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

by Bruce Gamble

  My first thought was that this was just what we had seen in the movies. But it quickly registered on me that this was no movie—all this hell was for real.…

  Vunakanau simply hadn’t enough guns to effectively defend against almost sixty howling dive-bombers. The marine SBDs dropped their bombs with great accuracy, scoring direct hits or “effective hits” on several heavy guns, numerous automatic weapons, and machine-gun pits. But the bombers were not immune. Lieutenant Paul C. Wells never pulled out of his dive, an indication that he was unconscious or dead when his Dauntless plunged straight into the target. Four other SBDs were damaged, two with large holes in their tail sections. An Avenger of VMTB-143 was also shot down, crashing into a hill near Toma plantation, and five other TBFs were damaged by machine-gun fire.

  For the Japanese gun crews, the sight of dozens of dive-bombers roaring down, firing as they came, plus the knowledge that tons of explosives would soon be whistling down on them, was terrifying. And the attacks came daily. Eventually, something had to give.

  Recently promoted to captain, Saiji Matsuda of the Kempeitai investigated an incident involving an antiaircraft battery commander. During one attack, the lieutenant colonel “hit, beat upon, and kicked his subordinates” while screaming at them to cease fire. A few subordinate officers considered killing him, but instead notified the military police. After the investigation, the colonel was sentenced to execution by firing squad. He requested permission to “commit an honorable suicide,” which was granted. Instead of performing a traditional hara-kiri, a ritual self-disembowelment, he drank a beer, then blew his brains out with a pistol. “The laws of the battlefield are merciless,” wrote Matsuda. “That his family did not have to experience the ostracism that would otherwise have resulted was the only bright spot.”

  THE MOMENTUM THAT Ralph Mitchell had built was now unstoppable. Squadron upon squadron continued pounding Lakunai, Tobera, and Vunakanau airdromes on February 12 and 13. More than two hundred Allied planes participated each day, bombing and strafing with increasing impunity. Opposition on both days amounted to less than fifty interceptors, approximately half as many as Kusaka had sent aloft just a few weeks earlier. Coming to grips with the inevitable, Lt. Cmdr. Okumiya would later write, “We repeated ambush after ambush, day in and day out. However, the achievement was small and we became unable to attack the enemy’s bases. Obviously the result was our own damage increasing. It seemed that no matter how many enemy planes were shot down, they reinforced their units even more. I felt strongly that the continuation of a defensive battle would be difficult in this situation.”

  Still the Japanese refused to quit. Almost every night, Kusaka defiantly sent his few remaining rikko crews against Allied positions in the Solomons and coastal New Guinea. But the reversal of fortune was now complete. Two years earlier, almost to the month, the first American efforts to bomb Rabaul had consisted of a few unescorted B-17s, which accomplished nothing more than annoyance for the Japanese. Now the Japanese could muster only three or four Betty bombers, and their attacks were too insignificant to make an impact on the Allied juggernaut.

  The aerial assault by Mitchell’s forces, conversely, made such dramatic progress that his staff may have become overconfident. On the night of February 14, a mission was sent out to sow mines in Simpson Harbor. The navy had modified its Mark 12 cylindrical mine for dropping by parachute, and TBF Avengers were capable of carrying a single 1,600-pound weapon. Marine squadrons had conducted night mine-laying missions in the southern Bougainville area a year previously, but casualties were considered “too heavy to warrant the continuation” due to the fact that the Avengers were easily spotlighted by searchlights and knocked down by antiaircraft fire. Later that year the marines laid almost a hundred mines in the northern Solomons, but again the crews considered the cost to be “outrageously high.”

  No one had learned from previous experience. The ComAirSols staff decided it would be worthwhile to plan a “special mining mission” over Simpson Harbor, the most heavily defended anchorage in the entire theater. Orders were written, and Mitchell, a marine flier himself, undoubtedly knew of the event as the Avenger crews headed off. Starting at 0030 hours on February 14, twenty-five TBFs from VMTB-233 took off from Bougainville. One later turned back, but the rest proceeded to New Britain and set up their drop profiles. Descending to an altitude of less than six hundred feet, the TBFs cut across the upper half of Simpson Harbor from west to east, their speed reduced to less than 180 knots to enable proper parachute deployment.

  As the mines deployed, multiple searchlights coned the slow-moving Avengers. Intense antiaircraft fire followed, bringing down one Avenger in the first wave, two in the second wave, and three from the third. Two of the Avengers were reported as “flamers.” Three made controlled crashes in the harbor area, and all three pilots—lieutenants Hugh L. Cornelius, John L. Bartholf, and Robert W. Sherman—were taken prisoner along with some of their crewmen. Cornelius’s gunner died the following day. One Avenger crashed on the eastern side of Lakunai airdrome, while the fate of the other two Avengers is uncertain. They simply did not return. Each of the six downed aircraft carried a crew of three, for a total cost of eighteen casualties. The mines, due to the great depth of the harbor, caused no harm to the Japanese.

  Another event on February 14 had a major impact on Rabaul’s future. Japanese scouts continued their daily patrols and discovered an Allied convoy heading toward the Bismarcks. This was Halsey’s newest move to encircle Rabaul. In late January, in a compromise that would avoid a large and potentially costly invasion of Kavieng (which MacArthur’s SWPA forces would have undertaken), Halsey had ordered the 3rd New Zealand Division (minus one brigade) to take lightly defended Nissan in the Green Islands group. Located only forty-five miles north of Buka and seventy-five miles from New Ireland, Nissan featured enough flat terrain to support a couple of airstrips. It was also well within range of Torokina to permit ample fighter coverage.

  On February 14, Kusaka ordered “all attack, land-based attack, bomber, and night fighter planes” to destroy the Allied convoy. A gaggle of Vals targeted the light cruiser St. Louis, obtaining one hit and a few near misses that caused more than forty casualties, including twenty-three dead; however, the ships steamed on. Other attacks only diminished Kusaka’s air strength further: five Vals, one carrier attack plane, and a rikko fell to shipboard antiaircraft fire or fighters on combat air patrol.

  The New Zealanders went ashore on February 15, securing Nissan after four days of fierce resistance by a token defense force of about one hundred Japanese. Their last action, a suicidal banzai charge on February 19, was preceded by a radio message to Southeast Fleet Headquarters: “We are charging the enemy and beginning radio silence.”

  FOR THE JAPANESE high command, the Allied seizure of the Green Island atoll signaled the beginning of the final encirclement. Former New Guinea strongholds were now in Allied hands. General Imamura had reinforced Kavieng in late 1943, but a series of carrier strikes by Rear Admiral Sherman and attacks by Fifth Air Force and RAAF bombers from Finschhafen, Cape Gloucester, and other recently seized locations had rendered it impotent.

  At lower levels of command, Rabaul’s demise was equally clear. Chikaki Honda managed to get out of Rabaul before it was completely cut off. He arranged to escort a handful of high-profile POWs to Japan, the plan being to send them to Ofuna, a special interrogation camp run by the Imperial Navy. Instead of traveling by ship, which would take two or three weeks to reach the home islands (if it got there at all), Honda received permission to fly the prisoners out. On February 15, he boarded a Betty bomber to accompany six lucky prisoners to Japan, but soon after taking off, the rikko diverted to an emergency strip to avoid an incoming air attack. Twenty-three Mitchells escorted by forty-five fighters struck Vunakanau airdrome, which may have been the Betty’s point of departure. Because of the disruption, Boyington and the other captives “were herded into the woods” overnight. The Betty made another attempt the foll
owing day and flew straight up to Truk, only to land in the midst of yet another attack. Honda, Boyington, and the other captives survived by taking shelter in a ditch as bombs and bullets from a massive carrier strike rained down. Later they flew safely to Japan, where all six captives survived the duration of the war in various POW camps.

  DUE TO THE quick success of the invasion of Kwajalein Atoll in late January, Admiral Nimitz decided to proceed immediately with the invasion of Eniwetok Atoll on February 17. In support of the effort, Vice Adm. Marc A. “Pete” Mitscher hit Truk with Task Force 58. He felt confident that his enormous fleet, boasting five hundred aircraft aboard five fast carriers (Enterprise, Yorktown, Essex, Intrepid, and Bunker Hill), and four light carriers, could take out what the Japanese had long called their “Gibraltar of the Pacific.” His supporting surface units, which included seven battleships and a host of cruisers and destroyers, was probably enough to do the job without the flattops.

  Koga had already withdrawn the Combined Fleet’s capital ships to Palau, but some light cruisers and destroyers remained in the vast lagoon, along with numerous auxiliaries and merchantmen. On the night of February 16, a preemptive night attack by Bettys of Air Group 744 damaged Intrepid, but over the next two days, Mitscher’s carrier air groups and support vessels launched a series of devastating strikes against Truk. Between the dive-bombers, torpedo planes, fighters, surface ships, and submarines, the effort sank three light cruisers, six destroyers, six tankers, and thirty merchantmen and transports. Bombing and strafing attacks, along with air-to-air engagements, destroyed about 270 Japanese aircraft. More than half were brand-new, still awaiting assembly or delivery.

  On February 19, while Truk lay in smoking ruin, Rabaul was struck yet again by forty-eight SBDs and twenty-three TBFs. They intended to attack Simpson Harbor, but due to a lack of targets bombed Lakunai airdrome instead. Soon after, twenty B-24s covered by thirty-five fighters knocked out the runways at Lakunai and Tobera with more than a hundred thousand-pounders. Thirty-six Japanese fighters led by Iwamoto intercepted the attackers, downing one Corsair (pilot rescued) and losing eight Zeros.

  The spirited combat was the last pitched battle over Rabaul. Because of the devastation at Truk, Admiral Koga ordered Kusaka to pull his planes from Rabaul and consolidate them at Truk, along with others withdrawing from Palau. Eleven Bettys departed for the Marianas on February 18 and several Kates of the 2nd Carrier Division flew to Truk. The evacuation continued in earnest on February 19 and 20 with the departure of almost forty Zeros, twenty-one Vals, four Judys, thirteen Bettys, and seven Kates. Afterward, the only serviceable planes remaining included a few Zeros and Kates, and some Eighth Fleet seaplanes.

  Several of Japan’s top military representatives visited Rabaul at this inopportune moment. The prime minister, General Hideki Tojo, accompanied by Adm. Osami Nagano, chief of the naval general staff, and Adm. Yaichiro Shibata, minister of the navy, arrived at Rabaul to confer with Imamura and Kusaka. Although Kusaka had no air strength, at least temporarily, Tojo presumably implored the two commanders to hold Rabaul at all cost.

  If so, his words rang hollow. There would be no military support. The garrison at Rabaul would henceforth be at the mercy of Allied aircraft, submarines, and warships. The only certainty, for those who remained behind, was many months under siege. And whatever the garrison suffered, the POWs would endure far worse.

  *Marine Corps legend has Hanson paddling his rubber boat toward Sigourney while crooning one of 1943’s major hits, Cole Porter’s “You’d Be So Nice to Come Home To.”

  CHAPTER 21

  Fortress Rubble

  AIR-TO-AIR COMBAT OVER Rabaul ended quickly. But the shooting and the bombing, the destruction and the losses, would continue unabated for another eighteen months. Chronologically, the air war that began in January 1942 with RAAF raids was only a little more than half over. From February 1944 onward, it became one-dimensional for the Japanese, whose only components were a dwindling number of army and navy antiaircraft weapons. Some of the light weapons could be moved, although dive-bomber squadrons targeted them as soon as photoreconnaissance revealed the new sites.

  After the main withdrawal of Imperial Navy aircraft to Truk, completed on February 20, the only land-based aircraft remaining were ten Zeros and two Kates, few of which were operational or could be quickly placed in service. The three navy airfields also contained several damaged or cannibalized aircraft that could potentially be rebuilt. The effort would require extensive spare parts along with thousands of hours of labor, and in some cases, neither were available.

  Air Group 751, a land-attack unit originally formed as the Kanoya Air Group, had been fighting in New Guinea and the Solomons since September 1942. The withdrawal from Rabaul provided an opportunity for four hundred ground troops and maintenance personnel to return home, via Palau. On February 20 they happily departed aboard a convoy of several ships, including the 3,870-ton Kokai Maru and 1,100-ton gunboat Kowa Maru. Escorted by three sub-chasers, the convoy reached a position west of New Hanover by noon on February 21. The ships tried to hide beneath scudding rain clouds to avoid detection, for they had no air cover (nearby Kavieng had been demolished by Fifth Air Force units a few days earlier), but an Allied patrol plane spotted the convoy and called it in.

  At 1440 that afternoon, fifteen B-25 strafers from the 500th and 501st Bomb Squadrons/345th Bomb Group initiated an attack that nearly wiped out the convoy. Both transports and the auxiliary sub-chaser CHa-48 were attacked repeatedly and sunk, while sub-chaser CH-38 suffered heavy damage. The seagoing salvage tug Nagaura picked up the survivors, made repairs to CH-38, then continued north with the two remaining sub-chasers. The next day, the convoy’s remnants ran into Capt. Arleigh A. Burke’s Destroyer Squadron 23. His five tin cans sank Nagaura with naval gunfire and again badly damaged CH-38. Of the 150 or so survivors, approximately half chose suicide over becoming prisoners. With four of six ships at the bottom and a fifth heavily damaged, the convoy was the last to leave Rabaul.

  Despite the loss of experienced aviation personnel and the disturbance of daily attacks on the airdromes, ground crews refurbished a medium bomber a week after the withdrawal. Before the rikko could be utilized, however, it had to be test-flown. And therein lay the problem. The Allies had absolute control of the skies, which made it risky for the Japanese to attempt even a routine check flight. Just before noon on February 27, the Betty was airborne over Lakunai when a formation of more than seventy SBDs and TBFs approached. Lieutenant Rulon T. Sheets of VMSB-241 and his gunner shared credit for shooting the bomber down in flames—a loss confirmed in the war diary of the 25th Air Flotilla.

  Evidence of the decline in Rabaul’s naval might was also apparent in nearby Simpson Harbor. During the strike that day, the Avenger and Dauntless crews counted two medium-sized merchantmen and one smaller cargo ship, one submarine, eleven barges, and a small number of unidentified boats. By comparison, reconnaissance photos taken six weeks earlier had revealed six destroyers, four subs, a dozen medium cargo ships, sixteen smaller merchantmen, plus an astounding 465 barges and small boats. The reduction in shipping had ramifications that went far beyond conventional military considerations. Bombs, ammunition, fuel, and military supplies were necessary of course—and depended on surface shipment to reach Rabaul—but none of that mattered without food. Of equal importance, the thousands of civilians living in Rabaul and the outlying villages required just as much, if not more, consideration regarding supplies and daily commerce.

  The presence of Japanese civilians at big overseas bases like Rabaul is often overlooked. After the Imperial Navy established the minsei-bu (civil administration) at Rabaul in early 1942, private enterprises began to populate the town. The South Seas Colonization Company sent approximately one hundred Japanese to establish and manage farms and copra production; the civilians also operated a sawmill and a cement plant. The South Seas Development Company arrived in March 1942 to expand its trading interests, build farms, and produce c
opra and cocoa. A subsidiary company operated two tuna fishing boats, a fish processing factory, and an ice plant. Takakuwa Industry Company came to Rabaul to raise crops such as rice, cocoa, coffee, and local vegetables, including taro and tapioca. A branch office of the South Seas Development Bank was established to finance these businesses and provide money exchange. Entrepreneurs followed from Japan to run service industries in Rabaul while catering to the military. By 1944, according to Japanese historian Hiromitsu Iwamoto, more than fifteen thousand civilians populated Rabaul and the surrounding villages.

  ABSENT THE THREAT of enemy planes and naval forces, Allied warships could maneuver in the Solomon and Bismarck Seas with relative freedom. Japanese submarines and coastal batteries were still a threat; therefore daylight approaches into Saint George’s Channel were ill-advised. But darkness opened up new opportunities to reduce Rabaul. During the second half of February 1944, some of Vice Admiral Halsey’s roving destroyer squadrons bombarded Rabaul or its environs on three separate occasions.

  Rain and mist on the night of February 17–18 provided excellent cover for the five ships of Destroyer Squadron 12, which circled the Duke of York Islands looking for surface targets. Then, with the aid of gun-laying radar, the tin cans bombarded Rabaul and the waterfront area with more than 3,800 five-inch shells. Counterfire from Japanese emplacements commenced within five minutes. For thousands of Rabaul residents, the big gun duel was terrifying.

  The huge supply depot along the waterfront near Kokopo came under heavy bombardment on February 25. During the thirty-minute midnight shelling, approximately two thousand five-inch rounds, some filled with white phosphorus, slammed into the storage areas and supply dumps. A major fire could be seen in a warehouse, but no other discernible damage was reported.