By Ernest A. Herr
PREFACE
A few weeks ago, an e-mail came my way that was circulated by an agent for no less of a personage than Walter Cronkite. The purpose of the e-mail was to search out letters written by service people of World War II. These could be letters written home to mom and dad or wife and kids, whomever. It seems Mr. Cronkite is planning a publication of a book of such letters. Sure, this could be interesting reading but, come on Walter, wake up, the war's been over for more than a half century, why did you have to wait so long?
Nonetheless, I took a look around my ancient records and sent
out a few e-mails to some old shipmates to see what might be dredged up.
So far, no luck, I guess most such letters ended up in the trash can years
ago. However, all was not lost as I did come across an old wrinkled
account of a story that the gunnery officer of the USS O'Bannon had related
to a national magazine back in 1944. In that story there were some
interesting first person tales. These remembrances were from some
of the higher ranking officers aboard and since this was an unofficial
account, it is not likely that these stories would be found elsewhere.
This was justification for putting together this episode.
Many accounts of the great naval battle known
as the Battle of Guadalcanal have been told from many different perspectives.
In my story, "Horror at Guadalcanal," it was a view of what it was like
to be in the main radio room of the destroyer USS O'BANNON during the battle.
From this somewhat shielded location, we radiomen missed much of the excitement
that would have been gained from watching 14 inch and other various size
shells go flying over our heads. And since our attention was concentrated
on processing radio information that was arriving at breakneck speed, we
were a bit too busy to be worrying as much as we should have been.
Not so for those in good viewing locations.
The Action
For a great view of the naval battle of Guadalcanal and as a witness to history in the making, imagine that you're standing on the deck of the O'Bannon as it starts its long run toward the center of the Japanese forces in this famous battle. The time is 0137 and quite dark prior to the start of the fireworks, but with enough light to dimly make out any ships that might come over the horizon.
With no nearby mountains, trees nor buildings to mar the view, the ocean all around is open for your inspection. At the speed the ship is traveling (about twenty-five knots), the air is refreshing and comfortable even though we are not far from the equator. Your feet are solid on the deck as the heavy steel is not at all slippery but it is still advisable to have a hold onto something as the ship rolls and pitches a little at this speed even though the water is quite calm. A balmy nine knot breeze is blowing across the channel and jagged flashes of lightening can be seen slanting down over the distant mountains of Guadalcanal.
Should you be worried at this time? Well, consider that ahead of you lies some of the most awesome battleships of the most powerful navy in the world: The Imperial Japanese Navy (IJN). That's what Pearl Harbor was all about, the Japanese moved into the number one position as the world's most powerful navy.
The Japanese admirals that are now watching your approach have been training for this battle for years and are well qualified for their present assignment which is to blow you and your ship to pieces. How much training have our officers had?
Our Executive Officer has probably the most combat experience. Well, not exactly combat experience, but he was in London during the blitz. That's got to count for something. How about our captain (Commander Edwin Wilkinson of North Miami, Florida)? Nothing mentioned about his combat experience, but he does handle this ship well -- plenty of experience along those lines, as it turned out.
How about the admiral that is commanding our force, Admiral Callaghan. As a Naval Aid to President Roosevelt, his career appeared to be on the fast track and after serving a short time as Chief of Staff under Admiral Ghormley (Halsey's predecessor) where, according to the noted naval historian Richard B. Frank, "he served a task in which he had escaped distinction." He then boarded the USS San Francisco two weeks prior to this moment and has hardly had time to get his sea legs. A little worry here would not be out of place.
You watch as the battleship Hiei first appears then looms larger on the horizon. All ships are converging to a central point with a closing speed of about 40 knots. The Japanese are still not aware of the American presence as yet but the radar on Helena and the O'Bannon have painted a pretty grim picture of what lies ahead. Admiral Callaghan is still not sure what his correct course of action should be so he gives no orders to open fire. At 0142, Commander Stokes (Squadron Commander) on the leading ship (the destroyer USS Cushing) has visual contact with two Japanese destroyers and asks, "Shall I let them have a couple of fish (torpedoes)?" Callaghan declines permission. This turned out to be a serious blunder for the admiral and would not be his last for the night.
At the same time the Japanese lead destroyer, Yudachi, spots the Cushing and reports to the Japanese admiral heading the Japanese force, Admiral Abe, "Enemy bearing toward Lunga." Abe, who has every reason to believe there are no American warships in the area, is perplexed and cries out, "What enemy? What strength? Where?
Abe was not a firebrand and had hoped to lob quite a few 14 inch shells onto Henderson Field and then depart without incident. His battleship, the Hiei, was the favorite of Emperor Hirohito whenever the Emperor decided to review the fleet so Abe didn't want to bang up this ship if he could help it. Well, Hirohito was considered to be God on earth, at least to the Japanese, and not one to anger by damaging his favorite ship. So a little politics was taking part in this battle.
Since all hell is about to break lose, your best view for it would be out over the port bow (forward, a little to your left). The destroyer Cushing is the first of a line of American ships heading directly into the Japanese force. The Cushing is followed by three destroyers, the Laffey, the Sterrett and the O'Bannon, your ship. So there are three ships ahead that can perhaps absorb some of the shells that might be heading our way and that we can 'kind of' hide behind, at least for a little while. At 0148, Admiral Callaghan finally gives the order for all ships to fire: "Odd ships fire to starboard, even ships fire to port."
Unfortunately, the Cushing (first in line) has her main battery trained on the Hiei to her port side but respectfully follows orders and switches the batteries to fire at a Japanese destroyer on her starboard side wasting precious time at a time when every second counts.
Although the visibility is good, the Japanese have no radar and will be at a serious disadvantage so Admiral Abe orders the Hiei and one of his lead destroyers to use searchlights to level up the playing field. The beams snap on in an instant and long fingers of light scan across the bay. You see each beam stop on every American ship to tag it as if to say, "I see you." Down these cones of light came the first salvos of Japanese shells. The time is 0148. You watch as the fireworks start.
As ordered, the Cushing lashes out to starboard with her main batteries at a Japanese destroyer, and does manage to fire one torpedo to port at the Hiei and then peppers the monster's deck with 20mm machine gun fire. Japanese shells quickly find the Cushing however, and shells smash into her engineering compartments. The Cushing loses headway but manages to turn to starboard and launches six torpedoes at the Hiei at a range of 1,200 yards. Officers and crew believe that they have scored three hits, but this is just an allusion.
Quickly the Cushing is pounded by ten major hits which silence her guns, cripple her steering and rob her of power. Enemy machine guns riddle her topside killing many of the crew as two Japanese destroyers pass her starboard side and score seven more hits. Burning and lacking power to move or return fire except for the 20mm guns the captain (Lt. Commander Parker) gives the order to abandon ship. You watch this scary sight in awe along with many of the O'Bannon crew (repair parties) who stand nearby.
Next in line (two ships ahead) is the destroyer the USS Laffey. As an even numbered ship, the Laffey is permitted to fire at the Hiei and hammer the battleship she does with 5-inch guns and machine gun fire killing Captain Suzuki, Abe's chief of staff who is standing on the bridge. She fires her torpedoes at point blank range but they fail to arm before they strike the battleship. Unscathed by the battlewagon, the Laffey passes her bow and under her stem, missing a collision by a distance measured in feet only to run headlong into three Japanese destroyers that are waiting for her.
You watch as the Laffey is buried in shells from these destroyers and then is hit by a torpedo that tears off the stern of the ship. A large-caliber salvo probably from the battleship Kirishima (directly behind the Hiei) crashes into the Laffey's after boiler room. Fires now rage over the ship and with no way remaining to fight them, the captain, Lt. Commander Hank gives the order to abandon ship. What you see next is the Laffey erupting in a huge orange ball of fire killing many of the crew including Lt. Commander Hank. Now, there is but one ship directly ahead of us.
In an instant, the stern of that ship, the destroyer Sterett, looms up. You freeze in your tracks as you see the destroyer directly in front and realize that a collision is eminent. At the last moment, a violent maneuver by the O'Bannon zooms you by the Sterett missing it by a scant thirty feet. The two ships are now abreast, the O'Bannon having caught up with the Sterett which was a scant 500 yards ahead at the start of the run. The O'Bannon is a new and fast ship -- a bit too fast, it seems. A collision here would have undoubtedly been the end for both ships. Both ships were lucky in avoiding a collision but luck for the Sterett is about to run out.
The even - odd firing order has the Sterett directing her fire to starboard and she pumps out thirteen salvos undoubtedly at the nearby Japanese cruiser Nagara. A beautiful sight to behold providing you are not a crewmember of of Nagara. When the O'Bannon crosses the Sterrett line of fire, the Sterett holds her fire (fortunately for the O'Bannon), but the Sterett is now pounded by Japanese fire. The Sterett fires four torpedoes to port and many more 5-inch rounds. Observers on the Sterett believe their torpedoes strike home but these hits turned out to be just gun flashes.
Her crewmen then spot a Japanese destroyer only 1000 yards off the starboard bow and the ship fires two torpedoes and then goes into continuous fire with her 5-inchers. In her finest hour, the Sterett sailors think one torpedo has found its mark as the target sinks "almost immediately." By 0227, the Sterett has received so many hits that she is completely ablaze and has to flood the magazines. With a total of eleven direct hits including three 14 inch shells, Lt. Commander Coward (not an apt name) takes his ship out of the action. This leaves the O'Bannon in the number one position with one battleship all to herself and if that's not enough to keep us busy, there is another battlewagon about a thousand yards behind.
If you're a person who loves thrills, you are about to get your fill. You can see shells from your ship knock out the searchlights on the Hiei and her nearby destroyer. When heavy fire envelopes both Cushing and Laffey, the O'Bannon's five inch shells go flying into the Hiei's forward superstructure. You watch as the Cushing and Laffey disappear under the water and the Sterett, although still on the surface, goes dark and silent and glides out of the action. The Hiei is now ready to take on the O'Bannon.
Now a wall of flame opens up in your face as all of the Hiei's batteries open up. But the gods are smiling on the O'Bannon this night as its violent maneuvering (to avoid hitting other ships) has allowed her to get so close the the battlewagon that none of the enemy's guns will depress enough to allow the shells to hit, so all shells pass harmlessly overhead but with whining and terrifying noises. Will the next salvo do likewise? Annoyed, Admiral Abe directs his gunners to find other targets.
By 0156, the enemy battleship appears to be well afire. The O'Bannon crew believe that the two torpedoes fired on the way in have hit as everyone sees he enemy unit "explode" and "burning particles" start falling on the O'Bannon's deck -- yet another battle illusion. The O'Bannon's torpedoes were duds. The officers and men who were topside said they could see big chunks of metal fly into the air as the shells from the O'Bannon and other ships tore into the battleship.
Down in the after engine room, Lt. Douglas P. Bates from Baton Rouge, Louisiana is on a talk circuit and, without being able to see anything outside, his imagination is running wild. Here is a direct quote from Lt. Bates: I'll never forget Lt. George Philip. He was our gunnery officer stationed in the main battery director. Despite the fact that it was his first surface action and shells were coming over like so many machine gun bullets, our fire under his direction was going right into the target, salvo after salvo. I talked to him over the intercom system.
"This is murderous," he said, calm and unhurried. "This is murderous." While his words were reassuring, his words and the sound effects of the gods beating their kettle-drums were not. I didn't know which side he was talking about when he said the battle was "murderous."
To the O'Bannon's captain, Comdr. Edwin Wilkinson of North Miami, Florida, it was obvious that our 5-inch shells could do little more damage to the monster in front of us so, with no visible targets to starboard, he reverses the O'Bannon course to the east. Five ships can still be viewed burning and exploding on the starboard quarter. But on the O'Bannon, for the moment, things are quiet but little did anyone realize that the worst was yet to come. Having been close to the Japanese forces, the O'Bannon had been fired on by the American forces (thought to have been the destroyer Fletcher) but now the ship is returning to the American side but not without serious problems.
At 0201, the O'Bannon swings hard to left to avoid the sinking bow of the destroyer Barton. As the bow passes toward our stern, you watch O'Bannon crew members throwing life jackets to sailors in the water. Horribly, some of the Barton's crew are sucked into the O'Bannon's screws. At 0203, shock waves from Barton's tremendous death rattle hit killing many of the remaining Barton crew and lifting the O'Bannon's stern out of the sea.
Lt. Bates, who was in the after engine room, said he thought we had taken a torpedo. "The jolt knocked me against a bulkhead, all the lights went out and the alarm bells and sirens of the engine room pressure controls all let go at once, the ship went into a sickening lurch -- then a steady, forward lunge. I didn't think she ever was going to come out of it. After what seemed like all night, she straightened up again. We established contact with the bridge, reported, and then just stood there, expecting orders to abandon ship. We were certain we were done for."
In the fire room bulkheads bulged and retracted. The floor plates looked as if they were about to burst. Paint scales and dust from a thousand hidden crevices filled the air. All lights went out. A steam gauge snapped and live steam hissed throughout the room.
In main radio, there was no panic and everyone remained at their station. All radios were dead so there was nothing to do but sit there in the rather dim battle lights (which were operating okay). Everyone sat quietly awaiting the "abandon ship" order or whatever.
In the engine rooms, shouts filled the darkness. "Lights.. turn on the lights... watch the gauge .. smoke watch says we're smoking... Finally, James H. Joiner, a young electrician's mate from Florence Villa, Florida, plunged his hand into the master switch box and located the damaged circuit breaker and made a fast repair and the lights blinked on.
"When the lights were restored," according to Lt. Bates, "every man just went about his job, determined to keep at it as long as he was alive. From that moment on I knew we had no reason to worry about the men of the O'Bannon. From their actions at a time when they were convinced death was but minutes or seconds away, I was certain we had a four-O crew of topnotch men.
After regaining power, O'Bannon breaks off action and heads southeast "to locate either definite targets or definite friends," was Commander Wilkinson's remark. For you and the O'Bannon's crew, the battle is over. Death had lasted only for a moment and it was the greatest feeling to return to the living. The next best feeling was just getting the hell out of there.
On leaving the scene, you would possibly see some, but would not be likely realize that there were well over a thousand sailors out there swimming for their lives trying to make it to shore. Many would make it, many would not. Marines would find both American and Japanese sailors lying exhausted side by side on the shore the following morning. (Over 1400 sailors would be picked up by boat by the next day).
The man who led this American task force, Admiral
Callaghan (killed on the cruiser San Francisco), would receive the Nation's
highest award, the Congressional Medal of Honor, for his part in this historic
battle. This, even though the Navy was hard pressed to find his actions
outstanding or even deserving of merit. Since he had forfeited his
life though, it can be assumed he had done his very best, which is after
all, the most that can be asked. No one else of those who had served
so well this night would receive such an honor, but then, no one else could
claim to be a personal friend of President Roosevelt, either.
Credits:
This story was reconstructed from an account of the battle as witnessed by the O'Bannon's Executive Office, Lt. Carl Pfeifer. The title of the article was "Lucky Mike Plays for Keeps" and was recorded as told to Jack S. McDowell. I can't give credit to the magazine from which it was taken since the name of the magazine did not appear on any of the pages, unfortunately. Additional quotes were from Lt. George Philip of Rapid City, South Dakota who was the gunnery officer and was located in the main battery director and from Lt. Douglas Bates of Baton Rouge, Louisiana who was the assistant engineer and was located in one of the engine rooms.
Additional information was taken from the book GUADALCANAL - THE DEFINITIVE ACCOUNT OF THE LANDMARK BATTLE by Richard B. Frank.
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