Great Pacific War: A History of the American-Japanese Campaign of 1931-33 (24 page)

CHAPTER XVII

Japanese dismay at loss of Truk — Divided counsels in Tokyo — Sinking of a monster Japanese submarine — American forces occupy islands of Jaluit and Ponapi — Operations of dummy battleships deceive Japanese airmen — Grave discontent in Japan — More trouble with China

THE seizure of Truk aroused much more excitement in Japan than in the United States, where the public did not immediately grasp the full significance of this move. But the Japanese were quick to see what it portended. The very contingency they had striven to avert at all costs, and the prevention of which had been one of their main objects in going to war, had now come upon them like a bolt from the blue. Subordinate only to the prime motive of stamping out incipient revolution had been the desire to expel American influence from the western half of the Pacific. This aim, they imagined, had been achieved once and for all by the conquest of the Philippines and Guam. Yet, with the fall of Truk, the American flag had re-invaded the forbidden zone, where its naval power was once more in a position to make itself felt. Disconcerting as this was, it might prove to be only the prelude to graver events. The islands, it was true, lay at a great distance from Japan, but to Guam they were sufficiently near to constitute a serious menace, and if Guam were lost, the way would lie open to an attack upon the Philippines — or even, perhaps, upon Japan itself.

While the authorities at Tokyo were still considering means of coping with the new situation, rumours of a further peril came to their ears. It should here be interpolated that the Japanese naval and military leaders were handicapped all through the contest by the absence of reliable intelligence as to the plans and movements of their enemy. Espionage in the United States could not be practised by natives of Japan on account of their racial characteristics, which no disguise served effectually to conceal. Moreover, the few Japanese permitted to remain in the country were kept under close observation, and none were allowed to reside in or near the limits of any naval or military district. A certain number of white persons are known to have been in the pay of Japan, but even when these contrived to obtain information of value, they had no means of transmitting it promptly. Their reports could only reach Tokyo by slow and devious routes, generally
via
South America or Europe, the delay in most cases rendering the news quite worthless.

The expedition to Truk furnished a notable example of this. According to the Japanese historian Nakabashi, a full report on the projected expedition, giving its destination and accurate particulars of the force to be employed, was compiled by a Japanese agent in San Francisco at least three weeks before the date of sailing. This report was telegraphed in code to a confederate in Callao, by whom it was to be relayed by cable to Japan; but for some reason unexplained, it did not reach Tokyo until a fortnight after the expedition had landed at Truk.

From time to time other items of important news from their agents in the United States did arrive at Tokyo headquarters with surprising promptitude, but almost invariably they proved to be deceptive. Some Japanese writers, displaying a lamentable lack of humour, have indignantly charged the American Government with being “treacherous” in this matter, though it is surely permissible to hoist an enemy with his own petard whenever the opportunity occurs. The American intelligence system, on the other hand, became increasingly efficient as the war progressed, thanks in large measure to the willing assistance of Chinese nationals; though, for obvious reasons, it would not be wise to dwell too closely on the methods which, in the later stages of the war, enabled Washington to receive timely warning of important Japanese movements. It is, however, no longer a secret that the decisive naval engagement of the war was indirectly brought about by the skilful dissemination of reports which entirely misled the Japanese high command.

On July 8, that is, ten days after the American landing at Truk, messages were received at Tokyo from two different agents in the United States — neither of whom was known to the other — asserting most positively that the Truk expedition was merely a blind to divert attention from an impending attack on Guam, which was to be launched by 40,000 troops, covered by practically the entire American battle fleet. Both agents insisted, moreover, that the rumours of an impending raid on Hokkaido had been put about with the same object, and that no such raid had ever been seriously contemplated. While it was, of course, impossible to verify these reports, colour was lent them by the stories told by neutrals who had recently arrived in the Far East from the United States and Canada. One of the English journals published at Hong Kong printed a circumstantial account of the American preparations to recover Guam by a sudden attack in overwhelming strength, this being but the first move in a great offensive campaign, which was to be carried on with the utmost vigour until the Philippines were again in American hands. Further, it was hinted that the war would then be carried to the coasts of Japan proper, and allusions were made to the gigantic fleet of aircraft which was building for the express purpose of laying waste Tokyo and other great Japanese cities when the Americans had secured a base within striking distance.

While these reports were disbelieved in Japanese naval circles, the military leaders took them more seriously. Differences of opinion thus developed, not for the first time, between the two services, but as the influence of the army always prevailed when vital questions of national defence had to be settled, the Supreme War Council eventually decided that no further operations of importance, whether by land or sea, should be undertaken until the situation had become clearer — in other words, until the enemy had shown his hand. This meant that Japan was to remain strictly on the defensive at the very moment when it best suited American plans. Pursuant to the decision of the Supreme Council, no attempt was made to recapture Truk, though it had previously been resolved to send a powerful force to eject the intruders from these islands, and a squadron had already assembled at Guam for the purpose. Had it arrived promptly, matters might have fared ill with the Americans, whose improvised defences were not yet in a condition to sustain a determined attack. As it was, they remained unmolested save by a solitary Japanese submarine, the adventures of which must be briefly recounted.

On the outbreak of war Japan had completed six very large submersible cruisers, as noted in a preceding chapter. Each of these vessels displaced more than 7,000 tons, carried two 8-inch guns in a turret, besides lighter artillery and torpedo tubes, and could travel on the surface at a speed of twenty-three knots. They were credited with a radius of 24,000 miles, and their decks, turrets, and conning towers were stoutly armoured. One of these boats, adapted for mine-laying, had planted mine-fields in Hawaiian waters. A second was believed to have cruised as far as Panama, though the identity of this craft was never clearly established. On the whole, however, little had been seen or heard of these gigantic submersibles, and it was assumed in America that they had failed to make good on active service. Such was indeed the fact. Either the design was fundamentally at fault, the construction defective, or the
personnel
insufficiently trained, for the vessels in no case fulfilled expectations.

The first to be completed was the
Nagasaki
— all submarines of the cruiser type being named after Japanese cities. After narrowly escaping disaster on her trials, owing to the difficulty of manoeuvring the unwieldy hull below water, she was taken in hand for extensive repairs, which were barely completed when the war began. In due course she departed on a cruise to the American coast, where her powerful armament might have made her an extremely unpleasant visitor. She did not arrive there, however; nor was she ever heard of again. Somewhere in the abysmal depths of the Pacific her hull lies rusting, but how and where she came to grief will never be known.

The
Hakodate
, second of the series, made one cruise to the South Seas without accomplishing anything of note, and was then attached to the battle fleet. Suffering constantly from machinery troubles, which materially reduced her nominal speed of seventeen knots, she became more of a hindrance than a help, finally ending her brief career one day when the fleet was at sea by coming to the surface a few yards ahead of the battleship
Yamashiro
, whose stem crushed her like an egg-shell. In view of the circumstances, there is no manner of doubt that the submersible had got out of control, and broached surface at the wrong moment.

Others of the same class, such as the
Kobe
and
Osaka
, were so frequently laid up with defective engines that they cannot be said to have played any part in the war. Japanese opinion of the type is evidenced by the fact that the last two vessels were never completed, both being broken up for their metal after being launched to clear the slipways. It was the
Nagoya
of this class that appeared at Truk a fortnight after the American occupation, but whether she came by special order or was merely on a roving commission remains a matter of surmise. Her movements indicated, however, that she knew the islands to be in enemy possession.

On the morning of July 12 there were lying in Eten harbour the cruisers
Columbus
(Captain Bateman) and
Hartford
, eight destroyers, the airplane-carrier
Alaska
, and a number of transports and auxiliaries. Six miles off shore the destroyers
Melvin
,
Clemson
,
Reid
, and
Thornton
were patrolling, the first pair to eastward, the other two rather more to the north. Two seaplanes were also up, and the dirigible
Jackson
was on the point of ascending from the mooring mast by which she was attached to one of the auxiliary ships. Nevertheless the enemy was able, in spite of this vigilant watch, to spring a surprise. A look-out man in the
Clemson
was the first to sight the huge submarine as she came to the surface midway between the destroyer and the shore, the sun flashing on the glistening turrets and conning tower as they rose out of the sea. Signalling to her consorts, the
Clemson
wheeled round and dashed at full speed for the enemy, firing from every gun that would bear, while the other destroyers also converged swiftly on the scene. Though several shells burst against her long grey hull, the submarine did not attempt to dive. Instead, she moved at a good pace in the direction of, but parallel with, the islands. Her turrets swung round, a tongue of flame spurted from one of the great guns, and a 250-pound shell hurtled over the destroyer’s bridge, missing it by inches. Swerving to throw off the enemy’s aim, the destroyer fired shot after shot at the big hull, but still without apparent effect. This time the submarine, having turned a few degrees to starboard, let go a salvo from both guns with deadly effect, one shell raking the
Clemson
fore and aft and exploding with tremendous force just above the steering gear. Brought suddenly to a standstill, the destroyer drifted helplessly, exposing her full broadside, which was promptly holed on the water-line by a second shell.

Having disposed of one antagonist, the monster next opened fire on the
Melvin
, whose commander, realising the futility of attacking thick armour with 4-inch guns, was manoeuvring to use his torpedoes. One of his triple tubes had been discharged, and the other was about to be fired, when a heavy shell burst on deck. This must have touched off one or all of the remaining torpedoes, for the
Melvin
instantly disappeared in a smother of flame and smoke. Avoiding by use of the helm (but only in the nick of time) the torpedoes which the
Melvin
had launched, the submarine now directed her fire against the
Reid
and
Thornton
, making such excellent practice that the two boats were compelled to turn away and throw up a smoke screen. Under cover of this they dashed in again and let go their torpedoes, only to find that the enemy had forestalled them by putting on speed and reaching a position far ahead of that in which they had supposed him to be. As the screen lifted, he sent a shell into the
Reid
, while at the same moment his anti-aircraft guns spat at one of the American seaplanes which had approached the area of combat. Unfortunately, this machine carried no bombs, and could therefore do nothing except pepper the
Nagoya’s
desk with Lewis-gun bullets, which laid low a few of the Japanese sailors. But the return fire was too hot for comfort, and the seaplane had to beat a retreat.

Up to now the submarine had had things very much her own way. She had sunk one destroyer, totally disabled a second, and damaged a third, at the cost of half-a-dozen men killed or wounded and a few dents in her armour. But by now the alarm was given, and the cruiser
Columbus
, advised by radio-phone of the situation, was steaming out of the harbour to take a hand in the game. As she rounded Salat island and made for the open sea, the submarine was reported from her masthead look-out to be seven miles distant, bearing S.S.W. As this was well within the range of the cruiser’s 8-inch battery, fire was opened at once, and with such precision that the target was straddled at the second salvo, though no direct hit was observed. Apparently the
Nagoya
had no stomach for the duel, for she proceeded to dive, but it was several minutes before the top of her conning-tower vanished, and the last shot from the
Columbus
pitched only a few yards away.