Great Pacific War: A History of the American-Japanese Campaign of 1931-33 (26 page)

CHAPTER XVIII

American plans to induce Japanese fleet to fight — Further manoeuvres with dummy battleships — Japanese expecting a fleet action — Feint against Guam distracts Japanese attention while Angaur is occupied — Improvement in United States position — Strength of Japanese battle fleet at this time

IT has been shown that the Japanese war leaders could not afford to wait indefinitely for the next move of their adversary; still less dare they risk anything in the nature of a severe reverse, such as the loss of Guam, or even of the minor but strategically important Pelew Islands, which their naval advisers believed to be the immediate objective of this American thrust into the Western Pacific. As it happens, the naval view was the correct one. The plan adopted by the United States Bureau of Operations was to advance step by step to a position from which an invasion of the Philippines could be launched, and Angaur, in the Pelew group, was the position selected. It was believed in Washington that nothing short of intervention by the Japanese battle fleet was likely to frustrate the methodical fulfilment of this plan. Thanks to the base established at Truk, and to the naval forces now working therefrom, it was possible to make the route to the Pelews fairly safe from attack by Japanese cruisers or submarines; and although Angaur might prove to be lightly fortified, this contingency had not been disregarded. Thus the only uncertain factor was the Japanese battle fleet. The general opinion was that Japan would not risk this force save in the last extremity.

Whether she would consider a threat to Angaur sufficient justification for throwing in her fleet was doubtful. It seemed more probable that she would reserve her battleships to strike a hammer blow in defence of some position of greater importance, such as Guam, and it was upon this assumption that the whole scheme of American strategy now rested. Information received at Washington from Far Eastern sources tended to verify Admiral Harper’s premises. There was no doubt that the Japanese regarded Guam as one of the vital points which must be defended to the last, for moral no less than for strategical reasons. So much having postulated, it remained to devise a method of compelling the Japanese fleet to fight under conditions favourable to the American cause — that is, in an area distant from its home bases, and at the moment selected by the American Commander-in-Chief. Difficult as the problem appeared to be, it was not deemed insoluble.

How the solution was achieved will now be made clear. The voyage of the pseudo-battleships to Truk, and their subsequent cruise towards Guam, have already been chronicled. This latter movement took place during the week of August 10-17. Ten days later it was repeated, on much the same plan as before, but with certain modifications. On this occasion the fleet steamed fifty miles further, thus arriving at a position only one hundred miles to the south-east of the island. Again it was sighted and attacked by aircraft, this time with more disastrous results. While the action was at its hottest, and the Japanese machines were advancing bravely through a barrage of fire, a heavy explosion was seen to occur just alongside the
California
, quickly followed by a second upheaval. Other detonations were observed, but whether from bombs or torpedoes did not transpire. The great ship was soon in distress and plainly sinking, though on an even keel, and in a surprisingly short space of time she had gone to the bottom, apparently taking most of her crew with her, for only fifty or more survivors were picked up by the destroyers. Intoxicated with their wonderful success, the Japanese aviators pressed on to attack the other battleships, throwing them into such confusion that one dreadnought was seen to ram her next ahead, which had turned suddenly to port, and was thus struck a glancing but powerful blow almost amidships. The damaged ship was identified by several Japanese pilots as the
Oklahoma
or her sister, the
Nevada
, and reported as such on their return. It became clear that she, too, was doomed, for when last sighted she was heeling over at a dangerous angle, and several crowded boats were pulling away from her.

Further observation was impossible, for by now the chaser planes from the
Alaska
were up, and in the ensuing combat they shot down all but four of the Japanese machines. These four had been deliberately spared, in order that news of their tremendous success should be promptly borne to Guam, and thence to Japanese headquarters. It was just as well that the
Oklahoma’s
end did not come until these witnesses had left, else they might have been diverted by the sight of ponderous turrets and 65-ton guns floating gently away from the deck of the “battleship” as she foundered! To explain that the crushing disaster that seemed to have befallen the squadron was a cleverly contrived piece of stage management is, perhaps, superfluous. No Japanese bomb had fallen within effective radius of any ship, but at a certain moment explosive charges had been detonated alongside the spurious
California
, giving a realistic impression of bomb hits close to the water-line, where they would prove most destructive. Then the sea-cocks had been opened in such a way as to ensure the ship’s sinking on an even keel, since too clear a view of the underwater bow or stern section of the mock battleship would have betrayed the trick immediately. The ramming of the
Oklahoma
had also been arranged beforehand.

All those who had taken part in this elaborate comedy could congratulate themselves on the faultless manner in which it had been performed. Whether the desired results had been produced remained to be seen, but it was confidently believed that they had. That “faked” battleships should deceive the eye of trained naval officers, as the Japanese naval air pilots were, may seem incredible, until the contributory circumstances are weighed. In the first place, the attack had been delivered at a considerable height, from which position a warship is most difficult to identify. Secondly, the view below was obscured by the smoke-screen which the fleet’s destroyers had put up, and still further by gun smoke and bomb splashes. Thirdly, it is a psychological fact that even the clearest-headed men, when engaged in some hazardous feat of arms, are liable to see things as they wish to see them rather than as they are — a phenomenon which explains the contradictory versions of sea battles fought in earlier wars and the long list of apocryphal losses suffered by the enemy which each side compiles from the reports of men present, who honestly believe they are speaking the truth. It is, therefore, in no way surprising that the Japanese airmen who got back to Guam should have reported, in all good faith, that two of the finest American battleships had been sunk, one by their bombs, the other in collision.

At Tokyo, where the tidings caused frantic jubilation, their accuracy was never questioned. More than this, the apparent ease with which two great dreadnoughts had been destroyed, one of them by bombs of less than maximum power, engendered a belief that the American type of battleship was more vulnerable to attack than had ever been suspected. Truly Oriental in their contempt for everything pertaining to Western civilisation, even Japanese naval experts found no difficulty in persuading themselves that all American dreadnoughts were structurally defective. This theory had a momentous effect on their plans. Up to now, reckoning one American ship of given tonnage the equal in fighting power of a Japanese ship of the same type, they had felt no confidence in the outcome of an action in which their small fleet would be pitted against a much larger number of American battleships. But if the latter were weakened by some fundamental fault in design or construction, as Japanese experts now believed, numerical superiority would avail them little, and there was, in consequence, no reason to dread the result of an encounter with the American main body.

Considerations of this nature, added to the pressing need for some dramatic success, led the Supreme Council to revoke their ban on active operations at sea. The naval command was instructed to make all preparations for a decisive engagement. Squadrons and individual vessels detached on special service were to be instantly recalled, with the view of effecting a concentration of all available ships. This accomplished, the fleet was to be held in readiness to put to sea in full strength at the shortest notice. Every unit, from battleship to submarine, was to sail with its maximum load of fuel. Other orders directed the assembly at Guam, where a large air base had been established, of all efficient naval aircraft except those required for coast defence. Furthermore such fleet auxiliaries — that is, tankers, colliers, repair ships, ammunition ships, and tugs — as were momentarily stationed at other bases, such as Ominato, Kure, and Sasebo, were ordered to proceed at once to Yokosuka. Finally, all navy yards were instructed to lay aside everything but the most urgent work and hold themselves ready to deal with the long list of ship casualties that might be expected in the event of a great engagement taking place.

These preparations naturally occupied time, but in less than three weeks they were completed. On September 17 the entire fleet sailed for the Bonin Islands. Meanwhile submarines had been dispatched from Guam to keep an eye on enemy activities at Truk. It was a duty attended with some peril, for the Americans were now very much on the
qui
vive
. Their listening posts gave immediate warning of any submarine that came within ten miles of the islands, and both the air and destroyer patrols had been reinforced. One of the Japanese submarines,
I
59
, venturing too far in, was discovered and sunk by depth charges on September 14, and other boats narrowly escaped the like fate. Beyond reporting the arrival at Truk of numerous warships and merchantmen, which appeared to be transports, the submarine scouts were unable to gather any information of value. It was accordingly resolved to try other methods.

On September 20 the airplane carrier
Hosho
, escorted by destroyers, steamed out of Port Lloyd and stood towards the south-east until within 150 miles of Truk, where a squadron of four scouts and eight combat planes took off from her deck. Their orders were to avoid action if possible, but in any case to fly over Truk and make a careful survey of the shipping in port, and to use their cameras freely. Reaching the islands an hour after sunrise, they ran into a haze which made observation difficult, though it probably saved them from premature detection. They planed down to a low level and had made a complete circuit of the position and adjacent waters before being molested. But now a heavy fire was opened from the ships and batteries, and air patrols were speeding to attack them. Five machines were lost before the pursuit could be shaken off.

On returning to the
Hosho
, the survivors were able to report the presence in Truk of at least eight large men-of-war, presumably battleships; four big cruisers, many destroyers, and a dozen vessels of mercantile build, intelligence that received visual confirmation when the photographs they had taken were developed. This news satisfied the Tokyo Naval Staff that a great expedition was about to be launched from Truk; but whereas they held the Pelew Islands to be its goal, the War Council persisted in regarding Guam as the American objective. While the debate was yet proceeding, messages came from the sea that appeared to vindicate the accuracy of the Council’s judgment. A Japanese submarine patrolling to the north of Truk signalled that it had sighted a great fleet of vessels steering on a north-westerly course and had got sufficiently close to recognise ten battleships and at least a dozen transports. When sighted, this armada was seventy miles to the north of Truk. Consequently, if making for Guam, as the course denoted, it had still nearly 550 miles to cover, a voyage that would take some forty hours to complete, assuming the collective speed of the transports to be fourteen knots. Though marvelling at the rashness of the enemy in venturing upon such a desperate enterprise, the Naval Staff could no longer doubt that Guam was about to be attacked. Not a moment was lost in issuing the necessary orders. Less than three hours after the submarine's radio signal had been received, the Japanese battle fleet had left the Bonins with instructions to proceed at utmost speed to Guam.

“Everyone in the fleet was confident that we were steaming to fight the greatest sea battle in our history,” writes Mr. Nakabashi, the naval historian, who was present in one of the ships. “There was no question of our failing to come upon the enemy and bring him to action soon after he had reached Guam. From the Bonins, our point of departure, to that island was some 860 miles, and we were steaming at twenty knots. We reckoned, therefore, upon reaching Guam three to four hours later than the enemy fleet, which, although it had a shorter distance to travel, was restricted to a speed six knots below our own by the presence of its slow transports. Enthusiasm ran high in the fleet. We had heard from the flagship that the enemy had only ten battleships. Where were the rest? Perhaps they were coming up from some other quarter, for the Americans had already committed so many strategical blunders that no one would have been astonished to see them split up their battle fleet on the eve of action. All the better for us. We had eleven battleships, all faster than the enemy’s; we had more cruisers and destroyers, and probably more aircraft as well. It would be strange if we could not fall upon the audacious invaders and utterly destroy them. From Admiral Hiraga (the commander-in-chief) to the youngest bluejacket, all were animated by a single resolve: to win a resounding victory for Emperor and fatherland.”

We cannot do better than follow the eloquent historian in his lucid account of ensuing events. All that day and throughout the night, he tells us, the Japanese fleet steamed on at high speed, keeping only two or three knots in reserve for the moment of action. On board the flagship
Nagato
messages from submarine and air scouts — the latter operating from Guam — were coming in continually, in each case reporting the steady advance of the enemy towards Guam, though one of the later signals mentioned that the ships appeared to have slackened speed.