Weller's War

by George Weller

  Struggling for their lives in the oil-burned waters after their destroyer Kortenaer was torpedoed, the 116 men clung to their rafts as the Allied battle fleet steamed past through the moonlit night. Their cries were answered by return cries from the cruisers De Ruyter, Perth and Java, but only some unknown, friendly hand aboard the Houston had the quick wit to throw them the illuminated life preserver. Hours later the Holmes light, in a battle which virtually wiped out the Netherlands East Indies fleet, guided a British destroyer to their rescue, although not before their radio operator suffocated on heavy fuel oil clogging his nose and throat.

  Thirty-seven of the Kortenaer's crew perished when a Jap torpedo, fired probably from a submarine, hit her near the engine room, destroying the munitions magazines. The Kortenaer split amidship, sinking perpendicularly, “like stakes driven into the sea,” within two minutes.

  The Allied and Jap fleets were ill met by the moonlight. Knowing that the battle odds made clean-cut victory impossible, Vice-Admiral Helfrich of the N.E.I. fleet based his strategy on dark nights and bad weather, striking when enemy visual communications were upset. But the Japs invaded when the day was unclouded blue and the sea smooth, followed by a star-hung night with the moon barely past full. Under revealing conditions, the inequality of forces was heightened by the Jap force having two seaplanes to each cruiser. The Allied cruisers had none.

  Several weeks of attacks by Zeros on American and Dutch Catalina flying boats patrolling the coast caused an underestimate of enemy forces.

  Invasion convoys were seen gathering in Macassar Strait two days before. As a defensive force, the Allies, under the immediate command of Admiral Karel W. F. M. Doorman, had to accept battle under whatever conditions the Japanese imposed.

  The Allied fleet (including the destroyers Electra, Jupiter, Witte de With, Encounter and a number of American destroyers) was deployed around the cruisers De Ruyter, Exeter, Houston, Perth and Java. The fleet had left Soerabaya on Thursday night [February 26] for an eastern sweep along the north coast of Madura island, thence westward beyond Rembang, seeking to intercept the convoy.

  The crews were tired to the point of exhaustion, having spent the night of Feb. 25 at battle stations on a similar sweep. About 10 a.m. on the 27th, about ten miles off the headland west from Rembang, the Allied fleet was attacked by three bombers probably destined originally for the Java coast. No bombs hit, but a Jap seaplane immediately appeared astern and thereafter trailed Admiral Doorman's fleet, keeping barely beyond gunshot. After 37 hours of continuous battle stations, the Allied “exhaustion point far exceeded” (as Doorman wirelessed Helfrich), he proposed breaking off the sweep and returning to Soerabaya.

  The fleet turned east again, planning to make base about sundown. But Friday afternoon, when the fleet was midway between Soerabaya and the island of Bawean, the signal came that a Catalina had observed a squadron of “two cruisers, four destroyers and many transporters” (apparently the forty seen in Macassar Strait). This squadron was but fifty miles away, almost directly north.

  Helfrich's order came from his Bandoeng mountain headquarters to “attack immediately.” The ships swung north. Doorman arranged his formation with the British destroyers, Electra and Jupiter, heavier armed than the Americans, leading a column of cruisers with a mile of open water between. Next came Doorman's 6500-ton flagship, the De Ruyter, followed at five-hundred-yard intervals by the 8400-ton Exeter, the 9050-ton Houston, the 7000-ton Perth and the 6670-ton Java.

  The plan was to engage the Japs to starboard. The Houston's commander requested a place midway in the cruiser line, because only the two forward turrets' eight-inch guns were serviceable, the single stern turret being put out of action by Jap bombers four weeks before. Two Dutch destroyers, the Kortenaer and the Witte de With, steamed parallel to the line, two miles to port, with orders to escort any cruiser disabled through enemy fire. The British destroyer Encounter was to port of the column's end, a mile away. American destroyers reserved for torpedo attacks brought up the rear, their lighter armament more suitable as an anti-submarine screen. The entire column was making 25 knots when it entered battle.

  When action was joined, the Jap force—reported as far smaller—proved to consist of at least eight cruisers—at least two in the 10,000-ton Nati class, with probably most of the others the 8500-ton Mogami class, plus at least thirteen destroyers. Thirty-odd transports fled north. Firing began at 25,000 yards, and a Mogami-class cruiser, hit by the Houston or Exeter, began laying a smoke screen.

  But after five minutes of finding themselves at a disadvantage through the enemy's heavier fire power, the Allies moved closer—to 20,000 yards [eleven-plus miles].

  Now the battle was at its hottest, and the Jap destroyers moved in. Columns of water arose around the Allied vessels which, counting fifteen greenish white spires after single Jap broadsides, knew the cruisers were in range of fifteen six-inch guns carried by the Mogami class. The Perth scored a hit on a Jap destroyer and the De Ruyter demolished another warship, believed to be a cruiser.

  After a black puff of smoke silhouetted a sinking Jap, the De Ruyter's big guns slowly swung around and began firing hungrily against the next destroyer. The enemy's attack was frustrated barely in time, because four spent Jap torpedoes blew up harmlessly in the water.

  Even though Jap firepower exceeded Allied by two to one, and Jap spotter planes were undisputed overhead, the battle went favorably for Doorman's force until a Jap shell hit the British Exeter's engine room. Its speed faltered and the cruiser fell away. As the following Houston pounded down upon him, the Exeter's commander made a full 90 degrees portside turn, breaking out of line to not impede the other vessel's movements. However, the Houston, the Perth, and the Java, seeing the new maneuver, likewise turned to port. The De Ruyter followed and so did three British, two Dutch and several American destroyers.

  The battle had been opened at 4:14 p.m. The Exeter was hit at about 5:10. The Dutch destroyer Kortenaer, ordered to escort whichever cruiser was first damaged, changed course to accompany the stricken Exeter. The Allied fleet, which had been proceeding Indian file, was teaming abreast and away from the enemy. But even as its helm swung over, the Kortenaer received a torpedo on the starboard side. The nearest Jap warship was 25,000 yards away, an impossible range for a torpedo; therefore Jap submarines must have stolen in during the surface engagement.

  The Kortenaer went down in halves in about two minutes. The destroyer's surgeon, defying the laws of suction, stood upon the stern as it sank, yet managed to dive clear from the whirlpool and join 115 survivors in water sticky with oil.

  The sun was nearly down and the first stars emerging as the blackened sailors saw the Allied and Jap fleets disappear over the horizon. But half an hour later, while counting heads aboard the waves, the survivors saw a flotilla of destroyers speeding straight toward them. Suddenly a sailor on the nearest raft saw they had only a single funnel and yelled: “Japs!” He dived under the sticky, black waves and others followed. The Jap column went foaming by half a mile away. It was 5:45, and the shadow of the coming night protected the swimming sailors.

  But a surprise struck the Japs, too, for as the line passed, the destroyer immediately following the leader suddenly blew up before the swimmers' eyes.

  “There was just a big cloud of smoke, very dense and black and nothing more,” Lieutenant Benjamin Reiche told this correspondent. “All hands must have been lost because, though we were very near, we never saw or heard any survivors. And the following seven destroyers neither stopped nor made any attempt at rescue that we could see. They simply went speeding past the wreckage.”

  Since the Allied ships were already far away, it is probable that the Jap hit a spent torpedo, as had possibly the Kortenaer itself.

  The Japs launched an attack upon the Electra, which reported sighting three enemy destroyers at approximately 5:45 and said it scored hits upon the leader. But the Electra was hit again in the engine room. It stopped and listed to port. A single Jap
destroyer closed in for the kill, silencing the wounded ship's guns with raking salvos, eventually using pompoms at short range. The Electra sank shortly after sunset and 54 survivors remained in the water until 3:15 a.m. Saturday [February 28], when they were picked up by an American submarine which reached Soerabaya Sunday morning after undergoing seventeen depth-charge attacks by Jap destroyers.

  After the Electra's sinking, the Kortenaer survivors saw the same flotilla of Japs returning from the engagement at 6:15 p.m. Two more were missing, reducing the original nine to six.

  The crippled Exeter had now turned back to Soerabaya, with the Kortenaer (its intended escort) already sunk. Her task was taken over by the Witte de With. Except for the 1690-ton Jupiter and the 1375-ton Encounter, Doorman's four cruisers were virtually without protection—the lesser-armed, 1200-ton Americans were inadequate. Should such exposed cruisers, with weary crews, attempt to pierce the heavy Jap fleet in mercilessly bright moonlight without destroyers?

  Somewhere beyond was the Jap transport convoy, still intact. The original plan had been to imitate the technique American destroyers used with such success against overwhelming Jap forces at Balikpapan, when they ran directly through the middle of the clustered transports and fired torpedoes from both port and starboard like firecrackers, creating complete disorder and havoc.

  Admiral Doorman, furthermore, knew his cruisers virtually stood alone and the likelihood of reinforcements was remote. He gave to his little fleet the signal, which he repeated twice more before the two Dutch cruisers De Ruyter and Java went to their doom: “I am attacking, follow me.”

  Doorman was the most offensive-minded of the entire N.E.I. fleet. But at about 9:30 the biggest remaining destroyer, the Jupiter, received a torpedo and began to sink. It must have been close to shore between Soerabaya and Rembang because the few survivors upon the Carley float managed to paddle ashore, attaining the beach shortly before midnight Saturday after 26 hours in the water.

  The British Encounter was now the only first-line destroyer left to Doorman but the Dutch admiral was soon to lose even her, though not through enemy action. The plan was to make a final attempt to penetrate the Japs. Then all ships were to scatter and proceed separately to Tanjong Priok, the port of Batavia in western Java. There they would attempt to rest briefly before attacking the other two big armadas and transports approaching both central and western Java.

  But the Encounter's bunkers were down to less than 100 tons of fuel oil due to the protracted sweep before the battle, and it asked Admiral Doorman for orders to return to Soerabaya because Tanjong Priok was too far. Though this deprived the cruisers of their last protection, it saved the Kortenaer's men.

  The night was continuously illuminated by star shells. The four Allied cruisers, turning their course at new orders to attack, crossed directly through the Kortenaer's wreckage. The floating men shouted for help. Warships were hardly fifty yards away and the waves created in their wake washed men from the float into the water. Then someone aboard the Houston threw out a life belt with the Holmes light attached. At about 11:15 the Encounter, bound for Soerabaya, saw the floating light and drew cautiously near. Finding that it was not a Jap ruse, the commander picked up all remaining men till every raft was cleared despite the submarine peril.

  Shortly before midnight, the Java and Doorman's flagship the De Ruyter ran into a barrage of torpedoes, probably from destroyers, and sank, apparently with few if any survivors. Doorman's orders for the return to Tanjong Priok then came into effect, and the Houston and Perth steamed there as well as the American destroyers.

  The Japs were, meantime, busy bottling up the Lombok and Bali Straits—the eastern exit from the Java Sea box—and the Sunda Strait, the western doorway.

  American destroyers and submarines escaped through each, but when the American Pope and the British Encounter tried to take the crippled Exeter east, past the northern coast of the island of Madura, all were lost. Survivors, if any, must have landed on the wild western coast of Java which will be the last part of the island to be cleaned up by the Japanese forces. It is possible some may have been able to join Dutch guerrillas reportedly operating in the mountains.

  Admiral Doorman went down with his ships.

  The Exeter sank one destroyer, the Witte de With another. The hospital ship Op ten Noort left Soerabaya about 9 p.m. Friday to search for survivors and managed to find 137 of the De Ruyter's and Java's crews, originally about 500.

  Dutch officers are—and this is no propaganda—more eager than ever to get new destroyers from America to fight the Japanese and avenge their lost comrades. They pray America can give them a cruiser, even an old one. Their fleet is gone, their families are prisoners, their homes the domiciles of Japs. Few have anything more than a pair of shorts, a shirt and a water-soaked picture of wife and children.

  All they want is a chance to fight. It seems little enough to ask.

  The tragedy in the Java Sea may be classified like other Allied defeats in the “always too little, always too late” category. As long as Britain and America continue to be mastered by the invasion tailored for them, their enemies will widen the field of domination, and exploit the resources of the conquered areas.

  For America, the southwest Pacific is characterized by the complete lack of a political pattern which would give its forces something real, in territorial terms, to battle for instead of selfless sacrifice against heavy odds. Few of its fighting men can be satisfied with an unrealistic political plan to restore those lost areas to the flabby status which caused America to be confronted with this dilemma.

  AVIATORS ABOARD HOUSTON SAVED SHIP

  WHEN TURRET WAS AFLAME

  Heroes Are Missing and Still Unavenged

  Perth, Australia—April 14, 1942

  A 22-year-old aviation machinist's mate, with a handful of other flying personnel headed by two pilot officers, saved the U.S. cruiser Houston from blowing up when, with her stern eight-inch turrets aflame and repair crews already killed, a Japanese bombing squadron rained explosives around her. Almost all the men concerned are now listed as missing because the Houston was later lost after the Java Sea battle, somewhere in Sunda Straits, attempting to go to the rescue of the disabled Dutch destroyer Evertsen.

  But a corner of the veil of naval secrecy has now been lifted, making it possible to tell in part the story of the February 4 attack upon two U.S. warships sixty miles north of Madura island, near Bawean off the north coast of Java.

  The Houston's companion warship, although suffering damage, escaped and the Houston herself missed becoming the victim of Japanese air superiority only through the heroism of the flying personnel in mastering the turret fire.

  Fighting fire inside and with the armored hood of the turret strewn with bodies and piled with shells so hot the grease on them sizzled, the aviators managed, by twenty minutes of hard work, to stifle the fire sufficiently so that the shells failed to explode. Since the report commending them perished with the Houston, what they did has only now become known and confirmed by eyewitnesses' statements.

  The man who saved the Houston was John William Ranger of Gillespie, Illinois. He was the husky son of an immigrant Polish miner and had hardened his fists in many a labor scrap. Two years in junior college was his education and he altered his original difficult Polish name before enlisting. Ranger was working under the command of Lieutenant Jack Lamade of Williamsport, Pennsylvania, a 1932 Annapolis graduate, when the alarm “enemy aircraft in vicinity” sounded.

  First aloft was Lieutenant Thomas Paine, who stepped into a catapult monoplane, goggled and helmeted. Paine, an Annapolis man with a wife and child in Corondado, California, was one of the fleet's aviators. He was known among his friends as the man who, while driving a motorcar at top speed, climbed suddenly into the back seat with the passengers, leaving the front seat empty, and who once dialed his mother's phone number on the Houston's switchboard, while 200 miles at sea, and complained about getting no service.

  Once
Paine had shot away, Lamade, second-in-command, jumped into the cockpit of the second plane and his prop began to spin. Before he could clear, 46 twin-engined Jap bombers, humming through the blue sky, released their first load.

  Lamade sat stiffened in his plane as the gathering squeal of falling death came down upon the Houston. Columns of green water jumped skyward and flickering fragments flew clanging all over the decks. They were big armor-piercing bombs intended first to penetrate and then explode. The nearest fell five feet from the Houston's speeding grey flank.

  Most of this bomb's power, intended to blow out the ship's vitals, was expended in water. But fragments flying up stripped all the fabric from Lamade's plane, leaving him with a tattered skeleton. Tearing off his flying togs, Lamade ordered the two remaining planes below decks housed in deck hangars. While the men worked, led by Lieutenant Walter Win slow of New York City, the Jap bombers wheeled leisurely and began a second run.

  The Houston sent up puff after puff of anti-aircraft fire, pocking the sky with cottony meatballs. But because the anti-aircraft directors were hit, the Houston's fire was by guess and by God, and little calculated to discourage the Jap wings. The Japs were flying in an open U about 600 feet across, dropping sticks, when the leader came over the target. By this method they consistently achieved close, neat brackets over the zigzagging warships.

  Three more runs were made. During the third, hits were scored on the Houston's companion warship. The ack-ack was getting hotter. A Jap bomber was hit and zoomed down in a succession of sideslips, trying to fall upon the deck of the other warship, but missed and splashed into the sea. The first two runs were made with medium-heavy bombs but on the fourth and fifth the Jap planes released bombs of the heaviest possible caliber, 840 pounders. For the fifth time the Houston was relatively unscathed.