Fires were raging fiercely from hangars and buildings when the last bomb struck. Men on the ground rushed to combat the flames and attend to the wounded, but this was the moment on which the Japanese counted to deliver the second blow of the attack—and which the pilots of the 3rd Pursuit Squadron had prevented at Iba. As the stunned defenders at Clark set about to halt the flames, a new sound was heard. The men had barely looked up when a swarm of Zero fighters streaked through the billowing smoke, the noses and wings of the Japanese planes sparkling bright red from their firing guns and cannon.
A devastating strafing attack—usually carried out by fighters in minutes—had begun. And the Japanese were to keep up their firing passes, coming down again and again against the airfield, for more than an hour!
The men of the 20th had fought desperately to get their fighters into the air, but this struggle was lost even as it began. Five Tomahawks were flung crazily from the runway by exploding Japanese bombs as the American pilots defied almost certain death to engage the enemy in battle. The strafing Zeros accounted for the destruction of another five Tomahawks. Despite the bombs and the Japanese fighters that followed immediately afterward, Lieutenant Joseph H. Moore, Squadron Commander, managed to lead three fighters into the smoking skies.
Lieutenant Randall B. Keator became the first American to destroy an enemy aircraft in the air battle for the Philippines. Immediately after his kill, Lieutenant Moore displayed great courage and spectacular flying skill by rushing into the mass of Zero fighters, shooting two of the Mitsubishis into flaming wreckage.
Other air battles were in the meantime being fought. The P-35 fighters from Del Carmen managed finally to become airborne. They reached a height sufficient to give them an advantage over the Japanese pilots by diving against the Zeros. At that moment the American pilots were given their first exhibition of the superb performance of their enemy; with “ridiculous ease” the Zeros flashed around in tight turns and scattered the Severskys. To the surprise of the Japanese, the slow P-35 fighters recovered and snarled back into the fight. But where the American pilots had the courage to fight, their planes lacked the performance to make that courage pay off. The Zeros shot the P-35s to ribbons; miraculously none of the American planes was shot down, although several were described on their landings as “flying wrecks.”
Seversky P-35—“museum piece fighter” of American air defense of Philippines.
Of the attack against Clark Field, correspondent Vem Haugland (who spent more time in the Pacific than any other newsman and who came to know the Japanese on face-to-face combat terms) wrote:
“For ninety minutes the Japanese bombed and strafed almost at will, taking their choice of targets and attacking as vigorously and recklessly as they had at Pearl Harbor. At one blow they wiped out most of the hangars and installations and airplanes at this most important American air base in the Far East. Some planes also attacked Nichols Field, Fort Stotsenburg and other scattered points.
“At least fifty-five men were killed, and 110 wounded. Of the twenty-two B-17s and ten P-40s on the field, only seven B-17s escaped complete destruction, and only two or three of the seven could be repaired. In one day, the Japanese had succeeded in wiping out half the heavy-bomber force and one-third of the pursuit strength of the Far East Air Force.”1
The Attackers
The Japanese had much more than their own preparations working for them—Fate also played a hand in favor of the attackers. The effectiveness of the Japanese bombing and strafing attacks against the Americans could hardly be denied—our combat ability had virtually been wrecked in terms of effective numbers. But the exact timing of the Japanese strikes could not have been better had the Americans cooperated in their own destruction. What did happen was that the weather, unknown to the Americans, had dealt them a fatal blow.
The Japanese had planned a concerted strike against American and British installations throughout the Pacific, with the opening blow carried out against Pearl Harbor. Immediately upon confirmation of that attack, the Philippines were to be hit with everything the Japanese could throw at the defenders. This inevitable timetable was immediately obvious to the Far East Air Force, which, upon receiving word of the bombings in the Hawaiian Islands, had not only placed its forces on alert, but also dispatched fighters into the air to intercept the Japanese long before they reached their targets.
Had the Japanese been able to keep to their carefully planned schedule, they would have run directly into the hornets’ nest of American fighter planes which they expected to encounter in the air. And this is where the Fates stepped in. . ..
As the Japanese reported the events of the day:
“Early in the morning of December 8, 1941, thick fog rolled in from the sea completely to shroud our air bases on Formosa. On the very first day of the war, when a coordinated effort was of the utmost importance, our planes could not leave their fields. We cursed and fumed, for even as we paced helplessly in the swirling gloom the Nagumo task force planes turned Pearl Harbor into a shambles. If the enemy in the Philippines had the opportunity to counterattack quickly, he could disrupt completely our carefully laid plans. Finally the initial reports of the Pearl Harbor raid reached us through Tokyo; still the fog did not lift.
“After long hours of chaining us to the ground, the fog dispersed before the morning sun. We wasted no time and, as quickly as their engines could be warmed, the fighters and bombers thundered from the field and headed southward. As the gods of war would have it, the crippling fog proved to be a tremendous asset in our attack against the American air bases. Our planes reached Luzon Island at 1:30 p.m., Tokyo time, several hours later than we had originally scheduled. By this quirk of circumstances, we caught the American fighters completely off guard. Receiving the reports of the Pearl Harbor attacks, the fighters took to the air in anticipation of a forthcoming raid. After waiting in vain for several hours for our planes, which were then sitting helplessly on the ground [author’s italics], the enemy planes, their fuel exhausted, returned to their fields. Almost immediately afterward our fighters and bombers swept in to attack.”2
The commander of the 23rd Air Flotilla, which was attached to the 11th Air Fleet of the Japanese Navy at Takao, Formosa, provides a second viewpoint in a statement quoted by the United States Strategic Bombing Survey:
“We greatly feared an American raid, and when heavy fog kept us on the ground we became very nervous about it.
“Our fears increased at eight a.m. when we intercepted American radio transmissions indicating that B-17s were heading toward Formosa.
“At 10:10 a.m. a Japanese pilot erroneously reported the approach of B-17s. We expected the worst, and put on gas masks in preparation for an immediate attack.
“Immediately thereafter, the fog having lifted somewhat, all planes took off for the Philippines. We were amazed to find the American planes lined up on Clark Field”
Through the night on Formosa, Japanese pilots and crews stood by their fighters and bombers; orderlies brought hot breakfasts to the men on the runways. The Japanese airmen were told that they would begin their takeoffs at four a.m. so that they would be in a position to strike at “the propitious moment.” Then at three a.m. the unexpected happened with the fog that rolled over the airfields, which within an hour “reduced visibility to only five yards.”
By seven o’clock the Japanese were experiencing a mixture of emotions—fear at being caught on the ground by American bombers, and frustration at being unable to take off to strike their distant targets. Saburo Sakai, one of the Zero fighter pilots on Formosa that morning, describes the moment when loudspeakers crackled the news of the carrier-force assault against Pearl Harbor:
“A wild, surging roar went up in the darkness. Pilots danced and slapped their friends on the back, but the shouts were not entirely those of exultation. Many of the fliers were releasing their pent-up anger at being chained to the ground while our other planes were smashing at the enemy.
“The attack cre
ated a factor which we must consider. The Americans were now warned of our attack plan, and it was incredible that they would not be waiting for us in strength in the Philippines. The tension increased as the morning approached. The fog had crippled our plans; worse yet, it would allow the Americans to send their bombers from Luzon and catch our planes on the ground the moment the fog lifted. We manned our defense installations. Machine gunners slipped live rounds into their weapons, and every man on the field strained for the sound of enemy bombers.
“Miraculously, the attack never came! At nine in the morning the fog began to lift and the welcome sound of the loudspeakers told us that we would take off in only one hour. Every pilot and bomber crewman on the field climbed into his plane without awaiting further orders.
“Exactly at ten the signal lights flickered through the last wisps of fog. One after the other the bombers rolled down the long runway. One, two, three, then six planes were in the air, climbing steadily. The seventh plane was racing down the runway, 1,200 feet from its starting point, when suddenly the right landing gear collapsed. With a great screeching roar the plane spun along the ground on its belly, flames enveloping the entire fuselage. In the harsh glare of the fire we saw the crew struggle through their hatches and jump onto the ground, then run furiously away from their plane. The next instant a tremendous blast rocked the field as the bomb load blew up. None of the crew survived the explosion.
“Repair crews were on the runway in seconds, and the men proceeded frantically to drag away the twisted pieces of metal. Dozens of men raced against time to fill the smoking crater; in less than fifteen minutes the signal was given for the next bomber to resume its takeoff. By 10:45 all planes were airborne, fifty-three bombers and forty-five Zero fighters.
“The fighters broke up into two groups, one staying with the bombers as escorts, while the other flew ahead to tackle the interceptors, which, we felt certain, after the long delay in our attack, would be awaiting us in great strength.”3
Mystery
As the continuity of events indicates clearly, the United States lost a precious advantage, in failing to blunt, and perhaps even wreck, the carefully planned strike of the Japanese against the Philippines from their Formosa bases.
We were fully aware of the location of those bases; for approximately two weeks prior to December 7, PBY Catalina flying boats of the United States Navy had flown reconnaissance missions over the island of Formosa, playing a cat-and-mouse game with Japanese fighters through clouds. None of the lumbering flying boats had been downed; the Japanese were convinced that the Americans had gained complete details of the locations of their bases. The existence of the Flying Fortress bombers at Luzon was considered an extremely dangerous threat to the success of the Japanese plans; the unexpected fog that chained the Mitsubishi fighters and bombers to their fields was considered, as well, to be potentially disastrous.
Why, then, were the long-range B-17s, with their heavy bomb loads and excellent accuracy, not dispatched to attack these fields? The heavy concentrations of Japanese bombers and fighters on the ground, filled with ammunition, bombs, and fuel, provided a prime situation for a devastating holocaust that could have broken the back of the Japanese airpower elements assigned to the Philippines campaign.
The bombing strike that could have altered the entire face of the war in the Pacific by preventing the “little Pearl Harbor” of Clark Field and other Philippines installations was never made—but the reasons why that attack failed to materialize apparently will forever be the subject of bitter controversy among the men who were present at the scene.
General L. H. Brereton in his diary stated explicitly that the need for such an aerial attack was glaringly obvious and, accordingly, he had requested of Lieutenant General Richard K. Sutherland (chief of staff for General Douglas MacArthur) permission to launch the bombing strike. Sutherland, wrote Brereton, delayed so long that the vital moment of bombing the enemy on his home bases vanished with the passing minutes, and finally went up in smoke and flames when Japanese bombs rained down upon Clark Field.
Some time after Brereton’s charges, General MacArthur clouded the issue with a statement (made in Tokyo) that attacked Brereton and denied that such a bombing attack strike ever had been requested. General MacArthur stated:
“In order that there may be no mistake as to all facts in the case, I wish to state that General Brereton never recommended an attack on Formosa to me and I know nothing of such a recommendation having been made . . . ; that he never has spoken of the matter to me either before or after the Clark Field attack; that an attack on Formosa with its heavy air concentrations by his small bomber force without fighter support which, because of the great distance involved, was impossible, would have had no chance of success; that in the short interval of time' involved it is doubtful that an attack could have been set up and mounted before the enemy’s arrival.
“That the enemy’s bombers from Formosa had fighter protection available in their attack on Clark Field from their air carriers, an entirely different condition than our ' own; that I had given orders several days before to withdraw the heavy bombers to Mindanao, out of range of enemy land-based air; that half the bombers, eighteen, had already been so withdrawn when war broke; that General Brereton was fully alerted on the morning of December 8 and his fighters took to the air to protect Clark Field, but failed to intercept the enemy; that tactical handling of his own air force, including all measures for its protection against air attack of his planes on the ground, was entirely in his own hands; that the over-all strategic mission was to defend the Philippines, not to initiate an outside attack.
“Our air forces in the Philippines . . . were hardly more than a token force . . . They were hopelessly outnumbered and never had a chance of winning . . . They did everything possible within their limited resources. I attach no blame to General Brereton or other members of the command for the incidents of battle. Nothing could have saved the day for them.”4
The conflict between the statements of General Brereton and MacArthur (in which Sutherland remains conspicuously silent) may be solved by no man. But there are some remarkable phrases in the special statement issued by General MacArthur which reflect not only a conflict with conclusions drawn by other military officials but also a complete disregard of the facts! General MacArthur, in short, alludes to facts and circumstances which simply did not stand up. ‘
General MacArthur refers to a fighter-escort mission between the Philippines and Formosa, “because of the great distance involved,” as “impossible.” American air commanders in the Philippines also drew this conclusion and simply did not expect any fighter attack against Luzon. General MacArthur, however, employs lack of knowledge of Japanese fighter performance to draw firm conclusions which are entirely at fault, i.e., that the Japanese obtained their fighter escort cover from their aircraft carriers—when, in fact, not a single aircraft carrier was employed throughout the entire Philippines campaign in 1941-42!
Commander Masatake Okumiya* discussing the effectiveness of the Zero fighter as a combat weapon, sheds light on MacArthur’s conclusions:
“After the beginning of the war, we learned that, although the Zero fighter had appeared in battle in China more than a year prior to December of 1941, the Allies professed astonishment at the sight of our new fighter and were caught completely unaware by the Zero’s performance. Months after the Philippines campaign, the Allies still did not realize the true flight capabilities of the Zero. When Zeros raided Port Darwin, Australia, early in 1942, the enemy accepted without question the fact that the Zeros must have flown from our carriers, when in reality they flew from our newly captured land bases on Timor Island. . ..
“We can judge the effectiveness of our Zero fighters by observing that in all our operations in the first months of the war, the Zero fighters of our land- and carrier-based air forces destroyed 65 percent of all the enemy planes lost. This accomplishment contributed directly to the success of our operations in many
respects other than the destruction of the enemy aircraft; without control of the air, our bombers and torpedo planes could not possibly have eliminated enemy resistance so thoroughly.
“. . . at Pearl Harbor, as well as in the Philippines and Dutch East Indies, we could not possibly have achieved our sea, land, and air victories with a fighter plane of lesser performance than the Zero. Our entire strategy depended upon the success of this aircraft.”5
General MacArthur further refers to the Far East Air Forces as being “hopelessly outnumbered.” Once again this statement is in conflict with the facts. Defending Philippines positions were 54 P-40E Kittyhawk fighters (officially considered to be superior to the Zero fighter), 18 P-40B Tomahawks (used so effectively by Clair Chennault with the Flying Tigers), and from 12 to 18 obsolescent Seversky P-35 fighters. This gave the defenders a total of from 80 to 90 fighter planes (not counting the virtually useless 12 Boeing P-26s of the Philippines Air Force), plus 33 B-17 bombers and an odd assortment of 21 other planes unfit for combat.
The Japanese had available for operations over the long distance to the Philippines from Formosa a total of 144 twin-engine bombers and 108 Zero fighters. On the opening strikes they employed all these bombers and 84 Zero fighters—hardly numbers that rendered the Far East Air Forces “hopelessly outnumbered.”
Had the Tomahawks and Kittyhawks been in a position to strike they could not only have completely disrupted the attack of the bombers, but might well have decimated their ranks.
There is one final point that requires mention. General MacArthur makes it clear that the defense of the Philippines was to be carried out without “otitside attack,” i.e., a strike against the Formosa bases of the Japanese. Air Force tacticians could only fume helplessly at such reasoning—two dozen or more Flying Fortresses, catching the Japanese on the ground as the fog cleared from the Formosa fields, could have altered the course of the Pacific War.
The Ragged, Rugged Warriors Page 14