by John Prados
The bigger development at Brunei would be an improvised move that eventually determined the way Sho 1 finally unfolded. Vice Admiral Shima Kiyohide’s Fifth Fleet—the 2nd Diversion Attack Force—had been kicked around among the NGS, the Combined Fleet, and the Southwest Area Fleet. Shima had sailed to run down Halsey’s supposed remnants. Combined Fleet considered simply assigning Shima to Kurita, but then attached him to Admiral Mikawa as the main force for the Tokyo Express. But Mikawa discovered that the Japanese Army had as yet no troops ready to “express” into Leyte. On the afternoon of the twentieth, he cabled Shima asking that the Fifth Fleet, or at least someone of Shima’s staff, come to Manila and consult General Yamashita before making any further decisions. A stop risked losing the opportunity to strike, Shima replied. He held out for an assignment to follow Kurita into Leyte Gulf.
Late on invasion day Admiral Mikawa sent a further dispatch observing that a smaller unit—Kurita had given up Cruiser Division 16—would be sufficient for the Tokyo Express–type missions. Kurita, who had earlier opposed the assignment of Division 16 to the area fleet, also registered unhappiness at being given Shima’s command because it had never exercised or operated with his Second Fleet. Meanwhile, Admiral Mikawa freely yielded control of the Shima fleet so it could participate in this supporting maneuver.
Anthony Tully writes that Kurita “was vaguely aware” that the Fifth Fleet might join him in the raid because he “probably intercepted some of the traffic between Manila, Tokyo, and [Admiral Shima].” In fact, Admiral Kurita had remained completely informed—the detailed action record for Cruiser Division 16 shows the Second Fleet as an addressee for all messages concerning employment of the Shima fleet save the ones where Mikawa and the Army hammered out whether troops were ready to go to Leyte.
Then came an intervention from on high. Admiral Kusaka weighed in with a suggestion that Kurita detach a unit to infiltrate Leyte Gulf from a different direction, through Surigao Strait. This would mean a double penetration of the Gulf. That made Kurita Takeo think carefully about Rear Admiral Nishimura’s old battleships Fuso and Yamashiro. Slower and less heavily armed, Nishimura’s unit had been an awkward attachment from the beginning. Admiral Kurita liked the double-penetration idea much better. After preparing to receive his captains and unit commanders aboard flagship Atago, Kurita Takeo resolved to go ahead with that option and use Nishimura’s battleships as the core of that force, adding heavy cruiser Mogami and a screen of four destroyers.
The written directive handed to Rear Admiral Nishimura on the evening of October 21 instructed him to cross the Sulu Sea, enter Leyte Gulf via the Surigao Strait, and attack invasion shipping there in the predawn hours of October 25.
• • •
IN TOKYO, AT the eleventh hour, the Japanese Army suddenly got cold feet. At an IGHQ conference, Navy chief of staff Oikawa informed the Army of the fleet’s preparations for the Leyte raid. General Umezu of the Army responded that the Navy should cancel the operation and protect its forces. The Army recognized there was little chance of success. The most likely outcome would be destruction of the fleet.
Army staffers were particularly incensed at the Navy’s sudden demand for four additional tankers and their fuel. The Army saw this as a breach of a previously agreed-upon schedule for oil supplies to the Empire, and a threat to the war effort. To give up the oil for a decisive battle in which the Army knew practically nothing about Combined Fleet’s operational movements was unacceptable.
The dispute led to a nighttime skull session at which planners from both services met at the Navy Club in Tokyo, ranging over the same ground. The NGS was represented by its top operations people: Rear Admiral Nakazawa Tasukichi, the bureau chief, and Captain Yamamoto Chikao, the section chief. Colonels Sanada Sadamu and Hattori Takushiro carried the ball for the Army staff. The services each repeated their arguments. Sanada added that the Navy’s lack of carrier air groups would force the Army to divert planes from attacks on Leyte.
“If the fleet does not take the offensive now,” Captain Yamamoto fired back hotly, “the war will be lost!”
The Navy insisted that if it did not act, the fleet would suffer the same fate (total destruction) that had befallen Mussolini’s Italian Navy.
Sanada objected, “Stop talking nonsense!”
The next morning, Colonel Hattori went to Army chief of staff Umezu to report their failure to reconcile with the Navy planners. Umezu thought for a moment, but he conceded the issue: “If Combined Fleet were to suffer defeat the consequences would indeed be serious. However, since this matter is up to the Navy, and since Navy Minister Yonai has already approved it, there is no ground for the Army to put up any further opposition.”
The entire episode is a measure of the dysfunctional nature of the Japanese high command. The Army had secured a Sho plan in which the Imperial Navy put aside its traditional goal of destroying enemy fleets to serve an Army purpose of reducing Allied invasion capabilities. Then the Army upended the strategic plan of centering its own defense on well-prepared Luzon, for a scantily held Leyte. Now the Army wanted out altogether.
But the Navy was in motion and was not going to stop. The die had been cast.
• • •
AT BRUNEI BAY, the Kurita fleet rode calmly at anchor. The admiral knew nothing of the squabbles among the high command. He knew only that his Second Fleet would have the main part in the elaborate scheme that the Imperial Navy had concocted to get at the Allied shipping. The central role of Kurita’s fleet loomed large, and it was underlined when a Combined Fleet dispatch announced that Admiral Toyoda would assume direct control.
At midmorning of the twenty-first Kurita summoned unit commanders, senior staff, and ship captains to convene aboard his flagship at five o’clock. Tankers arrived after eleven, and at half past noon, they began refueling the battleships. A full loading might require nearly a whole day, but to comply with Toyoda’s X-Day dictate, Kurita must leave Brunei by 8:00 a.m. on the twenty-second.
Timing also bore on the choice of a route to the target. There were several possibilities, and of course, all of them had drawbacks. No matter what route Admiral Kurita selected, he would have to make a daylight crossing of waters that were dominated by American carriers. Combined Fleet had decreed the Kurita fleet must debouch from the San Bernardino Strait, so all his alternatives led there. The island of Palawan defined the possibilities, for the fleet could advance to either side.
The shortest route lay to its south, with Kurita hugging Palawan’s east coast until passing Mindoro to enter the Sibuyan Sea. Kurita’s shorter-legged ships might possibly make this voyage without refueling. On the other hand, the admiral believed his fleet had been seen off Brunei and that Allied airmen would be extra-vigilant here. Crossing on the south side of Palawan would place Kurita in the Sulu Sea at the same time as the diversion force under Nishimura. The danger was that both fleets could be spotted simultaneously and attacked together. A second route kept to the north of Palawan, then skirted Mindoro to enter the Sibuyan Sea. One more possibility—let us call it the “indirect approach” (also the longest)—took the north side but angled back northwest and sliced ahead to Mindoro, the Sibuyan Sea, and finally the San Bernardino Strait. This track kept Kurita away from Allied air scouts longer, but it took his sailors through dangerous shoal waters, consumed the most time, and required a final approach to battle under daylight air attack. The northside standard track gave Halsey’s and Kinkaid’s airmen their shot, but in the afternoon, when darkness would eventually end the agony.
Fuel also presented its persistent problem. Tankers had to be positioned to fuel ships returning from the mission. Combined Fleet ordered some tankers to Coron Bay, situated in the Calamian Islands at the east end of Palawan. The sea-lane from Manila to Leyte and Kurita’s route from Brunei both passed nearby, while Nishimura’s voyage to the Surigao Strait lay close enough that a warship in extremis might harbor there. Onc
e Admiral Shima’s force joined the scheme, it, too, would sail near Coron. This became a key support base for the Sho operation.
Back at Brunei Bay, Vice Admiral Kurita stood before his officers. It was late afternoon on the quarterdeck of Atago. The sun sank toward the horizon. Staff had already handed out written materials. The assembled group drank a toast to success. The session went on for almost three hours. Subordinate commanders would have their own meetings with skippers once the parley broke up. Kurita acknowledged that many found their mission distasteful, but the admiral insisted, “The war situation is far more critical than any of you could possibly know.”
There would be shame for all if the nation perished but the fleet survived. The admiral continued, “I believe that Imperial General Headquarters is giving us a glorious opportunity.” (In the particularly Japanese style of honne, author Evan Thomas tells us, private thoughts left unsaid or merely hinted at are often more important than actual remarks.) Some of Kurita’s captains no doubt took the admiral to mean that they were being given an opportunity to die. “Because I realize how very serious the war situation actually is,” Admiral Kurita exhorted, “I am willing to accept even this ultimate assignment.”
Kurita Takeo explained his decisions to his senior officers. He composed a lengthy dispatch informing Combined Fleet of the final plans. Kurita explained that Nishimura’s assignment would be to penetrate Leyte Gulf from the south, the Surigao Strait. His own, much bigger force would break in from the northeast, from waters off the island of Samar. Vice Admiral Ugaki, so garrulous about so many things, does little more than note this momentous occasion.
Kurita handed Nishimura a written directive. For his penetration mission, Kurita beefed up Nishimura’s battleships with heavy cruiser Mogami, of Cruiser Division 5. She had been modified after Midway as an aviation cruiser, thus giving Nishimura more floatplane scout capability. Kurita also detached destroyer Shigure from Destroyer Flotilla 2 to give Nishimura a little additional escort strength. Tin-can boss Vice Admiral Hayakawa Mikio told the skipper of the Shigure that he was sorry to lose her. She had been known as the “Miracle Destroyer” during fighting in the Solomons, where she had survived every battle. Later, when Vice Admiral Nishimura convened his own explanatory session, he drew the destroyer captain aside and told Commander Nishino Shigeru much the same thing. Nishimura then made an emotional appeal to his own assembled officers, followed by chief of staff Rear Admiral Ando Norihide, who outlined the plan.
That day the JNAF had gotten some solid sightings and the Japanese sent airplanes into Leyte Gulf for actual attacks—enabling them to view the Allied armada. Observations from radio intelligence located more Allied task groups. Before talking to his commanders, Kurita Takeo learned that the phony claims from the Taiwan air battle were just that. The actual number of aircraft carriers with Halsey’s Third Fleet and Kinkaid’s Seventh remained unclear, but it was definitely considerable. Kurita learned that the Allies had as many battleships as he had inside Leyte Gulf alone. Beyond that, the Allied fleets outnumbered the Japanese in almost every category. Kurita, his staff chief, Koyanagi Tomiji, and many of their officers were uncomfortable with their declared purpose—to sink transports, not enemy fleets. Some groused that fleet commander Toyoda should come and lead the sortie himself. Koyanagi, who, as chief of staff, was actually the person responsible for fleet planning, had collaborated with his boss on an implicit, private plan—if they came across an enemy fleet, they would go after it.
“What man can say there is no chance for our fleet to turn the tide of war in a decisive battle?” Kurita asked. “You must all remember there are such things as miracles.” Officers leaped to their feet with shouts of “Banzai!” The Kurita fleet would storm Leyte Gulf.
• • •
EVERYONE CONCERNED SOON got a glimpse of the realities as a result of the experience of Cruiser Division 16. Rear Admiral Sakonju Naomasa’s unit had been assigned as the Tokyo Express—the equivalent of the Leyte run, with control given to Vice Admiral Mikawa, who put Sakonju on standby alert. His ships refueled from battlewagons Fuso and Yamashiro at Brunei.
On October 21, Mikawa ordered Sakonju to the Philippines to move Army troops to Leyte. Rear Admiral Sakonju received the order at midafternoon. He ordered his ships—the heavy cruiser Aoba, light cruiser Kinu, and destroyer Uranami, to sail at a quarter to five, just as the fleet’s senior officers gathered to meet Admiral Kurita. As it turned out, the Aoba did not clear Brunei at the appointed hour. Sakonju began his mission twenty-five minutes late.
An intelligence expert and political operative for much of his career, Sakonju had had his big moment in this role back in 1941, when he helped convince the government of Thailand to cast its lot on the Japanese side. He seemed an unlikely combat commander, but during the spring Sakonju led his cruiser division on a raid into the Indian Ocean and ran down some merchantmen (sealing his fate as a war criminal when he had crewmen execute sailors from the captured ships). Afterward, Toyoda put him in charge of the Tokyo Express unit on an abortive attempt to reinforce the island of Biak before the Marianas battle. Now he would serve the same function in the Leyte action.
But he never got the chance to do so. Near midnight, Cruiser Division 16 was en route, approaching the western end of Palawan, when it was attacked by the American submarine Darter. Admiral Sakonju, seeking safety in speed, raced ahead at twenty-three knots.
David H. McClintock, the young captain of the sub, knew his only chance would be to chase Sakonju on the surface. He tried but could not pull it off. But Commander McClintock’s position reports tipped off U.S. submarines.
Just over twenty-four hours later, during the predawn of October 23, Admiral Sakonju approached Manila with the sub Bream in front of him. Like McClintock, Lieutenant Commander Wreford G. “Moon” Chapple was running on the surface when his radar detected the Japanese vessel. Moon pursued until he attained a satisfactory attack position, and he loosed a spread of six torpedoes. Two smacked Captain Yamazumi Chusaburo’s Aoba. Moon Chapple dived deep as Sakonju’s other ships counterattacked. The Aoba, which sustained a hit in the starboard forward engine room, lay dead in the water. She had to be towed to Manila. That delayed Cruiser Division 16 badly, and Sakonju did not make port until night. There the admiral moved his flag to Captain Kawasaki Harumi’s light cruiser Kinu.
• • •
SHIMA KIYOHIDE, ANOTHER Japanese officer who needed to pay special attention to the Allied submarine threat, had finally succeeded in straightening out his assignment. Admiral Shima’s Fifth Fleet had been seen by an American sub back in Empire waters, only hours after setting off.
Originally, his force would have been the vanguard of Ozawa’s Mobile Fleet. Fortunately Admiral Ozawa did not participate in the ill-founded mop-up operation. With just a pair of heavy cruisers and one light cruiser at the core of his flotilla, Shima had little real gun power and would have been outclassed by a single one of Halsey’s task groups, much less the whole Third Fleet. Instead, Shima was recalled after he had been spotted by aircraft and submarines.
Instead of returning to the Home Islands, Vice Admiral Shima made for Taiwanese waters. The Mobile Fleet commander had long argued that the cruiser force would be better employed elsewhere, and the sortie to catch cripples had been a special exception. Shima paused briefly at Amami Oshima but sailed again not long after the Kurita fleet departed Lingga. Shima next called at Mako in the Pescadore Islands, west of Taiwan, jumping into the dialogue-by-dispatch concerning how his unit should be employed. Admiral Kusaka instructed Shima to head for Manila under orders of Vice Admiral Mikawa, there to help with Japanese counterlandings. Mikawa, dismissing Army delays in providing troops to lift to Leyte and satisfied with Sakonju’s even smaller cruiser division, advised that Shima’s warships should be used to augment the assault of Admiral Kurita. Combined Fleet responded.
Aboard heavy cruiser Nachi, which had been the flagship of the Im
perial Navy’s northern fleet for as long as anyone could remember, the fateful message arrived at noon on October 21. Combined Fleet ordered Shima to cooperate with the Kurita fleet by means of penetrating Leyte Gulf via Surigao Strait, the same entrance toward which Kurita had aimed Nishimura’s battleships. Admiral Shima sailed again, toward Manila, about an hour before Sakonju’s cruisers left Brunei. That evening Shima joined the conversation, objecting that a stop in Manila to confer with Army commanders risked losing the opportunity to join the Leyte attack. From Manila, the area fleet commander Mikawa added his own endorsement. The 2nd Diversion Attack Force would make for Surigao Strait, stopping along the way to fuel at Coron Bay.
• • •
THE IMPERIAL NAVY had now begun pushing hard. The last piece on the board, Vice Admiral Ozawa Jisaburo’s Mobile Fleet, had sailed too.
In the evening of October 20, Ozawa cleared Kure and exited the Bungo Strait. Admiral Ozawa had the aircraft carriers—not all the ones Japan possessed but enough for a show of force. The Ozawa fleet headed southward at a leisurely pace, giving time for Admiral Toyoda—finally back in the driver’s seat—to move the other pieces on his board.
The question would be, How would the Allies respond?
CHAPTER 7
“WITH CONFIDENCE IN HEAVENLY GUIDANCE, THE ENTIRE FORCE WILL ATTACK!”
Denizens of the Zoo at Pearl Harbor were electrified by the display of events unfolding in signals intelligence, and they helped detect unusual activity in some of the intercepts. There were multiple indications of Japanese fleet movements, different moves spread over thousands of miles, and odd pockets where nothing seemed to be happening at all.
Allied capabilities for radio interception had increased considerably—with more sites and more receivers—in comparison to the far-off days before the war. The old-timers of the On the Roof Gang had seen a lot and knew they needed even more resources. Petty Officer Albert M. Fishburn, one of the On the Roofers, became part of a migration to Guam that opened a fancy new station there. First, they worked in Quonset huts, then switched to newly constructed A-frame buildings. Though still halfway across the Pacific, the listening would be better than from Wahiawa, the Fleet Radio Unit Pacific (FRUPAC) facility in Hawaii. The new unit, almost as big as Wahiawa too, would have a three-shift schedule, which meant 240 radiomen. Guam had a couple of Marine lieutenants who were Japanese linguists, and a couple of code breakers who’d been associated with Albert Einstein—one had solved math problems for him. The Guam station had a new traffic analysis unit as well, the Radio Analysis Group Forward (RAGFOR).
