Great Pacific War: A History of the American-Japanese Campaign of 1931-33 (11 page)

But scarcely had the first flashes betrayed the battery positions when a dozen Japanese planes came swooping down, regardless of anti-aircraft fire, to drop their bombs with deadly aim. A few minutes later the warships lying off the island opened a terrific bombardment with gas and high-explosive shell, the whereabouts of the American batteries having been reported to them by the airmen. It was no longer a case of blindfold shooting. Thanks to the spotting aircraft, almost every salvo took effect on or near the batteries, and in a very short time half the guns had been silenced. Being without gas masks, the men were completely exposed to the fumes from asphyxiating shell. In more than one battery the entire
personnel
was
hors
de
combat
; in others, guns and men had been destroyed by the big high-explosive projectiles. More Japanese transports now headed for the harbour, to be received this time with a desultory fire that did little harm to them, though it drew upon the defenders another annihilating blast of steel and gas from the Japanese squadron.

At 11.30 a.m. the troops from the leading transports entered their boats and were towed inshore. By noon several thousand men had been landed, and were steadily advancing over the densely wooded heights of Oroté toward Apra. The landing had been effected with small loss, for practically all the American guns on the western side of the island had been silenced, and only a few hundred members of the garrison had escaped injury. Here and there a handful of marines stood their ground and opened fire with machine-guns as soon as the Japanese troops became visible, but whenever this happened an airplane dived down and released a gas bomb which either disabled the defenders or forced them to retreat. When it appeared certain that no landing would be attempted on the east coast, Captain Harper had ordered the 7-inch guns in the hills near Tarofofo to reinforce the western batteries, but no sooner had they left their camouflaged positions than they were attacked by aircraft, and eventually by ship fire as well. Not one of these guns got within reach of Apra. In some cases the tractor was damaged by a bomb or shell, making it impossible to drag the gun any further; in others, the entire crew of tractor and gun were killed. Seeing that further progress was impossible, the officer in command, Lieutenant Oliver, resolved to destroy the guns lest they should fall intact into enemy hands; and this task was successfully performed, in spite of the Japanese airmen, who planed down to machine-gun the demolition party.

At dusk on April 3 the entire southern half of the island was occupied by enemy troops. The remnant of the garrison had retreated to the north, but their position was hopeless. Only by keeping to the shelter of the woods were they able to escape the bombs and bullets of the ubiquitous Japanese planes.

That night Captain Harper held a council of war with his three surviving officers. Further effective resistance was impossible, and repugnant as was the thought of surrender it was the only alternative to a useless sacrifice of the remaining men, who had fought so gallantly against tremendous odds. In the morning, therefore, the little party — not more than a hundred all told — came into the open and laid down their arms in full sight of the first Japanese airplane that appeared. Observing what had happened, this machine at once turned and flew back to headquarters. Two hours later a company of Japanese infantry reached the spot and escorted the captives to Agaña, where General Awakara, in command of the invading force, had already established himself in the Governor’s residence. He received Captain Harper with marked courtesy, congratulating him on his gallant defence and assuring him that his men would be well treated.

Fate, however, had willed that Captain Harper’s captivity should be of short duration. On April 6 he and two other officers were sent on board the destroyer
Hagi
, which was to convey them to Japan. This vessel had not proceeded twenty miles on her voyage before she was struck by a torpedo from the American submarine
S
50
, which caused her to founder in a few minutes. While her victim was in the act of sinking,
S
50
rose to the surface a short distance away, whereupon Captain Harper swam to within hailing distance and announced his identity. He was promptly picked up, together with Lieutenant Schreiner, but although a lengthy search was made, the third American officer could not be found, having evidently met his death in the water. As Japanese aircraft were then approaching the scene, the
S
50 had to dive. This submarine remained in the vicinity of Guam for some days longer hoping to catch one of the larger Japanese warships. No opportunity presented itself, however, and as fuel was running low the
S
50
eventually made her way to Honolulu. Her consort, the
S
23
, did not reach that place, nor was she ever heard of again, and since the enemy made no claim to have sunk her it was surmised that she had been lost either by some accident or through striking a mine off one of the neighbouring Japanese islands.

CHAPTER VII

Survey of strategical situation after fall of Guam — Economic position of the United States superior to that of Japan — Japanese operations against American seaborne trade

WHEN the fall of Guam occurred, on April 4, the war had been in progress just one month. Events in this opening period had vindicated the judgment of those American strategists who had all along warned their countrymen that the remote islands of the Western Pacific could not, in existing circumstances, be held against a hostile Japan, and must inevitably be forfeited soon after the outbreak of war. But although these grave reverses had been foreseen by the initiated, and discounted in advance, their moral effect both in the United States and abroad was nevertheless very marked. Since at this time nothing was known of the heavy price which Japan had been compelled to pay for her initial successes, it was widely assumed that her losses were trivial, nor did the official Japanese bulletins seek to correct this impression. Not until the submarine
S
50
, with Captain Harper on board, reached Honolulu did the world learn the truth about the heroic defence of Guam.

His story of the smashing repulse of the first attack, together with the submarine and destroyer officers’ accounts of the casualties inflicted on the invaders of the Philippines, were hailed with enthusiasm in America, for at least these proved that the enemy was not invincible, as not a few people, disheartened by successive misfortunes on sea and land, were beginning to believe. At the same time, there was no gainsaying the formidable nature of the task which now confronted the United States. It was clear that the military power of Japan was enormous. Her Navy and Army were obviously in a high state of efficiency, and her sailors and soldiers appeared to be fighting with all their traditional prowess. Behind them, too, stood a united nation, for a truce had been called to the political feuds which only a few weeks before had threatened to plunge Japan into civil war. The call to arms had evoked an instant response from all classes. Steps had been taken by the authorities to forestall the pacifist campaign which the Socialists were expected to launch, but these measures proved superfluous. With a few unimportant exceptions the leaders of the party gave their unqualified support to the Government. The cause of national unity was further promoted by the announcement of an amnesty to political prisoners. How far matters had progressed in this direction was shown by the publication late in March of the famous “National Manifesto,” setting forth at great length the reasons which had constrained Japan to defend herself against “the unprovoked and intolerable aggression of the United States.” To this document were appended the signatures of a hundred Japanese prominent in every walk of life, including half-a-dozen leading members of the Socialist Party. For the time being, at least, the hosts of Nippon had closed their ranks, presenting an unbroken front to the blast of war.

It seemed, moreover, as if Japan held every winning card in the game of strategy now developing. Too remote herself to be attacked, she had yet been able to deliver telling blows against her opponent. In the space of a few weeks she had achieved her primary objective by wresting the Philippine archipelago and the island of Guam from American hands, leaving her foe without a single base, either actual or potential, adjacent to the theatre of operations. What would her next move be? Would she rest content with her initial gains, and, strong in the knowledge of her impregnable position, calmly await the counter-attack, assuming this to be possible across four thousand miles of sea; or would her martial ardour, fortified by motives of policy, lead her to carry the war further afield, even as far, perhaps, as Hawaii or the United States itself? The consensus of American opinion inclined towards the latter theory, for which indeed there seemed to be substantial grounds. It was hardly credible that Japanese statesmen should deceive themselves as to the eventual issue of a protracted war with so redoubtable an opponent, nor could they be under the illusion that the blows already administered were severe enough to compel the United States to sue for peace. Much more would have to be done before this desirable result was attained, and meanwhile everything pointed to the necessity for swift action. Month by month the military power of America would increase in progressive ratio. Given sufficient time she could build up a fleet of overwhelming size, raise an army millions strong, and, above all, mobilise her matchless financial resources for an offensive that Japanese credit could never hope to resist. From the Japanese viewpoint, therefore, time was the essence of the problem.

But granting the will to prosecute a bold offensive, where and in what manner could this be done? The very remoteness which made Japan herself so difficult to assail made it equally impossible for her to aim a mortal thrust at the enemy’s heart. In the present war the factor of distance dominated the whole scheme of operations, and whichever side succeeded best in converting that factor to its own advantage might count with tolerable certainty on a fortunate decision. Command of the sea was thus a condition precedent to the delivery of any blow of sufficient weight to turn the scale, but such command would have to be effective over an area the immensity of which had never been paralleled in former wars. In this case each of the belligerents could claim an indisputable supremacy, not merely within its local waters, but over a generous sector of the contiguous ocean. With a powerful battle fleet pivoted on Hawaii, the United States was master of the situation so far as the Eastern Pacific was concerned. From this central position, aided by light naval forces working from bases in the Aleutian Islands (off the Alaskan coast) and from Tutuila (Samoa), the fleet could exercise control over all lines of approach from the westward, and so long as it remained “in being” there was not the remotest possibility of an attempt by Japan to invade Hawaii, still less the United States. On the other hand, it was impossible to guarantee complete immunity from raiding attacks by enemy ships acting alone or in small flying squadrons, but the military effect of such raids could in no case be serious.

Japan, on her part, had no reason to fear an immediate attack in force. She had eliminated this possibility by her prompt seizure of the only bases of which an American fleet, advancing into the Western Pacific, might have made use. Her control of these waters was at least as absolute as that enjoyed by the United States over the eastern sector. If her battle fleet was numerically small, she had an abundance of light craft with which to patrol the outer cordon of her defences. She had, moreover, a number of advanced bases at the disposal of these craft. Within a radius of two thousand miles from Japan proper she now possessed such admirable
points
d’appui
as the Philippines, the Mariana, and the Bonin Islands, while further to the east lay the Caroline and Marshall Islands, where emergency bases for submarines and other small vessels could be improvised with ease. Very early in the war, measures were taken to guard the approach from the north-east by stationing two light cruisers, a submarine flotilla, and a flight of aircraft at a convenient harbour in Sakhalin (Karafuto). Japan, in short, held all the keys of the Western Pacific, and it seemed impossible that any hostile force could venture into that area without courting destruction.

Such was the position on either side of the Pacific. Between the two guarded zones lay, as it were, a neutral belt of water roughly one thousand miles in width and more than four thousand miles in length stretching from the Aleutian Islands in the north to Samoa in the south. Ships of large fuel capacity belonging to either belligerent were free to traverse this belt, but if they did so they at once became exposed to attack by a superior concentration of force. Major fleet operations can only be conducted from a well-equipped base, and then only against an objective that in point of distance is well within the steaming endurance of the smallest ship accompanying the fleet. All the larger vessels of the two navies carried sufficient fuel for a voyage across the Pacific. There is, however, a world of difference between steaming endurance in peace and in war. A vessel engaged in a peace-time cruise can jog along at “economical speed,” which may be from one-half to one-third of its maximum speed, and thus make the most of its fuel supply. In war this leisurely mode of travel becomes impossible. Ships moving at slow speed on a straight course offer an inviting mark for submarine attack. Consequently, in waters where enemy submarines are active it is essential to maintain a fairly high rate of speed and to make frequent changes of course, a form of progress known as zigzagging. In these circumstances the consumption of fuel is very heavy. Authentic figures of warship steaming endurance are rarely published, but it is a safe surmise that the battleships and cruisers of both navies were limited
under
war
conditions
to a continuous voyage of four thousand miles. This meant that they dare not venture more than two thousand miles away from their nearest base.

The collective radius of either fleet was still further circumscribed by the presence of its destroyers, the fuel capacity of which was much smaller than that of the big ships. It was possible, of course, to re-fuel these boats at sea, but to do this the vessels concerned had to reduce their speed, so that the process entailed the risk of submarine attack. Yet for the battleships to have put to sea without their escort of destroyers would have been madness. A survey of all these considerations made it clear that neither the American nor the Japanese fleet could operate beyond a distance of more than a thousand miles or so from its bases. This, as we have seen, ruled out the possibility of direct oversea attacks in force.

If Japan wished to deal heavy blows at her enemy, she had first to secure a base within easy reach of the objective, and how was such a base to be secured? Conversely, the United States could not wage offensive warfare until base facilities in the Western Pacific had been acquired. Having regard to these patent truths, it is not to be wondered at that many observers prophesied that the Pacific campaign would speedily end in stalemate. Peace must soon be negotiated, they said, because of the physical impossibility of deciding the issue by combat. This view was widely held in the United States, where a section of the Press was already urging the Government to make overtures for peace, on the ground that nothing was to be gained by prolonging a struggle so obviously futile. The peace movement received considerable impetus when the economic effects of the war began to make themselves felt.

In the ten years preceding the war, American commerce with the Far East had undergone a rapid expansion, and in 1930 it represented an appreciable percentage of the total foreign trade of the United States. With the outbreak of hostilities this profitable traffic came suddenly to a standstill. The ports of Eastern Asia could no longer be reached by American shipping, and while American goods might still be conveyed to the Chinese market in neutral bottoms, it was only too evident that other countries would make a determined effort to capture for themselves the lucrative trade from which their erstwhile American rivals were now excluded. This was a serious prospect for the United States, which in recent years had become more and more dependent on Asia as a market for her surplus commodities. As far back as 1921 a well-known American economist had emphasised the vital importance of developing trade in this quarter. New markets, he showed, must be found to replace those of Europe, whose effective purchasing power had been reduced by the consequences of the world war of 1914-18. “American manufacturers must export greater quantities of their products than at present, in order to keep running at full capacity the plants which have been enlarged to meet the demands of the last seven years and to continue to employ all American workmen at wages that will enable them to maintain unimpaired the American standard of living, of which we are so justly proud. The Far East offers the great possibilities of an unexploited field.” His advice had not fallen on deaf ears. In the race for commercial supremacy in China the United States had gained a definite lead. American capital had been lavishly invested in Chinese industries, some of the richest concessions there were in American hands, and the economic relationship of the two countries was growing ever closer. Now, however, the fruits of ten years of strenuous work were threatened with ruin. Although this danger may have been imperfectly realised by the American people at large, events soon occurred to remind them that the apparent deadlock in the main naval sphere did not extend over the entire Pacific.

American trade with the Far East at this time was largely conducted under neutral flags, and could not therefore be entirely dislocated by the war with Japan. All merchant vessels flying the Stars and Stripes within the sphere of Japanese naval operations were either seized, captured, or driven into neutral ports, such as Shanghai and Hong Kong, within the first two weeks of the war; but their total number was inconsiderable, and it could not be said that their loss or immobilisation had any appreciable effect upon the course of the conflict. Altogether, eleven ships fell into Japanese hands in this way, apart from those taken in the Philippine campaign and intercepted on the high seas during subsequent operations, their hulls and cargoes representing a total value of about $2,500,000.

A good deal of unfavourable comment was aroused by the action of the Japanese in taking possession of an American steamer at Yingkow, the port of Niuchwang, in Manchuria, which was regarded by Japan as one of her dependencies. An attempt was also made to appropriate an American ship at Chifu, in the Chinese province of Shantung, on the opposite side of the Gulf of Pechihli; but here the local port authorities, backed up by secret orders from Peking, assumed an attitude of passive resistance, at which the Chinese are adepts. Much acrimonious correspondence passed between Tokyo and Peking, as a result of which China invoked the intervention of the League of Nations (to which both countries were subscribers); and after some weeks had passed, Japan unwillingly yielded in face of a growing volume of neutral disapproval of her arbitrary action. Incidentally the League of Nations, which for some time had ceased to be taken very seriously by the world in general, was able to make a certain amount of capital out of its success in this dispute. China was not slow to digest the lesson thus taught, and henceforth utilised every opportunity of setting neutral interests in opposition to those of Japan.