Islands of Destiny: The Solomons Campaign and the Eclipse of the Rising Sun

by John Prados

  Aerial interdiction did not suppress Munda or Vila, but it did exact a price. And the campaign would be extended beyond New Georgia to hit the enemy farther up The Slot. Buin, Ballale, and Kieta went on the target lists. With B-17s and B-24s now flying from Guadalcanal—the Thirteenth Air Force was formed to lead Army air units in the Solomons—Halsey’s airmen ranged far afield. The air attacks were never milk runs. Japanese flak took a toll of strike aircraft, enough so that night missions became the primary tactic, at least against Bougainville. AIRSOLS and the Thirteenth Air Force also ran a vigorous night-intruder operation. JNAF night-fighter capability was quite limited. In any case the air campaign would be massive and constant.

  The Navy’s communiqués tell the story. The department’s press office issued releases almost daily, sometimes more than one, reporting events as news reached Washington. Typically the information office ran a day or two behind operations, and, of course, the releases were shorn of such relevant information as the size of attacks, specifics of combat action, and so on. But the contours are readily apparent. In the seven-week (forty-nine-day) period through Yamamoto’s death, Munda was hit at least twenty-two times and Vila twenty-one. From the releases it is clear that some of these were multiple attacks, some were mass efforts, and some were simultaneous strikes at both places; a few were fighter sweeps, and some seemed to be intruder operations. Bombers struck the Buin complex twenty-one times. Kahili was by far the most popular target, but most “attacks” appear to have been harassment. Bombings or fighter sweeps engaged Rekata Bay on six occasions. Other places were also hit, but these targets absorbed by far the greatest effort. The massive I Operation strike at Guadalcanal did not prevent AIRSOLS from hitting Vila early that same morning, or Rekata Bay in the afternoon. Rabaul was not struck even once.

  The handling of the Yamamoto shoot-down is quite interesting: Where news usually ran days behind, Navy Department Communiqué 348 of April 18 stated: “A number of Lightning (Lockheed P-38) fighters engaged two Japanese bombers, escorted by six Zero fighters, over Kahili in the Shortland Island area,” and went on to claim destruction of both bombers. Everything else in the release concerned April 16. The mention of two bombers, information that had not been in the radio intercepts, reveals that authorities must have arranged in advance for the press office to run this current item, quite likely for the purpose of suggesting that the ambush had been nothing more than a routine air battle.

  An Allied reorganization in March designated SOPAC naval forces as the Third Fleet and those under SOWESPAC the Seventh Fleet. Though the latter did not yet truly merit that appellation, Halsey’s Third Fleet had become a potent force. His major weakness remained lack of aircraft carriers. The Saratoga still represented the only fully capable flattop. The Enterprise continued to be hampered by her damage from Santa Cruz. Following a last round of training maneuvers, the “Big E” left the South Pacific at the beginning of May. At that moment the Royal Navy’s Victorious was en route to the Third Fleet. The Victorious and the Saratoga made up Halsey’s fast carrier force. He had several jeep carriers too, but they did not sail in the battle line. The Victorious served in the South Pacific throughout. Crewmen who had expected a long-term deployment were astonished when she was recalled. America’s industrial behemoth had begun to spew forth the new warships that would overwhelm Japan. Indeed, the same week the Americans hustled to prepare Yamamoto’s ambush, higher authority informed CINCPAC that eight new aircraft carriers would join the Pacific Fleet before the end of the year. By June 19, Nimitz had decided to release the Victorious to Royal Navy control on August 1. The light carrier Princeton replaced her.

  Meanwhile SOPAC initiated its mine-laying campaign on March 20, initially focusing on Bougainville waters, especially Shortland harbor. Avenger aircraft from Guadalcanal laid most of the mines. They were credited with damaging a destroyer and a merchantman, and sinking another. Aerial mines laid in Blackett Strait—off Vila—and in the Munda area did not seem to faze the Tokyo Express, however. Accordingly, on May 6, Rear Admiral Ainsworth’s cruiser-destroyer group sauntered through Blackett Strait to clear it. Then, under Commander William K. Romoser, the modern destroyer Radford led three older tin cans converted into minelayers into the strait to deposit a standard three-row field. In no time this outing produced a signal success. The next day Captain Tachibana Masao led four Japanese destroyers from Buka to Buin, loading supplies for Vila, where they arrived after midnight on May 8. While getting under way, the Kuroshio touched off a mine, rendering her unnavigable. About half an hour later the Oyashio also hit a mine. Less heavily damaged, she took off many crewmen of the other vessel. The Kuroshio drifted onto a couple more mines, broke up, and sank. In the morning the Oyashio’s engines failed. Australian coastwatcher A. R. Evans promptly reported the enemy presence. They were set upon by SOPAC aircraft. Supported by destroyers Kagero and Michishio, Oyashio drove off the first strike, but the Americans returned in the afternoon to sink both Oyashio and Kagero. Tachibana’s single remaining ship, damaged by strafing, rescued survivors of all the others. Thrilled by such results, Halsey’s mine group repeated the exercise a week later in Kula Gulf, covered by Ainsworth’s cruiser bombardment of Vila. Alerted this time, the Japanese swept the mines. Repetition of operational formulas did not work on either side.

  The hapless heavy cruiser Aoba staggered into the lagoon at Truk on April 25. The cruiser tied up next to repair ship Akashi, which labored to make her seaworthy enough to sail home for a proper fix in a shipyard. The Aoba’s brief return and almost instant crippling were a metaphor for Japan’s desperate condition. The ship would be hors de combat for seven long months. At midafternoon that day an Emily flying boat landed from Yokosuka. The patrol bomber carried Admiral Koga Mineichi, chief of the Yokosuka Naval District, ostensibly down for an inspection. Upon his arrival Admiral Koga assumed command of the Combined Fleet.

  The Aoba held special meaning for Koga. The admiral had skippered that cruiser in 1930, a moment that from the Navy’s perspective might be considered the twilight of peace, before Imperial Japan had gone far into the machinations in China that led ineffably to the Pacific war. Koga had been a member of the so-called “treaty faction,” those who favored naval disarmament as part of a program to avoid conflict. The faction had been outplayed by others who aggressively sought advantage, and disputes begun in north China had embroiled Japan in a progressively deepening crisis, now extended across the Pacific. With the Imperial Navy increasingly tested, and its acknowledged finest leader—Yamamoto, Koga’s good friend—now dead, Koga was summoned to pick up the pieces.

  The advent of Koga Mineichi surprised no Japanese. As early as January 1941, Yamamoto had written a memorandum advising on officers who could succeed him. Koga’s name was at the top of that list. That paper was secret, but opinion in the fleet put Koga in line for the top command. Only ten men stood ahead of Koga on the Navy List, including admirals who were retired, elevated to the supernumerary Supreme War Council, dead, or serving in indispensable positions, such as NGS chief Nagano or Navy Minister Shimada. Toyoda Soemu was just ahead of Koga, and the latter’s promotion to full admiral in May 1942, eight months after Toyoda, made Koga junior in rank. But Koga had Imperial household connections that Toyoda lacked, while Yamamoto’s secret advice had specifically counseled Koga over Toyoda. Both had graduated Etajima in 1905, a year behind Yamamoto, who had known them well.

  When Admiral Nimitz mulled over the Yamamoto ambush, he and Captain Layton had discussed Koga’s potential. They agreed he would be a step down from his illustrious predecessor. But beyond a small circle of former American naval attachés, intelligence professionals, or officers with service in China, Koga Mineichi remained a cipher to the Allied camp. “In a race of unknown men,” Time magazine prattled, “he is an especial anonym.”

  Koga wholly lacked Yamamoto’s flamboyance, probably the main reason for his not being better-known. The admiral was a stolid, competent officer who acted with caution and c
are, advancing steadily through the ranks. In the officer corps Koga was considered able, prudent, and amiable. He and Yamamoto had been shipmates as well as midshipman contemporaries, and political allies in the treaty faction. Koga was knowledgeable on both naval matters and international affairs, spoke French and some English, and was viewed as friendly to the United States. In 1937, when the fighting in China became generalized, Admiral Koga as vice chief of the Navy General Staff had participated with Yonai Mitsumasa in a last-ditch effort to settle the crisis. As a subordinate fleet commander in 1940, when Japan made demands on Vichy France that increased America’s hostility, Koga Mineichi had objected to the myopic policy. Before Pearl Harbor, informed of even more aggressive policies sure to bring war, Koga—who knew Yamamoto opposed them—complained of measures being taken without consulting the Combined Fleet leader.

  Born in Saga prefecture of samurai stock, the fifty-nine-year-old Koga Mineichi had graduated Etajima near the top of his class. His braininess showed in many ways. Hardly a year after passing the course at the Naval War College, Koga returned as an instructor. He had spent nearly five years assigned in France, including a tour as naval attaché. Koga had been a Combined Fleet staff officer. There were several berths on the Navy General Staff, including a stint in charge of the intelligence bureau and an unusual three-year tour. He had also been active on technical boards and worked for the staff of the emperor’s special inspector.

  But Koga Mineichi was a battleship man amid an upheaval in the nature of warfare. In addition to the Aoba, Koga had skippered the battleship Ise and led a cruiser division. He had preceded Kondo Nobutake in command of the Second Fleet. Koga remained a solid surface warrior imbued with the traditional doctrine of decisive battle. With the NGS in the late 1930s, the admiral had argued that surface ships need not fear airplanes. The Aoba’s misfortune contradicted that view. As Second Fleet commander in 1941 he had opposed the transfer of his attached carrier unit to become part of the new all-flattop Kido Butai. In part, Koga’s opposition had been overcome by reassignment to lead the China Area Fleet, in which capacity he had blockaded Hong Kong when war began. Much now depended on Koga Mineichi’s flexibility and intellect.

  The emergency nature of his appointment at least afforded Admiral Koga the opportunity to have his pick of subordinates, and the new C-in-C prevailed on the Navy General Staff to send him its vice chief, Fukudome Shigeru, as his staff boss. Vice Admiral Fukudome, who had been with Koga on the NGS in the 1930s, had much more experience with aviation, and that was a help. But a certain fatalism had set in. On several occasions when the press of business let up, Koga reflected to Fukudome that Yamamoto had been lucky to have passed while the war situation still seemed favorable.

  Admiral Koga told Fukudome that the fleet would not stop its effort to force a decisive battle. On the plan for third-phase operations, necessary once IGHQ declared the war had entered this new period, Koga altered Combined Fleet’s contingency plans. He took account of changed conditions by designing a new kind of decisive battle. Completed in the summer, Koga’s plan divided the broad expanse of the Pacific into sectors and made local commanders responsible for preparing numerous air bases and fortifying each one. The various air flotillas could shuttle—as they had been doing into Rabaul—among threatened sectors. Once an opportunity arose, the main strength of Combined Fleet would join with land-based air to smash the enemy. Under Koga the Navy began creating a new First Air Fleet as an elite JNAF formation—but it would not be ready for many months. Koga also engineered Kondo Nobutake’s relief. Vice Admiral Kurita Takeo, promoted to replace him at Second Fleet, had a reputation as an aggressive surface commander. Kondo went to the China Area Fleet.

  In short, Koga Mineichi intended an aggressive strategy. Admiral Koga said as much in the order of the day he issued on May 23, when Japan revealed the death of Yamamoto and the appointment of his successor:

  No matter how many times the enemy shall advance against us, we shall always welcome combat with him and in exterminating him and assuring for ourselves the ultimate victory, we shall by united effort and perseverance forge for ourselves a greater and greater military power. At the same time that we manifest a relentless spirit of attack, we shall be prepared to meet the changing conditions of warfare with new strategies and new weapons, always keeping one step ahead of the enemy.

  The war is now at its peak. We defend what is ours and the task of meeting and striking the enemy must be the prerogative of the Imperial Navy. We shall defend ourselves to the last breath and shall totally destroy the enemy.

  Pious words, perhaps. At the moment Admiral Koga issued this exhortation, the Aleutians seemed threatened and much of the fleet had concentrated in Empire waters. Koga would keep his biggest ships there for several months, taking the opportunity to dry-dock them for upkeep. He returned to Truk in August. By then the war in the Solomons had brewed up. A week before the Aoba was sufficiently repaired to voyage home, the test began.

  REDRAWING THE BATTLE MAPS

  After two postponements, SOWESPAC completed preparations for its next leap ahead. In the Coral Sea this included assault landings at Kiriwina and Woodlark islands, below New Britain. Once those places had airfields, Allied fighters would be in easy range of Rabaul itself, not to mention all the other Japanese bases. The enemy were not blind to the peril. It was apparent the Allies were poised to leap. In May the 25th Air Flotilla returned to Rabaul, followed in June by the 24th, reinforcing what the Eleventh Air Fleet already had. Aerial reconnaissance over Guadalcanal on May 21 showed forty four-engine bombers, thirty-two twin-engine ones, and no fewer than 275 single-engine aircraft. When Halsey and MacArthur sent fifty-plane raids against Lae and Shortland and a hundred-plane raid on Munda, Admiral Kusaka decided to strike back. He used his added strength for new lightning bolts. On June 7, Kusaka sent a swarm of eighty-one Zeroes on a fighter sweep to the Russell Islands bases. Among the casualties was Warrant Officer Yanagiya Kenji of the 204th Air Group, who had failed in escorting Yamamoto’s fatal flight. Seriously wounded, Yanagiya had his arm amputated. Redeploying 25th and 26th flotilla planes to Buin, on June 12 Kusaka repeated the sweep using seventy-seven fighters, and four days later he struck at Ironbottom Sound with twenty-four bombers and seventy fighters. Veterans remember this as the “Big Raid.” Two ships were damaged badly enough to beach, another hurt more lightly, and half a dozen U.S. planes crashed, against thirty Japanese. As with the I Operation, results disappointed. A submarine concentration against Halsey’s carriers, sighted in Torpedo Junction, failed to accomplish anything.

  In contrast to vigorous air activity, now Admiral Kusaka became reluctant to use his surface ships. With the bulk of the Combined Fleet in Empire waters and oriented toward the Aleutians, Kusaka had little support. A staff meeting on June 10 revealed the dismal state of Vice Admiral Samejima’s Eighth Fleet. Heavy cruiser Chokai, previously the flagship, had been recalled by the Combined Fleet. Samejima’s main strength comprised the 3rd Destroyer Squadron. Light cruiser Yubari of that unit had damaged the shafts for two of her three propellers, restricting top speed to twenty-four knots. Equally perplexing, Yubari was undergoing crew transfer. Two-thirds of her officers plus 35 percent of enlisted men were new. Destroyer Yugiri, torpedoed during an antisubmarine sweep, was undergoing local repair. She would be ready before the end of June. The commander of Destroyer Division 22 reported his ships had not been dry-docked for seven to nine months, depending on the vessel, and steamed at reduced efficiency. They had off-loaded reserve torpedoes to reduce displacement and maintain speed potential. Those ships and two others all needed dry-docking. Destroyer Nagatsuki had a leak in a propeller shaft casing and was shipping two dozen tons of water a day, double that under way. Desperate for bottoms, Kusaka nonetheless rated her battleworthy. Half the destroyers had just changed skippers or were about to. Rear Admiral Akiyama Teruo of the 3rd Squadron, himself a new face, had come from a shoreside billet. The one bright light was that light cruiser Sendai had j
oined and settled in. Admiral Samejima’s Eighth Fleet faced grave challenges.

  All this would have made Bull Halsey happy. Photos of Rabaul and Shortland showed Japanese heavy cruisers and more destroyer types than there were. This was coincidental. The Imperial Navy had been using Vice Admiral Nishimura’s Cruiser Division 7 to shuttle replacement seamen into Rabaul. As for the Chokai, for weeks she had been at anchor off Truk’s Dublon Island. Meanwhile the Eighth Fleet had patrol boats and some old destroyers converted to other uses, often mistaken for tin cans. Halsey’s aerial snoopers were reporting a stronger fleet than Kusaka, in fact, possessed.

  In tandem with MacArthur’s advance, Halsey had laid on Operation “Toenails,” his next move, against New Georgia. He began with assault landings. Rendova, an island just five and a half miles across the water from Munda, offered a prime location for a PT boat base from which the devil boats could mount a close blockade. It would be invaded at several points. On New Georgia there were landings at Segi Point, Viru Harbor, and Wickham Plantation. The first, actually undertaken by the Marines’ 4th Raider Battalion on June 21, was the opening chord in the ensemble. In preparation SOPAC made a forty-plane raid on Vila on June 19, and fifty-plane attacks on Munda on June 25, and both on the twenty-sixth. Then on the twenty-ninth, Merrill’s cruisers bombarded Munda while Halsey’s minelayer unit took on Vila. The real landings took place the next day.

  News of the invasion electrified Rabaul. The Japanese fleet, alerted at dawn on June 30, soon learned of Americans storming Rendova. One who got the alert was Lieutenant Commander Hanami Kohei of the destroyer Amagiri. Until recently skipper of a tin can at Singapore, Hanami had taken over the Amagiri less than two weeks earlier. He found the ship in sore need of rest and reconditioning and planned to replace some sailors and effect such repairs as could be done in place. Hull, weapons, and engines had all been affected by war service. Commander Hanami was coping with the frustration of futile requests for spare parts when Rendova changed everything. “The information created a tumult at Rabaul Base,” Hanami recalled. The fleet moved out “in full strength with determination to blast the enemy on the sea but efforts to locate him finally ended fruitlessly.” That night Rear Admiral Akiyama brought the light cruiser Yubari with nine destroyers, including Amagiri, to pound the Rendova beachhead. Without observers to correct their aim, the Japanese blasted the jungle, inflicting no damage.