Great Pacific War: A History of the American-Japanese Campaign of 1931-33 (21 page)

Having sent destroyers alongside the damaged ships, Admiral Karuma circled round the convoy with his four cruisers, thereby laying himself open to further heavy punishment, as this close grouping of the Japanese ships afforded the
Albany
a better target than ever. The
Azuma
and
Idzumo
both began to show signs of distress, the former being on fire forward and the latter having lost her middle funnel; and the climax was reached when the
Yakumo
was suddenly enveloped in black smoke, while the report of a heavy explosion echoed over the sea. When the smoke cleared it could be seen that she had broken in two, evidently as the result of a magazine exploding. The flagship
Iwate
was now the only ship intact, but it was not long before her military mainmast, unsupported by any tripod, fell across the stern, jamming her helm and causing her to describe wild circles in the direction of the transports.

At this moment the United States destroyers again rushed in to attack. Two were sunk by gunfire, but they did not retreat until all the Japanese destroyers had been accounted for, while the
Iwate
herself received a torpedo which brought her to a standstill with a heavy list. Captain Appleton now began methodically to close the enemy, and as the range shortened the American fire increased in accuracy. To this murderous cannonade the
Idzumo
replied with little effect, for the smoke from the burning
Azuma
blinded her gunners and obscured their target. True to the fine traditions of the Imperial Japanese Navy, even the
Iwate
, though obviously sinking, kept several of her guns in action, and one of the shells from this ship inflicted the only serious damage that the
Albany
received — a hit that penetrated the hull forward, causing many casualties, and starting a leak which could not be mastered until the fight was over. But the succession of salvos which now struck the
Idzumo
speedily silenced her. In a few minutes she, too, was burning fiercely, whereupon the destroyers were again ordered to attack. Game to the last, the Japanese cruisers received these assailants with a fire that sent another of them to the bottom, but by the time the remaining boats had emptied their tubes the
Idzumo
and
Azuma
had both been torpedoed, and were no longer capable of offering serious resistance. Since the Japanese, on being summoned to surrender, still remained defiant, all that could be done was to pick up the survivors from the
Idzumo
, which soon foundered, and from the
Azuma
, which ship was now blazing from forecastle to mainmast, so that many of her crew were obliged to drop overboard to escape the flames. Eventually she blew up, leaving only the
Iwate
afloat.

The Japanese flagship was now in such a position that no boats could have been launched from her port side, even if any had remained intact, and only one had been got out to starboard, where the water was nearly level with the rail. The Admiral's flag still flew from her foremast, but Captain Appleton despatched his boats to her in the assurance that she could do no harm, even if she desired to repulse them. They arrived only just in time, for with a final lurch the
Iwate
went down, taking with her a large number of wounded. Quite four hundred were rescued, however, including Rear-Admiral Karuma, who was injured in the arm. He was very much downcast at his defeat, and expressed a wish that he had not survived; but it is difficult to see how he could have done more in the circumstances in which he was placed.

There remained to be solved the problem of dealing with the transports. The torpedoed ship was sinking, and the
Wright
, which, owing to her low speed had only just arrived on the scene, was ordered to take her in tow. The troops from the sinking vessel having been transferred to her consorts, all but two of these were induced — with the assistance of Admiral Karuma, who went on board each ship to point out the futility of useless resistance — to haul down their flags and relinquish control to American naval officers. The remaining two were obdurate, and fearing that night would give them a chance to escape, Captain Appleton ordered them to be torpedoed, first warning them to have all available life-saving appliances in readiness. It was afterwards learned that this useless resistance was due to the fanaticism of certain military officers on board, who threatened to kill anyone hoisting a white flag or showing other signs of submission. In spite of all the humane efforts of the Americans, the sinking of these two transports entailed heavy loss of life.

The seven troopships that remained were taken to Pago-Pago, all soldiers being confined below under strict guard until arrangements could be made to transfer them in batches to the United States. In the meantime their presence caused not a little anxiety to the Governor of Tutuila, who realised that these thousands of prisoners would soon overrun the island if they succeeded in breaking loose and getting ashore. All arms except those actually in use by the Marine guard were placed temporarily on board the warships, so that if the worst occurred the prisoners would be able to offer no serious resistance.

The results of the battle of Rotumah, as it is officially called from the name of the nearest inhabited land, may be summed up thus:

Japanese
Losses
:

Cruisers:
Iwate
;
Idzumo
;
Azuma
;
Yakumo
.

Destroyers: 10.

Transports: 10.

American Losses
:

Cruiser:
Columbia
.

Destroyers: 5.

On both sides the loss of life was heavy. In the case of the Japanese squadron, including the transports, it is believed to have been nearly 3,000. On the American side, upwards of 700 lives were lost, mainly in the
Columbia
and the destroyer flotilla. As a victory it was complete, and being the first unmistakable advantage gained by the United States in the struggle, there was no likelihood of its importance being minimised. Captain Appleton, who at the outset of the war had resigned his post as Assistant Chief of Naval Operations, rather than accept responsibility for a situation against which he had vainly protested, now found himself the hero of the hour. With characteristic modesty he contented himself with acknowledging the messages of commendation which reached him, and requesting that he might be permitted to continue his mission with the aid of another cruiser to replace the
Columbia
. He was gratified to learn that in response to this request three more cruisers were being placed under his orders. These were the
Troy
— a sister to the
Albany
— the
Memphis
, and the
Milwaukee
, the two latter being of the 7,500-ton
Omaha
type. Two fresh divisions of destroyers, to replace those sunk or injured in the battle of Rotumah, were also sent out. At the same time he was informed that he had been specially promoted to the rank of Rear-Admiral, irrespective of the ordinary rules regarding seniority. It is probable that his was the most popular promotion ever made in the history of the United States Navy; and the Government undoubtedly gained in public favour by their disregard of precedent in giving this gallant officer such well-merited advancement.

CHAPTER XV

Disquiet in Japan at news of Battle of Rotumah — Japanese raid on Dutch Harbour — Bad weather causes air operations to fail — Commander Nuzuki’s daring dash into Dutch Harbour — U. S. S. Charleston sunk, but Commander Nuzuki taken prisoner — American cruisers interrupt Japanese trade with Australia — Similar operations in European waters by United States armed liners

A SENSATION bordering on panic was caused in Japan by the news of the annihilation of Admiral Karuma’s squadron. Needless to say, the Government did its best to belittle the importance of the affair, stressing the obsolete character of the Japanese ships sunk, and hinting that the full extent of the American losses had not been disclosed. When these specious pleadings failed to satisfy the public, the authorities, as usual, cast about for some fresh enterprise which would serve to divert popular attention from the disastrous failure of the Samoa Expedition. After the position had been thoroughly reviewed by the Naval Staff, it was agreed that no better objective could be found than the base from which it was suspected the next American attack would be delivered. Although full and exact information was lacking, the reports of American activity in Alaskan waters had been so frequent and persistent that no doubt was felt as to the genuineness of the menace, and it was in any case desirable to obtain early intelligence of the strength of the forces likely to be met. The known presence at Dutch Harbour, in the island of Unalaska, of an uncertain number of naval units, including — it was believed — some ships of capital importance, focussed attention upon that base, which seemed to offer a promising point for attack. The composition of the force to be employed was only fixed after prolonged debate by the Naval Staff.

Submarines were vetoed on account of the difficulties of navigation in the Bering Sea, more especially in the neighbourhood of the Aleutian Islands, which are surrounded by hidden dangers in the shape of submerged rocks, not all of which are accurately charted. Apart from this, fogs are so frequent in the locality that extreme caution has to be observed in approaching the islands. In the absence of precise intelligence as to the American strength, it was deemed advisable to employ vessels of high speed, but there was no intention of risking the most modern units. As a compromise, the aircraft carrier
Hosho
, of 9,500 tons displacement and twenty-five knots speed, built ten years previously, was assigned as the floating base from which to launch an air attack by twelve bombing seaplanes. These were to be accompanied by an equal number of combat machines to guard against possible interference from American aircraft. The
Hosho
was to be escorted by four light cruisers,
Tama
,
Kuma
,
Kiso
, and
Kitakami
— sister ships of 5,500 tons displacement and 33 knot speed, armed with 5.5-inch guns — and a flotilla of twelve 34-knot destroyers.

The command of the expedition was confided to Vice-Admiral Sokushima, whose flag was hoisted in the
Hosho
. Rear-Admiral Uyehara was in charge of the cruiser squadron, and Captain Okurami of the destroyer flotilla. The whole force was assembled at Ominato, a second-class naval station on Aomori Gulf, in the north of the island of Hondo. The departure was fixed for March 30, and it was calculated that the sheltered anchorage of Kashiwabara, at the north-eastern end of the Kurile chain, would be reached forty-eight hours later. But, as so often happens in these stormy latitudes, the squadron met with continuous bad weather and heavy head seas after rounding Cape Erimo, and it soon became plain that the schedule would have to be modified. Accordingly, after the ships had been battling against the mountainous seas for some hours, orders were issued to reduce speed and alter course to the westward, with the object of passing through Kunashiri Kaikyo
[1]
and gain the lee of the Kuriles. As expected, conditions in the Sea of Okhotsk proved easier than in the Pacific, and progress improved; but the haven at Paramushiru was not made until some hours later than had been designed, as Admiral Sokushima found it necessary on two occasions to anchor his squadron in order to regain touch. Even so, this portion of the voyage was an anxious one, as the islands required to be given a wide berth during the hours of darkness, and snow squalls frequently hid the ships from each other’s view. Two days were spent at Paramushiru, waiting for better weather and repairing minor damages, after which a fresh start was made.

As the squadron entered the Bering Sea, it ran into a fog bank, which lasted, with occasional clear patches, for the next two days. Giving the Komandorski Islands a clear berth, a course was set to avoid the westernmost of the Kuriles and arrive off Akutan Island, to the north-east of Unalaska, about noon on April 6, this being considered the direction from which the Americans would be least likely to apprehend danger. The misty weather, though it increased the chances of the expedition arriving without being observed, did not lighten the difficulties of navigation, and threatened to hamper the seaplanes when they came to deliver their attack. When about fifty miles south-west of the Pribilof Islands, a vessel appeared unexpectedly out of the fog ahead of the squadron. She proved to be the United States Coast Guard cutter
Bear
, a wooden vessel built as long ago as 1874. Owing to her exceptionally stout construction and general fitness for work in ice-bound waters, due to her having originally been intended for the whaling trade, she had survived several proposals to scrap her, and was still in service on this remote station. She was at once summoned to surrender by the division of six destroyers which formed the vanguard of the squadron, and might well have done so without hesitation, since her armament consisted only of three 6-pounders. But, true to the traditions of the Coast-Guard Service, her commander scorned to yield, and actually opened fire with his feeble weapons. Disdaining to waste shells on such a puny antagonist, the nearest destroyers used their machine-guns to such effect that the guns’ crews were almost immediately put out of action, and the
Bear
was then carried by boarding — the only recorded incident of the kind in the whole of the war.

Having captured the
Bear
, the Japanese Admiral determined to make use of her, calculating that her appearance was so well known throughout the Bering Sea that her movements were unlikely to arouse suspicion. She was manned by a prize crew under English-speaking officers, all on deck being directed to wear oilskins over their uniforms.

On approaching Akutan Island the fog, which had so far assisted the expedition by masking its progress, cleared under the influence of a south-east wind, and haste was made to test the engines of the
Hosho’s
seaplanes in readiness for the projected attack. One of the bombing machines in taking off from the
Hosho’s
flight deck smashed her propeller and came down in the water. The other planes were satisfactorily tuned up and left for Unalaska with a rapidly rising wind, accompanied by falling barometer. After an absence of two hours they began to return singly and in twos and threes, till thirteen were back. By this time the wind was blowing with greatly increased force, and snow squalls were of such frequency that it remains a matter for wonder that any of the Japanese aircraft should have been able to find their way back to the rendezvous. That so many did so was due no doubt to the employment of directional radio signals, which enabled the planes to find their way through the blinding snow. Their reports varied but little. Owing to low visibility, the majority had failed to locate Dutch Harbour. Four had reached it, but could only say that a doubtful number of vessels, some of which could be identified as capital ships by their lattice masts, were to be seen. Bombs had been dropped over these, as well as along the shores of the harbour, but whether any damage had been inflicted could not be stated positively. At least one machine had found it impossible to release any bombs owing to spray and snow having frozen up the releasing gear. Altogether, therefore, the raid had to be regarded as a failure, nor was the loss of ten airplanes offset by the capture of the ancient
Bear
.

At Dutch Harbour the air raid had come as a complete surprise, though the actual damage done was infinitesimal. Most of the bombs fell either in the sea or on the beach, but one storehouse, containing nothing of military value, had been destroyed, and a patrol vessel of the trawler type had her bows badly shattered. In view of the tempestuous weather the American aircraft were not allowed to go in chase of the intruders, and there is no doubt that this inaction, though much criticised at the time by the uninformed, was sound policy. Scarcely had the last bomb fallen than there sprang up one of those violent white squalls known locally as
williwaws
, a phenomenon which was responsible for the disappearance of so many of the Japanese machines. One is known to have crashed in the interior of the island of Unalaska, where its fragments, with the remains of the pilot and observer, were found some months later. Another was seen by a fishing vessel to fall into the sea off Chernovski Harbour, on the opposite side of the island. Had American airplanes been dispatched in pursuit, they would in all probability have come to grief, as the weather in these regions renders flying an almost impossible feat under the conditions then obtaining.

Admiral Sokushima had been instructed to return to Japan as soon as he had done his utmost to deliver a telling blow at the United States naval base at Dutch Harbour. So far as the original project went, he had used every endeavour to carry out orders, and he therefore lost no time in making his way back with the main portion of his force. But in the secluded anchorage at Akutun (an abandoned whaling station) he had left the
Bear
and the destroyers
Isokaze
and
Yamakaze
, to carry out an operation which, if fortune had been kinder to the Japanese, might have brought the enterprise to a successful issue. Before dealing with this closing phase of the expedition, however, a word must be said as to the return voyage of Admiral Sokushima’s squadron. The weather was exceedingly bad as far as the Komandorski Islands, when the wind died down and fog was again encountered. In groping a passage through this labyrinth, the ships became separated, and the destroyer
Amatsukaze
was run down and sunk by the cruiser
Kiso
, several lives being lost. Another misfortune was thus added to the record of the cruise. Extensive damage was sustained by several ships from the action of wind and sea, and the squadron eventually reached Ominato in a somewhat battered condition. The atrocious climate of the Bering Sea had proved a staunch ally to the American cause.

At Akutun the weather for some days precluded any movement. Advantage was taken of this delay to effect various small alterations in the deck arrangements of the
Bear
, the principal of which was the fitting of two pairs of torpedo tubes amidships. These had been transhipped from one of the cruisers previous to the departure of the squadron and were an important feature of the plan prepared by Admiral Sokushima and his staff. As soon as the weather moderated, the
Bear
proceeded towards Dutch Harbour, off which she arrived late in the afternoon of April 11. She was escorted to within a few miles of the port by the two destroyers, whose orders were to wait in the offing while the
Bear
entered the harbour, and then to take advantage of any movements of American warships that might ensue. They were also to succour any of the
Bear’s
people who might succeed in getting out again, though this was regarded as a minor contingency, unlikely to occur.

In its early stages the programme proceeded without a hitch. So familiar was the appearance of the
Bear
that no suspicion was aroused at any look-out station when she entered the channel leading between Spit Head and the reef which runs out from Rocky Point opposite. To forestall possible radio inquiries, her maintopmast had been removed, and the mizzenmast cut away by the board; this, with the rigging all in disorder, was calculated to give the impression that her aerials had been carried away in the recent severe weather. A signal code book captured with the ship provided means of answering any challenge by flag or flashlight. Inside the harbour there was much mist, which made it difficult for those on board the
Bear
to distinguish ships clearly enough for identification. But a crisis was precipitated by the United States cruiser
Charleston
, which was proceeding out of port after being weatherbound for some days. As she was passing the
Bear
on an opposite course, the officer in command of the latter vessel, Commander Nuzuki, gave orders for the two torpedo tubes which bore to be fired. Both torpedoes sped home, and the
Charleston
, badly holed in engine-and boiler-rooms, began to lose way. In spite of the confusion caused by this utterly unexpected attack from an apparent friend, guns were promptly cleared and a hot fire opened on the
Bear
, which was hit two or three times before the mist obscured the range. The torpedoed cruiser appears to have been unable to circulate news of her plight by radio, her dynamos having failed when the engine-room was flooded. But the sound of the torpedo explosions and the discharge of the
Charleston’s
guns had given the alarm, and as the
Bear
continued her course up the harbour she was challenged by a motor-boat patrol. Commander Nuzuki, whose mastery of the language, owing to some years spent in the United States as a boy, was well-nigh perfect, was quite prepared for this emergency. He explained plausibly that the
Bear
had been dismasted in a williwaw, and that he believed the
Charleston
must have struck a mine and was firing her guns as distress signals. He explained that he had been unable to offer any effective assistance himself, as the
Bear
had sprung a serious leak which was causing considerable anxiety. Quite deceived, the officer in charge of the motor boat sped the Japanese on their way with sympathy and good wishes. His disgust when he subsequently learned the real facts may be readily imagined.