divisions, each of five V-class boats, with a speed of twenty-one knots. On this cruise the fleet sailed without its auxiliaries, none of which were fast enough to accompany the main squadrons when steaming at full speed. But no fewer than thirty of these auxiliary vessels, mostly fuel and repair ships, were at this moment on their way from Truk to Angaur, the movement being part of the comprehensive dispositions ordered by the Bureau of Operations. As the waters around Yap had always been regarded as the predestined zone of battle, the dispatch of these auxiliaries to Angaur would ensure the timely provision of fuel and repair facilities for the fleet when the action was over.

It was at 3 p.m. on November 20 that the Japanese Admiral heard for the first time that the whole American fleet was in a position 160 miles W.N.W. of Yap, which placed it only 100 miles from his own force. He thus found himself cut off from his base by an enemy whose presence in that quarter he had never suspected. Even had he wished to avoid action, he could not have done so now, for his superiority in speed was not sufficient to enable him to slip away round either flank of the American fleet. Part of his force must inevitably be brought to action. Moreover, his destroyers had not enough fuel left to take them back to port if they travelled under full power. We know, however, that he had made up his mind to fight.

The rival fleets were now drawing together at a collective speed of forty knots. The American battle divisions were in line ahead disposed abeam, with two cruiser squadrons thrown out in advance, one on either beam, and one astern. The air scouts on each side were speedily in touch, and in spite of much mutual interference they contrived to keep their respective admirals informed of each enemy manoeuvre. The action began — as it had often been predicted the next great naval battle would begin — by a violent and reciprocal air offensive.

In view of his adversary’s superior speed, Admiral Templeton was particularly anxious to disable one or more of the Japanese major ships at an early stage of the combat, hoping and believing that rather than desert his crippled vessels, Admiral Hiraga would stay and fight it out to the bitter end. Accordingly at 3.20 p.m., fifty planes, the majority being bombers and torpedo-carriers, took off from the
Lexington
and
Saratoga
with orders to concentrate their attack on the leading battleship of the first column they sighted. In forty minutes they were within view of the Japanese fleet and were rushing to attack when suddenly a powerful flight of enemy machines, which had been patrolling at a higher level, came dropping down to intercept them. To give any detailed account of this scrimmage in the air would be impossible. In the first minute of the fierce
mêlée
nearly a dozen planes went down out of control. Thrice amidst the crackle of machine-gun fire did head-on collisions take place, the Japanese aviators never hesitating to ram when otherwise baulked of their prey, preferring to immolate themselves rather than allow the American bombs to reach their ships. Less than half the American machines broke through and made for the Japanese fleet, which received them with a hurricane of fire.

How different now were the circumstances from those which aviation enthusiasts, deceived by artificial peace tests against helpless targets, had pictured! From the ships below, turning and twisting at high speed, came a veritable stream of shell, the incessant detonations of which caused the planes to rock as in a gale of wind. The air was alive with steel splinters and poisoned with acrid fumes. Still the indomitable pilots held on, and were almost within range when six Japanese machines crossed in front of them at lightning speed, leaving a thick curtain of yellowish vapour in their wake as they passed. As the American fliers drove through this curtain, they were instantly conscious of a choking sensation, accompanied by racking head pains. Through some culpable oversight they had not been equipped with gas masks. The omission was fatal. All but two of the planes dived headlong into the sea, their pilots having been disabled by the noxious fumes. The occupants of the remaining two machines — one a bomber, the other a torpedo-plane — which had passed through the gas screen before it had properly developed, got but a whiff of the poison, and though deadly sick were able to carry on. But being half-blinded and choked, it is not surprising that they should have mistaken a cruiser squadron for a battleship division. Both accordingly attacked the
Myoko
. The torpedo-plane was just about to release its weapon when apparently it was hit by a shell and blown to pieces. The bomber got one hit on the cruiser and was then shot down, the pilot and observer, Lieuts. Cuthbertson and Martyn, being saved by a Japanese destroyer. Although the
Myoko
was badly smashed up about the forecastle, she was not put out of action.

Such was the result of an attack that had cost nearly forty machines, barely a dozen of the planes having survived. While this raid was in progress, the Japanese, on their part, had launched a similar offensive against the American fleet, though with scarcely better fortune. True, they blew a hole in the
Pennsylvania’s
upper deck and gassed eighty men in the
Texas
, but all but seven of their machines were brought down. Even at this early phase it was made clear that a decision must be achieved by weapons other than the air arm. Since the supply of aircraft on each side was strictly limited, neither felt disposed to risk any further machines in this way until conditions became more favourable.

At 4.30 p.m., the advanced cruiser screens were in contact and hard fighting at once developed. Rear-Admiral Blaine, leading the First Cruiser Division, found himself attacked by eight large Japanese vessels, and but for the prompt arrival of the Third Cruiser Division, under Rear-Admiral Appleton, matters would have gone ill with him. In this first bout the
Hartford
,
Olympia
, and
Portland
all sustained damage and heavy casualties, but they had the satisfaction of seeing an enemy cruiser, the
Ashigara
blow up and sink. A Japanese destroyer dash at the First Division was repulsed with shattering loss to the assailants. As the outposts thus tested each other’s mettle, the heavy squadrons were drawing rapidly within gun-range. The direction of both fleets was roughly W.N.W., but the lines were converging when, at 5.15 p.m., the range then being 28,000 yards, Admiral Hiraga altered course three points to port and increased his speed. At the same moment his cruisers again advanced, striving to roll up the American cruiser divisions by sheer weight of numbers. Simultaneously three Japanese destroyer flotillas broke through their line of cruisers and steamed straight for the American van, putting up a thick pall of smoke as they went.

But sharp eyes aloft perceived what was happening and flashed word of it to Admiral Templeton. Taking advantage of their greater speed, the Japanese were trying to cut across the head of his line at right angles — in other words, to “cross his T” — a manoeuvre that would have brought his leading divisions under an annihilating fire. To counter the attempt, he turned away four points, signalling his leading division to open fire on the enemy's van. The target was invisible to the gunners, but the spotting aircraft constantly transmitted information as to the enemy's position, range, speed, and course. At 5.25 p.m. the
Colorado
opened with a two-gun salvo, the shots pitching slightly ahead of and over the leading Japanese ship, which was taken to be the
Mutsu
. Sights having been adjusted, the
Colorado
,
Maryland
, and
West
Virginia
began firing full salvos, and at each discharge twenty-four tons of steel went roaring towards the enemy. Sharp and fast from the aircraft spotting officers came radio-phone reports: “Salvo one, 600 yards over,” with data as to change of rate and deflection. At the third salvo came the welcome signal “Straddle,” and at the fourth and fifth “Several hits on leading ship.”

Fire was now switched on to the second vessel, either the
Nagato
or the
Kaga
, two hits being recorded in the eighth salvo. Considering the enormous range, the practice was good, but it involved a heavy expenditure of ammunition for a minute percentage of hits. Still, the few shells that did get home proved very destructive, falling at a steep angle and penetrating through the decks to explode with stunning force inside the ship. Though the
Nagato
was struck but twice, she seemed to be severely damaged forward, and temporarily dropped out of the line. One 16-inch shell hit the
Mutsu
, wrecking her second turret and putting the guns out of action.

Unwilling to risk graver injury, Admiral Hiraga turned away and opened the range, whereupon the American fire promptly ceased. The Japanese manoeuvre had been foiled. Determined now to bring his superior weight of broadside to bear, the American Admiral signalled for full speed and swung his line four points inward, accomplishing this move under a screen of smoke put up by his destroyers, while overhead his airmen attacked the hostile planes with such fury that the latter had no time to observe what was passing below. Before the smoke had thinned sufficiently to reveal his approach, Admiral Templeton’s leading divisions were within 17,000 yards of the enemy’s centre, upon which they opened a terrific cannonade. No less than eight ships were concentrating on the
Ise
and
Hiuga
, which thus became the target for about ninety of the heaviest guns. All the American vessels were firing with the utmost rapidity, averaging only forty seconds between each full salvo. To observers ahead, watching this line of grey leviathans, their sides seemed to explode at regular intervals in gouts of flame and brown smoke.

Every minute more of the American battleships were coming up to join in the terrible drum-fire that was now smiting both the centre and rear of the Japanese fleet. Admiral Hiraga strove desperately to draw out of range, but the damage that several of his ships had received had reduced his squadron speed to twenty knots, and he no longer had the advantage in mobility.

At this, the fiercest stage of the action, many noteworthy episodes occurred, one or two of which must be recorded. The five Japanese battle-cruisers had not hitherto been closely engaged, as except for the
Akagi
their armour protection was too light to withstand severe pounding, and Admiral Hiraga had therefore held them in reserve, to await an opportunity favourable for their intervention. But his position was becoming so desperate that he resolved to take a bold step. At 5.40 p.m., therefore, he made certain signals to Vice-Admiral Wada, whose five magnificent battle-cruisers at once turned sixteen points and raced eastward at full speed, just beyond range of the American guns. On the way they fell in with Admiral Winthrop’s Fourth Cruiser Division, which was covering the left flank of the battle fleet against destroyer attack. By now Admiral Wada’s ships were beginning to turn northward again, and as they broke through the smoke pall, they sighted Winthrop’s division only 10,000 yards away. The Japanese were swift to seize the chance thus presented. A burst of fire came from the
Akagi’s
huge 16-inch guns, promptly echoed by the 14-inch batteries of her consorts, and in less than a minute the cruiser
Troy
was a shattered wreck, lying on her beam-ends, with half the crew dead or wounded. The
Cleveland
also got her death wound, and both the
Denver
and
Wilmington
were hit before they could steam beyond reach of those murderous broadsides.