Target: Rabaul: The Allied Siege of Japan's Most Infamous Stronghold, March 1943 - August 1945

by Bruce Gamble

  Army planners in Washington received the audacious plan favorably. But MacArthur was dangerously overconfident. His experience in the Philippines notwithstanding, he had not yet discovered the tenacity with which the Japanese would defend a piece of ground—a lesson soon to be learned on Guadalcanal. Nor did he fully comprehend the horrors of prolonged jungle warfare, which would be revealed at Buna and Bougainville and plenty of other nightmarish campaigns. Moreover, those battlegrounds were lightly fortified in comparison to the defenses at Rabaul.

  AS THE MILITARY hub of what the Japanese called the Southeastern Area, Rabaul was already well on its way to becoming a megafortress. The town was nestled inside an enormous volcanic caldera. Long ago the sea had breached an opening along the eastern rim of the caldera, forming a deep, protected anchorage that ranked among the finest in the Pacific—about three times larger than Pearl Harbor. The flooded caldera, named Simpson Harbor by the Royal Navy sea captain who “discovered” it, was surrounded by a ring of large volcanoes. Most were long extinct, though one remained semiactive throughout 1942.

  In addition to its natural defenses, Rabaul boasted a garrison of nearly a hundred thousand army and navy personnel. Their land-based weapons alone would have boggled MacArthur’s mind. Almost four hundred heavy antiaircraft guns and dozens of 25mm automatic cannons and heavy machine guns surrounded the caldera. Coastal defense batteries, designed to shell invading fleets, covered the approaches to Rabaul with thirty-eight big guns, all but one having a bore of 120mm or larger. These were protected by at least fifty concrete pillboxes housing heavy machine guns, surrounded by hundreds of other fixed positions near the beaches to defend against amphibious landings. In addition, the Japanese had greatly improved Rabaul’s two airdromes and would soon construct three more. Lastly the warships in Simpson Harbor added hundreds of antiaircraft weapons to the arsenal, making Rabaul the most heavily defended bastion outside the home islands.

  As MacArthur’s bold proposal clearly indicated, Rabaul had become the key objective of Allied strategy in the Pacific. The problem confronting planners in early 1942 was how to knock it out. One complication was the lack of a unified command. The Joint Chiefs had decided in March to divide the theater into two regions. Admiral Nimitz, already in charge of the Pacific Fleet, was the logical choice to command the Pacific Ocean Area (POA). General MacArthur, having escaped to Australia from the Philippines, was named Supreme Commander of the Southwest Pacific Area. But the dividing lines could not prevent the Joint Chiefs from arm-wrestling over who should defend the remote islands that linked the United States and Australia. The long, tenuous lines of communication and supply had to stay open if Australia were to remain in the fight; however, instead of forming a unified command, the Joint Chiefs decided to further divide the POA into North, Central, and South Pacific subordinate commands. The first two remained directly under Nimitz, while the new South Pacific Command, which encompassed the strategically important Solomon Islands along with several other key groups, was entrusted to Rear Adm. Robert L. Ghormley.

  The creation of subordinate commands caused a dispute over a line on a map. In late June 1942, a few weeks after Midway, Admiral King urged the seizure of Tulagi in the southern Solomons. Boasting a fine anchorage and seaplane facilities, Tulagi had been captured by the Japanese during the opening round of MO Operation the previous month. It lay at the farthest reach of MacArthur’s area of command (longitude 159 degrees east, which marked the boundary line between SOPAC and SOWESPAC), but King wanted Admiral Nimitz, the hero of Midway, to command the operation.

  General Marshall advocated a different plan, with MacArthur in command. Due largely to deep-rooted service rivalries, the disagreement escalated as King and Marshall traded strongly worded missives. The dispute soon enveloped MacArthur, who learned that King not only wanted Nimitz to command the operation, but intended to use some of SOWESPAC’s assets. Pitching a tantrum by telegram, MacArthur declared that he would withhold all support unless Marshall ordered him to assist.

  The flare-up between King and Marshall subsided within a couple of days. On June 30, they met to seek a compromise. King recommended Ghormley to run the Tulagi invasion, with Nimitz in overall command, after which MacArthur would assume responsibility for the campaign against Rabaul. The boundary line between SOWESPAC and SOPAC was moved one degree (sixty miles) west, which placed Tulagi inside SOPAC—and an agreement was finally reached on July 2. Without consulting the other JCS representatives, King and Marshall issued a document with a slightly misleading title: JOINT DIRECTIVE FOR OFFENSIVE OPERATIONS IN THE SOUTHWEST PACIFIC AREA.

  Less than two pages long, the directive outlined the steps necessary to accomplish the main goal: the “seizure and occupation of the New Britain–New Ireland–New Guinea area.” To the uninitiated, the objective may have seemed overly broad. There were hundreds of islands in the region, many of them sparsely inhabited. But no Allied planner worth his salt required specific instructions. Only one significant threat existed in the whole area, and that was Rabaul.

  Without committing to a timeframe, King and Marshall devised a basic plan:

  TASK ONE. Seizure and occupation of [the] Santa Cruz Islands, Tulagi, and adjacent positions.

  TASK TWO. Seizure and occupation of the remainder of the Solomon Islands, of Lae, Salamaua, and [the] Northeast Coast of New Guinea.

  TASK THREE. Seizure and occupation of Rabaul and adjacent positions in the New Guinea–New Ireland Area.

  Commanders for the separate phases were not named, but King and Marshall promised MacArthur that he would be in charge of the second and third tasks, beginning at an unspecified time after the southern Solomons were secured.

  The first task, tentatively scheduled for August 1, was delayed when new intelligence revealed that the Japanese were building an airstrip on Guadalcanal, just south of Tulagi. The information was accurate (construction began in mid-July), and a Flying Fortress of the 435th Reconnaissance Squadron brought back photographic evidence. The Joint Chiefs removed the seizure of the Santa Cruz Islands from Task One, and substituted Guadalcanal. Assigning a code name to the invasion, Operation Watchtower, they postponed the landings for one week to allow for revised planning.

  Few people anticipated the vehement reaction from the Japanese that followed the 1st Marine Division’s assault on Guadalcanal, which commenced on August 7, 1942. It took six months of brutal fighting—in the jungles, the surrounding waters, and the skies overhead—before the island was secured.

  Six months of hell. And that was just the first task.

  IN LATE JANUARY 1943, President Roosevelt and Prime Minister Churchill met with their Combined Chiefs of Staff for a conference in Casablanca, Morocco. The key goal of the conference, code-named Symbol, was to plan the Germany-first policy established at the beginning of the war. But King and Marshall, having set aside their earlier differences, brought an additional agenda to the gathering.

  Before the conference, King had analyzed the total resources being employed in the war effort by the Allies. His conclusion surprised the Casablanca attendees: approximately 85 percent of the resources were going to Europe, leaving the vast Pacific area with the meager balance. King, with Marshall’s backing, lobbied for an increase to 30 percent for the Pacific. With the battles for Guadalcanal and Buna winding down, the two service chiefs were adamant about maintaining the initiative. Otherwise, as King claimed, the Japanese might regroup and launch yet another offensive. This, he added, could force the United States into “withdrawing from commitments in the European theater.”

  King’s rhetoric caused concern among the British, who agreed to let the United States run the war in the Pacific—as long as obligations in Europe and Africa were also met.

  When the final report on the conference was issued in late January 1943, it included an agreement to capture Rabaul by the end of the year, and the promise of “adequate forces” for continuing offensive measures in the Pacific.

  By this time, the Jap
anese had been fortifying Rabaul for a year. An assault on the stronghold seemed even more daunting, especially after the bloodletting at Guadalcanal and Buna. But there was no practical alternative. MacArthur could not honor his pledge to return to the Philippines until the path northward was unblocked. “Rabaul was the focal point for the protection and reinforcement by the enemy of the whole area which he had seized and occupied,” he would later write. “Allied victories in Papua and Guadalcanal had temporarily contained him, but did not threaten his main centers of power. My primary goal in 1943 was to cut off the major Japanese naval staging area, the menacing airfields, and the bulging supply bases at Rabaul.”

  This called for a massive campaign, which in turn demanded extensive planning. To that end, MacArthur and his GHQ staff spent the second half of 1942 working on what became known as the Elkton Plan.*

  From the beginning, MacArthur envisioned a two-axis approach. On a map, the Solomon Islands resemble steppingstones leading from Guadalcanal toward Rabaul. Likewise, the Japanese strongholds in New Guinea—Lae, Salamaua, and Finschhafen, together with the Admiralty Islands in the Bismarck Sea—converged on Rabaul from the southwest. The premise of MacArthur’s strategy was therefore both logical and simple: he proposed a classic pincer movement. While his SOWESPAC forces advanced northward in New Guinea, SOPAC units commanded by Vice Admiral Halsey (who had replaced Ghormley in October) would advance island-by-island up the Solomons.

  Halsey endorsed the plan and sent his deputy commander, Rear Adm. Theodore S. Wilkinson, to Brisbane in early February 1943 to work out the details with MacArthur’s staff. The result blended the second and third tasks of the Joint Chiefs’ directive with several new objectives. The ultimate goal remained the same, but the revised plan, called Elkton II, consisted of five steps:

  1. Seizure of airdromes on the Huon Peninsula of New Guinea to provide air support for operations against New Britain

  2. Seizure of Munda Point as well as other airdromes on New Georgia to cover operations against New Ireland in the Bismarck Archipelago and the remainder of the Solomons

  3. Seizure of airdromes on New Britain and Bougainville to support operations against Rabaul and Kavieng in New Ireland

  4. Capture of Kavieng and the isolation of Rabaul

  5. Capture of Rabaul

  By this stage of the war, MacArthur had become such a strong advocate of air power that Elkton II was based largely on acquiring airdromes. Every location identified in the first three phases of the plan had at least one airfield; and some islands, particularly Bougainville and New Britain, housed several. By capturing the islands or strongholds in sequence, the airfields would not only be denied to the Japanese, but could be used by Allied aircraft to support the next step in the plan. Ultimately, when all the strategic steppingstones were in Allied hands, Rabaul would be encircled.

  There was little time to waste. The Joint Chiefs, optimistic that Rabaul could be captured by the end of 1943, were anxious to review MacArthur’s strategy. Shortly before the Casablanca conference, they instructed him to present his plans per their initial directive. MacArthur, reluctant to leave his command for a lengthy affair, asked to send his chief of staff to Washington along with “several other officers” to make the presentation. This was approved, but the Joint Chiefs wisely recommended equivalent representation from SOPAC delegates.

  On March 12, the conference’s second day, Sutherland presented Elkton II to the Joint Chiefs. Their initial reaction was favorable, but when Sutherland began listing the assets required to commence the two-pronged offensive, the high command was stunned. MacArthur wanted twenty-two divisions, forty-five air groups, and whatever warships could be provided. In addition, he needed a huge number of merchant and transport ships to move his forces. Citing the need to conduct “some rapid calculations,” the Joint Chiefs abruptly adjourned the meeting.

  The Elkton discussion reconvened the next day. Comparing what MacArthur had requested versus the troops, planes, and other war material already earmarked for his command, the Joint Chiefs faced a challenging decision. Their options were limited: give the general what he wanted, convince him to reduce his requirements, or substitute a “less ambitious program” for the balance of the year.

  The SOWESPAC and SOPAC delegates set aside their rivalries and formed a strong allegiance, insisting “all of the forces requested would have to be made available before the campaign could begin.” But the Joint Chiefs simply could not meet the request without robbing from the bomber offensive planned for Europe—and those assets were untouchable. Debates dragged on for more than a week. The JCS ultimately decided to forego the original directive and attempt only those offensives that could be achieved in 1943. The Pacific delegates were told to pare Elkton II down to a list of operations that could be accomplished with existing assets and the allotments that had already been promised. As a hedge against potential bickering—as Nimitz, MacArthur, and Halsey were not physically present—the Joint Chiefs agreed to accept any recommendations made by their subordinates as nonbinding.

  Sutherland, speaking for MacArthur, came to an agreement with Halsey’s and Nimitz’s delegates. Their report to the Joint Chiefs stated that SOWESPAC and SOPAC forces “would be able to advance as far as the southeast part of Bougainville, seize eastern New Guinea up to Madang, extend to Woodlark and Kiriwina in the Trobriand Islands, and advance to Cape Gloucester in western New Britain.”

  This statement brought the Pacific Military Conference to an anticlimactic conclusion. On March 28, the Joint Chiefs issued a new directive, canceling the original document that had called for the capture of Rabaul.

  Three tasks were given, but without estimated timelines or even a proposed schedule:

  1. The establishment of airfields on Kiriwina and Woodlark islands.

  2. The seizure of Lae, Salamaua, Finschhafen, Madang, and western New Britain (Cape Gloucester).

  3. The seizure of the Solomon Islands to include the southern portion of Bougainville.

  The objectives were essentially the same as those listed in Task Two of the original directive. For all the heated debates during the conference, the JCS and Pacific delegates had circled back to a document written eight months earlier. Furthermore, they settled on attempting only one of the two remaining phases. During the remainder of 1943, the capture of Rabaul was out of consideration.

  When the conference officially concluded on March 28, new orders were radioed to MacArthur to establish airbases on Woodlark and Kiriwina, seize the Japanese outposts on the northern coast of New Guinea, and then undertake the occupation of western New Britain. Halsey received orders to advance up the Solomon Islands as far as the southern portion of Bougainville.

  Kenney couldn’t wait to leave Washington. He had spent three weeks with Sutherland, whose condescending manner had not won any friends. Even though it annoyed him, Kenney tolerated Sutherland’s shortcomings to the point that he frequently came to the latter’s defense. “I’m glad it’s over,” he wrote in his diary. “I’ve had a continuous problem on my hands explaining to everyone that Sutherland is OK, and that his arrogance is only apparent—not real. Sometimes I get away with it, but too many people just don’t like him.”

  Kenney had better things to do than defend Sutherland. The real conflict, he knew, was ten thousand miles away, and it had nothing to do with ambitions or egos. Eager to leave the trappings of Washington behind, Kenney wanted only to get back to the war.

  *The name was allegedly inspired by Elkton, Maryland, known before the war as a city where elopers could arrange a fast wedding.

  CHAPTER 3

  New Guinea Graveyard

  BOLSTERED BY SUCCESS in Washington, Kenney enjoyed the return trip to Australia. During an overnight stop in San Francisco, he and the other delegates checked into the Hotel Saint Francis, a landmark he knew well from his tour as commanding general of the Fourth Air Force. The manager treated Kenney and his companions to a private dinner, but Kenney was disappointed to learn
that the hotel’s renowned chef was no longer in the kitchen. The manager explained that Georges Raymond had been drafted and sent to Hawaii, where the army knew nothing of his talents. Kenney made a note to contact Lt. Gen. Delos C. Emmons, the commanding general of the Hawaiian Department, to arrange Raymond’s transfer to the Southwest Pacific. The trick would be to make the request appear random. “There is a cook for me,” Kenney wrote in his diary, “if I can gyp Emmons out of him.”

  Returning to Brisbane on April 6, Kenney debriefed MacArthur on the successful conference. “I told him that we would still be pinched for a few months,” Kenney recalled, “but that by August or September the flow would really start, and then we could go places. I never saw him look so cheerful.”

  But Kenney himself was still troubled. A rash of recent accidents reminded him of Howard Ramey’s death. In fact, several of the most influential men in the Fifth Air Force had been killed during the first few months of 1943, and the trend showed no signs of stopping.

  The loss of Ken Walker over Rabaul on January 5 had not only been controversial, but it cast a long shadow over V Bomber Command. Walker had disobeyed two of Kenney’s orders that day. A dedicated proponent of strategic daylight bombing, Walker believed that his convictions outweighed the risk of punishment and altered the schedule to put the bombers over Rabaul at noon rather than early in the morning, as specified by Kenney. He did this in the hope of validating his expertise, but only twelve bombers took part in the main attack. The Japanese intercepted vigorously with a mix of army and navy fighters, taking full advantage of the bombers’ lack of forward armament. Repeated frontal attacks mortally damaged Walker’s B-17, San Antonio Rose, last seen heading down, trailing smoke, hounded by fifteen enemy fighters.