Great Pacific War: A History of the American-Japanese Campaign of 1931-33 (4 page)

A merchant vessel must not be attacked unless it refuse to submit to visit and search after warning, or to proceed as directed after seizure …

(2) The belligerent submarines are not under any circumstances exempt from the universal rules above stated; and if a submarine cannot capture a merchant vessel in conformity with these rules the existing law of nations requires it to desist from attack and from seizure, and to permit the merchant vessel to proceed unmolested.

The Signatory Powers recognise the practical impossibility of using submarines as commerce destroyers without violating, as they were violated in the recent war of 1914-18, the requirements universally accepted by civilised nations for the protection of the lives of neutrals and non-combatants, and to the end that the prohibition of the use of submarines as commerce destroyers shall be universally accepted as a part of the law of nations, they now accept that prohibition as henceforth binding as between themselves, and they invite all other nations to adhere thereto.

It will be seen that the rules laid down as above were to some extent contradictory. On the one hand, a submarine was authorised by implication to detain, visit and search a merchant vessel, and equally by implication to attack such a vessel if it refused to submit to visit and search. On the other hand, the submarine was expressly forbidden to persist with the attack if it seemed impossible to capture the merchant vessel without endangering the lives of non-combatants on board. Finally, the Signatory Powers, of whom the United States was one, had in the concluding paragraph virtually bound themselves not to employ submarines against merchant vessels under any circumstances whatever. It could be, and was, argued on behalf of the United States that the case of the
S
4
and the
Nikko
Maru
was an exceptional one. Only a few hours previously a merchant vessel under the Japanese flag had been the means of inflicting serious damage on the Panama Canal, and while the Japanese Government might deny complicity in this outrage, the fact remained that a merchantman, owned and manned by its nationals, had committed a flagrant act of war. It was but natural, therefore, that all other Japanese vessels in the vicinity of the Canal should fall under grave suspicion and be regarded as active enemies until the contrary had been proved. For this reason the United States held itself justified in taking the measures that had been taken against the
Nikko
Maru
, whose behaviour when requested to stop and submit to search had been highly suspicious. That the ship had been intercepted by a submarine instead of a surface patrol vessel was a fortuitous circumstance that did not affect the main issue. The United States Government concluded by maintaining that the Treaty in question was still valid, and would continue to be observed by its own submarines till further notice. The controversy thus initiated endured as long as the war itself, but Japan always insisted that the shots fired by
S
4
had automatically cancelled the embargo on submarines as commerce destroyers, and from that time forward did not scruple to use her underwater boats for attacking enemy merchant ships.

For the moment, however, public interest was centred on a matter of more immediate concern — the fate of those gallant men who were called upon to defend America’s overseas possessions against crushing odds. From March 3 to March 7 not a word of news reached Washington from that quarter of the world. It was as though an impenetrable screen had been established round a great area of the Western Pacific to hide the tragedy being enacted in those distant waters. Late on March 8 the silence was broken by a press cable from Hong Kong to London, transmitted to New York. This stated that rumours were current in the Chinese ports of a great naval battle having been fought off the Philippines between the Japanese and American fleets, and ending in the total destruction of the latter. A few hours later came another cable from the same source, containing news of the direst import. A Dutch steamer from Batavia to Hong Kong had reported by radio that she had picked up, two hundred miles west of Manila, seven survivors of the American destroyer
Crosby
, who had been found clinging to wreckage from their lost ship. Being in the last stage of exhaustion they were unable to give coherent details of what had occurred, and could only say that their ship had been sunk, “along with all the rest,” in action with “the whole Japanese fleet.” Further particulars were promised in a later cable, but before this arrived the dread news of disaster was confirmed by a brief but pregnant official bulletin from Tokyo, which is here quoted in full:

In the forenoon of March 6 our South Sea naval forces, under the command of Vice-Admiral Hiraga, encountered the American Asiatic Squadron outside Manila Bay. By skilful manoeuvres it was brought to action under favourable conditions, the battle lasting three hours. The enemy force was totally destroyed, in spite of a brave defence. We sank five cruisers, one large auxiliary, nine destroyers and several submarines. Two store ships were sunk and one was captured. A number of prisoners have been taken. Our losses are small. Operations in the Southern Seas are continuing to our advantage.

Japanese war bulletins have never erred on the side of verbosity, but as a rule they are very much to the point. This one was no exception. It told in plain terms of the annihilation of the only American naval force in the Far East, and, consequently, the only force which had been available for the floating defence of the Philippines. The islands, being thus deprived of all means of protection by naval power, were now exposed to the full force of Japanese attack. It is true that some resistance could be offered by the shore batteries and mine-fields, but that these could long withstand a determined onslaught by such forces as the enemy would be certain to bring against them, no one in Washington believed. Tragedies have often been foreseen before they actually occurred, but the feelings they evoke are none the less poignant on that account. The bad news from the Far East sent a wave of grief over the United States. For the time being little heed was paid to the peril which menaced the Philippines. The country was thinking of those thousands of gallant seamen who had gone to their doom, fighting to the last against tremendous odds, with the old flag still flying as the waters closed above the torn and battered hulls of their ships. But the first thrill of horror was succeeded by a stern resolve to see this struggle through to the bitter end. However protracted the war might be, however costly in blood and treasure, it would be waged with the combined might of the whole nation until the sword was struck from the enemy’s grasp and he was forced to sue for peace. And it was in that spirit that the American people waited for further details of the tragedy of Manila, which to them, if not to their leaders, had come like a bolt from the blue.

CHAPTER III

United State Asiatic Squadron attacked by superior Japanese fleet — Majority of the American ships destroyed — Japanese prepare to invade Philippines — United States preparations to receive them

IT is clear from the private letters of Rear-Admiral Ribley, made public after his death, that he fully recognised the desperate situation in which his squadron would be placed if it had to await attack by the Japanese fleet. In a letter dated March 3, 1931, he wrote:

I have been ordered to concentrate at Manila, to assist the land defences in repelling the Japanese invasion which is momentarily expected. We have had no news from home since yesterday, as all radio messages taken in are incoherent and unreadable, and the cable went out of business last night. Consequently we do not know if war has been declared; but apart from this interference with our communications, which can only be the work of the Japanese, there is something in the air which tells us the fight is about to begin. Of course, with our handful of old ships we cannot do much against Japanese dreadnoughts, but we shall sell our lives dearly. I do not take my orders to mean that I am to remain in Manila Bay itself. That would be to repeat the suicidal blunder of the Spaniards in 1898. So the whole squadron is to leave as soon as we have coaled, which I expect will be about noon to-morrow. I shall then cruise off the coast and await developments. Our aircraft should give us early warning of the enemy’s approach. If he is accompanied by troop transports, we shall try and sink as many of these as we possibly can before going under. But I am afraid he will not bring troops along until he has disposed of our squadron. If only we had a couple of fast, well-armed ships, we might make a fight for it, but as things are we are in a tight corner; but at any rate we will keep the flag flying to the last.

In modern naval warfare there is not much room for the “fighting chance’’ which in former days sometimes enabled brave men to win victory in the teeth of fearful odds. The fleet which has the best ships and the heaviest guns is practically certain to win once battle has been joined, provided its officers and men are up to the average standard of efficiency. Courage of the highest order, dauntless resolution, superlative seamanship — all these qualities count for little against a crushing preponderance of material. It should therefore have been obvious to Admiral Morrison, the Chief of Naval Operations, that in ordering the Asiatic fleet to remain in the Philippines he was dooming it to destruction. As we now know, a belief was cherished in Washington that, as at Chemulpo in 1904, the Japanese would make a combined naval and military attack on the islands, in which case they would have to bring crowded transports with the fleet. If that were done, the American squadron, small though it was, might be able to inflict sufficient damage to compensate for its own destruction.

But this theory of a combined attack postulated a very imperfect knowledge of the laws of strategy on the part of the Japanese. In all their previous campaigns they had shown themselves well acquainted with those laws, and there was no reason to suppose they would ignore them now. If they did attempt to throw troops ashore in the Philippines before the American squadron had been disposed of, it could only be because they feared the arrival of reinforcements from the United States, and wished to make themselves masters of the islands before these could come on the scene. But, in fact, there was no such imperative need for haste. At least three weeks must elapse ere a large American fleet, attended by its slow fuel ships and other essential auxiliaries, could cross the Pacific even if it steamed all the way at its highest collective speed and was not molested
en
route
. But although they doubted whether the American battle fleet would be despatched to Asiatic waters, the Japanese had made all preparations to receive it, and could count with confidence on delaying its arrival until they had worked their will in the Philippines.

So when Vice-Admiral Hiraga steamed south to settle accounts with the American Asiatic fleet he took no military transports with him. His force consisted of three battlecruisers —
Kongo
(flagship),
Hiyei
, and
Kirishima
; six light cruisers, twenty-four destroyers and the airplane carrier
Hosho
. The speed of the slowest ship was twenty-five knots.

The disparity between this fleet and the American squadron was immense. Admiral Ribley’s two armoured cruisers had a nominal speed of twenty-two knots, but so long as the squadron kept together its pace must be regulated by that of the slowest unit, and the three old cruisers of the
Denver
class were not good for more than fifteen knots. In gun power the Japanese superiority was overwhelming. Counting only heavy pieces, they had twenty-four 14-inch guns, which could range up to 24,000 yards; to which the Americans could oppose but four 10-inch and four 8-inch guns, whose extreme range was 15,000 yards. As the three old
Denver
cruisers simply did not count as fighting units, the only other vessels that could play any useful
role
in action were the ten destroyers, three light mine-layers, and twelve submarines. There was also the airplane carrier
Curtiss
, a 22- knot ship which carried fourteen planes, six of which were equipped for torpedo attack. Had Admiral Ribley chosen to remain inside Manila Bay, he would probably have been safe for the time being, for the Japanese, knowing 12-inch guns to be mounted in the batteries of Corregidor which guard the entrance, would have hesitated to send in their big ships.

But if the squadron stayed at Manila there was very little chance of its ever coming out again, as the enemy would be sure to seal the channel with mines laid by submarines, besides keeping a strong blockading force near at hand. And with the American squadron safely bottled up there would be nothing to stop the Japanese transports from putting to sea. The investment of Port Arthur in 1904 had provided ample warning of what would follow. Landing, as it was expected to do, at points on the coast of Luzon well away from the batteries at Manila, the invading army would advance towards that city and bring the bay under artillery fire, making it a deathtrap for the American ships. As the garrison of Luzon, including native troops, did not exceed 17,000 men, they could not hope to fight more than a delaying action against an army of 80,000, which was the minimum number the Japanese were expected to send. When all these facts are given due weight, Admiral Ribley’s decision to meet the enemy outside Manila is seen to have been the soundest one that was possible under the circumstances. So long as his ships remained above water they constituted a “fleet in being,” and therefore a hindrance — albeit a feeble one — to invasion.

At dusk on March 5 an American airplane sighted the smoke of a large fleet two hundred miles due west of Cape Bogeador. On approaching to reconnoitre more closely it was chased and fired on by three machines marked with the Japanese cockade, and only escaped by its superior speed. The first shots of the war were thus fired in the clouds. A radio message from the air scout notified Admiral Ribley of the enemy’s approach. Other American planes which went up before dawn on the 6th soon made contact with the Japanese fleet. At 5 a.m. it was observed west of Lingayen Bay, steering S.S.E. The three battle-cruisers were in line ahead, with the light cruisers and destroyers screening them from submarine attack. Astern of the third battle-cruiser was the airplane carrier,
Hosho
, several of whose chaser machines were flying ahead of the fleet. In view of the necessity of conserving all aircraft for defence purposes, the American pilots had been ordered to avoid action, and this they did, confining themselves to long-distance observation of the enemy’s movements. Admiral Ribley by now had made his dispositions. At 8 a.m. he was 10 miles N.W. of Lubang Island. His squadron was complete save for the
Cleveland
, this cruiser having been sent back to Cavite on account of engine trouble, which reduced her speed to ten knots. Six submarines, detached the previous evening, were now patrolling independently off the south-west coast of Luzon, with orders to attack the enemy’s large ships if a good opportunity offered. The other six submarines were cruising between Subig Bay and Verde Island.

A report came in from the air scouts at 9.15 that the Japanese fleet was firing heavily at some unseen target, probably a submarine. The thunder of the guns was clearly audible in the American ships, where the men waited with tense nerves for the first sight of their foe. Two Japanese airplanes were now seen approaching at high speed, one of which dropped a bomb as it crossed the American ships. This missile struck the water some two hundred yards astern of the flagship. Planes from the
Curtiss
, which had been patrolling on the 8,000 foot level for the past hour, intercepted and shot down one of the enemy machines. At 10.20 smoke was visible from the control top of the
Missoula
, and a few minutes later the dim shapes of the Japanese battlecruisers loomed on the horizon. Graphic accounts of the action that now took place have been published since the war by survivors of the American squadron.

The following is an abridged version of the narrative by Lieutenant Elkins, who was present in the flagship
Missoula
as aide to Admiral Ribley:

We were leading the line, if you could call that a ‘line’ which included but two ships, our own and the
Frederick
. The
Galveston
,
Denver
, and
Curtiss
, being ships of no fighting power, were steaming 4,000 yards away on our port beam, where we thought they would be safe from ‘overs,’ and yet near enough, as the Admiral grimly remarked, ‘to pick us up if we go swimming.’ The destroyers were ahead of us in two groups, to port and starboard, where they were in a position to engage the Japanese torpedo craft if these should try to attack. At 10.30 the control top gave us the range as 24,000 yards. The Admiral and I were at this time standing on the after bridge.

So clear was the atmosphere that the silhouettes of the Japanese ships were sharply defined, and with our glasses we could even see the big guns in the battle-cruisers being trained. Our information was that their 14-inch had an extreme range of 23,000 yards, but this must have been an underestimate, for the first shots came when our instruments registered 24,000 yards, and they fell pretty close. As we were watching the leading ship, which we took to be the
Kongo
, we saw a single flash from her forward turret. Some forty-five seconds later there was a roaring sound like an express train, and a giant spout rose from the sea about six hundred yards to starboard. After this the enemy was silent for a couple of minutes, during which we turned several points to port to keep the range open as much as possible, our destroyers meanwhile having put up a big smoke screen.

At 10.45 the
Kongo
let us have a 4-gun salvo, and a moment later the other two battle-cruisers joined in. The air was full of noise as the huge 1400-pounder projectiles roared overhead. They missed us clean, though the splash of one shell was close enough to wet the quarterdeck. We were just going into the conning-tower when I turned to look back at the
Frederick
, and at that instant saw a sheet of flame burst from her side. She must have been hit amidships in the 6-inch battery by a high-explosive shell which detonated just inside the thin armour. As I watched, two more shells burst aboard her, both well forward, but I could not wait to see what damage had been done. We had not yet been hit, for the enemy seemed to be concentrating on the
Frederick
, which he may have mistaken for the flagship. The range was now 21,000 yards — far too long for our pop-guns; but the strain of being under heavy fire without the ability to reply was so wearing that the Admiral gave orders for our after 10-inch turret to try a few shots, ‘just to quieten the men’ as he put it. Needless to say, the spotter reported all rounds short of the target, but it was certainly some relief to hear our guns going.

We received our first hit at 10.53, a shell coming in obliquely a few feet from the bows but well above the water-line, exploding with sufficient force to blow up a considerable stretch of the forecastle deck. A report now came from the top that the
Frederick
was in difficulties, with two funnels shot away and heavily on fire aft. Although still on an even keel she was low in the water, and must have been badly hit on or below her armour belt. Now as the enemy, with his far superior speed, could have closed the range and finished us off long before this had he so desired, it was evident that he was treating the affair as a long-range battle shoot to give his gunners practice. But this did not suit the Admiral’s book. If we were not to perish ignominiously, without striking a single blow before we went, our only chance was to steam in until our guns would bear, taking the risk of getting smashed up while so doing. We accordingly turned to starboard and worked up to our full speed of twenty-one knots. Whether the unexpectedness of this manoeuvre took the enemy by surprise, or whether he thought he would let us rush on to destruction, I cannot tell; but it is certain that we got to within 15,000 yards of his line without being seriously hit. Both our turrets were now firing with the utmost rapidity, and even the 6-inch starboard battery joined in, though in their case it was probably wasted ammunition. We got at least one hit on the
Kongo
, for I saw a big explosion at the base of her second funnel, and she seemed to sheer a little out of line. But this was as far as we were allowed to go. Thinking he had given us enough rope, the Japanese admiral must have decided to end the game without further ado.