Paul Adkins

by Foresight America

  “More than a month early?” Larry asked into the mouthpiece.

  “Get on down here, we have to see what the hell’s going wrong with this.”

  The Imperial Japanese Navy had discreetly accelerated the construction of its newest carriers to make the strike on Pearl Harbor. The pilots were mostly combat veterans from China. It was this fleet of six carriers that was detected by a picket line of American submarines shortly after midnight. A burst transmission alerted Pearl Harbor that something was amiss. Across the archipelago, radar and air defense units went on alert.

  The first aircraft took off well before dawn, gaining altitude as they began their long flight to their target. They navigated by compass, but some discovered that the local radio stations provided a sort of unintentional navigation beacon. Dance music competed with the drone of the engines. Approaching from the north, the raiding planes were picked up by first one then two more Army radar stations on the coast who passed their warnings to the Pearl Harbor Command Post by both telephone and radio. There, the Army and Navy duty officers read the warnings at their adjoining desks. Both concluded it was a repeat of the mock raid launched by the American carrier forces three months before. Standing orders required the commanders to be notified.

  Admiral Husband Kimmel arrived at the bunker in less than ten minutes. He ordered a general alert, of all the units not already standing to. Sirens across the island’s airfields brought Army and Navy pilots running to the flight lines. Already armed, the fighters struggled into the early dawn in pairs to orbit at preplanned points. Patrol planes with their larger crews were next off the tarmac. Finally the bombers took off and flew south to circle over sea until someone told them to fly home, hopefully before lunch. At the anchorage, boilers were fired, beginning the slow process that would give the capital ships motive power in an hour or so. Ammunition was lifted by hoists to the antiaircraft mounts and radars began probing the skies for targets.

  Kimmel walked to the top of his command post to watch his fleet come to life. He could feel the power of the battleships, cruisers and entire flotillas of destroyers and frigates. An impressive sight. He turned to his aide, “Have them make smoke.” In less than fifteen minutes the entire roadhead was obscured in a haze.

  He arrived back at his desk in time to see his Army counterpart give the order to confirm his antiaircraft batteries were at alert and order his smoke generators in the hills to “fire up.”

  “That ought to put a knot in their tails,” Walter Short said.

  The first flight of Mavericks met the Japanese formation as it crossed the shoreline. Swooping in out of the sun, the airmen executed a perfect ambush.

  Unfortunately, expecting to encounter gray American Navy planes, they did not fire as the gray Japanese models entered their sights. Still the flight commander made the call that echoed through the command post.

  “Air raid, Pearl Harbor, this is no drill.”

  Calls were passed from all over the net as other Air Corps formations encountered the Japanese formation.

  “All units and stations engage with live fire, this is no drill.” Short signaled his aide for a cup of coffee.

  “If we’re wrong?” Kimmel asked.

  “See you on Capitol Hill, the investigation will last for years.” Came the reply. Short had an evil, bloodthirsty look on his face.

  “Damned is we do, damned if we don’t.” Kimmel told his duty officer to give the same order to the fleet.

  Flying a heavily-laden plane low over unfamiliar terrain is always hazardous. Doing it in formation while people are shooting at you all the more so. The American attacks were uncoordinated and conducted by inexperienced pilots, still they took a toll. Flying over a ridgeline, a dozen planes braved a storm of 40mm fire to attack a huge oil tank that drained to the harbor below. Four planes were lost to ground fire, and another four to simple crashes into the rugged, obscured terrain. Still the tank was set alight, a smoky torch survivors would recall decades later.

  The formation drove ahead, the dive bombers and torpedo planes ignored the fighters vying around them. The raider’s compasses indicated the target was ahead of them, but an artificial haze obscured the harbor. The aircraft came lower, and the danger of collision and accident increased.

  The radar-directed five-inch guns of the ships began to fire in a desperate attempt at self-defense. As the invaders neared, automatic 40mm batteries delivered inhuman amounts of fire into the stream of airplanes. Still, the determined attackers flew on, enraged by their losses and dedicated to revenge. The dive bombers were forced to release their loads so low that most missed. Still no bomb could truly miss everything in that mass of ships, men and naval stores. Fires raged all over the base and nearby airfield.

  The torpedo bombers had worse luck. Stout nets guarded the ships from the Long Lances. The only two to strike home were still attached to their planes who flew into the sides of a pair of battleships on purpose or otherwise.

  The attack ended in less than fifteen minutes. All that remained was the slaughter of the Japanese planes as they raced north for safety. That and the rescue and repair work.

  The submarines, powered by diesel engines were able to leave the port first, they submerged and raised their snorkels to charge north. The destroyers were next, followed by the larger ships, each protected by a frigate. They never had a chance to catch the fleeing Japanese.

  Short sent a message to Washington describing the attack even as it was underway. Kimmel made a more important transmission. A young man in a Marine uniform read the text in English and translated it in his head to his indecipherable language, “Island of Pineapples to City of Rope, Yellow Falcon attack here, many warriors dead. War warning now. Expect Yellow Falcon and Fish attack on City of Rope and Islands by your dawn. Acknowledge and read this back to me.”

  There was a long pause punctuated by static. A familiar voice replied in Navajo “Horseshit, are you kidding me?” The codetalker in Hawaii made a note on the message form that that Manila reported the message understood.

  It was already afternoon in Washington. The President’s naval aid admitted, “Very sketchy information so far sir. One battleship was unable to get underway. One more damaged. The carriers are at sea, but mostly without planes as they just made deliveries to Wake and Manila. We lost some aircraft, mostly in the air, but the number is unclear just now.”

  “Send out a message in my name to all services. We are in the war. Begin unrestricted operations against Japanese and German units worldwide. Get Churchill on the phone.”

  Chapter 16 Philippines (I)

  The Japanese attacks came as a complete operational surprise. Tactically the Hawaii message ensured everyone had at least three hours of warning. Critical last–minute shipments of ammunition, supplies and even entire units en route to threatened points were out of place when the blow came early.

  The American convoy to Manila, fourteen ships of various types, was more than a thousand miles east of The Philippines when the news came. Instead of sneaking in quietly, before the shooting started, their vital supplies might now have to be delivered by force. The US cruiser Pensacola, the commodore’s flagship, dispatched the frigate Oliver Hazard Perry far ahead to listen for approaching threats on its sensitive electronic array.

  When the Japanese flying boat appeared over the radar horizon, the frigate commander ordered full stop. The lookouts swung powerful stabilized binoculars to bear on the patrol craft.

  On the airplane, observers searched the turquoise sea for the telltale wake of a moving ship. They saw nothing.

  “I feel naked sitting still like this,” the captain muttered to himself. “Have they seen us?”

  The Electronic Warfare Officer replied, “No change of course, no significant transmissions. Range fifteen miles, closest point of approach is eight.”

  “Get Kevin up here.”

  Ensign Matsumoto climbed up to the bridge, blinking at the bright sunlight.

  “What are they talking
about, Kevin?” The Captain always called the translator by his first name when he was present. Perhaps because he looked so young and out of place aboard ship.

  “The are calling home every thirty minutes or so. We got their call sign. They are reporting barometric pressure, but no sign they have seen us.”

  “OK, we know they cannot detect our radars, send a long, not a burst, transmission back to the convoy; use the wartime crystal set. Let’s see if they can hear our new HF stuff, wait twenty minutes and try the SW, then we will hit them with the TBS.” Both officers saluted and moved below decks.

  The Japanese plane flew on myopically. After an hour it reached the end of its patrol sector, turned north and disappeared first from sight and then from the radar screens.

  Aboard the Pensacola, the Commodore read the frigate’s report with pleasure. He turned to his flag plot. “OK, close up with the Perry now, top speed all night, then put the Perry twenty miles in front of us at dawn. Keep the other frigate near the troopships.”

  “Aye sir,” his exec was already preparing the orders.

  “Do not, I repeat, do not, break modified radio silence. Nobody sends but us. Keep the Perry’s radars hot for now. I’ll be in my ready room for the next twenty minutes. I need to write a signal to Pearl.”

  “Aye sir,” came the preoccupied reply. It was more fun being a skipper the admiral reflected. Three days of sneaking around to get to Manila, hope the war isn’t over by the time we get there.

  The Commander in Chief Far East collected his major unit commanders at the Marsman Building in Manila two days into the war. Ike shook hands with the commander of the Philippine Corps and two of his three Filipino divisions and both American divisions, the Navy and Air Corps Wing commanders and Tom Hart, his equal at three-star rank, but subordinate as Naval Forces commander. Hart introduced the commanders of his cruisers Houston, Marblehead and Boston. The Metro Manila commander in the uniform of the Filipino National Constabulary rounded out the group.

  Ike flashed a weary smile and sat, putting the officers at ease. He lit is second cigarette of the morning.

  “Thanks for coming, I know you are all busy. Chief, what’s the latest?”

  The Chief of Staff, a rear admiral, looked rumpled by all the recent events he approached a large map on the wall with a yardstick as a pointer.

  “Once the Japs hit Pearl Harbor we moved everything we could out of the way. We had a five-hour warning, so while they caused a lot of damage to buildings, our units are all in good shape. The air battle certainly went against them. Our counter strikes on D and plus one closed down Taiwan as an airbase for some little while. Our ground units are untouched, but some suffered enough losses to cause confusion.

  That is all sorted out now. Some Scout units have been shooting at ghosts, lots of rumors in the cities.

  Naval forces are ready. The Langely took a couple of hits in the harbor. We will scuttle her once we get her machine tools ashore. Overall, we are in good shape.” He sat down; Ike took his place.

  “We are now under time pressure gentlemen, we can expect a Japanese landing on Northern Luzon in a day or two. I would not discount the possibility of subsidiary landings on Cebu. By the end of tomorrow I will need artillery batteries covering those beaches, they tell me the ammo is already up there.

  The 31st Filipino Division is our only unit up there and I doubt we will get another division to them in time.

  More important than stopping the landing is preserving our units. Retreat into the interior if need be, but do not lose those colors.”

  The corps commander nodded gravely.

  “The Liberators are up this morning, “Ike nodded to the naval aviator, “and should detect the Japanese fleet today. I then want a maximal air effort to ensure their carriers are taken out. Once you do that, aim for the transports. Better to kill them, the infantry, in big bunches at sea then to let them land.”

  The two airmen looked up, the Air Corps man gave a thumbs up.

  “Navy? First priority is to get the convoy in. It includes the 34th Infantry Regiment, we will need them as well as the 15,000 carbines in those ships. We will need them very badly. First we need to hold onto Luzon and the air bases, once that is done we can think about cutting off the Japanese from the Dutch East Indies. Questions?”

  Admiral Hart stood, “We have been getting a lot of pressure to send our boats up to Formosa. I have told Pearl no dice.”

  Ike looked at a status report. “Looks to me that thirty boats makes ten wolf packs. We do need to disrupt the straits, send something, say two packs up that way. Keep the minelayers and special operation boats here on a short string. Whatever else needs to be off the Luzon coast as soon as we you can make it happen.” He looked up, “Not orders Tom, you make the call, just give some coverage to Taipei and make your main efforts the beaches.”

  The Air Corps Commander asked next, “Sir the Libs will be easy pickings if we take them in against carrier fighters.”

  “Coordinate for Mustang cover, do not take your patrol planes in until the Forts go at the same time.

  Still, maximum effort means that. Maximum, but smart. Also, between you two Airedales, keep Formosa under surveillance. We will divert our air strikes from their fleet to the island if it looks like they are recovering. No more surprises from up there, got it?”

  The only Filipino at the table was the policeman, he spoke “How about militia sir?”

  “General, you are our one commander for all emergency units. You raise them, train and equip them and pass them to the Scout divisions when they are ready. Lets start with moving them as platoons. If things get really exciting, we will have to go for individual replacements. I have ordered the military academy to send you the Corps of Cadets, do not deploy them as a group, spread them out as leavening with the civilian volunteers.”

  “American replacements?” the Corps commander asked.

  “The 34th as I mentioned, nothing else for a while, maybe some more planes.” Ike turned to the senior navy man, “Tom, see how many shipboard Marines and sailors you can get together give me a plan to use them to plug holes in the US regiments. The China Marine regiment will be my personal reserve.”

  Hart nodded.

  “OK, that is it, last big meeting for a while. From now on just Navy, Air, Corps and Metro in the mornings. The rest of you to your units, I will visit you at your command posts.”

  The entire room stood and saluted.

  An Army captain came into the room and quickly handed a note to the Chief of Staff.

  “We have a plot on the Japanese fleet.”

  Ike looked up, “Let’s take a look,” and walked into his map room. A navy lieutenant was waiting for him.

  “Two hours ago a Lib caught a stray transmission. We diverted them off their regular patrol line, they found the Japanese in two groups north of the Batanes.” He indicated a red chip on the map.

  “Two groups?”

  “Naval forces in the front with perhaps six carriers, four cruisers or battleships, all the rest. Landing force of over forty ships a couple of destroyers riding herd on them bringing up the rear.”

  “Was the patrol plane spotted?”

  “Yes, general. Some Zeros came up to shoo them away.”

  “Intentions?” Ike aimed his question at his intelligence chief.

  “Washington says to expect a landing at Batan with two ‘A’s.’ then the main effort at Valley Cove on Luzon. Call it a landing on Luzon in two more days, three at the outside.”

  Ike grinned “We reading their mail?”

  “Don’t know, nobody in Washington tells me anything.”

  The commander lit another cigarette, staring at the map, he motioned to the two airmen “Tell the air staff I want a coordinated attack on both groups today, before nightfall, give me a plan before lunch.” He again turned to the intelligence chief, “Personally call the Navy and ensure they have this plotted on their boards.”

  Without another word, the Commander
walked down the hallway to dictate a message to the Joint Chiefs.

  By a feat of poor planning, the aerial torpedoes were all stored at Clark Field. A handful of the large Air Corps bombers flew in at a time to arm, and then returned to their dispersal fields. This took over three hours. At the same time, the Navy called in their Liberator patrol planes to Subic where identical cylinders were attached to their wings. In the late afternoon, all across Luzon, thirty-seven B-17s and twenty Liberators took off and headed to the Bashi Channel. The faster Mustang escort lifted off later, in order to catch the lumbering bombers as they crossed the coast. The flight was uneventful, strings of clouds marked the updrafts rising from the eastern dorsal as small groups of bombers linked up to form a long loose line heading north.

  The fighters were detected by Japanese radar first. All available interceptors rose into the sky from the carrier decks, meeting the Americans twenty miles south of their fleet. The Americans had the advantage of altitude to add to their heavier guns and armor. The Japanese were veterans, all their pilots had at least some experience in China. The Americans were complete novices and made many rookie mistakes. The confused dogfight engaged more and more aircraft and began to slowly drift lower to the sea below. The bombers ploughed ahead at a loftier altitude unmolested.

  The Air Corps lieutenant colonel in the first B-17 ordered his aircraft to orbit between the two formations, the battle fleet to the south and the landing force already putting troops ashore at Batan on the north. As Raid Commander, he directed the higher-flying B-17s to attack the warships, and the slower, lower Liberators against the less-defended merchant shipping. His orders called for priority to go to sinking the carriers, but he knew that aiming with high altitude torpedoes was largely a waste of time.

  He would be happy for hits on anything at all.

  Both bomber streams came in west of their targets, turned right and attacked with the marginal advantage of the setting sun being behind them. The bombardiers directed their pilots over the last few seconds of the approach and then pressed the ‘volley’ switch on their release controls. The heavy torpedoes dropped off the wings in pairs, deploying a drogue to assume a head-first attitude. After a few seconds, a larger parachute slowed the weapon’s decent further. Once they hit the sea, the torpedoes activated their motors and began a series of wide circles. Each weapon swam blindly in a two-mile wide circuit, together all the torpedoes formed a swarm few ships could hope to evade.