by Larry Berman
The Phelps did not return to Kiska until it was time to lead the invasion force. All the while, Bud studied the operation plan with extra care, intent on locating his dad at the first opportunity. Doc Elmo was in the third wave to go ashore in his combat field hospital. The Phelps was at general quarters, and Bud served as officer of the deck for general quarters, monitoring events on the beach as well as reports of casualties. Almost two weeks after the invasion was initiated, Bud was able to get ashore, “After trotting around through the tundra and mush, to find my dad, who was in the headquarters pup tent for his hospital, where he had been subsisting on K-rations for the period since the landing, and without shower and with a heavy growth of beard.” It was an emotional reunion. They had not seen each other since Bud’s honeymoon visit in Seattle, and both men were now in harm’s way. There was so much to talk about that Bud persuaded his dad to come back to the Phelps for a shower, shave, and hot meal. “He did,” recalled Bud, “and with a clean set of underwear and a shave, he came into the wardroom and sat down to a full meal of steak and vegetables and ice cream for dessert. When he got through, he turned to the skipper, Commander Edwards, and said, ‘Captain, I’d rather be an ensign in the Navy than a colonel in the Army any day.’ ”41
Doc Elmo saw extensive action during the war and was one of the first Allied doctors to enter the death camps, where he agonized over the fate of an orphaned Jewish boy about the age of five. Each day the emaciated child would appear at Elmo’s tent, never speaking, just looking at him with his piteous and pained eyes. Elmo offered him chocolate and bread each day. Then one day he found the boy dead, with the bread under his bed, where he’d been hoarding it as the means for survival. “Dad shed tears for his young protégé to whom he had become so attached.”42 In a letter to the local Tulare newspaper from Germany, Lieutenant Colonel E. R. Zumwalt described feeling “dazed” by what he had seen, but “it is the truth.”43 In a letter to Bud, Elmo observed, “we thot [sic] the Nazi better than the Jap. He seemed a cleaner fighter, but our experiences with the prisoners repatriated and certain atrocities recently viewed, has shaken the thot [sic] of ‘civilization’ to its very core. I stand amazed that men can have done these things to others. If the Russians wipe out their share of the Germans I can feel no regret for they as a group have been worked as slaves and died thru starvation by the thousands.”44
The Phelps had been ordered to leave the Aleutians and proceed to Pearl Harbor, where Bud received orders to join the new crew of the USS Robinson, which was in the final stages of construction. Bud welcomed the detachment, believing that destroyers were where the action was for a junior officer. The Robinson was superior in damage control, electronics, and gunnery to the older Phelps. The Robinson was placed in commission on January 31, 1944, under the command of E. B. Grantham.45 While the Robinson undertook its shakedown cruise in San Diego, Bud returned to Pearl Harbor for Fleet Gunnery and Torpedo School, the requisite skill set for a Combat Information Center officer and evaluator.46
Bud’s service on the Robinson encompassed the invasions of the Palau Islands, Guam, Saipan, Tinian, the invasion of Leyte Gulf, and the battle of Leyte Gulf, “the biggest and most multifaceted naval battle in all of history.”47
A personal diary kept in violation of orders by Robinson sonarman James Heinecke provides a window into the ship’s operations leading up to the Battle of Leyte Gulf.48 On June 15, the Robinson steamed between Tinian and Saipan islands, taking a position off Yellow Beach. Their first target was Saipan, with orders to shell the town and a sugar refinery.49 “We came in sight of Saipan; star shells being fired by bombarding cans, wagons and carriers. The island was the same except there’s no more town and blown up quite a bit more. Saipan was about ours—next comes Tinian. Two miles from here a fierce action, and we’re not even at general quarters. Crazy war!” wrote Heinecke.50
On July 7, 1944, the Japanese initiated a final banzai attack on Saipan, resulting in the death of 406 Americans and over 4,300 Japanese. The Robinson lent fire support and then dispatched motor whaleboats to rescue survivors from the north reef of Tanapag harbor.51 The Robinson was next sent to Guam to support operations there with shore bombardment and screening duties through August. In early September, she joined Task Group 32.5 for the invasion of the Palaus, providing close fire support to the underwater demolition teams and providing harassing and illuminating fire.
After a hurried overhaul at Manus Island, in the Admiralty Group, Robinson sortied on October 12, 1944, for the invasion of Leyte, Philippine Islands. Three days before the landings, the Robinson supported the minesweepers, until October 20, when the Robinson began shelling the eastern beach area of Leyte near the town of Rizal, where the assault troop landings were to take place. The weather was so rough that depth charges were thrown from their racks. On October 24, word came that the Japanese fleet was steaming up the Surigao Strait from the south, bound for Leyte Gulf.
The Battle of Surigao Strait began when the southern force was sighted before noon. Admiral Thomas Cassin Kinkaid correctly estimated that the Japanese would try to penetrate Leyte Gulf via Surigao Strait and had deployed Admiral Jesse Bartlett “Oley” Oldendorf with six battleships, four heavy and four light cruisers, and four destroyer divisions to where Surigao Strait enters Leyte Gulf. By late evening of October 24, 1944, a Japanese naval force under the command of Vice Admiral S. Nishimura sought to make its way through the Surigao Strait into the Leyte Gulf to attack elements of the U.S. Seventh Fleet. This force consisted of two battleships, two cruisers, and seven destroyers.52 The three-pronged attack plan began with a carrier group, coming down from Japan, hoping to lure the big carrier Task Force Thirty-eight away from the landing areas. This would be followed by two surface forces converging on the defenseless transports, one coming from the north through San Bernardino Strait and the second coming from the southern entrance to Leyte Gulf, Surigao Strait. “The Robinson was in the group assigned the job of wiping out the Southern Force.”53
The Robinson was part of the squadron organized into three attack sections, leading the second section attack down the east side of the strait. Bud was the evaluator in the Combat Information Center, the ship’s below-deck nerve center. Bud’s eyes were glued to the large, circular, tablelike radar screen brightly lit from the underside of its clear plastic top. “Ever-changing crayon marks offered a kaleidoscopic overview of their position in relation to other ships in the formation.” Bud’s job was to send a steady stream of vital information up to the ship’s bridge. Exact courses were plotted, and radar information was interpreted. “At that moment, sonar antisubmarine information punctuated the tense air with its rhythmic and penetrating ping, mixing with staccato instructions and questions from the bridge.”54
The U.S. battleships and their screens were arranged across the mouth of the Surigao Strait. By capping the course the enemy would take, the U.S. ships would be able to bring the full weight of their broadsides to bear on the enemy who, “forced into a column formation by the narrow channel, would only be able to fire a few forward guns. Destroyers and motor torpedo boats were lined up on either side, ready to make torpedo attacks.”55
Jason Hammer, a young radioman aboard the Robinson, described the evening as “black velvet”—total darkness, “except for the eerie phosphorescent glow of the ship’s wake. The only stars in the sky were man-made bursts of heavy-caliber gunfire. If there was a moon, it was obscured by a heavy pall of thick, black smoke.” The Robinson was ordered to proceed down the strait from the enemy’s right flank and engage the battleships. It was a challenging task, requiring getting within nine thousand yards for accuracy. General quarters was sounded, and the force formed a battle formation into three rows. The Robinson led the left flank. Radar served as the eyes of the ships on an evening when lookouts were helpless. Hammer was at his battle station, operating a radio when he noticed Lieutenant Zumwalt displaying a “seemingly unflappable aura which seemed to surround him even under the most nerve-jangling c
ircumstances.” It left an indelible impression. “Anyone dependent on another human being for leadership, and in desperate need of some degree of assurance under hazardous conditions, immediately will recognize the feeling. Here was a man from whom I repeatedly gained some measure of peace of mind. His quiet strength and obvious calm, whether during torpedo run, kamikaze attacks or retaliatory fire from hostile shore batteries, never failed to reassure me with his always observable control of any situation.”56
The Robinson’s objective was an enemy battleship. “It looked like suicide, but we still kept going closer to our objective.”57 At 2:30 a.m., the Japanese battleship came about—left full rudder, all-ahead flank. “The wagons and cruisers hung back to furnish surface fire to cover the destroyers, whose job was to steam right under the Japs’ noses to fire their deadly torpedoes, then fall back and retire.” The Robinson initiated its torpedo run, closing rapidly on the Japanese battleship while facing large- and small-caliber shells being exchanged by the opposing fleets.58
“God first made His presence known to me in the battle of Surigao Straits when the Japanese battleships had opened up on my destroyer with their main battery guns,” wrote Bud. “The first salvo was over. The second salvo was short. The third salvo would have hit but, at that point, our torpedoes hit them and our U.S. battleships opened up on them. The Japanese shifted their fire and we were not hit. Afterwards, we discovered that every man on our ship was praying at that moment. I have not always been constant in my prayers, but I have found that, in adversity, He is there and quite forgiving of my lapses.”59 The Robinson was one of only a few destroyers to ever make a torpedo attack on a battleship and survive. Miraculously, the Robinson was not hit. Bud felt he had cheated death. With their torpedoes deposited and their target in flames, obscured by a thick pall of smoke, the Robinson was ordered to retire. Bud noticed “a suspicious-looking blip on the radar screen” and immediately notified the bridge.60 “Radar contact. Unidentified object in the water dead ahead!” No reply came from the bridge. Bud saw the ship heading directly on a collision course with Little Hibuson Island. The skipper had come left in the retreat and was much too close to the beach. “Bridge! On collision course with Little Hibuson Island dead ahead! Acknowledge! Acknowledge!” blared Bud. The ship was going at a speed of 30 knots plus, approaching the island at the rate of one-half mile every minute. They were heading for disaster unless evasive action was taken immediately. “So we swung to the left, laying out a smoke screen. The enemy was within sight. While making this wide turn, land loomed up dead ahead,” recalled Hammer. Crew members feared they would not survive the impact. “A collision at this speed, with an accompanying boiler explosion, would demonstrate very spectacularly why these ships were called tin cans,” wrote Hammer.
Bud increased the volume in his voice and finally, with a great degree of unfamiliar urgency bordering on total disbelief and frustration, shouted: “Bridge! Back all engines emergency full immediately! You are going aground!”
Finally, a response: “Bridge aye.”
“Providence” finally had responded. The order reached the engine room. The skipper yelled out, “Port engines, emergency stop, left full rudder.” There was the expected loud whine from the engines as the ship began to shudder violently. “I grabbed onto the bulkhead,” recalled Hammer. “I would have sworn we were going aground. We could easily make out the features of the island in the dark. We were so close I could see the trees, rocks, and sand. I ran into the sound room to take a fathometer reading, zero.” People on the bridge reported that they could see mud being churned up.61
Coming so close to death forced Bud to grapple with fundamental questions. By his own admission, “I was still an embittered man that October morning in 1944 as the Japanese battleships were engaged in the Surigao Straits.”62 Embittered by the loss of a brother and mother and by a divorce, Bud wondered why “one life has been spared while another has not. . . . I did not attempt to rationalize why I was to be given more time to achieve my purposes in life, for such rationalization defies logic. I did come to accept the fact that we are only in this world for a limited period of time to achieve our individual goals and, therefore, must devote our fullest efforts to reaching them within that little time we have been given to do so. . . . In the days following the Battle of Surigao Strait, I came to focus upon the fundamental beliefs which had taken root during the first quarter of my life and upon which I have attempted to build during my subsequent years. Simply stated, those principles are threefold—compassion for one’s fellow man, service to one’s country, and peace through strength—all of which, I believe, are inter-related. It took the horrors of a world war to finally cause those principles to blossom into career-oriented goals.”63
Bud was awarded the Bronze Star for meritorious conduct in action during the torpedo attacks.64 The Robinson’s skipper, Elonzo Bowden Grantham, Jr., gave Bud full credit and actually recommended Bud for the Navy Cross, but Fleet Command downgraded it to Bronze Star. Instead, Grantham earned the Navy Cross for heroism.65
As the war was coming to an end, Bud began thinking about leaving the navy and attending law school at the University of California. In a letter to his father from the Robinson, Bud said he was “fed up” with the navy’s “thou must” attitude. He dreamed of being free from the limitations that regulations placed on individual freedom. He wondered if he could be happy never having roots in one community. He thought that life in a small town with old friends, a home and family, and nearness to people would be Shangri-La.
As usual, Bud sought his father’s advice and guidance. In a flurry of letters, Elmo tried dissuading Bud from studying law. “Hoping that the shock of cold water will not be too great,” Elmo wanted his son to consider that “you must take four or five years out of your life to be retrained and then BEGIN to establish a business that will build slowly! IF you can weather that TEN years wherein you are almost penniless, then your step is okeh [sic]! If not, then that step seems illogical to me! In contrast, you are on the threshold of becoming a top bracket officer! With the still large navy, there will come much more of shore duty and you should stand well enough with superiors to determine the type of service desired to an extent wherein you may be happy! You will rate good quarters. You will live with a loyal group! You are well liked. You can offer more now, than you can ten years from this moment. These are all thots [sic] to be considered and I would have you give mature consideration to them before you make any radical step.”66
In a follow-up letter, Elmo pointed out that “your navy career is definitely earmarked” and “I feel sure you are above the common herd and soon will graduate into what the Army calls ‘field grade rank.’ ”67 Elmo also noted that “in three very short years you have lived a lifetime as compared to many of your topside officers. You have seen more fighting and ability demonstrated and ingenuity used than most anyone will in a lifetime. YOU have been there and made good!” In closing, Elmo played his cards openly: “I want you to know that should you decide otherwise, I am still with you but I just cannot see a change. Your niche is MADE. KEEP IT!”68
Elmo had one more card to play, having learned from Doris that Bud was corresponding with his former girlfriend, Billie Nelson.69 Billie was looking for a way out of an unhappy marriage. Bud’s letters professed the mistake he had made marrying Jane rather than Billie. “I will guess, you both made an error! We know YOU did,” wrote Elmo, “and I presume hers followed from the disappointment! I still think her tops (as does Doris). She has a problem! If she loves you and you love her (I am presuming) she still has a legal hurdle to take! Until that is done YOU must be circumspect, otherwise three of you can be seriously hurt! Engarde, mes ami [sic]!!!! Until that is accomplished you haven’t even a right to THINK.”70 Elmo spoke bluntly: In the wake of “the last semester at Annapolis and your marital fiasco, I trust injecting Billie into the picture will not disturb you too much but I have felt inasmuch as you asked for advice and DIDN’T lay all the cards on the
table, I had a right to let you know that I knew of the extra pair you held up (in this poker game of life)! I have given this in all humbleness, for I like the girl immensely and if you do too, and if circumstances allows you to finally marry her (as I presume is a desire) I should be very happy. So don’t mistake this expose. All of this is said with the love the Old Man has for the Crown Prince whom he wants to see established—happy and a credit to posterity some of these days.”71 Two weeks later, Bud’s younger brother Jim wrote, “What are your post-war plans? I think if you don’t stay in, you are crazy. Or does your desire to return to Tulare for a certain reason outweigh all else?!?”72
On August 15, 1945, in the Far East and August 14 in the United States, Japan capitulated, ending World War II. While allied ships sailed into Tokyo Bay some forty-four months after Pearl Harbor, the Robinson, accompanied by twelve minesweepers, was sent to Shanghai. Arriving near the mouth of the Yangtze River, thirty miles from land and fifty miles from Shanghai, the minesweepers created a safe passage to Shanghai. Meanwhile, several Japanese vessels were trying to make their getaway to Tokyo. The Robinson intercepted the largest of the fleeing vessels, the twelve-hundred-ton gunboat Ataka.73 The New York Times and Washington Post reported that three times her normal complement were aboard, leading to suspicions that several war criminals were trying to escape. “Their personal belongings appeared far too rich for ordinary navy personnel. One even had a bottle of Johnnie Walker Black Label Scotch,” the Post reported.
Ataka personnel were placed under guard, and a thirteen-man prize crew from the Robinson was put aboard.74 Bud was made prize captain of the Ataka. His mission was to chart and sail up the Yangtze River to Shanghai, essentially to see if they could get through the minefields and deliver the crew to authorities there. It would be “one of the greatest experiences of my naval career,” said Bud.75