Great Pacific War: A History of the American-Japanese Campaign of 1931-33 (25 page)

Captain Bateman now steamed out to sea at high speed, zigzagging to avoid torpedoes, but remaining near enough to cover the four destroyers that had followed him out of the harbour and were now trying to pick up the enemy with their hydrophones. The
Nagoya
was quickly located by the throb of her electro-motors, for the enormous depth of water in this locality rendered it impossible for her to lie on the bottom, where, with engines stopped, she might have escaped detection. She was thus compelled to keep her motors running, and so to reveal her position to the hunters. Four depth charges of the 750 pound model were heaved over, set to explode at 150 feet, and before the tortured sea had subsided after the mountainous upheaval, the enemy’s bows were seen emerging, a short distance away from the destroyer
Pillsbury
. With admirable presence of mind, the captain of this boat launched three torpedoes at the mark, besides opening fire with his guns. The cruiser, now some three miles distant, could not use her guns for fear of hitting the destroyers, but her intervention was not required. Whether the submarine had already sustained fatal damage from the depth charges is uncertain. If so, the
Pillsbury’s
torpedoes only gave her the quietus, for two of them hit her squarely, opening gaping holes in her side. With a convulsive shudder the giant submarine, rose higher out of the water, until half her length was exposed, while the destroyers pumped a stream of shell into the unarmoured bottom. There she hung poised for a full minute, then gave a sudden lurch and vanished from sight, leaving a veritable sea of oil to mark her grave. To make assurance doubly sure the hydrophones were put in action again, but no sound came up from the cavernous depths into which the
Nagoya
had plunged. Long before she reached the bottom her sides must have been crushed flat by the irresistible pressure of the water.

The defenders of Truk had, of course, no means of knowing whether or not they were in further danger of attack. To them it seemed likely enough that the big submarine was the precursor of strong enemy forces on their way to make a desperate bid for the recovery of the islands. Everything possible was done to improve the defences. Guns were emplaced in positions from which they commanded the sea approaches; mines were laid across the three main entrances to the lagoon, namely, the North-East, the Uligar, and the Neurui passages; hydrophone stations were erected at three different points on the island to give timely warning of submarines, and a patrol was maintained from dawn to dark by seaplanes and a small dirigible.

As the base was developed and its fortifications strengthened, the peril of serious attack, and even of raids, steadily diminished, but the first few weeks were a period of intense anxiety for the garrison. Nothing happened, however, for the reasons indicated above. The Japanese high command had no intention of embarking upon any considerable enterprise at a distance from home waters until they knew more about the enemy’s plans; and it was long ere enlightenment was vouchsafed to them.

Meanwhile the Americans were taking further steps to safeguard their line of communication with the advanced position at Truk. Ponapi, in the Carolines, and Jaluit, in the Marshall group — both of which lay within submarine range of the Samoa-Truk route — were suspected of serving as Japanese naval bases, and it was accordingly decided to reduce them. Simultaneous descents upon both places were planned, the Ponapi force sailing from Truk, while that destined for Jaluit proceeded thither direct from Tutuila. In each case the operation was completely successful.

At Ponapi, where no resistance was encountered, the troops got ashore and took possession with the utmost ease. No Japanese combatants were found in the islands, but a couple of dismantled seaplanes and a magazine of naval stores showed the post to have been used as a minor base. The Jaluit expedition was not quite so fortunate. A few Japanese marines who were stationed there to man the battery of four 6-inch guns, showed fight, but a bombardment by the warships and a gas attack by aircraft soon overcame this opposition, and after a brief delay the invaders made good their footing with only a score of casualties. Apart from the elimination of the submarine danger to the Samoa-Truk route, the capture of these islands was of some strategic importance. Jaluit, in particular, was conveniently situated as a port of call between Hawaii and Truk, and from this time forward it was feasible to dispatch men and supplies to the advanced base direct from Hawaii, via Jaluit, instead of by the longer route over Samoa.

Now that the broad scheme of strategy mapped out by Rear-Admiral Harper had begun to develop, the moment was fast approaching for another bold but well-considered move. Needless to say, nothing so foolhardy as a direct attack upon Guam was meditated. But the Japanese, bearing in mind the earlier attempt against the Bonins — which, as they well knew, was thwarted more by ill-chance than their own efforts — might conceivably be persuaded that Guam had now become the true American objective. It was to foster this belief that Japanese emissaries in the United States had been allowed to glean full information of the coming attack, nor did they suspect how the transmission of their reports to Tokyo had been kindly facilitated by the authorities. There were, moreover, officials in Washington who could have explained the apparent leakage of intelligence which enabled travellers on returning to the Far East to spread the most circumstantial rumours of an impending expedition to Guam. That the Japanese War Council, or at least the military members, finally accepted these inspired rumours as authentic is made clear by their subsequent policy.

A few days after the seizure of Truk, a division of four American battleships quietly departed from Dutch Harbour, where it had been stationed for several months. Had the presence of this force in a remote haven of Unalaska been suspected by armchair critics in the United States, they would assuredly have condemned in unmeasured terms what seemed to be a futile and dangerous dispersion of strength. But things are not always what they seem, least of all in modern warfare; and though to all appearance it was the
Arkansas
,
Wyoming
,
Florida
, and
Utah
which sailed out of Dutch Harbour one misty morning in early July, they were, in fact, only counterfeit presentments of the battleships whose names they had usurped, being large freighters skilfully camouflaged as fighting ships. Their guns and turrets looked most formidable, though fashioned out of lumber. One big shell would have blown any of these “dreadnoughts” into matchwood, but their mission was to deceive, not to fight. The use of “dummy” ships was no new stratagem. It had been employed by the British Navy during the world war, and, if certain historians are to be trusted, by the Japanese themselves in their contest with Russia. But on this occasion the ancient ruse was destined to have consequences of the last importance.

In addition to the four ships named, six others had been prepared at Puget Sound Navy Yard, so that a fleet of ten of these make-believe battleships was now available. They included replicas of the
Maryland
,
Colorado
,
California
, and
Tennessee
, the most powerful units of the real battle fleet. Rendezvousing at Portland on July 15, this bogus armada proceeded by easy stages to Truk, where it arrived on August 7. Three days later, accompanied by the airplane-carrier
Alaska
and two flotillas of destroyers, it made a sweep to the north-west, approaching to within 150 miles of Guam, where an enemy submarine was sighted. Here the fleet turned back, and a few hours later found itself assailed by several large Japanese planes which had come speeding out from Guam, eager to bomb the first American battleships seen in these latitudes since the outbreak of war. Some trying moments were endured by those on board when the hostile planes began dropping bombs, for a single hit might have betrayed the disguise, and in that case the whole strategic conception, of which this cruise was but a preliminary, would have fallen to the ground. Not even in the excitement of action could the Japanese airmen have failed to draw conclusions from the spectacle of massive guns and turrets flying aloft under the impact of their bombs. Fortunately, however, the anti-aircraft guns of the destroyers kept the intruders at an altitude too great for accurate practice, and before they could summon up resolution to attack at closer quarters, they found themselves hunted in turn by the chaser planes from the
Alaska
, which soon drove them off.

This momentary excitement over, the fleet pursued its leisurely voyage back to Truk. The fates had indeed been kind on this occasion, for everything had gone according to plan. Confronted with detailed reports both from their submarines and aircraft, Japanese headquarters could no longer doubt that the United States battle fleet, or a major portion of it, had carried out a reconnaissance in force in the direction of Guam, and what should this signify but that the long-foretold attack was imminent?

To appreciate what followed it is necessary to emphasise the fact that Guam, in Japanese eyes, was something more than a lonely islet in the broad Pacific. It had stood to them as a symbol of alien power in the Far East, a fortress which sooner or later might become an impregnable stronghold, from which an American fleet could dominate their own waters and menace the very threshold of Dai Nippon itself. True, the Washington Treaty had bound the United States not to fortify Guam or otherwise exploit it as a naval base, but to the Oriental mind paper guarantees have always counted for little. For these reasons the conquest of the island in the first month of war had evoked enthusiasm out of all proportion to the actual achievement. Judge, then, of the corresponding reaction that ensued when news leaked out — as evil news invariably does, no matter how rigid the censorship — that Guam might soon be attacked in overwhelming force.

Hitherto the Japanese war authorities had remained austerely indifferent to public opinion. Several newspapers which had ventured mildly to criticise the measures adopted by the War Council to conserve foodstuffs and other prime commodities — of which, thanks to the activity of American cruisers, a severe shortage was already making itself felt — had been punished by suspension, fines, and the imprisonment of their editors. Freed from the restraints imposed by the constitutional safeguards that operated in peace time, the Government and their reactionary supporters carried things with a high hand. The whole country was administered by what, in everything but name, was martial law. This arbitrary policy was slowly but surely cooling the patriotic fervour which the people had displayed on the outbreak of war. Though the Diet still met, the party truce proclaimed in February, 1931, had long since been broken. Liberal politicians were denied a hearing, many suffered violence at the hands of hired bullies, in the pay of the reactionaries; and half-a-dozen, who had dared to protest against the Government’s cavalier methods, now languished in gaol. In short, the nation was no longer united. Among the poorer folk who had to subsist on a meagre allowance of food — ostensibly the same for everyone, but which the wealthier classes were able to supplement with delicacies that could be purchased openly, despite Government edicts to the contrary — symptoms of war-weariness were becoming very pronounced. Several hundred thousand of them were conscripted for various branches of war work at a pittance based on Army rates of pay. They were subjected to a severe discipline, every infraction of the rules being visited with harsh penalties.

As early as the autumn of 1931 surreptitious peace meetings had been held at Yokohama, Osaka, Kobe, and other industrial centres. Whenever the police got wind of these assemblies they were ruthlessly broken up and wholesale arrests made. But official repression was powerless to check what was rapidly becoming a nation-wide movement. Far-seeing observers had warned the ruling caste that war as a remedy for revolution might eventually inflame the very disease it was meant to cure. But although alive to the critical posture of affairs, the Government had by no means abandoned hope of a successful issue. To still the angry mutterings of the people and convert their sullen discontent into patriotic enthusiasm, it was only necessary to win some really brilliant victory. This, indeed, was urgently to be desired from every point of view, for fresh complications were now embarrassing the Japanese Government.

Some weeks previous to the fall of Truk, the Chinese Government had assumed a tone of which there was no mistaking the significance. Peking had reaffirmed its determination to enforce the embargo on the export of war munitions from Chinese territory, and Japan’s attention was drawn to the fact that the coal, iron, and other minerals she was raising from Chinese mines under her control and sending to Japan came within this category. She was accordingly invited to put an immediate stop to the traffic. Compliance with this request would have paralysed the Japanese munitions industry, which could not carry on for a week if bereft of raw materials from the mainland. The Government was therefore compelled to temporise, for an open breach with China was the last thing they desired to court at the present juncture.

But Peking was not to be gainsaid. In a stern Note, which was practically an ultimatum, Japan was again requested to suspend at once the export of products from her Chinese mines, failing which the Central Government proposed to take all necessary measures to uphold the sovereign rights of China. A week later, no reply having been received, Peking declared war. This action was admittedly due in part to American diplomatic pressure, but not entirely so. The exploits of General Wang-Tsu, which had paved the way for the unification of the Empire, had stirred the sluggish national spirit of the Chinese people, making them less tolerant of alien encroachment upon their soil. And it was against Japan, as the worst offender in this respect, that their anger was chiefly vented. But hitherto they had not felt themselves strong enough to resist her pretensions by actual force. Now, however, General Wang-Tsu was in command of an army 400,000 strong, trained and thoroughly seasoned in the hard-fought civil warfare which has been previously described. This host, although deficient in modern equipment, especially in artillery, was yet sufficiently powerful to give a good account of itself. It was most ably led by General Wang-Tsu and the officers who had served under him in the civil struggle. Above all, it took the field with the hearty good-will of the Chinese nation at large, a moral asset not to be despised. The major operations of this army will be dealt with in their proper place; but at this point we must return to events in the naval sphere.