The Pacific

by Hugh Ambrose

  The Japanese had built a large harbor for its navy and numerous airfields for its army on an island six hundred miles to the west of Guadalcanal at a place called Rabaul. Between Rabaul and "the Canal" ran the Solomon Islands in two irregular rows, with a channel of water between them. With a huge base at Rabaul and satellite bases on Guadalcanal and its neighbor Tulagi, the entire area had to be regarded as hostile waters. No preinvasion bombardment would be conducted because the element of surprise was essential. The flight crews and AA batteries aboard Enterprise expected "to defend against Jap counterattacks."38 Good news came in the form of bad weather on August 5 and 6, making "interception by enemy aircraft most difficult."39

  On the morning of August 7, the ship's captain announced over the ship's public address system, "this force will recapture Tulagi and Guadalcanal Islands, which are now in the hands of the enemy."40 He was not relaying information as much as stating their goal. The day before the ship's Plan of the Day had informed all hands, "we expect tomorrow to be 'Der Tag' for our attack," a curious use of the German words for "The Day."41 "Today's theme song for the Japs at Tulagi," the daily flyer continued, will be " There'll Be Some Changes Made." " The changing will be made by the United States Marines, aided and abetted by the Enterprise, Saratoga, and Wasp air groups, which will serve a 'Moonlight Cocktail' to the Nips in the form of a shower of thousand pound bombs..."42 In the meantime, all hands would stow their personal gear in lockers so that if the IJN sank their ship, the crew's "boxes, books, magazines, etc" would "not get adrift."

  Each of the ship's squadrons had already been briefed on its missions and had even reviewed photographs of the targets.43 Davis and his pilots had been given the island of Tulagi, an island about twenty miles to the north of Guadalcanal. The photos showed the small harbor and a few buildings from which the British located their colonial government. Part of the marines' invasion force would seize Tulagi and a few tiny islands near it on D-day. Bombing Six would help the marines by attacking troop concentrations and AA emplacements between the village of Sasapi and the prison on the northeastern side of the island.44

  The first planes, the Wildcat fighters, took off in the darkness to protect the fleet from enemy planes--an enemy scout was thought to have sighted the task force--and to destroy the aircraft thought to be based on the target's airfield. Dawn had not broken when Davis led Bombing Six off the deck at 0643. Twin rows of yellowish white light, just breaking the surface of the wooden flight deck and hooded, framed their launches into the sky. Forming up south of Guadalcanal became difficult because of the low visibility offered by the quarter moon and the high number of planes. All three carriers were steaming within a few miles of one another. Large attack groups were launched from each. As ordered, the airplanes showed "only a dim white light on the tail until at least 5 miles clear of the carrier, where they were permitted to turn on running lights in order to expedite the rendezvous."45 In the darkness, pilots could see the twin blue exhausts of the plane ahead of them. The tail light was very hard to see. Sections got lost. As had happened at Midway, they wasted a fair amount of time forming up, although for a different reason. At least each squadron would work independently, though, so once Davis had his eighteen planes together, he led them around the western end of Guadalcanal, crossing the channel between Guadalcanal and Tulagi as the sun came up. Below, Mike could see all the little boats scurrying around the larger troop transports near both islands. Large cumulus clouds with their bases at about one thousand feet dotted the airspace. They passed through a rain squall or two.

  Bombing Six arrived overhead of the small island in standard formation and dove in turn, as per usual, to prevent mishap. In his dive, Mike noticed very little in the way of AA fire and focused on his aiming points. The buildings of the village grew quickly inside his scope. There was the prison. With no corrections to make, he dove as deeply as he could and released his thousand-pound bomb. He climbed back into the sky. Neither he nor his gunner could see any enemy planes. Columns of smoke rose from both target islands, so it all looked good. Mike, who had flown with Davis in the first division, watched as the other divisions got redirected. The air group commander, who was circling the whole area, decided Tulagi had had enough. These remaining divisions dove on two flyspecks just to the east of Tulagi called Gavutu and Tanambogo. Before returning to the carrier, the squadron used their heavy machine guns. When his turn came, Mike made a strafing run on targets of opportunity and pushed himself to get low and make it count. Then his squadron flew back to the carrier, landing at nine thirty a.m. The deck crews were already bathed in sweat, launching and then landing flights of scouts, combat air patrols, and bombing missions at a frenetic pace.

  EARLY FRIDAY MORNING, THEY RECEIVED AN APPLE, AN ORANGE, AND THREE EGGS for chow. The day started with the usual "hurry up and wait" as they got to their debarkation point. Some of sailors found the #4 gun squad "and shook our hands like we would all be dead before the day was over, and they just wanted us to know there were no hard feelings between Swabbies and Marines." Sid had never seen the big guns of a cruiser blow smoke rings as they loosed a volley, or watched the airplanes overhead make their bombing and strafing runs. He found it fascinating. One of the shells looked like it hit a gas depot or something because it sent up a tower of black smoke. He found it neither difficult to get settled into the boats with all his heavy gear nor boring to wait while his boat found its place in the rings of boats, each ring an invasion wave. A breeze brought the smell of cordite to him and he thought briefly of dove hunting. Every man in #4 gun knew they were participating in the first amphibious assault since the Marine Corps had made it its raison d'etre. Being marines, they made jokes about it.

  The circle of boats broke before nine a.m., the line formed, and they ran to the beach. Sid took one last look around--across the calm sea to the great flag waving from the cruiser, to the small flags hanging from the backs of the line of Higgins boats. He noticed that the cartridge belts around his friends looked odd now that every hoop held a shiny bullet. He wondered if the men who fought the Civil War had been as young as he and his friends. He chambered a round in his '03 rifle and set the safety, "determined to get at least one of the enemy before they wiped us out." The boat stopped short of the shore. The ramp dropped and out they ran.

  It took a few moments to notice. The first wave of men, from the rifle platoons, sat under the trees and laughed as the mortarmen struggled out of the water. No enemy had been sighted and the assault had not continued inland. More waves arrived behind them every few minutes.

  THE BIG E'S DECK CREWS RELOADED AND REFUELED ONE- THIRD OF HER BOMBING squadron in forty- five minutes.46 Davis, Bill Pittman, Mike, and the others flew around the western end of Guadalcanal, the side closest to the enemy's base at Rabaul, and reported to the air group commander (CAG) from the carrier Wasp once they arrived over Tulagi. The CAG received reports from one of the ships below, which in turn was in touch with the marine commanders onshore. The process took time. Another third of the squadron showed up and began to circle with them. They saw no enemy flak at all, but heard a lot of chatter from pilots of all three carrier squadrons on the radio. Some of the talk had to do with enemy planes in the area--dogfights necessitated communications between Wildcat pilots--and some of the chatter came from excited pilots announcing their squadron's arrival, the carrier they were from, the type of bomb they carried, and requesting target assignments.47

  The CAG eventually directed Davis's eight planes to the tiny green gumdrop of an islet east of Tulagi called Gavutu. As they neared their target, one of the gunners hollered, "Here they come! Here they come!" on the radio. Two Zeros took a bead on the section leader, in front of Mike, who pulled his plane over to block their shots. Behind him, Halterman swung around his machine gun and started firing. Other gunners in the section joined in. The Zeros fled and Mike shouted, "Success!" He had seen his first Zero. The Wasp air group commander, flying in circles, directed their runs until they were out of bulle
ts and bombs.

  The Dauntless pilots returned to Enterprise just short of six hours in the air, for the day, strapped on top of that throbbing Wright-Cyclone engine, expecting trouble. That was a lot. In the ready room, he found out the rear seat gunners had shot down one of the enemy fighters. Divisions of Bombing Six launched two more strikes that afternoon, without Davis, Mike, or Pittman, striking places on Guadalcanal called Kukum and Tenaru River. Enterprise's flight deck continued to operate at high speed all afternoon. Later pilots spoke of being able to see Red Beach from a great distance because of the massive piles of white boxes.48 Pilots hanging out in the ready room would have also heard, certainly by the stewards serving dinner in the officers' wardroom, that the fighter squadrons had had their hands full all day. Enemy bombers and dive-bombers, protected by Zeros, had attempted to put a few holes in the troop transports and their escort ships. The two-engine bombers flew in a big V of Vs from the direction of Rabaul. Some of the Wildcats had been so busy they had run out of gas and landed in the ocean. The deck crews had been so busy, they had set "a new record for a single day's operation in a combat area" of 236 takeoffs and 229 landings.49

  WHILE THE OFFICERS GOT THINGS ORGANIZED, THE MARINES BROKE OPEN THE coconuts at their feet, drinking the juice and eating the meat. Then the riflemen led the way to Grassy Knoll. Hiking through the coconut plantation was not too different from the boonies of the training camp in New River. A break came early, when they reached the Ilu River in less than an hour. The Ilu proved much deeper than expected, so it could not be forded. The marines sat down in a group, like green troops will, and waited for a makeshift bridge to be built. An amtrac parked itself in the center of the river and engineers used planks to build a bridge.

  Once they crossed, though, they forced their way through a dense jungle. It got hot when the hike began. Married to his forty- five-pound base plate, Sid struggled to keep up as they climbed over ridges that were not very high but were steep. The banyan trees, breadfruit trees, and the sudden clearings gave the jungle moments of beauty. He emptied his canteen quickly. They crossed the Tenaru River, but he and the others obeyed the order not to drink out of the rivers. Word came that the Fifth Marines, advancing along the coast directly to the airfield, had met some opposition. Deacon thought it "a grand war" so far. By dark, Sid dropped his gear, exhausted and dehydrated. " They told us to dig foxholes, but I don't think anybody did." He opened his can of C rations and muttered something about dog food. No one slept too well with all the bursts of small-arms fire. Each one began by signaling an enemy attack and ended by betraying another jumpy marine.50

  THE HIGH MOUNTAIN RANGES ON THE SOLOMON ISLAND CHAIN HAD SEVERELY limited the effective range of the carrier's air search radar. The carriers could not remain south of Guadalcanal. For the second day of air support, Enterprise launched its squadrons from a position near the eastern end of the island, the corner farthest away from Rabaul. Fighter planes and one antisubmarine patrol comprised the first six flights of the day because the IJN knew where they were.51 Just after nine a.m., Bombing Six flew into the channel expecting enemy fighters. Micheel had heard the enemy on Tulagi was putting up a difficult resistance against the marine assault. He focused on the job at hand, scouting for enemy submarines in the water between and around the target islands. At about ten thirty a.m. the squadron was ordered to bomb another tiny island nearby.52 Micheel pushed over from six thousand feet and, like the day before, took his Dauntless down to engage the enemy. His skipper noted Micheel's "courage and initiative in seeking out and destroying assigned enemy antiaircraft gun emplacements and troop concentrations."53 The incendiary bullets the Dauntlesses fired, though, did not set wooden houses or canvas tents on fire.

  His squadron flew two more flights that morning. Other scouts went looking for the airmen lost the previous day. Mike missed these and ended up flying with the scouting squadron in the early afternoon. The strike flew around the area, waiting to be assigned a target, hearing the chatter on the radio of dogfights. They returned aboard with all of their bombs still attached. Landing with a bomb in the rack made pilots want to double-check their arming switches; it also meant the bombers had accomplished nothing. The pilots assumed the marines on Tulagi could use some more help. The relay of information from the marines on the ground, through radiomen on the ship, to the CAG in the air, and on to the strike leader had proven unwieldy.54

  Without targets, the job of supporting the marine attack seemed over. The fighters had shot down thirteen enemy planes. Of the six pilots missing, three had been recovered. The Wildcat pilots had a lot of experience with the Zeros to discuss. The senior officers spent a lot of time discussing the problems of air support and of devising ways to improve communication with troops. They knew they could reduce marine casualties and speed up the seizure of objectives. Colored panels and/or smoke bombs to signal targets were suggested, as was "the issue and use of 'walkie-talkie' sets like those supplied to civil police forces in the United States for radio communications."55 By nightfall all three carriers steamed south, exiting the area quickly. After two days of combat, the admiral in command assumed enemy submarines would arrive at any moment. The aircrews and ground crews welcomed the respite, but it begged the question: Who was going to guard the troop transports from all those enemy airplanes?

  ANOTHER DAY'S FORCED MARCH THROUGH TOUGH TERRAIN BROUGHT THE 2/1 TO A grassy knoll. Was it "the" grassy knoll, the objective they were supposed to reach the day before? Deacon thought so. Sid knew it was not, knew something was wrong with the plans, and knew that every marine in the 2/1 had run out of water and was dying of thirst. Water carriers arrived at last, but there was not enough chow. They dug in. The word was that the carrier pilots had shot down nineteen enemy aircraft. One of them had crashed into Elliott. Somewhere in the channel of water visible from their vantage point, their ship and all of their gear had gone up in flames. After setting up a perimeter defense, they received the password "Lucky Strike." When it got dark, the smoking lamp went out and the rain began to fall. Hours later, the ships offshore began to fire. Had it not been for the reports carrying over to him, like the deep angry rumble of thunder, Sid might have thought he was watching "lightning bugs moving around." The arcs of light sometimes ended in a large explosion. Everybody cheered the U.S. Navy. Flares dropped over the scene and searchlights swept it. A plane came over and dropped a flare over the 2/1.

  First thing in the morning came the announcement, "We're going back to the beach." The 2/1 trekked downhill without breakfast, lunch, or water. Eight men of the more than forty in the platoon fell out of ranks, exhausted. In the midafternoon, the battalion reached the airfield and, beyond it a half mile, the village of Kukum and finally the beach. No ships swung at anchor in the channel. The fleet had departed. The naval battle they had witnessed was the Imperial Japanese Navy (IJN) sinking four of the big cruisers. Most of the swabbies who had served on Elliott had made it ashore. All were shaken, some burned, and a few had been killed.

  Sid and the others cheered. "We won't ever have to ride in that rusty old bastard again." Nor could they resist the chance to wonder aloud, "Where's the navy? Don't we have a navy?" Rations were distributed, but not enough to fill a belly for the evening. The ships had unloaded only about half their supplies before they departed. The members of #4 gun squad started eating coconuts, and Deacon pulled out his last package of fig bars. After dark, another unit started firing at the 2/1, but they shouted the password "Yellow!" enough times to stop it before anyone was hit.

  MIKE AWAKENED TO FIND THE NEWS OF THE NAVY'S DEFEAT JUST OFF THE COAST of Guadalcanal on everybody's lips. Unlike the disaster at Pearl Harbor, the cruisers of the navy and the Royal Australian Navy had been beaten in a fight. Along with the four cruisers sunk, a fifth, USS Chicago, had been mauled near Savo Island. Instead of the carriers sailing north to even the score, however, the amphibious fleet was coming south toward them. In the ready room, Ray Davis told his men that the Japanese were expected to send
landing forces to retake the airfield. The top brass assumed a carrier task force would accompany the enemy's invasion force. Enterprise, Wasp, and Saratoga would stay close enough to be ready to help as needed, but far enough out to make a counterattack difficult. The ambitious schedule of ASW and scouting missions would continue. The fleet remained on high alert. Dauntless scouts found and strafed an enemy submarine two days later.56

  SOME OF THE CONFUSION SORTED ITSELF OUT ON THE FIRST FULL DAY NEAR THE airfield. The two regiments of marines began to divide up the duty of securing their hold on this large flat area, mostly open with high brush called kunai grass. The enemy counterattack was expected to come across the beach near Kukum, so rifle pits and machine gunners began to dig in there. The 81mm mortar platoon dug their positions a thousand yards or so back from the beach, so it would be in their range. Planting the base plate and connecting the tube and bipod meant not having to carry them, which was good, but now the digging began. The work did not prevent Sid, Deacon, W.O., and the others from shooting one of the cows meandering in the plain. Deacon guessed it weighed four hundred pounds as he dressed it out. They also fired at the three big enemy bombers that flew overhead about three p.m., but no one got a hit. While Deacon prepared the barbecue, the rest went scavenging among the building near the airport and in the village of Kukum. Sid cut insignia off of uniforms and pocketed two officers' belt buckles. He noticed something about the enemy's recent bivouac. " The whole camp smelled like Colgate tooth powder."