Red sun setting, p.15
Red Sun Setting, page 15
By this time the remaining Japanese planes were drawing close to the battleships of TG 58.7. Aboard the Stockham the sailors watched the enemy planes dropping out of the sky “like plums.”18 A few of the enemy fliers were also watching the Stockham, and they attacked the ship and the other “tin cans” of DesDiv 106. (The destroyers probably looked like easier targets than the bristling battlewagons.) These attacks, however, were no more successful than most for the day, and the destroyers escaped unscathed.
In a last-gasp effort, several planes broke through to attack the battleships. At 1048 the ships of TG 58.7 began firing. Gunfire from the Indiana tore the wing off a plane attacking her, and it crashed just 200 yards ahead of the battleship. Another plane went after the South Dakota and scored the only bomb hit of the day on a U.S. ship at 1049. Twenty-seven men were killed and twenty-four wounded, but the explosion didn’t slow the tough battleship even one knot. The South Dakota gunners claimed their attacker, but their fellow gunners on the Alabama (steaming close by) said the plane got away.
Two more Japanese planes glided in on the Minneapolis from astern. One of them dropped a 500-pound bomb that landed only a few feet off the ship’s starboard side. Several gas, oil, and water lines were ruptured and a small fire started. Three seamen were injured. One of the planes was shot down and the other retired from the area in obvious difficulty. Another dive bomber attacked the Wichita but only got two near-misses before it was shot down. Forty-millimeter fire from the Indiana punctured a smoke generator on the San Francisco, causing the ship to lay down a large trail of smoke. It was some time before her crew was able to jettison the generator.
By 1057 the hard-working fighter director Eggert could report that the radar screens were clear. Raid I was over. Only eight fighters, thirteen fighter-bombers, and six Jills were able to return to their carriers. Though antiaircraft fire had knocked down some of the attackers, it had been the fighters that had done most of the damage. At one point during the action Admiral Reeves had even signaled his ships, “Try to avoid shooting down our own planes. They are our best protection.”19
The American losses, though light in comparison to those suffered by the Japanese, were nevertheless tragic to the men of TF 58. Besides the twenty-seven men killed on the South Dakota, four pilots were listed as missing in action, including the Princeton’s air group skipper, Lieutenant Commander Ernest W. Wood. A number of Hellcats had been shot up and several had to be pushed over the side.
Another Japanese plane goes down under the fire of the TF 58 ships.
During the respite, TF 58 was landing, servicing, and rearming as many fighters as it could. Most of the bombers and torpedo planes were still orbiting to the east, waiting for some word on what to do. Admiral Reeves had an idea. At 1103 he asked Mitscher, “Desire issue following instructions my airborne deckloads before fuel depletion: Enterprise VT search ten-degree sectors to 250 miles median line 260 true. Attack groups follow along median line thirty miles behind. Search planes retire on contact, concentrate and attack in coordination other planes.20
“Approved, approved. Wish we could go with you,” Mitscher replied.21 But Reeves’s plan was stillborn, as it proved impossible to break through the confusion on the radio channels to issue the necessary orders. The bombers continued their merry-go-rounds to the east.
A Hellcat lands on the Lexington to rearm during the 19 June 1944 air battle. (National Archives)
Though he was willing to release some of his planes to go after the enemy, Mitscher was expecting more attacks; and he would not be disappointed. Just ten minutes after reporting his screens clear, Eggert had picked up another bogey on the Lexington’s radar at the incredible distance of 160 miles, bearing 250 degrees from the ship. This was Ozawa’s big punch from the Shokaku, Zuikaku, and Taiho.
This raid by the 601st Air Group was cursed by bad luck from the beginning. As the Taiho was launching her planes, Commander James W. Blanchard was at the periscope of the Albacore watching the activity. Blanchard had been patrolling the southwest corner of the new square Admiral Lockwood had set up when Ozawa’s own A Force stumbled across the sub’s path.
Blanchard submerged and watched the targets steam past. The Albacore’s position was about 12 20’N, 137 00’E. A large carrier, a cruiser and several other ships could be seen seven miles away, 70 degrees off the port bow. Blanchard brought his crew to battle stations. The submarine built up speed and closed the enemy. As Blanchard watched a second carrier was seen. Although he did not know it, the large eight-rayed flag he could see flying from this carrier was Ozawa’s own flag. Unlucky Taiho. She was in a better position for an attack than the flattop Blanchard had originally seen.
Blanchard had a beautiful setup for a right-angle shot at the Taiho. The big carrier was 9,000 yards away and the torpedo run would be 2,300 yards. Just then a destroyer got in the way, and Blanchard decided to close in for a torpedo run of under 2,000 yards. He took another quick look. It appeared to be a perfect setup for a spread of six “fish.” Then his luck changed. After all the information was fed into the Albacore’s torpedo data computer, the TDC refused to come up with a solution. Wrong information had been fed into it and it would not supply an answer.
Blanchard was beside himself. The Taiho was making 27 knots and the range would soon start to open rapidly. He decided to shoot a spread of six torpedoes by eye and hope for the best. At 0909:32 the torpedoes were sent on their way. A minute later, Blanchard noted three pugnacious-looking destroyers headed his way, so he went deep.22
Warrant Officer Sakio Komatsu had just lifted his Jill off the Taiho’s armored deck when saw one of the Albacore’s torpedoes bubbling toward the ship. Without hesitation he wheeled his plane around and dove it into the torpedo. A geyser of water, smoke, and debris marked his passing. It was a brave, but ultimately futile effort. Two minutes after it had been fired another torpedo slammed into the Taiho’s hull.23
This torpedo, the only one to hit, struck the Taiho’s starboard side near the forward gasoline tanks. The ship’s forward elevator jammed and gasoline and oil lines ruptured. But the carrier’s speed slackened only one knot and no fires broke out. To the ship’s damage-control officer the damage was only minor and repairs would quickly be accomplished. The Taiho raced on. The Albacore underwent a rather unenthusiastic depth-charging, and afterwards Blanchard would only claim possible damage to the carrier. It would be months before the truth would be learned.
Unaware of what was going on below, Lieutenant Commander Tarui led his planes toward TF 58. Eight soon dropped out because of various mechanical problems and returned to their carriers. Tarui then made the mistake of leading his planes over C Force. The ships’ gunners were trigger-happy and, on the bizarre reasoning that enemy planes would appear at high altitude and from the west—not the east—they opened fire. Two planes were shot down and eight others damaged badly enough to have to turn back.24 It must have been a disconcerting experience for the young Japanese crews to undergo this completely surprising encounter before getting anywhere near the enemy.
Lieutenant Commander Tarui regrouped his force and they plunged ahead. Shortly after 1100 they were close to TF 58. Tarui now made the same error his predecessor had made on Raid I—he began to brief his inexperienced crews on their part in the attack. Naturally this took time, and the Japanese planes circled and crossed over each other as the briefing went on. And Lieutenant (jg) Sims was again near the radio listening to Tarui’s instructions and passing them on to Eggert. Once more a pause by the enemy had enabled the Americans to climb above the attackers and to fly far enough west so that the enemy would be under constant air attack before getting anywhere near the U.S. ships.
Ten Essex Hellcats, led by the air group skipper, Commander David McCampbell, were waiting at 25,000 feet when they received instructions to intercept the enemy. The pilots poured the coal to their fighters and took out after the bogeys. At 1139 McCampbell spotted Raid II. It appeared there were about fifty Zekes and Judys. (Actually there were almost twice as many.) The Japanese planes, now about 45 miles from the task force, looked like they were in one big formation of three-plane sections and nine-plane divisions and were stacked about 1,500 feet deep. At the time of the sighting, the Hellcats had almost a 5,000-foot altitude advantage.
Leaving four planes as high cover, McCampbell took the rest down for a fast pass from the side. McCampbell’s first target was a Judy on the left side of the formation about halfway back. He had intended to cut his victim out of the pack, dive below him and continue under the enemy formation to the other side. However, McCampbell’s plans changed abruptly when his ‘fifties blew the Judy up in his face. McCampbell pulled up and charged across the formation “feeling as though every rear gunner had his fire directed at (him).”25
On the other side he picked off another Judy which burned and fell out of control. Working toward the front of the formation, McCampbell claimed a probable on a Judy that fell away smoking. He was now in position to attack the formation leader and his two wingmen. As he jockeyed for position on the leader, McCampbell noticed that what he had thought to be one large formation was actually two; one group was 600 feet lower and about 1,000 yards off to the side. His first pass on the leading plane seemed to have no effect. Breaking down and to the left, McCampbell swung around for another pass. This time he attacked the leader’s left wingman from 7 o’clock above. The Judy exploded in a ball of fire.
McCampbell again broke down and to the left which placed him to the left and below the leading Judy. He pumped a continuous stream of bullets into the Judy until it “burned furiously and spiralled downward out of control.”26 By this time the guns of his fighter were suffering stoppages and McCampbell pulled away to recharge them. He then returned to the battle. The Japanese formation had been hacked to pieces, but the remaining enemy pilots doggedly pressed ahead. Another Judy, apparently the leader of the lower formation, came into view. McCampbell immediately began a high-side run on him. Only the Hellcat’s starboard guns fired and McCampbell was thrown into a wild skid. The Judy took advantage of this unplanned maneuver and began a fast dive. McCampbell took up the chase, firing short bursts with his operative guns. Finally the impact of the ‘fifties took effect. The Judy pulled up and over and dove into the sea.
The fighting during the “Turkey Shoot” was not all one-sided. Here an Essex flier is helped from his Hellcat after being wounded during the battle. (U.S. Navy)
McCampbell was now out of action and returned to the Essex. Destined to become the Navy’s leading ace of the war with thirty-four aerial victories and a number of ground kills, he had shot down five Judys and claimed one probable in this one action. During the fight he noted that the enemy fliers took very little evasive action when they were attacked, except for some violent fishtailing which only slowed their planes down.
The rest of the VF-15 pilots claimed fifteen and one-half Zekes and Judys. (One pilot shared a Zeke with a pilot from another squadron.) While most of the Japanese planes were dispatched rather easily, some of the Essex fliers found the enemy could fight back. Ensign G.H. Rader did not return from the battle and Ensign J. W. Power, Jr., was wounded by a Zeke pilot whose plane he destroyed. Ensign C.W. Plant had knocked down four Zekes, but his next encounter was not too pleasant. While chasing a Zeke, Plant had another fighter lock onto his tail. Unable to shake the Zeke, he could hear the 20-mm and 7.7-mm shells “splattering off the armor plate.”27 Another F6F came by, finally, and shot the Zeke off his tail. When Plant got back to the Essex, 150 bullet holes (including one in each prop blade) were counted in his fighter. Another Fighting 15 pilot reported a “not unpleasant” experience when the container for his plane’s water injection fluid broke, filling the cockpit with alcohol fumes.28
For six minutes VF-15 had the Japanese all to themselves. Then the hapless enemy fliers were pounded from all sides by newly arriving Hellcats. Fighters from most of the carriers piled into the confusing melee. One of the pilots just entering the battle was Lieutenant (jg) Alexander Vraciu, who already had thirteen victory flags painted on his Hellcat. Six more would be added at the end of the day.
Vraciu’s first kill was a Judy that he exploded from only about 200 feet away. Two more Judys were then seen. Vraciu eased his fighter in behind the two planes and began to fire. His fire was returned by the rear gunner of the right-hand Judy. But the power of the six machine guns in the Hellcat’s wings proved too much. The dive bomber belched a puff of smoke, immediately followed by a continuous stream of black smoke. The plane began its final dive. The rear gunner continued firing until his plane sliced into the water.
Vraciu was quickly onto the other Judy. Several short bursts produced the desired results. Fire and smoke suddenly appeared and the Judy fell out of control. Vraciu had shot down three enemy planes in almost as many minutes. The mass of planes made him apprehensive, however; it seemed there were too many attackers for the defending fighters to handle. A fourth Judy pulled slightly out of formation and Vraciu plunged back into the fight. From dead astern he fired a long burst. The dive bomber burst into flames and fell awkwardly out of the sky.
He gave a quick glance to the tumbling Judy, but was more interested in a trio of dive bombers rapidly approaching their pushover points. With the engine of his F6F straining, Vraciu crept up on the trailing Judy. Flak bursts were beginning to blacken the sky, but Vraciu kept after his quarry. Finally he was within range and squeezed the trigger. The stream of shells literally disintegrated his target.
Vraciu did not waste time admiring his handiwork. The other Judys were now in their dives. He screamed down after the leading plane. Black puffs speckled the sky around him as he closed his target. When he got close enough he began to fire. For a few seconds nothing seemed to be happening and then—a bright flash! The Judy vanished, apparently undone by the explosion of its bomb.
Lieutenant (jg) Alex Vraciu happily signals his score for the interception.
Vraciu looked around. The enemy formation was gone; wiped out by the constantly attacking Hellcats and the deadly flak. He headed back to the Lexington, detouring around some “friendly” flak on the way, and was soon aboard his carrier. As he taxied up the deck, he looked up at the bridge. Admiral Mitscher was looking down at him. Grinning, Vraciu held up six fingers. As he climbed out of his cockpit after parking, Vraciu was greeted by a flock of well-wishers, including Mitscher. After the congratulations were over, Mitscher asked a photographer to take a picture of Vraciu and himself, “not for publication, to keep for myself.”29
The VF-16 pilots had good shooting, claiming four Jills, nine Judys, two Kates, and seven Zekes without loss. Before the day was over they claimed twenty-two more planes downed, with only one plane lost in an operational ditching.
As the battle swirled overhead, Admiral Reeves recommended to Mitscher that TF 58 head west “turning into the wind only as necessary to land aircraft or takeoff.” Mitscher approved this suggestion, and at 1134 told his task group commanders to “make as little to the easterly as practicable but land planes at discretion.”30
The Essex and Lexington fliers were not the only ones to be scoring against the enemy planes. Lieutenant Commander R.W. Hoel led twelve Bunker Hill fighters into the action around 1130. Unfortunately, most of the VF-8 fighters were unable to intercept the attack. However, Hoel was able to lead his division into a group of twelve Zekes that had so far escaped attack. He shot down one fighter immediately and almost got another.
Hoel next made an attack on a Judy which spiraled into the water. A Zeke tried to break up his attack, peppering Hoel’s Hellcat with 20-mm and 7.7-mm shells that caused his own guns to go into automatic fire and burn themselves out. Though his wingman finally chased the Zeke away, Hoel’s plane was in bad shape. Hoel tried to make it back to the Bunker Hill, but at 4,000 feet the stick slammed all the way forward and his Hellcat went into an inverted spin. Hoel bailed out, receiving two fractured ribs in the process, and was shortly picked up by a destroyer.
The VF-8 pilots had not had a good interception, claiming only four Zekes and a Judy, but that was still five less planes to worry about later. The pilots told their debriefing officers, “No new information. Zekes continue to burn.”31
Pilots of the Bataan’s VF-50 had better luck in their interception, claiming five Zekes, four Judys, and a Jill plus two others as probables. Lieutenant (jg) P.C. Thomas, Jr., chased a Zeke for some time before dunking him. The enemy pilot was very good, staying below 1,000 feet and timing his evasive maneuvers expertly. “It was like catching a flea on a hot griddle.”32 Unfortunately for the enemy pilot, he was boxed in by five F6Fs and was committed to a reasonably straight course. Finally the Zeke pilot stayed in one place too long and Thomas’s shells exploded his plane.
As he turned for home, Thomas saw another Zeke putting on an “amazing exhibition” of aerobatics for four other Hellcats. “At about 300 feet he started slow rolling and completed some fifteen in succession. He would dive to about 50 feet and then jink up and down between there and a matter of five to ten feet above the waves. Probably he hoped to entice some F6 into following his maneuver and mushing into the water. Several times he pulled into a half loop, flew on his back for a few seconds fishtailing, and then pulled up in an outside loop. Finally he completed a full loop under 500 feet and was caught by a burst that flamed him as he started to level out.”33
Ensign E. R. Tarleton had already downed a Judy when he spotted a Jill being stalked by another Hellcat. The American was out of range, but the Jill’s rear gunner kept firing a few short bursts at him. With the attention of the enemy crew on the other F6F, Tarleton was able to sneak in from 8 o’clock and explode the plane. As he pulled up Tarleton saw the other Hellcat, its prop windmilling, crash into the water. The pilot never got out of his sinking plane.
