Fortress Rabaul: The Battle for the Southwest Pacific, January 1942-April 1943
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Fortress
Rabaul
The Battle for
the Southwest Pacific
January 1942–April 1943
Bruce Gamble
To my aunt and uncle:
Margaret Gamble Steinbinder (1918–2009)
Physical therapist, Walter Reed Army Hospital
John J. Steinbinder (1918–2002)
Captain, USAAF, forty-three combat missions
in the Southwest Pacific
Contents
Preface
Acknowledgments
List of Maps
Rank Abbreviations
Prologue
1 Volcanoes, God, and Coconuts
2 24 Squadron
3 Gladiators
4 Desperate Hours
5 The Fall of Rabaul
6 Counterattack
7 Stronghold
8 Task Force 11
9 Medal of Honor: Edward H. “Butch” O’Hare
10 Carmichael’s Raid
11 Yanks Down Under
12 The Last Outpost
13 New Guinea Interlude
14 Wild Eagles
15 MO: The Offensive Blunted
16 Guests of the Emperor
17 Fading Glory
18 MacArthur’s New Airman
19 Medal of Honor: Harl Pease Jr.
20 The Personification of Evil
21 A Shift in Momentum
22 New Identities
23 Heavy Bomber Blues
24 Medal of Honor: Kenneth N. Walker
25 Blood in the Water
26 Operation I-Go: Yamamoto’s Last Offensive
27 Death of a Warrior God
Epilogue
Notes
Bibliography
Index
Preface
FOR WELL OVER FORTY YEARS I’ve been proud of the fact that my uncle, John J. Steinbinder, served as a B-17 navigator in the Southwest Pacific. Sadly, I learned little about his combat experiences during my youth, and by the time I became seriously interested in researching and writing about the war, he had been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s.
The disease inevitably claimed Uncle Johnny, but there was a silver lining. Not long before his passing, I took temporary possession of a large footlocker that contained his military papers and memorabilia. Among them was a diary filled with details of Johnny’s overseas tour in 1942, and I was fascinated to discover that he was a member of the first American squadron to attack Rabaul. By the completion of his ten-month tour, Johnny had logged at least nineteen combat missions over Japan’s mightiest stronghold.
My personal interest in Rabaul, aside from the stories Uncle Johnny shared, began while writing The Black Sheep. The way the veteran pilots spoke of Rabaul, even sixty years after the war, made me realize that it was no mere target. In early 2001, I had the pleasure of conducting a lengthy interview with Capt. William F. Krantz, USN, whose carrier-based bomber was forced down at sea after attacking Rabaul in 1943. Krantz and his two crewmen spent ten harrowing days in a raft before washing up on New Britain, where Rabaul is located. Although the island was in Japanese hands, the three airmen were aided by natives who guided them to an Australian coastwatcher. Three months later, the Americans were rescued by a PT boat.
Krantz in turn put me in touch with the coastwatcher, Peter Figgis, who had been a member of the Australian army garrison at Rabaul when the war began. After sharing his own remarkable story, Figgis referred me to other veterans of the unit, known as Lark Force. The ripple effect continued, and soon I was hooked on the early history of Rabaul and the tragic fate of the garrison. The end result was Darkest Hour: The True Story of Lark Force at Rabaul—Australia’s Worst Military Disaster of World War II, published by Zenith Press in 2006.
While working on that project, I realized that no one had yet published a comprehensive account of the air war over Rabaul. This is really remarkable, since Rabaul was the focus of Allied air attacks from January 1942 until the end of the war, making it the longest battle of World War II. A virtually impregnable fortress, Rabaul grew in notoriety until it became an icon of the Pacific war. Always dangerous, the stronghold rivaled the most infamous targets in Europe—places like Ploesti, Schweinfurt, and Berlin. No less than six Medals of Honor were awarded to American airmen for actions over Rabaul, five of them posthumously, underscoring the intensity of the air battles.
Soon after Darkest Hour was released, I set out to write a detailed narrative about Rabaul and the war’s longest air campaign. I firmly believe that extraordinary events are best told by the people who experienced them, so from the outset of this project my goal was to include material from numerous participants to help explain events from both the Japanese and Allied perspectives. In doing this, however, it became apparent that a comprehensive account of the entire forty-four-month-long air war would simply be too large for publication as a single volume. A manageable approach for the topic was easy to establish, for there were two distinct phases in the Pacific War. The first, which lasted about seventeen months, began with the massive Southern Offensive as Japan captured numerous territories. Among them was Rabaul, which the Japanese quickly developed into a major military complex that dominated the region. Fortress Rabaul focuses on that opening phase of the conflict, when Rabaul served as a springboard for several new offensives. It begins with a brief history of New Britain and a synopsis of the Lark Force story, and then focuses on the air war over Rabaul from January 1942 to April 1943. At that time, having suffered irreplaceable losses in the battles for Guadalcanal and New Guinea, Admiral IsorokuYamamoto shifted his headquarters to Rabaul to oversee a major new aerial offensive. Barely two weeks later, he was shot down during an audacious and perfectly timed fighter mission. His death heralded the beginning of the end for Japan, which increasingly dug in and fought a defensive war.
It is my hope to describe the second phase of the war in a future volume, for there are obviously still many great tales of heroism and sacrifice to narrate.
A FEW CONVENTIONS warrant mention here. First, the twenty-four-hour military clock is used. During the war the Japanese followed Tokyo time (Japan Standard Time), which at Rabaul was two hours ahead of the local time used by the Allies. In the interest of consistency, the necessary adjustments have been made to the times referenced in Japanese sources. For the same purpose, the identification of Japanese individuals adheres to the Western custom of given name first followed by the surname. Japanese aircraft are identified by a combination of official terminology and model/year designations for the first twenty chapters. Although somewhat awkward, the method is true to the system employed by Allied intelligence during the first several months of the war. Eventually a series of simple code names was developed, and these are used throughout the last six chapters of the book. Lastly, distances are given in statute miles unless otherwise noted, as the vast majority of readers will relate more easily to “highway” miles than nautical miles.
Acknowledgments
I WOULD LIKE TO THANK Richard Kane, editorial director of Zenith Press, for his great patience and support. I am equally grateful for the many improvements suggested by Scott Pearson, associate editor at Zenith, who is just as patient as Richard.
I must also extend my gratitude to the professional staffs at three repositories in the United States: the National Archives and Records Administration in College Park, Maryland; the Air Force Historical Research Agency at Maxwell Air Force Base outside Montgomery, Alabama; and the MacArthur Memorial in Norfolk, Virginia. Equally importan
t research facilities Down Under include the Australian War Memorial and the Australian National Archives, both in Canberra.
Like any author, I relied heavily on the assistance of numerous friends and colleagues to complete this project. Without their help, I don’t believe the story could have been told. In Australia, the many who gave cheerfully of their time and wisdom include Mark Brennan, Peter Cundall, Peter Dunn, Michael Elliott, James Ford, Tim Gambrill, Lex McAulay, Hank Nelson, Peter Stone, David Vincent, David Wilson, and Brian Wimborne. The following veterans of World War II also participated Down Under, either directly or with helpful recommendations: Catalina pilot Sir Richard Kingsland, Benn Selby (brother of antiaircraft battery commander Lt. David Selby), Chap. John May, Hudson pilot John Murphy, and intelligence officer Des Martin.
The list of people who supported this project in North America is much longer. Some are noted authors, others are dedicated historians who work behind the scenes, and still others are relatives of those who served in the Southwest Pacific. I’m equally grateful to them all and pleased to count many of them among my friends. They are William Davis, Rick Dunn, Richard Frank, Jon Guttman, Eric Hammel, Bill Hess, Larry Hickey, Randy Jacobson, Herb Kadowaki, Curtis Keel, Jim Landsdale, Josephine Lerew, John Lundstrom, Roger Mansell, Allyn Nevitt, Shuko Nilson, Andrew Obluski, Janice Olson, Frank Olynyk, Edward Rogers, Henry Sakaida, Jim Sawruk, Michael Smith, Osamu Tagaya, Justin Taylan, Barrett Tillman, Anthony Tully, Douglas Walker, Ron Werneth, and James Zobel.
Last, but never least, the following USAAF veterans gave generously of their time, documents, and photo collections in support of this book. I am proud to have had the opportunity to work with these members of the “greatest generation” who unflinchingly served their country. Perry Dahl, pilot, 475th Fighter Group; Jim Dieffenderfer, pilot, 43rd Bomb Group; Joe Forrester, pilot, 475th Fighter Group; Jim Harcrow, pilot, 43rd Bomb Group; Frank Hohmann, crewmember, 19th Bomb Group; Cyril Klimesh, crewmember, 22nd Bomb Group; John Loisel, pilot, 475th Fighter Group; Carthon Phillips, crewmember, 19th Bomb Group; John Watkins, pilot, 22nd Bomb Group; and Roger Vargas, navigator, 43rd Bomb Group. If I’ve overlooked anyone, I pray that I’m forgiven.
Maps
Oceania
Volcano Town
New Britain’s Gazelle Peninsula
Southwest Pacific Battleground
The Airdromes of Port Moresby
Rank Abbreviations
1st Lt.—First Lieutenant
Adm.—Admiral
Air Cdre.—Air Commodore
AVM—Air Vice Marshal
Brig. Gen.—Brigadier General
Capt.—Captain
Chap.—Chaplain
Cmdr.—Commander
Col.—Colonel
Cpl.—Corporal
CPO—Chief Petty Officer
Ens.—Ensign
Flt. Lt.—Flight Lieutenant
Flt. Sgt.—Flight Sergeant
Flg. Off.—Flying Officer
FPO—Flight Petty Officer
Gen.—General
LAC—Leading Aircraftman
Lt.—Lieutenant
Lt. Cmdr.—Lieutenant Commander
Lt. Col.—Lieutenant Colonel
Lt. j.g.—Lieutenant Junior Grade
Maj.—Major
Maj. Gen.—Major General
Master Sgt.—Master Sergeant
Midn.—Midshipman
PO—Petty Officer
Pfc.—Private First Class
Plt. Off.—Pilot Officer
Pvt.—Private
Rear Adm.—Rear Admiral
Sgt.—Sergeant
Sgt. Maj.—Sergeant Major
Sqn. Ldr.—Squadron Leader
Vice Adm.—Vice Admiral
Wing Cmdr.—Wing Commander
WO—Warrant Officer
Prologue
Melbourne, Victoria,
2350 Hours, Friday, January 23, 1942
AT TEN MINUTES to midnight, the lights still burned brightly at Victoria Barracks, the stately combined headquarters of the Australian armed forces. On a normal evening, the military staffs were shooed out promptly at 1700 (5 p.m.) so that the cleaning crews could get in, but on this balmy night, many of the Commonwealth’s top leaders were gathered in the Central War Room. They had a crisis on their hands.
For the past thirty hours, no one had heard from the small garrison at Rabaul, the former capital of the Mandated Territory of New Guinea, 2,300 miles to the north in the Bismarck Archipelago. The garrison, code-named Lark Force, consisted of a lightly armed infantry battalion, a battery of small antitank guns, and a field ambulance detachment, the latter staffed by two doctors, twenty orderlies, and six nurses. Heavy weapons were limited to a pair of coastal defense guns, manned by a detachment of Royal Australian Artillery, and two aging antiaircraft guns—one with a cracked breach—manned by young militiamen. With a grand total of about 1,400 troops, Lark Force was tasked with defending two airdromes, a large harbor, and more than fifteen miles of New Britain’s rugged coastline.
The prolonged silence from Rabaul was ominous, but the men at Victoria Barracks had a fairly clear idea of what had transpired. In early January, planes of the Imperial Japanese Navy based at Truk had initiated a series of bombing attacks against Rabaul, receiving little opposition despite the presence of a Royal Australian Air Force squadron. Then on January 20, a raid by more than one hundred Japanese carrier planes practically wiped out the squadron and badly damaged the fortifications at Rabaul. Two days later, another attack by carrier planes destroyed what remained of the fixed defenses.
At noon on January 22, an enemy invasion fleet was sighted on the northern horizon. Hours later, all communications with Rabaul abruptly ceased. It was all too apparent that New Britain had been invaded.
The outcome should have been no surprise, for the fate of Lark Force had been decided long before the Japanese arrived. On December 12, 1941, only a few days after the surprise attack on Pearl Harbor, the government decided not to risk any ships to deliver additional men or material to Rabaul. There would be no evacuation, no resupply. In a secret cable to diplomats in Washington D.C., the chief of naval staff attempted to rationalize the cabinet’s decision, writing, “Under the circumstances … it is considered better to maintain Rabaul only as an advance air operational base, its present small garrison being regarded as hostages to fortune.”
Incredible as it seems, the Rabaul garrison was given up as lost more than a month before the invasion occurred.
The government’s one concession was to evacuate the noncombatants. Over a period of eight days beginning just before Christmas, approximately eight hundred women and children were taken from the Mandated Territory by commercial ships and aircraft. The civilian men—more than two hundred at Rabaul alone—were left behind to face an uncertain future. They included Harold Page, the acting administrator of the territory, whose older brother was a former prime minister and one of Australia’s most prominent citizens. Despite his connections, Page could do nothing to help himself or the others left behind. As the weeks went by and the threat of invasion loomed, he sent urgent messages requesting instructions for the evacuation of the men, but the bureaucrats in Canberra had ignored his pleas for help.
Now it was too late. The last ship capable of providing safe passage from New Britain had been set ablaze by Japanese dive-bombers on January 20.
DOWN IN THE DIM basement corridors of Victoria Barracks, newspaper correspondents waited anxiously for an official statement about the situation at Rabaul. As midnight approached, some were concerned about the deadline for the morning editions, but additional minutes dragged by while staff officers argued over the wording of a press release. Finally a brief communiqué was issued. It stated simply that all radio traffic from Rabaul had ceased at 1600 hours on January 22, and a Japanese invasion force had landed before dawn the next morning. The remnants of Lark Force, driven from their fortifications, were believed to be putting up “resistance in the hills.”
To ensure that his statements were taken seriously, Forde continued to emphasize the magnitude of the situation.
The Premier of Japan (General Tojo) had declared that Japan would show no mercy if we continued to resist, but resist we will to the utmost of our capacity. If the enemy lands at Rabaul two events of tremendous gravity will occur. These were that territory under the control of an Australian Government will be assailed for the first time, and that Australian militia will be in action for the first time. We cannot delude ourselves about the fact that Australians will have to fight as they never fought before for our very existence.
The next afternoon, Forde stated that the Japanese had presumably landed at Rabaul, based on the loss of communication with the garrison. But in the wake of the initial report, nothing more was learned. After several days of silence, some newspapers resorted to speculation. “Military experts believe that the Rabaul garrison should be able to hold out until sufficient aid arrives,” invented the Sydney Sun on January 28.
But it was pure propaganda. Nobody in Australia, least of all the press, knew what was happening at Rabaul.
CHAPTER 1
Volcanoes, God, and Coconuts
A FEW WEEKS AFTER the Pacific war began, newspaper correspondent George H. Johnston posed a rhetorical question about Rabaul: “Why are the Japs striking at this little tropical outpost less than five degrees below the equator?”