Great Pacific War: A History of the American-Japanese Campaign of 1931-33 (5 page)

What followed is beyond description; all around us the sea spouted and boiled; there were half a dozen terrific explosions in as many seconds; I heard one appalling crash as if a giant redwood tree had toppled athwart our deck; then there was a blaze of light, another ear-splitting crash, and everything came to an end for me. When I recovered my senses I was being dragged into a boat from the destroyer
Hulbert
. They told me the flagship had foundered at 11.30, having been practically blown to pieces. There were only six survivors besides myself. The Admiral had gone down with the ship; probably he had been killed by the shell that knocked me senseless. Someone must have dragged me out of the conning-tower, but I never discovered who it was.

From our boat we could see the Japanese sweeping up the remnants of our squadron. Shortly before the flagship went down, the
Frederick
had blown up with all hands. We could see the
Denver
lying over on her beam ends, on fire from stem to stern. Near by was the
Galveston
in action with Japanese light cruisers, which were absolutely pumping shell into her. Even as we watched she put her bows deep under, the stern came up, and she took her last dive. About four miles ahead a fierce fight was raging between five of our destroyers and thrice that number of enemy boats, but we could see little of the details. We heard afterwards that only four of the thirteen destroyers and light mine-layers that came out with us ever got back to Cavite.

While watching this scene we heard the drone of airplanes above us, and looking up saw four machines which someone in the boat said were ours. They were, in fact, torpedo-planes from the
Curtiss
, which ship, seeing herself about to be attacked by Japanese cruisers, had flown off all the planes then on deck. The
Curtiss
was sunk by gunfire shortly afterwards, but meanwhile her planes were having a last try for the enemy. We could see them making straight for the Japanese battle-cruisers, which were just visible from the boat. As we heard subsequently, two were shot down before reaching their objective; but one of the remaining machines got her torpedo fairly home on the
Hiyei
, while the other, by great good luck, torpedoed and sank the scout cruiser
Tatsuta
. The
Hiyei
, though seriously damaged, appears to have returned to Japan under her own steam.

At 2.30 p.m. the Japanese destroyer
Yanagi
bore down on our boat and took us on board, whence we were transferred that evening to the battle-cruiser
Kirishima
, and treated with all proper courtesy. Such was the Battle of Lubang, as I saw it. Our squadron had been wiped out, and upwards of 2,500 gallant comrades had fallen, but at least we could say that we had upheld the honour of the flag. The only Japanese ships sunk were the
Tatsuta
and two destroyers. Their casualties throughout the fleet were returned as 600. But considering the enormous disparity between their force and ours it was remarkable that they suffered any loss at all.

During the action itself none of the American submarines had found an opportunity to attack. But at 10 o’clock the same night, submarines
S 18
and
S
23
, being then in company some thirty miles S.S.W. of Subig Bay, observed several large ships steaming towards them and promptly dived to attack. These were the Japanese battle-cruisers going north again, at low speed, on account of injuries to the
Hiyei
. In spite of a strong destroyer screen both submarines carried out their attack, firing six torpedoes in all. One of these struck the
Kirishima
, but so far forward that the damage was inconsiderable. Two torpedoes from
S
18
, aimed at the
Kongo
, passed astern of her and hit the large destroyer
Hamakaze
, which sank in a few minutes. Although many depth charges were dropped, both submarines made good their escape.

The destruction of Admiral Ribley’s squadron left the way open for the invasion of the Philippines. Ere yet the last battered American ship had vanished from sight a radio message from the Japanese Commander-in-Chief set in motion the fleet of transports which had been lying at Kure and other ports for some days past, with a hundred thousand fighting men on board. The whole convoy, with its naval and air escort, was under way at dusk on March 6. Steaming south at a speed of twelve knots, it was timed to reach the shores of Luzon in four and a half days. And except for a few destroyers and submarines the nearest American warships were at Hawaii, nearly five thousand miles distant.

The invading force outnumbered the American garrison in Luzon by at least six to one, it had a proportionate superiority in artillery and other equipment, and there were the guns of half the Japanese fleet to cover its landing. In case of need, reinforcements in men and material could be rushed from Japan in 20-knot ships in the space of three days, or from the advanced base at Formosa in thirty-six hours. Everything, therefore, favoured the Japanese enterprise. It has since been admitted that active preparations for the conquest of the Philippines had begun in the third week of February: well in advance, that is, of the actual declaration of war. The Army Transport Section at Tokyo had on its books upwards of one hundred vessels with a sea speed of fourteen knots or more, all of which could be requisitioned by the Government if required. But to do this would have caused a serious dislocation of the shipping industry, while the sudden withdrawal of all the fastest Japanese merchant ships from their ordinary routes must have inevitably aroused suspicion abroad and led to the inference that some great military undertaking was in view. It was accordingly decided not to use fast ships for the transport of the Philippine Expeditionary Force, but to employ instead the requisite number of slower vessels, with a collective speed of twelve knots. This of course, entailed a longer passage, but calculating on the destruction of the United States Asiatic squadron, and knowing that American reinforcements from the Eastern Pacific, in the unlikely event of their coming at all, could not arrive for several weeks, the Japanese military command was ready to accept the slight delay involved by the use of slower transports.

The Expeditionary Force was composed of five divisions, with an approximate strength of 100,000 men. A Japanese division is usually made up of two brigades of infantry, one regiment each of cavalry and artillery, one battalion each of engineers and train, together with chemical warfare (gas) and motor machine-gun sections. Four tank regiments accompanied the expedition, with a total of thirty light “Atsuta” tanks, which could travel over level ground at twelve miles an hour. Large motor-propelled barges or pontoons were carried on board the transports for landing tanks and artillery. The heaviest guns were 8-inch howitzers and 14-centimetre high-velocity pieces for long-range bombardment. Besides the naval aircraft carrier
Matsushima
, which had been detailed to sail with the convoy and had a complement of twenty planes, five transports were loaded up with army aircraft, the total number of planes at the disposal of the invaders being well over 180. While some of the larger vessels carried as many as 3,000 men, the average capacity of the transports was 2,000.

As landings on a supposed hostile coast had been practised year after year as a regular feature of Japanese army manoeuvres, this operation was one with which officers and men were perfectly familiar. All necessary equipment for such work — boats, barges, pontoons, and portable jetties — had been in readiness at the military depots for years. In the same way the tactical problems of co-operation between an invading army and its supporting fleet had been thoroughly worked out long beforehand. In their wars with Russia in 1904-5 and with China ten years earlier, the Japanese had shown remarkable skill in throwing large bodies of troops ashore with speed and safety. This time, of course, the landing was likely to be opposed, but as the American garrison was small, and could have no fore-knowledge of the exact place where the troops would be disembarked, the resistance was not expected to be of a very formidable nature.

To the Japanese general staff the defences of the Philippines were an open book. Every yard of the ground had been personally surveyed and mapped by Japanese officers. Not only was the site and armament of every existing battery known with exactitude, but every position where a new battery might be placed was clearly marked on the large-scale maps prepared at the Imperial Staff College in Tokyo. At no time had a landing been contemplated in the near vicinity of Manila. Strong batteries, equipped with 12-inch rifles on disappearing mounts, were in position on the island of Corregidor, while others crowned the headlands on either side of the 12-mile entrance to the bay. As these pieces could sweep the sea over a radius of many miles, it would have been madness to expose warships, let alone crowded transports, to their devastating fire. To silence them by naval bombardment was out of the question. Their massive concrete emplacements were shell-proof: nothing short of a direct hit on the gun itself or its mounting would be effective, and as the piece showed above the parapet only for a few seconds at a time, it offered a hopeless target. Against bomb attack from the air the batteries were protected by strong shields of steel.

Nor were these guns the only peril that menaced hostile ships seeking to penetrate the bay. Lying across the entrance were several rows of mines, through which no channel could be swept so long as the batteries on the heights remained in American hands. At Subig Bay, some forty miles up the coast, other batteries and mine-fields were in position, but this place, within which the old American naval Station of Olongapo was situated, was also given a wide berth. With so many other landing places available, where no fixed defences existed, the Japanese saw no reason for exposing their ships to the guns and mines of fortified harbours.

The chief danger, they perceived, would come from the American aircraft, and, as events were to prove, their information as to the number of these was at fault. According to the last report from Japanese agents, not more than fifty serviceable planes were in the islands at the end of February. But on the 25th of that month a transport had arrived at Manila bringing thirty machines of a new and powerful type. These, as we shall see, played a very important part in the defence of Luzon. The American military force did not exceed 17,000 all told. Eight thousand of these were United States regulars — infantry, artillery, and engineers — two thousand were marines, and the remainder native troops, Philippine scouts and militia. There were ten field batteries of four guns each, three mountain batteries, and a dozen mobile 6-inch guns on caterpillar mounts. The artillery establishment was completed by six 8-inch guns on railway mounts, which could be sent at a good speed to any point along the line and fired direct from the rails. It was hoped by means of these guns to bring the enemy ships under heavy fire if they attempted to disembark troops along the northwest coast of the island, to which the railroad ran parallel. Finally, there were the surviving four destroyers and twelve submarines, whose officers and men (now under the orders of Captain Gurner of the
Cleveland
) were burning to avenge their fallen comrades of the cruiser squadron.

When news of the disaster to Rear-Admiral Ribley’s command reached Manila the same evening (March 6), it was patent to everyone that an invasion was impending. The blow might fall at any moment, for nothing seemed more probable than that the transports of the invading army were already approaching the coast. Actually, as we know, their sailing from Kure had been deferred until news of the American squadron’s destruction reached Japan; but of this fact the defenders were naturally ignorant. All that night, and throughout the days and nights that followed, aircraft and submarines maintained between them a sleepless watch over the northern approaches to Luzon. As there was no telling from which quarter the invaders would appear, the submarine flotilla was divided, five boats remaining on the west coast, five going to form a line of patrol east of Cape Engaño, and the remaining two (
S
11
and
S
15
) being sent north to cruise in the Balingtang Channel, through which the Japanese transports might be expected to pass on their way south.

CHAPTER IV

Japanese transports attacked by American aircraft and submarines on reaching Philippines — Landings effected despite heavy casualties — Desperate resistance of American Army — Surrender of Manila — A few light craft escape — Philippines entirely conquered by the Japanese — Absence of news from Guam causes concern in the United States

EARLY on the morning of March 11, American airplanes from Luzon sighted several warships fifty miles N.W. of Santa Cruz, steaming S.E. They were soon identified as the battle cruisers
Kongo
and
Haruna
, with many smaller vessels. This squadron was so well screened by its destroyers and light cruisers that no chance of submarine attack was offered, even had any of the American boats been in the immediate neighbourhood. Since these ships were evidently the vanguard of the fleet which was to cover the landing of the invading army, all United States aircraft within call of the Santa Cruz area were immediately ordered to attack. But a few minutes after this order had been issued, a radio signal from the station at Cape Engaño reported that a large fleet of ships had been sighted by aircraft fifty miles east of that point, making for the southward. Almost before this message had been read and its significance noted, a further report came in, announcing the approach of “a large fleet” towards Cape Bolinao. There could be no doubt as to the portent of these messages. The Japanese obviously designed to make landings on both sides of the island, no doubt simultaneously, thereby compelling the garrison to split up its meagre forces and resist an onslaught by overwhelming numbers at two points on the coast, one in the east and the other in the west. General O’Neill, the Commander-in-Chief of the United States military forces, lost no time in taking what steps he could to meet this emergency. The order for airplanes to attack the enemy warships off Santa Cruz was negatived; every machine must be held ready to launch itself against the transports. At the same time all submarines were called up by Captain Gurner and given the position of the three enemy formations which had been sighted. If the ships seen off Cape Bolinao were transports, as appeared probable, they were most likely making for Lingayen Gulf, within which good landing beaches were to be found. To meet the contingency of a descent at one or more of these points, two of the 8-inch railroad guns were rushed north up the line as fast as a locomotive could take them, while aircraft were concentrated at Dagupan. The destination of the vessels which had passed Cape Engaño might be any one of the half-dozen bays or inlets on the eastern littoral, but it was rightly conjectured that they were making for some point well to the south, since Manila must surely be the ultimate objective of any force landed.

At 11 a.m. on March 11, the Japanese warships already mentioned approached Santa Cruz until within easy range and fired a few shells into the town, destroying the telegraph station and several houses. This bombardment was so obviously a ruse to draw the defenders away from other parts of the coast that it failed in its purpose. Receiving no answer to their fire, the ships steamed south at high speed, leaving several of their escort planes to engage an American airman who had come out from Iba to keep the squadron under observation. For a time it was thought to be making for Manila, but it soon turned north again and was lost to sight. And now, for the first time, the enemy showed his hand. At 3 p.m. a flight of American planes patrolling between Cape Bolinao and San Fernando was suddenly and fiercely attacked by Japanese machines.

While this combat was in progress, more enemy planes came over the land, passed up the river, and heavily bombed the aerodrome at Dagupan. They were followed by Japanese cruisers and destroyers, which approached to within a few thousand yards of Lingayen, firing salvos of gas and high explosive shell into the American positions, and being fired at in return by field guns and howitzers. As dusk was almost at hand, it looked as though the enemy meant to make his landing under cover of darkness. At five o’clock aircraft sighted two lines of transports steaming up the bay behind a dense wall of smoke, put up by destroyers which preceded them. This was the moment for which the American airmen held in reserve had been impatiently waiting. Twenty of them were already soaring at 10,000 feet, and as many more left the ground as soon as the signal was given. A few minutes later, and all were driving straight for the Japanese transports through a terrific barrage of shell from the anti-aircraft guns of the warships. The enemy planes that tried to stay their headlong course were evaded as far as possible; for there was more urgent business in hand than duelling in mid-air. Once past the smoke screen the transports were in full view — twenty-four big ships, all crowded with men, slowly advancing up the bay in two columns line abreast. Planing down in wide spirals the American flyers discharged their bombs at a height of only a few thousand feet. This brought them within range of machine-gun and rifle fire, so that the air was alive with bullets. But nothing could stop men who had resolved to do the utmost harm to the enemy, cost what it might to themselves. Clear above the thud of anti-aircraft guns and the rattle of small-arms came the crash of detonating bombs.

The largest transport in the first column was the N.Y.K. steamer
Sado
Mam
, her decks brown with masses of khaki-clad troops. As the first plane crossed the line three 500-pounder demolition bombs plunged into this ship, and in an instant she was transformed into a floating shambles. Hundreds of men were blown to fragments, as many more lay in ghastly heaps, maimed and shattered by the explosions, while a pillar of dense smoke rising amidships told of a fire caused by one of the bombs which had burst below deck in a compartment filled with inflammable stores. Of the ten other transports in which bombs took effect, all suffered terrible casualties. The
Wakasa
Maru
was so badly holed that she foundered in a few minutes, with the loss of half her complement of 2,200 soldiers. In another ship, the
Tsubari
Maru
, phosphorus bombs set fire to large petrol tanks in the hold, flames from which speedily enveloped the hull from end to end, driving all the men overboard. Besides the casualties to
personnel
, much damage was inflicted on the equipment, boats, and other landing gear which lay on the decks of the transports. It was afterwards claimed by the aviators who carried out this first attack that if a hundred machines had been available, instead of only forty, the Japanese transport fleet would have been practically wiped out and the landing frustrated; nor, in view of the extensive havoc they caused, could this claim be disputed. Even as it was, the enemy had lost more than 6,000 men killed and wounded or drowned; much of his equipment was destroyed, and so many boats and barges were smashed that the process of getting the troops ashore was delayed for several hours.

But the American airmen had shot their bolt. Considering the low altitude from which they had attacked and the intensity of the fire brought to bear against them, it was a miracle that any one of the forty machines returned. Twenty-five of them were brought down, seven more were so badly damaged that they crashed on landing, and only eight got back to the aerodrome in a fit state to ascend again. But though a shrewd blow had been delivered at the enemy, his advance was not arrested. Still screened from the view of the defenders ashore, the transports moved steadily in behind a rolling barrage of smoke. And now an iron hail smote the American trenches as the battleships lying well out in the gulf sent salvo after salvo of heavy shell screaming over the transports, this long-range covering fire being directed with great precision by spotting aircraft. But the defenders, on their part, were not idle. Somewhere behind that opaque wall of smoke the transports were coming on; perhaps they were even now transferring their men to boats for the final dash ashore. Targets might be invisible for the moment, but they were there all the same, and every gun was brought into action against them. At this time the two 8-inch railway pieces were up the line twenty miles north-east of Dagupan, and were thus in a position to open a flanking fire on the transports as the latter steamed further in to the shore.

Fire had been already opened on several ships that loomed dimly through the smoke, and the two guns were being moved south again to keep them bearing, when a stretch of the railroad line was found to have been torn up near San Fabian by the explosion of a ground mine. This damage, which could not have been done more than an hour beforehand, was clearly the work of spies. It had the effect of eliminating the two most powerful guns possessed by the defence, for they were unable to come further south, and the point where they were held up by the broken line was too far removed from the landing beaches to permit of effective fire. By now the Japanese disembarkation was in full swing. Night had fallen, and although the smoke screen was thinning, as the vessels that made it were now in shoal water and had to turn back, it was still dense enough to baffle the American searchlights and star shell. On the stroke of eight o’clock the first party of invaders broke through the screen and headed straight for the beach. On they came in boats towed by launches and in motor barges, which hurled smoke bombs from mortars in the bows. The battleships out in the gulf had now suspended their fire, but light cruisers and destroyers offshore still kept up a brisk cannonade.

The American trenches and batteries had been bombarded incessantly for four hours, and had suffered heavily during this period; but if the enemy counted on meeting with no resistance he was sharply undeceived. As the first boats emerged from the pall of smoke they came under a tornado of fire from artillery and machine-guns. Many were sunk; others, in which the occupants had all been stricken down, drifted aimlessly about; but the rest pushed on doggedly until the keels grounded on the beach, when the little men in khaki tumbled over the side and came plunging through the surf, holding rifles and cartridge pouches above their heads, and uttering staccato war cries. Scourged by a cross-fire that cut men down in swathes, the human wave came steadily on, spreading up the foreshore, now lapping the American front trenches, and then flowing over them. Fresh boatloads landed, another flame-tipped wave surged up the beach, and the barrage fire from the smaller warships in the offing was lifted as the attack penetrated deeper inland.

In rather less than an hour after the first troops had come ashore the enemy had gained a firm foothold over a wide front, and by now his guns and light tanks were landing across the pontoon bridges which the engineers had laid out with extraordinary speed. All four lines of American trenches were in Japanese hands. Having been hastily thrown up only a few days previously, when Dagupan was first suggested as a likely venue for the enemy's landing, they were badly sited and too shallow, nor was there enough wire to protect the entire front. Such entanglements as there were had been breached at half a dozen points by the naval bombardment, which had also levelled the trenches in many parts. Nevertheless, behind these wretched defences the American troops and their Filipino comrades had fought so stoutly that the invaders lost 2,000 men in storming them. The Americans had also suffered severely, both from the bombardment and the subsequent attack: of the 5,000 officers and men who had waited for the enemy that afternoon, only 2,000 were left unwounded.

Colonel Abney, the senior surviving officer, realising the futility of further resistance, now decided to disengage and retreat towards the south, where he could join up with General O’Neill’s force that was covering Manila. But the withdrawal did not proceed unmolested. All that night as the weary men tramped along the Tarlac road they were harassed by Japanese airplanes, which lighted up the scene with magnesium flares, dropped numerous bombs, and sometimes swooped down to use their machine-guns. With daybreak came the first Japanese tanks, five of which overtook the rearguard and had cut it to pieces before they were driven off by field guns. As the Americans retreated, they tore up the railroad behind them. It had been damaged at several places by enemy aircraft, and two trains which left Calasiao shortly before midnight were now lying wrecked between San Carlos and Malasiqui, having been bombed at close range.

While these events were happening in the north the second Japanese fleet of twenty-five transports had been steaming down the east coast of Luzon. At 9 a.m. on March 12th it was off Polillo Island, with its escort of cruisers, torpedo-boats, and aircraft. For more than fifty miles the armada had been shadowed by two United States submarines,
S
11
and
S
15
, but so far there had been no opportunity to attack. Leaving Polillo on the starboard hand, the fleet turned to the west and ran past Jomalig Island. As this movement was being executed, one of the leading transports appeared to develop engine-room trouble, for she suddenly sheered out of station and was all but rammed by her next astern, the whole line being thrown momentarily into confusion. This gave the watchful submarines their chance. Diving to periscope depth they came within a thousand yards before making their attack. Eight torpedoes were launched before the enemy had the least inkling of his danger. Set for a high-speed run at short range the deadly missiles travelled straight and true for the mark, and six muffled explosions showed that that number at least had got home. Four of the transports were hit at this first discharge. The
Sendai
Maru
, with two torpedoes in her hull, listed heavily to port and was plainly doomed. Ahead of her, the
Osaka
Maru
lay helpless with her propellers blown away and a second torpedo in the boiler-room. Further down the line the
Hanno
Maru
and
Aso
Maru
were both in difficulties, the first-named down by the head, the second with a gaping rent in her side amidships. The latter was eventually beached and repaired.