Reluctant Warriors (27 page)

At least four of the eight-inch shells hit the main target,
Niitaka
. By 1030, she
seemed to be listing several degrees and losing speed.
Grand Rapids'
crew could see
fires on her without binoculars, especially near the bridge.

After taking another hit,
Niitaka
was forced to leave the battle line, turning and
chugging away into the distance, spewing smoke. She eventually made the port of Gasmata
on New Britain Island. On the 25th, she was attacked and sunk there by the same flight
of bombers from the Fifth Air Force that had flown past at Huon Gulf.

Admiral Osukawa sat dejectedly on the bridge of
Zukaku
.

“If only I had the power of the Americans, just once could command that number of
planes. I feared their planes since we left Sasebo. Unaccountably, they have not
touched us. Instead, this ghost ship hits us but is impervious to the shells of our
mighty ships. How bad is the damage to
Niitaka
?”

“Admiral, I'm sorry to report that she will have to retire.” Satsuma's face looked
drawn and weary. “She has six serious hits, sir, with much internal flooding.”

“Order her to Gasmata. We will join her there if we can. Tell Captain Osumata that
we will avenge her and accomplish our mission.”

When Satsuma returned from sending the message, the admiral was ready.

“The American has been very clever. He has outsmarted us with his ruse of making
smoke. How has he been able to avoid our shells?”

“Admiral, I believe it to be pure luck. The grouping of her salvos has actually been
poor. Ours land much closer together but for some
unaccountable reason, have not
hit home. We heard before the war that the muzzle velocity of
Grand Rapids
and her
sisters' guns is too great and leads to poor groupings.”

“So, all of ours hit or none. Then, how can she hit us at all?” the Admiral demanded.

“Sir, my explanation is that her shells are so errant that some just happen to hit.”

“I tire of this game, Satsuma.” Osukawa leaned back in his chair. “Let us employ
a trick of our own. Order our destroyers to close to torpedo range by 1100 and launch
their Model 93s, the six-thousand-pound torpedoes. This must be done slowly, so as
not to alarm the American destroyer screen. Let us see if we can catch the devil
ship with a torpedo or two.”

“Yes, Admiral!”

Thirty minutes passed with neither cruiser making a hit. Finally, on the US cruiser,
a sailor answered the phone and spoke to Captain Rodgers.

“‘Guns,' sir.”

Again Rodgers relayed Cashion's words to the Admiral. “Sam thinks those destroyers
are getting too close, maybe getting into position to make a run on us to launch
torpedoes.”

“Are we within range of their torpedoes?” Admiral Wells sounded worried.

Before either man could say another word, a titanic blast hit destroyer
Avery
. It
blew off the bow up to the number one turret, leaving her dead in the water. Moments
later, a second torpedo found its mark, hurling men and equipment one hundred feet
in the air. When the smoke cleared,
Avery
was gone.

Rodgers ordered
Grand Rapids
to loop back by the survivors. As she did, the cruiser's
men threw life jackets, and anything else that would float, into the water.
Avery
crewmen would remain in the water for thirty hours, until being rescued by a curious
flotilla including
Winslow
, a number of smaller
surface ships, and the submarine
Tenorfish
. In the meantime, they held front row seats for the finale.

Apprised of the destruction of the American destroyer, Admiral Osukawa sat motionless
for a moment, depressed that the twenty-four torpedoes had missed the American cruiser.
Suddenly, he stood and raised his voice to Captain Satsuma, who turned.

“The American will make his mistake! Up until now he has outfoxed us, but now he
will loop back for survivors. I know the weaknesses of these Americans from my years
in Washington! He cannot afford to free his last destroyer to pick up his men in
the water, because he knows we might have submarines in front of him. Thus, he will
loop back to jettison lifeboats and his ability to maneuver will be diminished! He
will be caught in a funnel. Tell Komada the American will loop back for his worthless
men. This is our chance! We must strike hard!”

By this time, the American flagship was a shambles inside. The concussion of the
great guns had strewn passageways all over the ship with gear and personal items.
Storage areas not secured, or that had come loose, had emptied their contents onto
the deck. Soon it would be much worse. Just as
Grand Rapids
passed the
Avery
survivors,
she was bracketed and then hit by two salvos from
Zukaku
.

One of the shells penetrated the two inches of glacis armor on the face of the 250-ton
“X” turret and destroyed it, killing all of the men inside. Luckily, the hit did
not detonate the magazine several decks below and destroy the ship. The second and
third shells were more serious, penetrating just below the waterline on the starboard
side, causing such destruction that in the end the flooding could not be contained.
A fourth shell proved to be another dud.

The fifth and last exploded behind the plot room in back of the bridge, knocking
the bridge personnel to the floor.

Once the smoke began to clear, Rodgers was the first to enter the shattered plot
room, followed by some of the bridge crew. Amid the maelstrom of smoke and noise,
they tended to the wounded as best they could. Rodgers spotted others in the wreckage,
clearly beyond any help: the executive officer, Springer, Ransom, and many of the
other men.

When the wounded had been cared for and removed to a safer area, he came back and
collapsed into his chair.

So, he thought,
I've killedTommy Ransom. I've killedTommy. And Springer, and all
those other men.
He covered his face, overwhelmed with grief.

Admiral Wells had been supervising the bridge while Rodgers helped with the wounded.

“You men go about your work,” Rodgers heard the old man say calmly. “Helmsman, come
to a new course of 250 degrees. Get Lieutenant Andrews up here to make his damage
report. He'll be down below in all of that mess somewhere.”

In a minute, Rodgers was standing next to Wells. Wiping the tears from his face,
he was ready to resume command.

“You got her headed for the beachhead?” he asked.

“Yeah,” the admiral said. “I can't think it's going to be good, but let's see what
the damage is. We need to get out of here for now.”

The Americans, still making smoke and still able to make twenty-five knots, retreated
west toward the beachhead, destroyer
Winslow
bringing up the rear.

In about fifteen minutes, a young officer appeared, solemn-faced, dirty, and dripping
wet, his cap long since gone.

“You been all the way down?” Rodgers asked.

“Yes, sir.” The twenty-five-year-old Andrews was breathing hard. “As near as I can
tell with all of that water coming in, sir, we have two large holes well forward
of the armor belt. They are large, real large. And they couldn't have been placed
in worse spots. The one near the fourth bulkhead is high enough that you can see
about half of the hole. Sir, you could drive a Packard right through it. You'll begin
to lose headway here pretty quick. I'm guessing there's probably three hundred tons
of water down there now
and more coming in like Niagara Falls. It was seven, eight
feet over the keel when I left. The other we think is worse, judging from the water
flowing in, but low enough that we can't even see the hole. I doubt Chief Engel can
do much with either of them. But the men are down there now trying to fashion coffer
dams, doing all they can.”

“I knew it was bad!” said the admiral.

“Actually, sir, it couldn't be much worse,” Andrews replied. “That lower one's putting
tons of pressure on that old keel. If you could reduce speed, it would be one thing.
As it is, another shot in there and we could break in two.”

“Is there any chance she can survive?” the admiral asked.

Andrews thought hard, all the naval engineering experience and training he had ever
had flashing through his mind.

“No,” he answered glumly, shaking his head. “Admiral, without further damage, I'll
give her six hours—maybe eight if the coffer dams work. But she
will
go.” He saluted
and headed back down.

“Get ‘Guns' for me,” the captain ordered.

In a moment Cashion was on the line.

“Sam, it looks like we've about had it.”

“Afraid so, sir. Those shots rocked us up here almost enough to knock out the fire
control system.”

“Yeah, Andrews gives us eight hours if we're lucky. What's that second cruiser up
to?”

He relayed the response to the admiral. “Sam says it looks like they're coming around
on us from the north, looking to finish us off.” He hung up the phone.

“All right, Kip, you're going to have to pick your ground,” Wells told Rogers. “Make
your stand before we get too close to the beachhead.”