by Jon Stafford
“Sir, it’s C.T. Dude and I want to know if we can cross each other’s wakes.”
“Why?”
“Sir, to throw off their fire, confuse the hell out of them, you know.”
“Sure. It does increase the chance of them putting a torpedo into you. But do whatever you want, so long as you stick to the original deal. Have they hit you?”
“No, sir.”
“Are you hitting them?”
“We have one hit on each destroyer at least, a lot of near misses. We haven’t slowed them up yet though. You’re obviously doing better than we are.”
“Really! We can’t see that from here at all.”
“Sir, you’re hitting that cruiser for sure,” Trediger contended.
Hennessey interrupted. “I think we have the best angle. We can’t tell which one of you is hitting her, you or Kaulk, but we think you’ve made five or six good hits; maybe nine to ten near misses. You guys are right on!” He paused for a second or two. Then he added, excitedly, “My people think they hit that trailing destroyer again!”
Trediger came on again. “Sir, you might watch yourself now. Those destroyers are turning some to the east, probably launching torpedoes.”
“Okay,” Rodgers responded. “Let’s wait on you guys crossing and head directly toward them, to reduce the angle and present a smaller silhouette.”
All three captains answered, “Yes, sir.”
Torpedoes did begin to come in within a few minutes. The six-thousand-pound, steam-driven Model 93 24-inch-diameter monsters soon came streaking toward the Americans at nearly fifty knots. Men watched from the decks as the speedsters zoomed menacingly by the squadron, their wakes bubbling. Only one came very close, a hundred yards off Paulley’s port side.
As the battle continued, with Kaulk trailing directly behind the cruiser, her rear turrets never came to bear. But with the other American destroyers bobbing and weaving, their rear turrets did occasionally have the opportunity to shoot. Then, when the ships headed over on a new course, the rear gunners would lose their angle and curse their luck.
The enemy, with less speed, had no chance to deviate much from their base course and was not able to bring their forward guns to bear at all. Nevertheless, they did weave slightly, and thus their accuracy suffered. The two Japanese destroyers made three hits during the engagement, one on Paulley and two on Bindle.
On Paulley, the 4.7-inch, forty-two-pound shell hit aft. It glanced off the “Y ” turret, which was not in use at the time. The explosion did no damage to the ship but killed five bluejackets who were on deck.
The two hits on Bindle were a little more serious. The first exploded against the radar mast, destroying it.The second hit in the aft of the ship above the engine room. Luckily, the impact was mostly absorbed by gear on the deck.
The battle was entering its fourth hour. The shells that had been stacked in odd places on the American decks had long been used up. The shells remaining in the forward magazines were rapidly being depleted. This necessitated bringing shells from the rear magazines. A continuous line of bluejackets, grunting in the heat, becoming increasingly dirty and exhausted, spent the rest of the engagement manhandling the fifty-four-pound projectiles forward.
By 1530, it was obvious that the Japanese cruiser fire was no longer coming close. Rodgers and Cashion concluded that her control system must have been hit, which was corroborated after the war. Still, the American shellfire seemed to have had no effect on the enemy at all. There were no detectable fires on the ships, their speed remained at about thirty-three knots, and they continued their slight maneuvering like cagey boxers.
This continued until almost 1600, when a terrific explosion lit up on the cruiser. Many men heard it as well, a series of almost simultaneous blasts that erupted in a great orange ball, creating a large fire easily visible from the American ships without binoculars. The pent-up frustration of the Americans produced a great cheer. After the war, members of Akasi’s crew claimed that their flagship’s deck had been a shambles by this time.
The Americans had closed the range to fifteen thousand yards, and their accuracy continued to improve. They had made ten hits on Akasi so far. While the inch-thick deck armor protected the ship’s vitals, twisted metal was everywhere. The shell that caused the explosion struck amidships as torpedoes were on the deck being reloaded into tubes. Some of the Torpex explosive detonated, blowing a massive hole in the deck and destroying some engineering spaces below. Immediately, Akasi’s speed fell off and she turned to port, seriously wounded.
At 1601, Rodgers looked up to see the same young signalman hurrying toward him from the radar room one deck below.
“Billy, what’s up?”
“Sir, radar has a target on the screen bearing north-northwest, almost eighteen miles.”
The young sailor walked off as Rodgers turned to Cashion.
“I sort of figured they wouldn’t leave us alone, Sam.”
Cashion, half in the enclosed part of the bridge and half out the door on the wing, was already picking up his binoculars. He took a long look.
“I can’t see yet, too far.” He gave the glasses to a young sailor. “Son, your eyes are young. You look.”
“Well, I’ll wager that it’s the cavalry,” Rodgers said.
The young sailor handed the glasses back to Cashion. “I can’t tell, sir. I see two bigger ships. I think five ships.”
The young signalman approached again.
“All right, Billy, what do they say now?” Rodgers asked.
“Sir, ‘Guns’ has five ships. They think two are cruisers but can’t tell what kind yet.”
“Thanks.” Shrugging, Rodgers turned toward Cashion. “Sam, I would sure like to polish off this guy before his pals show up. Ask Chief Clark to come up here, and get the guys on the horn.”
In a moment, the three captains were on the phone.
“I am sure you see we have guests,” Rodgers said, trying to keep his tone light. “I want you three to forget about those destroyers and line up on the cruiser. She’s badly hurt.”
Hennessey jumped into the conversation. “Sir, we’ve just put two more shots into the rear destroyer, and she has slowed. Let the two of us finish her off.”
“All right, make it count.”
Both Trediger and Hennessey signed off, leaving Pete Bernhard of Kaulk on the line.
“Pete,” Rodgers told him, “I want you and Sam to put everything you have into that cruiser. We should get close soon.”
“Yes, sir!”
Chief Clark, who had been with Rodgers on Mackson and Grand Rapids, entered the bridge and came over to the commander.
“Sorry to drag you up here, Frank. You’ve probably heard. They’ve turned the tables on us. Five ships headed toward us. What have we been making, thirty-five knots?”
The completely gray, diminutive, sixty-five-year-old chief stood up straight. He responded proudly: “We got 35.8 for you, sir!”
“Can we continue to make that kind of speed for maybe three, four hours more? Will your geared turbines stand up to that? I know they’re not as young as those on
the Fletchers.”
“Well, sir, probably, but no guarantees. We’re out on the limb now trying to keep up with the Fletchers. She’s doing more than she should.”
Rodgers chuckled. “Well, that’s good enough for me. But I’m assuming that, whoever these people are, they can’t match us in speed. If I’m wrong, we’ll be in the water soon enough. Thanks, Frank.”
“I’ll be getting back, sir.” Clark scurried out. Rodgers turned back to the signalman.
“Signalman, get this off to Humbolt Bay as soon as you can. Don’t bother to waste time encrypting it: ‘Sighted superior enemy surface force. Request air support.’ Give our position.”
Word came from “Guns” again. “Sir, the big ships are definitely Myoko-class heavy cruisers along with three destroyers.”
“That’s just great!” Cashion complained. “You want to pull out?”
“No!” Rodgers said firmly. He sat down in his chair as the guns fired and thought to himself: More Myokos. Just like at Huon Gulf. They keep coming up with these things. At least it can’t be the pair we beat up there. Well, even if I had Grand Rapids, we’d have to retreat before this bunch. Orders. I would sure like to oblige them, but not today.
Cashion said, “Sir, we’re closing at about sixty knots a minute with the new column. They’ll be in range in a few minutes.”
“Get the guys again,” Rodgers said. He waited till the three captains were on the phone. “I want all of us to slow to ten knots now and turn to, ah, ten degrees to put all of your turrets, fore and aft, in against these people. Up your rate of fire if you can. That’ll give us both some more time and firepower. We need to put these people away! When the time comes, I’ll want you to execute another smart ninety degrees to starboard and we’ll get out. I’ll probably want you to launch torpedoes at somebody during that last turn, so get ready.”
The range had closed to about six miles to the wounded light cruiser. It was almost dead in the water. The wounded Japanese destroyer continued to flee, but its speed was now only about ten knots, and the range was also six miles. The Japanese destroyers’ designers had made the error of placing electrical conduits on the inside walls of the hulls. A shell had blown a hole in Mishi’s side, shattering major circuits, leaving the ship almost helpless. Now, both Mishi and the cruiser Akasi received a number of additional hits.
By 1620, at extreme range, the Japanese heavy cruisers opened fire. The destroyer had slowed to only several knots and was no longer firing. The cruiser continued to absorb hits. The Americans could now see fires on both ships without binoculars.
At 1625, one of the monstrous eight-inch projectiles came to within about seven hundred yards of Reed. Still, the American commander sat calmly in his chair, smoking his Camel cigarettes one after the other, not having moved appreciably for some minutes. Feeling the pressure, Cashion walked onto the wing and asked again.
“Sir, are we going to pull out soon?”
“No!” Rodgers looked up at Cashion. “You might as well get the others on the phone.”
Once the other captains were on the line, Rodgers said: “Listen, these people are at extreme range. No one can hit anything at extreme range. Sam and I battled ships just like these last year.”
Cashion thought to himself: Yeah, and they sank us!
“It took them a long time to hit us,” Rodgers added, “and we were closer and in a bigger target. They couldn’t hit Yankee Stadium at this range. Listen to me! For all you are to care, those cruisers are on the moon! You understand me? My orders are to ‘destroy enemy forces of equal or inferior strength,’ and we’re going to do just that.” His Southern drawl was particularly evident now. “You do the shooting, and we’ll do the worrying. When it’s time to pull out, we’ll let you know.” His voice was adamant, and the others knew it was not the time to argue.
But standing next to his commander, Cashion was not sharing his boss’s confidence. As he looked around the bridge, every other face seemed to agree with what he was thinking: We need to pull out! He looked anxiously at Rodgers and marveled at his composure. There’s absolutely no emotion on his face at all! He just lights his cigarettes and calmly asks the steward for a drink.
Cashion had to shake his head. He just sits there and continues joking with the men! I can feel those Japanese ships lining up on us, just licking their chops to put their next salvo right down our throats. In thirty minutes they’ll be literally on top of us! We could throw rocks at them!
How long until they have our range? One hit from one of those things could sink one of us. And he looks like he did when I came for him on the bridge of Grand Rapids. I wonder if he’ll ever pull out! Maybe he has a death wish. I see the men’s faces, looking at me. I can see the sweat pouring down their faces and on the backs of their shirts. He looks absolutely crisp, no sweat on his brow and his shirt completely dry! If only I could order that turn and get out of here.
Several minutes passed. Shells were getting closer and closer. Finally Cashion caught himself. No! he thought, looking at Rodgers out on the wing of the bridge. He’s never made a bad decision yet. Even if he wants to pitch in against those heavy cruisers, that’ll be fine by me.
By 1630, the range to the heavy cruisers was down to only twenty-two thousand yards. That was optimum range for their guns. Their salvos were coming very close.
Finally, when one came within 150 yards of Kaulk, jolting her violently, Rodgers stood up and walked toward the phone.
“Get the guys,” he said, referring to the phone. He muttered, “That’s enough. They have our range. Three, four more minutes and they’ll hit one of us.”
Cashion jumped across the bridge to the TBS voice system and called as fast as he could. The other captains must have been at hand, since they answered almost instantly.
“Here, sir.” Cashion handed the phone to Rodgers.
“I want you to wheel around now to 170 degrees magnetic, launching your torpedoes, you two at the destroyer, and Pete and us at the little cruiser.” Cashion breathed a sign of relief. “Then up your speed to thirty-five knots and clear out. We’ll join up south of here. Keep firing as fast as you can on those targets.”
“Sir,” Hennessey reported, “that destroyer (Mishi) just turned over.”
“Good,” Rodgers responded. “You two point your torpedoes at the big cruisers, and we and Pete will aim at the little cruiser. If those shells come close, start weaving.”
The eight-inch shells did come very close, as the destroyers’ helms slowly responded and they began their launches, burying them under tremendous geysers of water. Bindle was rocked repeatedly. Several times, an inch or more of water landed on her bridge.
As their torpedoes streaked out, the Americans turned south and began weaving. Strangely, none of the US torpedoes hit anything. But they did force the Japanese heavy units to veer off, allowing the Americans to make good on their retreat and rapidly draw out of range. The light cruiser remained afloat. Taken in tow by one of the heavy cruisers, she reached the Japanese anchorage off Ceram in thirty-two hours. The battle of Noemfoor Island was over.
At Ceram, experts flown out from Japan observed some twenty-nine shell hits on Akasi. Many had burst against the various armored parts of the ship and caused comparatively li
ttle damage. But fourteen were judged serious. The galley had been destroyed, as well as the gun director system, a turret with its hoist mechanism, and all of the torpedo tubes. One of the two funnels had collapsed and lay half in the water. The engine was partially unseated, the bow warped, and the armor belt seriously compromised.
A second examining team, flown from Tokyo a month later, judged that the engine could not be repaired short of Sasebo Naval Base near Nagasaki in southern Japan. The armor belt alone would need a year of repair. Fissures in the hull from the concussion of many near misses forced them to judge it unsound. Towing the ship seventy-four hundred miles to Sasebo, with American submarines dominating the waters in between, was clearly out of the question. She was declared a total loss and finally scuttled on September 14, 1944. Ironically, the first American bombers to take off from Biak flew over the anchorage at Ceram the next day looking for the cruiser. Finding nothing, intelligence concluded that she had gotten away.
Captain Rodgers and company knew nothing of this until after the war. All they knew was that they had expended some 1,400 shells and sunk one ship, a destroyer. They saw the failure to sink the light cruiser as a terrible blow, the worst thing that had happened to the team in all of the months they had worked together. They returned to Humbolt Bay two days after covering the landings on Noemfoor on July 2.
In actuality, Destroyer Division 29’s mission was a towering success. It prevented reinforcements from arriving at Noemfoor, allowing the landings to go on as scheduled and without any serious opposition. It made Biak’s flank secure. Within a few months, General MacArthur’s forces made the leap up to the Philippines. Only the division’s vaunted expectations hid the truth from them. They had dominated an enemy of equal size, driving them from the area and destroying two-thirds of their force in the process. They had made thirty-five hits on an elusive enemy but only been struck several times themselves. Some 450 of the enemy had been killed while only 10 Americans had been lost.
