Neptune's Inferno: The U.S. Navy at Guadalcanal
Page 1
Also by James D. Hornfischer
The Last Stand of the Tin Can Sailors (2004)
Ship of Ghosts (2006)
Bantam Books New York
(Photo Credit: Title Page)
Copyright © 2011 by James D. Hornfischer
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Bantam Books, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
BANTAM BOOKS and the rooster colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.
Excerpts from unpublished writings by Robert D. Graff copyright © 2011 by Robert D. Graff. Used by permission.
Endpaper map by Jeffrey L. Ward
Interior maps by Lum Pennington
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Hornfischer, James D.
Neptune’s inferno: the U.S. Navy at Guadalcanal / James D. Hornfischer.
p. cm.
Includes bibliographical references and index.
eISBN: 978-0-553-90807-7
1. Guadalcanal, Battle of, Solomon Islands, 1942–1943. 2. World War, 1939–1945—Naval operations, American. 3. United States. Navy—History—World War, 1939–1945. 4. United States. Navy—Biography. 5. Veterans—United States—Interviews. 6. Guadalcanal, Battle of, Solomon Islands, 1942–1943—Personal narratives, American. I. Title.
D767.98.H665 2011
940.54’265933—dc22
2010027231
www.bantamdell.com
v3.1
In memory:
CHARLES D. GROJEAN
Rear Admiral, USN
1923–2008
Sailor, Leader, Teacher
Never have the gods of all the tribes put upon the seas such monsters as man now sends over them.… Their steel bowels, grinding and rumbling below the splash of the sea, are fed on quarried rock. Their arteries are steel, their nerves copper, their blood red and blue flames. With the prescience of the supernatural, they peer into space. Their voices scream through gales, and they whisper together over a thousand miles of sea. They reach out and destroy that which the eye of man cannot perceive.
But … all this terribleness will vanish, returning again into the inanimate whenever the capacity and vigor of the guiding mind deteriorates or is worn down by the years that have stolen away the quick grasp of youth.
—Homer Lea, The Valor of Ignorance (1909)
CONTENTS
Cover
Other Books by This Author
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
MAPS
TABLES
PROLOGUE: Eighty-two Ships
PART I
SEA OF TROUBLES
1: Trip Wire
2: A Great Gray Fleet
3: The First D-Day
4: Nothing Worthy of Your Majesty’s Attention
5: Fly the Carriers
6: A Captain in the Fog
7: The Martyring of Task Group 62.6
8: Burning in the Rain
PART II
FIGHTING FLEET RISING
9: A New Kind of Fight
10: The Tokyo Express
11: A Function at the Junction
12: What They Were Built For
13: The Warriors
14: The Devil May Care
15: The Visit
16: Night of a New Moon
17: Pulling the Trigger
18: “Pour It to ’Em”
PART III
STORM TIDE
19: All Hell’s Eve
20: The Weight of a War
21: Enter Fighting
22: “Strike—Repeat, Strike”
23: Santa Cruz
24: Secret History
25: Turner’s Choice
26: Suicide
27: Black Friday
28: Into the Light
29: The Killing Salvo
30: Death in the Machine Age
31: Point Blank
32: Among the Shadows
33: Atlanta Burning
34: Cruiser in the Sky
35: Regardless of Losses
PART IV
THE THUNDERING
36: The Giants Ride
37: The Gun Club
38: The Kind of Men Who Win a War
39: On the Spot
40: The Futility of Learning
41: Future Rising
42: Report and Echo
43: The Opinion of Convening Authority
44: Ironbottom Sound
Photo Insert
Acknowledgments
Ships and Aircraft Types of the Guadalcanal Campaign
Naval Battles of the Guadalcanal Campaign
Total Naval Losses at Guadalcanal
Source Notes
Bibliography
Photo Credits
Index
About the Author
MAPS
Pacific Ocean Area
The Slot
Battle of Savo Island
Battle of Cape Esperance
Cruiser Night Action
Morning After in Ironbottom Sound
Battleship Night Action
Battle of Tassafaronga
TABLES
The U.S. Navy at Guadalcanal, August 1942
Order of Battle—Battle of Savo Island
Shipboard Gunnery and Fire-Control Systems
Order of Battle—Battle of Cape Esperance
The U.S. Navy at Guadalcanal (as of October 18, 1942)
U.S. Navy Combat Task Forces in the South Pacific (as of October 26, 1942)
The Japanese in the Battle of Santa Cruz
U.S. Navy Combat Task Forces in the South Pacific (as of November 12, 1942)
Order of Battle—The Cruiser Night Action
Order of Battle—The Battleship Night Action
Order of Battle—Battle of Tassafaronga
PROLOGUE
Eighty-two Ships
ON FRIDAY, AUGUST 7, 1942, EIGHTY-TWO U.S. NAVY SHIPS MANNED by forty thousand sailors, shepherding a force of sixteen thousand U.S. Marines, reached their destination in a remote southern ocean and spent the next hundred days immersed in a curriculum of cruel and timeless lessons. No fighting navy had ever been so speedily and explosively educated. In the conflict that rolled through the end of that trembling year, they and the thousands more who followed them learned that technology was important, but that guts and guile mattered more. That swiftness was more deadly than strength, and that well-packaged surprise usually beat them both. That if it looked like the enemy was coming, the enemy probably was coming and you ought to tell somebody, maybe even everybody. That the experience of battle forever divides those who talk of nothing else but its prospect from those who talk of everything else but its memory.
Sailors in the war zone learned the arcane lore of bad luck and its many manifestations, from the sight of rats leaving a ship in port (a sign that she will be sunk) to the act of whistling while at sea (inviting violent winds) to the follies of opening fire first on a Sunday or beginning a voyage on a Friday (the consequences of which were certain but nonspecific, and thus all the more frightful).
They learned to tell the red-orange blossoms of shells hitting targets from the faster flashes of muzzles firing the other way. That hard steel burns. That any ship can look shipshape, but if you really want to take her measure, check her turret alignments. That torpedoes, and sometimes radios, keep their own fickle counsel about when they will work. That a war to secure liberty could be waged passionately by men who had none themselves, and that in death all sailors have an unmistakable dignity.
; Some of these were the lessons of any war, truisms relearned for the hundredth time by the latest generation to face its trials. Victory always tended to fly with the first effective salvo. Others were novel, the product of untested technologies and tactics, unique to the circumstances of America’s first offensive in the Pacific: that you could win a campaign on the backs of stevedores expert in the lethal craft of combat-loading cargo ships; that the little image of an enemy ship on a radar scope will flinch visibly when heavily struck; that rapid partial salvo fire from a director-controlled main battery reduces the salvo interval period but complicates the correction of ranges and spots.
In the far South Pacific, you were lucky if your sighting report ever reached its recipient. Even then, the plainest statement of fact might be subject to two or more interpretations of meaning. You learned that warships smashed and left dead in the night could resurrect themselves by the rise of morning, that circumstances could conspire to make your enemy seem much shrewder than he ever really could be, and that as bad as things might seem in the midst of combat, they might well be far worse for him. That you could learn from your opponent’s success if your pride permitted it, and that the best course of action often ran straight into the barriers of your worst biases and fears. That some of the worst thrashings you took could look like victories tomorrow. That good was never good enough, and if you wanted Neptune to laugh, all you had to do was show him your operations plan.
This book tells the story of how the U.S. Navy learned these and many other lessons during its first major campaign of the twentieth century: the struggle for the southern Solomon Islands in 1942. The American fleet landed its marines on Guadalcanal and Tulagi in early August. The Japanese were beaten by mid-November and evacuated in February. What happened in between was a story of how America gambles on the grand scale, wings it, and wins. Top commanders on both sides were slain in battle or perished afterward amid the shame of inquiries and interrogations. A more lasting pain beset the living. Reputations were shattered, grudges nursed. The Marine Corps would compose a rousing institutional anthem from the notion, partly true, that the Navy had abandoned them in the fight’s critical early going. But the full story of the campaign turns the tale in another direction, seldom appreciated. Soon enough, the fleet threw itself fully into the breach, and by the end of it all, almost three sailors had died in battle at sea for every infantryman who fell ashore. The Corps’ debt to the Navy was never greater.
The American landings on Guadalcanal developed into the most sustained and vicious fight of the Pacific war. Seven major naval actions were the result, five of them principally ship-versus-ship battles fought at night, the other two decided by aircraft by day. The nickname the Americans coined for the waters that hosted most of the carnage, “Ironbottom Sound,” suited the startling scale of destruction: The U.S. Navy lost twenty-four major warships; the Japanese lost twenty-four. Aircraft losses, too, were nearly equal: America lost 436, Japan 440. The human toll was horrific. Ashore, U.S. Marine and Army killed in action were 1,592 (out of 60,000 landed). The number of Americans killed at sea topped five thousand. Japanese deaths set the bloody pace for the rest of the war, with 20,800 soldiers lost on the island and probably 4,000 sailors at sea. Through the end of 1942, the news reports of Guadalcanal spun a narrative whose twists required no fictionalizing for high drama, though they did need some careful parsing and management, or so the Navy thought at the time. Franklin Roosevelt competed with “Tokyo Rose” to shape the tale on the public airwaves.
In their trial against the Imperial Japanese Navy (IJN) in the waters off Guadalcanal, the Navy mastered a new kind of fight. Expeditionary war was a new kind of enterprise, and its scale at Guadalcanal was surpassed only by its combatants’ thoroughgoing deficits in matériel, preparation, and understanding of their enemy. It was the most critical major military operation America would ever run on such a threadbare shoestring. As its principal players would admit afterward, the puzzle of victory was solved on the fly and on the cheap, in terms of resources if not lives. The campaign featured tight interdependence among warriors of the air, land, and sea. For the infantry to seize and hold the island, ships had to control the sea. For a fleet to control the sea, the pilots had to fly from the island’s airfield. For the pilots to fly from the airfield, the infantry had to hold the island. That tripod stood only by the strength of all three legs. In the end, though, it was principally a navy’s battle to win. And despite the ostensible lesson of the Battle of Midway, which had supposedly crowned the aircraft carrier as queen of the seas, the combat sailors of America’s surface fleet had a more than incidental voice in who would prevail. For most of the campaign, Guadalcanal was a contest of equals, perhaps the only major battle in the Pacific where the United States and Japan fought from positions of parity. Its outcome was often in doubt.
This book develops the story of the travails and difficult triumphs of the U.S. Navy during its first offensive of World War II, as it navigated a steeply canted learning curve. It emphasizes the human textures of the campaign and looks anew at the decisions and relationships of the commanders who guided it.
The novelist James Michener wrote long ago, “They will live a long time, these men of the South Pacific. They had an American quality. They, like their victories, will be remembered as long as our generation lives. After that, like the men of the Confederacy, they will become strangers. Longer and longer shadows will obscure them, until their Guadalcanal sounds distant on the ear like Shiloh and Valley Forge.” The founders of the U.S. Navy, having faced their own moments of decision, from John Paul Jones off Flamborough Head to Stephen Decatur against the Barbary Pirates, would have felt kinship with the men of the South Pacific Forces. There as everywhere, men in uniform fought like impulsive humans almost always have: stubbornly, viciously, brilliantly, wastefully, earnestly, stupidly, gallantly. At Guadalcanal, so distant on the ear, a naval legacy continued, and by their example in that bitter campaign the long shadows of their American quality reach right on up to the present.
The U.S. Navy at Guadalcanal
Operation Watchtower (as of October 18, 1942)
ADM ERNEST J. KING
Commander in Chief, U.S. Fleet (COMINCH)
Washington, DC
ADM CHESTER W. NIMITZ
Commander in Chief, Pacific Fleet (CINCPAC)
Pearl Harbor, Hawaii
VADM WILLIAM F. HALSEY, JR.
Commander, South Pacific Forces (COMSOPAC)
Nouméa, New Caledonia (USS Argonne)
VADM FRANK JACK FLETCHER
Commander, Expeditionary Force
Task Force 61 (USS Saratoga)
RADM LEIGH
NOYES
Commander
Air Support Forces
Task Group 61.1
(USS Wasp)
RADM RICHMOND
KELLY TURNER
Commander
Amphibious Force
Task Force 62
(USS McCawley)
RADM JOHN
S. MCCAIN
Commander
Aircraft (land-based)
Task Force 63
(Efate, New Hebrides)
VADM FLETCHER
TF 11 (USS Saratoga)
RADM NOYES
TF 18 (USS Wasp)
MGEN ALEXANDER
A. VANDEGRIFT
Commander,
1st Marine Division
RADM THOMAS
KINKAID
TF 16 (USS Enterprise)
RADM VICTOR A. C. CRUTCHLEY, ROYAL NAVY
Commander, Cruiser Covering Force
Task Force 44 (HMAS Australia)
(Photo Credit: P.1)
“It is better to be bombed into the next world than to live in this one as a slave to anybody or any foreign system. It is that attitude which, we believe, will eventually win this war.”
—Collier’s, “A United People,” January 17, 1942
1
Trip Wire
&
nbsp; TWO YEARS BEFORE THE WAR BEGAN, AN OLD SPANISH PRIEST IN A Filipino village said to an American journalist, “The Pacific: Of itself it may not be eternity. Yet certainly you can find in it the scale, the pattern of the coming days of man. The Mediterranean was the sea of destiny of the Ancient World; the Atlantic, of what you call the Old World. I have thought much about this, and I believe the Pacific holds the destiny of your New World. Men now living will see the shape of the future rising from its waters.”
The vessel of that ocean held more than half the water on earth, its expanse larger than all the landmasses of the world. Its beauty was elemental, its time of a meter and its distances of a magnitude that Americans could only begin to apprehend from the California, Oregon, and Washington coasts. It was essential and different and compelling and important, whether one measured it by grid coordinates, assessed it by geopolitics and national interests, or sought its prospects above the clouds. And when war came, it was plain to see that the shape of the future, whatever it was to be, was emerging from that trackless basin of brine.
Whose future it would be remained unsettled in the first summer of the war. The forces of distant nations, roaming over it, had clashed briefly but had not yet collided in a way that would test their wills and turn history. That collision was soon to take place, and it would happen, first and seriously and in earnest, on an island called Guadalcanal.
It was a single radio transmission, a clandestine report originating from that island’s interior wilderness, that set the powerful wheels turning. The news that reached U.S. Navy headquarters in Washington on July 6, 1942, was routine on its face: The enemy had arrived, was building an airstrip. This was not staggering news at a time when Japanese conquest had been proceeding smoothly along almost every axis of movement in the Asian theater. Nonetheless, this broadcast, sent from a modest teleradio transmitter in a South Pacific jungle to Townsville, Australia, found an attentive audience in the American capital.