When one of the decoder wheels used in the typing machine to decode top-secret messages disappeared, Chesnutt’s predicament worsened. The decoder was similar to a typewriter, but with the proper decoder wheel, when the clerk typed the groups of letters received in a coded message, the decoder wheel spun out the letters in readable order. Foster was so incensed at the disappearance that he stopped his crew’s mail from leaving the ship and banned anyone from leaving the Fletcher, even just to cross onto ships tied alongside, until the wheel was located.
“No one seems to be making any progress on the wheel matter,” Chesnutt wrote after two weeks of the restrictions. “This ship has really fallen from the top of the list as a good fighting ship. No one cares what happens. The Skipper isn’t for the men or at least, he doesn’t show it. Morale of crew is way down. They need a rest. One of the boys in our gang got a letter his father died and for two weeks now he has been unable to write his mother.”39
The contrast between Foster and other skippers emphasized the value of a skilled captain. MacDonald employed frequent chats over the loudspeaker to keep his men informed and bring some levity into their days. He was a stickler for drilling as much as anyone, but when he entered the war zone, MacDonald kept it to a minimum, figuring the men were at their posts long enough as it was. The men appreciated his thoughtfulness and responded in kind.
MacDonald created a happy crew, one that continued with his successor, Commander R. W. Smith. Seaman Whisler and some buddies secreted beer in the bilge below the carpenter shop, and from time to time they had a sample. “Captain Smith found out and made us carry the beer up to the foc’sle,” said Whisler years later, “and he said we were going to throw away the beer. All the guys were ready to cry! He didn’t though.”40
Ransom enjoyed life aboard La Vallette. He received plenty of mail from home (ten letters on May 8 was his record), the ship’s library offered a diverse collection ranging from Shakespeare and Dickens to Wild West stories and magazines, and whenever possible he and the crew gathered on the fantail to watch Hollywood films, which were swapped between crews when ships were in port. The La Vallette was not large enough to stage baseball games, but boxing or wrestling matches vied with fantail entertainment as popular attractions.
The few stops in back ports such as Espiritu Santo or Noumea offered at least a semblance of a vacation. Whisler and his buddies guzzled the two bottles of beer handed to each man and cheered their team in the baseball contests pitting crews from different ships in highly wagered affairs, while Ransom headed to the officers’ club for a stronger beverage and small talk with fellow lieutenants and ensigns.
Even for those aboard a good ship, time at sea eventually weighed on them. With nothing but water stretching to the horizon on every side, the ocean became little more than a repetition of never-ending waves, rain squalls, and steaming equatorial heat.
“This is monotonous and time drags,” Ransom wrote in the midst of the New Guinea operations on May 3. “Surely hope this [escorting] duty isn’t permanent with L.S.T.’s,” he wrote in June, adding he “thought we had graduated from that league!”41 Escorting convoys and providing fire support were fine, but bloody battles remained to be fought before he could return to his family and home. As far as Ransom was concerned, they might as well get right to them.
“Another Day’s Work Done for MacArthur”
They did just that at the end of May when La Vallette, Fletcher, Radford, and Jenkins crossed Geelvink Bay on New Guinea’s northwest coast to complete the operations at Biak, Noemfoor, and Sansapor. These moves would give MacArthur control of airfields along the western edge of New Guinea, while an added landing at Morotai to the northwest would provide air bases and logistical support for the leap north to the Philippines. “Maybe now we can see a little action instead of sitting around,” wrote Seaman Chesnutt in June.42
Like the first three, these four operations unfolded without complications. The entry Quartermaster Johnson made about Sansapor, “No bombardment was necessary. Leaving in the evening,” could have been repeated for each mission.43
A moment of excitement marked the Biak landing when on the night of June 8–9 La Vallette and three other squadron destroyers pursued enemy ships attempting to bring in reinforcements. “Everyone was excited that we were finally getting a chance to hit some Japanese ships,” said Quartermaster Johnson, who was at the wheel of La Vallette.44
With his medical instruments and supplies laid out in the wardroom below, and with La Vallette second in the column behind Fletcher, Ransom had a front-row seat on deck as the chase ensued. For six hours the destroyers pursued their quarry, once narrowing the distance enough to open fire with their main batteries. Japanese torpedoes twice passed by the column, and shells dunked into the water fifty yards off Fletcher’s bow, but no ship was hit.
Shortly before 2:30 a.m. the destroyers slowed and reversed course. They had been ordered to break off the chase if by that time they had not already formed for an attack, as continued pursuit would place them dangerously close to enemy bases. Ransom returned to the wardroom after “one of the most exciting nights we have ever spent,” but he was “very disgusted to think the Japs were able to get away” despite his ship having traveled 140 miles.45
At Noemfoor on July 2, one of the La Vallette’s 20mm guns exploded during firing and sprayed shrapnel into the gun crew. Deck hands rushed four men to the wardroom, where Doc Ransom treated one with multiple fragment lacerations to both thighs, one with superficial wounds to his face and left shoulder, a third with wounds to his abdomen, and a fourth with his face covered with blood. A fifth sailor on another 20mm gun was bowled over by the blast from a nearby five-inch battery, and although the man coughed up blood for a time, Ransom nursed him back to health. “All of the above men were treated and are recovering satisfactorily,” wrote their skipper, Wells Thompson, in praising his ship’s doctor.46
During the final landings at Morotai, when La Vallette received orders to join Fletcher and pursue three enemy ships reported to the north, Ransom reacted jubilantly. “We were happy and excited for such an assignment, but after speeding up there at 25 knots we couldn’t find a thing! Very disappointed and we turned back.”47
By comparison to the Slot, New Guinea offered a sedate routine. Ransom handled minor medical mishaps, such as treating a man suffering from appendicitis and another who sprained his ankle from a fall off a scaffold. He sat up all night keeping tabs on a sailor in shock after being rescued from falling overboard, and whenever the ship anchored at a rear base he accompanied small groups of men to a hospital ship for dental work. Most days were similar to September 29, when he recorded, “Routine day. Gave typhoid shots to the crew.”48
They did not consider routine the Japanese twin-engine bomber off Biak that was hit by antiaircraft fire. As it descended, the pilot swerved his plane in an attempt to crash into a destroyer. He smashed into the water barely short of the ship, but the spectacle of a man purposely flying his plane into a target instead of trying to save himself made an indelible imprint on those who witnessed it.
“At 1800 the Jenkins and three others of us formed up with eight empty L.S.T.’s and began our returns to Hollandia,” wrote Doc Ransom off Noemfoor. “Another day’s work done for MacArthur in which he will claim the credit.”49 Ransom hoped that the next phase, the invasion of the Philippines, would bring more rewarding work.
CHAPTER 9
THE PHILIPPINE WHIRLWIND
From ports near and far, naval units converged off the Philippines for MacArthur’s planned October 20 landings. Knowing how valuable possession of the islands was to the Japanese, who feared being severed from valuable natural resources in the Philippines and Indochina, few expected to again encounter the relatively light opposition they had met along New Guinea. After landing in Leyte Gulf, MacArthur planned to move north through the Philippines and, in a subsequent series of assaults, drive the enemy from that land.
Desron 21 would again play a
supporting role, but attacking the enemy in the Philippines, with their entrenched defenses and with the possibility of a powerful surface force challenging the United States Fleet, carried deeper risks than New Guinea. “Got underway at 0400 [4:00 a.m.] for rehearsal for the coming operation,” Doc Ransom wrote on October 9. “We’re going to be screening large troop transports this time—guess we have graduated from the L.S.T. stuff—we hope.” Five days later he added, “We are off on the invasion of the island of Leyte in the Central Philippines—should be quite a show.”1
Within four days every major naval unit involved was steaming toward Leyte Gulf and the October 20 landings. The fleet from Hollandia impressed Ransom with its size and power, but he figured that as they approached the Philippines, the crew would have been called to general quarters at least a handful of times. So far, though, no enemy aircraft had been sighted.
On O’Bannon, Captain Smith shared Ransom’s concerns. He had informed his men that in escorting a convoy of sixty-eight ships into Leyte Gulf, they should expect enemy PT boats, midget submarines, and air attacks day and night. The destroyer had drawn within one day of the landings without incurring opposition. It seemed too easy.
Radioman 2/c Walter A. Lee of O’Bannon believed that Halsey’s aircraft carriers “have taken care of the major opposition. We have enough ships and planes to subdue the Japs for a while anyway. Any kind of attack by the Japs will be on a small scale, in view of the plans and power dedicated to success.” Even Doc Ransom started to think this first Philippine landing might be simple when, one day before the scheduled landings, they had passed within range of forty enemy airfields without being attacked. “Still no Japs attacked us so I guess Halsey is really knocking them down.”2
Men dismissed as braggadocio the broadcasts from Tokyo Rose that promised doom. “Jap propaganda programs come in all times of the day,” Seaman Chesnutt aboard Fletcher wrote on October 18, “telling of the defeat of the American forces and tonight they said a landing on the Philippines was impossible. If one were to be tried, it would be repulsed with heavy loss to the US. Couple days shall tell.”3
Doc Ransom and Seaman Chesnutt had their answer when floating mines impeded their progress as the ships turned into Leyte Gulf’s waters in the early morning hours of October 19. Taylor and Jenkins sank six mines with rifle and machine gun fire, but not before a seventh struck the destroyer USS Ross (DD-563) and forced her to limp away for repairs.
The armada slowly moved up the gulf toward the beaches. As troop-laden landing craft churned toward shore, Japanese mortars ripped into the formation, sinking or damaging nine landing craft. Enemy aircraft joined in, cutting through Fletcher’s fire while attacking a nearby destroyer. Another crossed La Vallette’s stern while on its way to strafing a destroyer, while a third plane dropped a bomb that smashed into the cruiser Australia, killing one and badly injuring her captain.
La Vallette patrolled along the beaches throughout the day, maintaining contact with infantry units to provide gunfire support. Both the ship and the infantry to which La Vallette was assigned carried the same charts, and when an Army officer radioed the coordinates, La Vallette’s guns turned toward that sector and opened fire. Doc Ransom was called to his station only once, to treat a sailor on a 40mm antiaircraft gun who sustained blast burns when a five-inch gun opened fire.
Around noon of landing day, several large canoes manned by Filipinos approached La Vallette, shouting “thank you” and “victory” in broken English. One Filipino, helped in translation by the destroyer’s cook, a native of the Philippines, reported that one hundred Japanese soldiers were hiding in caves on a nearby point.
Their obvious jubilation over the arrival of the Americans delighted the crew. “The smile on their face of gratefulness and being free after 3 years was a sight to behold and the lump in your throat was as big as your fist,” Ransom wrote on October 20. “That sight was well worth any risk to us.” Ransom and other men handed cigarettes and candy to the Filipinos, who returned the favor later that afternoon by bringing out coconuts, bananas, and two live chickens. “There is no doubt that Filipinos are pro-American!” Ransom wrote.4 Other Filipinos delivered a rooster to Chesnutt’s Fletcher; the men sarcastically nicknamed the creature “GQ” and allowed it to roam about the destroyer as their mascot. The rooster loved perching along the railings behind the bridge, where it was sheltered from the stronger winds, and thrived on the frequent petting provided by the sailors. GQ added a much-appreciated touch of levity, and a bit of home to those from farms, by crowing into the loudspeaker.
Late on October 21 La Vallette and the escorting ships formed around sixteen LSTs and two cargo ships for the trip back to Hollandia. While they were leaving the gulf, reports flooded in telling of a Japanese surface force bound for the Philippines. The commander of La Vallette’s task force informed all ships on October 24 that the enemy could be expected to appear during the night, as numerous units had already been sighted approaching Surigao Strait to the south. A few hours later gun flashes thirty miles away indicated that fighting had begun in the strait. Ninety minutes later the task force commander ordered six destroyers, including four from Desron 21, to patrol the entrance to San Pedro Bay, at the northwest end of Leyte Gulf, where US ships berthed, and intercept any Japanese vessels that broke through the fighting. Taylor and Jenkins each repelled three aircraft, with Jenkins laying a protective smoke screen around the destroyer USS Grant (DD-649), damaged in the Surigao Strait action, and then shooting down a Japanese Zero that tried to finish off the crippled Grant.
Upon reaching Hollandia with La Vallette, Ransom heard additional reports of another surface engagement to Leyte Gulf’s north, off the island of Samar. “Looks like the Japs are going to fight for the Philippines,” he wrote. “Heard that one of our C.V.E.’s [escort carriers] was sunk and several cans [destroyers] damaged. Fueled at sea, so if ordered, we could return to Leyte immediately.”5
Everything leading up to late October was mere prelude to what occurred next, as on October 25 the Japanese introduced one of the most feared weapons to appear in the war: the organized kamikaze assault. While there had been earlier instances of Japanese pilots diving into ships, they had been sporadic and unorganized, more the case of an aviator swerving his damaged aircraft into the closest target of opportunity. This sudden appearance of a planned kamikaze attack, however, was destruction on a magnified scale.
The first kamikazes came in low, hugging the water’s surface to avoid American radar before climbing to 6,000 feet and dropping toward their targets. One kamikaze crashed into the port catwalk of the escort carrier USS Kitkun Bay (CVE-71), while a second immolated against the flight deck of the USS St. Lo (CVE-63). Other kamikazes slammed into the USS Kalinin Bay (CVE-68), damaged the USS White Plains (CVE-66), struck the USS Fanshaw Bay (CVE-70), and sank the USS Gambier Bay (CVE-73).
Doc Ransom and every sailor in the Philippines reacted with revulsion. The attacks had been sudden and fast, and they inflicted harm out of proportion to the forces committed. At the cost of one plane, the Japanese could damage or sink an escort carrier. Ransom, who devoted his life to saving men, could not understand men who purposely flew to their deaths. The actions were alien to everything he believed, and if one plane could inflict such harm to an escort carrier, what might a similar plane do to the smaller La Vallette? He hoped these attacks were a one-time occurrence, but his ship was due to operate in Philippine waters in the coming months, and he feared that more instances would occur.
He and others in Desron 21 did not have to wait long for the next kamikaze encounter. Ten days after kamikazes made their dramatic entrance, Seaman Chesnutt referred to “the suicide dives the Japs made on our ship. Since the beginning of the Philippine operation they have been taking a heavy toll on our ships this way.” He later recorded that so many ships were being damaged by kamikazes that sailors labeled Surigao Strait “Suicide Strait.”6
“Suicide dive bombers observed going down on TG 77.2 [Ta
sk Group 77.2],” Commander Nicholas J. Frank Sr., Taylor’s skipper, reported on November 29. “Large explosion and flames observed on starboard bow of Maryland.” Six minutes later “Saufley reported via TBS to CTU 77.2.7 [Commander Task Unit 77.2.7] that she had been attacked by suicide dive-bombers. One had crashed into the ship causing superficial structural damage and two had landed in the water nearby. Also reported that Aulick had been hit by a bomb in the bridge structure.” More worrisome, as far as Doc Ransom was concerned, was that Aulick’s medical officer was among those killed. No one was safe from a kamikaze, whether he was a sailor laboring in a gun mount or a physician treating casualties in sick bay.
Destroyer skippers alerted headquarters that it was now more crucial that American aircraft use their IFF (Identification, Friend or Foe) to radio ships below as to their identity. As a necessary precaution, Commander Frank informed his men that the frequent appearances of kamikazes, combined with numerous friendly aircraft in the area, made it difficult to keep track of every plane, “especially when friendlies are non-combatant planes with indifferent IFF performance. Therefore,” he emphasized, “suspect them all. Eternal vigilance is still the price of safety!”7
Desron 21 destroyers may have been absent from the main portions of the monumental October 25 Battle of Leyte Gulf, but they provided crucial assistance both at that time and in the battle’s aftermath. They shepherded transports to and from the landing areas, patrolled the entrance to Leyte Gulf, fought off air attacks, exploded floating mines, and rescued downed American aviators. The crews were so busy that Ransom recorded fourteen times La Vallette men went to general quarters on November 24.
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