“You are probably right,” Halsey told Kosco, “but I can’t take a chance. If possible, I would like to be south of the typhoon.”
On the afternoon of June 3, with weather improving on their southerly course, Halsey decided to redirect the fleet to the east in order to resume fueling and replenishment operations. Continuing to head south took him farther away from enemy targets, and he was not comfortable going westward, where he would be “in shallow waters with no room to maneuver and in range of Japanese aircraft from China.” Although “not sure at that time where the typhoon was located,” Halsey steamed his ships easterly through the night, “assuming that the storm” was on a “northerly course” heading “safely” away from them. In fact, Halsey’s fleet was heading directly into its path.
The typhoon, with a maximum diameter of “less than 100 miles,” was smaller but faster and even “surpassed in intensity” the December typhoon off Luzon. It struck Okinawa and the surrounding waters on the afternoon of June 4, when it was “much too late” for ships to maneuver to avoid its fury.
This time the worst damage was to Halsey’s larger ships, with four aircraft carriers sustaining collapsed flight decks. Two battleships and three cruisers received major damage, including Pittsburgh (CA-72), which lost a major portion of her bow “with almost surgical neatness.” In all, 33 ships were damaged and 146 planes destroyed. A total of six men were killed or lost overboard, and four men were seriously injured. By a combination of good luck and seamanship, as well as captains who took on ballast as needed, the destroyers and destroyer escorts “fared well as a class.”
Another court of inquiry was held, again headed by Admiral John Hoover, who privately thought Halsey “deserved a general court-martial.” Officially finding that Halsey “in the face of increasing heavy weather and storm conditions continued to maneuver large forces as a Fleet on set courses and speeds” in violation of the “spirit and letter” of Nimitz’ fleet directive, the court recommended “serious consideration” be given to assigning Halsey and his task group commander, John McCain, to “other duty.” Also, the court strongly recommended that a “more experienced and expertly qualified office of mature judgment be assigned as aerology officer on the staff of Third Fleet.”
Nimitz, however, “disapproved” the court’s recommendations regarding Halsey and McCain. Adding notes to the record, Nimitz said that Halsey had demonstrated his “skill and determination time and again in combat with the enemy,” and credited McCain with rendering “services of great value in prosecuting the war against our enemies.”
When the court of inquiry’s official record reached Washington D.C., King agreed with the court that Halsey had been “inept in acting upon the weather warnings” and should have avoided the second typhoon. But with the war nearly over and Halsey a national hero, King had “no stomach for publicly reprimanding Halsey,” which, with victory in the Pacific on the horizon, could have “ruined the Navy’s finest hour.” When Navy Secretary Forrestal, less charitable, was “on the point of retiring Halsey,” he was argued out of his intention by King and Nimitz due to Halsey’s status as a “national hero whose removal would impair American morale and boost that of the enemy.”
On August 29, 1945, Halsey—ever wary of a last surprise attack by an enemy he so hated—took the Third Fleet into Tokyo Bay for the signing of the instrument of Japan’s surrender, which took place two days later on the deck of his flagship.
Eight months after the typhoon of December 1944, and 1,364 days after December 7, 1941, the war ended.
Dramatis Personae
Andrea, Jean and Judy. Wife and daughter of James P. Andrea, commanding officer, Spence. In January 1945, Jean heard on the radio that three unnamed destroyers were missing in a Pacific typhoon and hoped against hope that it was not her husband’s ship. She received a telegram a short time later. Before Spence departed San Francisco for the last time, Jean had visited the ship with two-year-old Judy, who today says, “I’m told I was the apple of my father’s eye.” With the assistance and lifelong friendship of Arleigh Burke, Spence’s former squadron commander who later became chief of naval operations, and his wife, Bobbie, Jean had a successful career working in naval intelligence at the Pentagon. She did not remarry for nineteen years. “She always said Dad was such a romantic that it was difficult for another man to measure up.” Mother and daughter attended a Spence reunion in 1984, and were seated at the head table with Arleigh and Bobbie Burke. “According to Mom,” says Judy (Andrea) Mahood-Cochran, “Admiral Burke quietly blamed Halsey for the loss of the three destroyers.” Jean (Bailey), a widow for the second time, died in 2005 at age eighty-eight.
Bryson, Reid A. U.S. Army Air Corps meteorologist, Saipan. Shortly after the “Halsey disaster” in the December 1944 typhoon, Bryson discussed with his boss, Colonel William Stone, later a general and commandant of the Air Force Academy, whether he should contact authorities investigating the matter and turn over his chart of the typhoon’s estimated track—which proved accurate—and reveal his ignored warning sent to the naval weather service. “The colonel told me to drop it because we couldn’t prove when I had made my chart.” Bryson would never forget how the Third Fleet, with the eight hours warning his message might have provided, “could have turned onto another course and avoided the typhoon.” Those witnesses at the court of inquiry who described the typhoon that hit the Third Fleet as “sudden and undetectable were flat out wrong,” Bryson says. “I think Halsey—the reason his nickname was ‘Bull’ was because he was bull-headed—killed more than 700 American sailors.” Bryson, eighty-seven, senior scientist at the Center for Climatic Research and emeritus professor at the University of Wisconsin, is the author of five science books and more than 230 academic articles. He resides in Madison, Wisconsin.
Burke, Arleigh A. Commander, Destroyer Squadron 23. After leading “The Little Beavers”—the only destroyer squadron to win a Presidential Unit Citation—Burke transferred in 1944 to a fast carrier task force, where he served as chief of staff to Admiral Marc Mitscher for the rest of the war. Burke, who served an unprecedented six years (1955–61) as chief of naval operations, never forgot Spence and her crew—“a wonderful ship that fought mightily and always did more than her share.” The Navy named a class of modern guided-missile destroyers the Arleigh Burke-class. The four-star admiral died in 1996 at age ninety-four.
Consolvo, Charles W. Commanding officer, Hull. After teaching at Annapolis for the rest of the war, Consolvo spent two years in China teaching at the naval academy in Shanghai. When a wealthy uncle made him an offer to go into the hotel business, Consolvo resigned his regular Navy commission, although he stayed in the reserves. Soon after, his uncle died and Consolvo was out of work. He volunteered for active duty, and served as executive officer of a destroyer tender. Following promotion to captain, he was assigned to NATO in Naples. Not long after his return to a Pentagon assignment, he was “kicked out of the Navy” with nineteen years of service and no pension. He tried a number of businesses, all of which failed. “My father became an alcoholic,” says Charles Consolvo Jr. “I suspect he was depressed by two things: he felt guilty that had he stayed on Hull she would not have been lost and all those men killed—and a string of bad business decisions.” Largely cut off from family and friends, Consolvo, Hull’s most popular wartime commanding officer, took his own life in 1959, at age forty-nine.
DeRyckere, Archie G. Chief quartermaster, Hull. Making a career of the Navy, DeRyckere received a commission and retired after twenty-eight years with the rank of Lieutenant Commander. Employed by Rohr Aircraft Corporation, he worked on the F-14 fighter and later for the City of El Cajon as an engineer, retiring in 1983. Throughout the years, DeRyckere has thought a lot about what happened on Hull the morning of the sinking. Also weighing heavily on his mind: neither he nor anyone else spoke up at the court of inquiry. “We were just a bunch of ened men in front of the most prestigious court of inquiry the Navy had ever had. We felt overwhelmed by the oc
casion. We all had our opinions, but no one wanted to hear them. I have a lot of regrets that I didn’t stand up and tell the admirals what I knew. I would have pointed the finger directly at Marks. Hull had stability problems, sure, but with a little help she could have weathered that storm. With Marks at the conn, we didn’t stand a chance.” DeRyckere, eighty-seven, resides in San Diego, California, with his wife, Jacky.
Halsey, William F., Jr. Admiral, 3rd Fleet. Halsey received his delayed fifth star after the war ended. He retired in December 1946 following forty-two years of service. Halsey’s memoir, Admiral Halsey’s Story, was published in 1947. He wrote of the “tragic experience” of going through both typhoons, but not about either court of inquiry. As for the December 1944 storm, Halsey could “only imagine what it was like on a destroyer, one-twentieth the New Jersey’s size.” The typhoon “tossed our enormous ship as if she were a canoe.” He claimed that after a turn to the south on the morning of December 18, “most of our ships cleared the center [of the typhoon] but a few stragglers didn’t. Some of them managed to ride it out. The rest we never saw again.” Halsey spent much time in his latter years defending his actions at Leyte Gulf, confusion that he blamed on faulty communications in a split command structure between 3rd and 7th Fleets, under the overall command of Nimitz and MacArthur, respectively. He died in 1959 at age seventy-seven, and is buried at Arlington National Cemetery.
Kosco, George F. Senior aerologist, U.S. Third Fleet. Kosco remained on Halsey’s staff until the end of the war. Thereafter, he served in both the North and South Poles, where there are no typhoons. He retired in 1960 as a captain. During the war, Kosco took his wife, Bernadette, to the New York Waldorf-Astoria Hotel, where Halsey was hosting a “big wingding.” Bernadette found that the admiral “didn’t take himself seriously. He was a great, fun-loving guy, and very personable. George loved working for him.” Kosco’s book, Halsey’s Typhoons, was published in 1967. In it, Kosco does not discuss the courts of inquiry; however, he does name both typhoons—previously unnamed. The December 1944 typhoon Kosco belatedly tabbed Cobra, and the June 1945 typhoon, Viper. Kosco died in 1985 at age seventy-seven.
Krauchunas, Alphonso S. “Al.” Supply officer, Spence. As the senior surviving officer, Krauchunas was flown to Washington, D.C., for temporary duty—assigned to write letters of condolence to each parent, wife, or next of kin for his lost shipmates. “The greatest task,” he wrote a former shipmate in March 1945, was “seeing [the] many parents who came to Washington, D.C.,” hoping to get more information about their loved ones. “When a mother cries her heart out in front of you, it is unbearable. I have written over 500 letters and more come in [to answer] each day.” Krauchunas was still “finding it hard to believe how so many died as they did in their compartments, without any light and utter confusion and hysteria going on. All of this happened so suddenly that even the captain was not able to get off the bridge, or any other officers.” Returning to his native Grand Rapids, Michigan, he worked as director of parks and recreation, then spent many years in private industry as a personnel administrator. The former Chicago White Sox prospect continued his interest in sports, volunteering as a high school, college, and semipro referee for thirty years. He also loved golf, and shot a hole-in-one a month before suffering a stroke. He died in 1994 at age seventy-four.
Kreidler, Portia. Wife of sonarman John Kreidler, Hull. One of the thirteen wives who were pregnant when Hull departed Seattle for the Pacific in October 1944, Portia celebrated her 22nd birthday on December 17—the day before the typhoon. Happy with her pregnancy, she was certain that her husband—“the great love of my life”—would survive the war “right up until I saw the man with a telegram.” Instead, they had “only 77 days together as husband and wife.” She delivered on July 14, 1945, her first child, John David Kreidler, one of ten babies fathered by Hull men killed in the typhoon (including Greil Gerstley’s son and namesake, Greil Gerstley Marcus, born June 19, 1945). In 1987, mother and son attended a Hull reunion, where they were welcomed by typhoon survivors—including Ray Schultz and Pat Douhan—many of whom wore baseball caps wih the slogan HALSEY’S SWIM TEAM. Portia, eighty-five, lives in Alameda, California.
Marks, James A. Commanding officer, Hull. After temporary duty in Washington, D.C., writing letters of condolence to families of his lost crew, Marks was given command of the destroyer Clarence K. Bronson, just finishing an overhaul at Mare Island, California. Bronson arrived at Pearl Harbor in July and took part in the bombardment of Wake Island; after the war, Bronson took part in the occupation by patrolling Japanese waters. After other sea and shore assignments, Marks attended the Imperial Defense College in London in 1956. Thereafter he commanded a Florida-based amphibious squadron placed on alert during the Cuban Missile Crisis. After a thirty-four-year career, Marks retired a captain in 1968. His retirement was “not a good one,” according to his wife, Virginia, who said her husband found little to occupy him other than golf, which he eventually had to stop playing due to a bad back, first injured during the typhoon. “He should have taught or done something with himself, but he wasn’t interested. I wonder if he didn’t suffer a delayed depression from what happened in the typhoon. He talked so little about it, I just don’t know.” One day in 1986, Virginia came home; as she closed the kitchen door she heard a loud bang. In the living room, she found her husband dead of a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head. Marks, Hull’s most unpopular commanding officer, was seventy-one.
Plage, Henry L. Commanding officer, Tabberer. The hero of the rescue operation, Plage was among a limited field of reserve officers to receive regular Navy commissions after the war. While serving as commanding officer of the minelayer Terror (CM-5) in 1947, Plage dove off the bridge into the water to rescue a crew member who had fallen between the ship and pier. Plage pulled him to safety, and was awarded another medal. Suffering hearing loss, Plage was discharged in 1954. He became a pharmaceutical distributor. He died in 2003 at age eighty-eight.
Rust, Lloyd G. Jr. CIC officer, Hull. After the war, Rust returned home to Wharton, Texas, where he practiced law until elected to the state house of representatives. After spending eighteen years as a county attorney, he was elected to a judgeship in 1974, serving on the bench until retiring in 1983. Believing that “any other officer” aboard Hull on the morning of December 18, 1944 “could have saved the ship” had they had been at the conn, Rust felt that “one hundred percent of the reason we sank was because Marks was not a good ship handler.” Rust’s wife died after twelve years of marriage, leaving him with four daughters, ages six to ten, to raise. After initially struggling with “survivor’s guilt” for having made it when so many of his shipmates did not, Rust came to believe that he was “spared from dying in the typhoon so that he could live up to the obligation of being the only parent to the children he brought into the world.” He died in 2006 at age eighty-six.
Source Notes
Complete book publication details are supplied in the bibliography. World War II U.S. Navy records such as deck logs, action reports, and war diaries are available at the National Archives II, College Park, Maryland. Other naval documents, such as oral and command histories, and communications, are collected at the Naval Historical Center, Washington Navy Yard, Washington, D.C. Military personnel records are available at the National Personnel Records Center, St. Louis, Missouri. Information about destroyer (DD) and destroyer escort (DE) veterans is available from the National Association of Destroyer Veterans (www.destroyers.org).
Prologue
“a Nebraska farm kid”: Charles Wohlleb interview.
“Jesus…After fire room” and further quotations attributed to Franklin Horkey: Wohlleb interview.
Chapter One
“in readiness”: Log of Monaghan, Dec. 6, 1941.
“an old World…‘We have attacked’”: Roscoe, Destroyer Operations, p. 45.
“Proceed immediately…sound general quarters” and further quotations attributed to William P. Burford and the
ship’s lookout, Action Report, Monaghan, Dec. 30, 1941.
“wanting to get…Well, Curtiss…an over and…had to depth”: Prange, December 7, 1941, pp. 235–36.
“Okay, Captain”: Lord, Day of Infamy, p. 122.
n. “unexplained and almost”: Morison, The Rising Sun in the Pacific, p. 97.
“could scarcely”: New York Times, Dec. 7, 2006.
“smoldering lust”: Commercial Appeal (Memphis, Tenn.), Jan. 26, 1945.
“which will live in infamy”: Franklin D. Roosevelt speech, Dec. 8, 1941.
“inspected as to quality”: Log of Hull, Dec. 7, 1941.
“quite a few…only man aboard…goofy guy…The Japs are…wasn’t off…one solid blast…something was always”: Ray Schultz interview.
“on a scale”: Cant, America’s Navy in World War II, p. 41.
“still a couple of”: Morison, The Struggle for Guadalcanal, p. 286.
“take and no give”: Morison, The Rising Sun in the Pacific, p. 118.
“out of…directed toward”: DuCharme, Recollections of 7 December 1941, p. 7.
“squirting a garden hose”: Schultz interview. 13–
“no drill…the real McCoy…just a mess”: Tom Stealey interview.
“I can swim…all over the place”: Stealey interview.
“so smashing a victory”: Morison, The Rising Sun in the Pacific, p. 125.
1,465 U.S. servicemen: Ryan, The Longest Day, p. 303.
Down to the Sea Page 33