Cribtop
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Joined: 8/10/2008 From: Lone Star Nation Status: offline
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Excerpt from History of United States Naval Operations in WWII, by Samuel Eliot Morison. Volume III, "The Rising Sun in the Pacific" Chapter 8, "The Battle of the Torres Islands" Introduction The name Torres Islands conjures horror and dismay in US Navy personnel to this day. It stands for defeat and loss of life, for errors made and compounded, for the sudden and calamitous end to America's Pacific counter-offensive before it could really begin. But this is the surface level. Psychologically, the Torres Islands debacle brought Pearl Harbor full circle, as Imperial Japan's terror weapon - the Carrier Strike Force - brought low the USN's carriers, sole operational survivors of the initial surprise attack and the shield built up in the public mind that would save the Pacific for Western Civilization. The psyche of the Navy was damaged as well, in that the USN's aviators were unable to give as good as the sailors got. Recriminations within the ranks were frequent, with many naval personnel believing they were unfairly blamed for a defeat which was a hair's breadth from a victory; that the Torres Islands was "the One That Got Away." In sum, the battle was more than sunken ships and downed planes. It extinguished the torch of hope while ever so slightly re-directing the fires of anger away from Japan and toward our own. That America rose above this dark day to inexorably fight on is a strong testament to the national character. At the time, however, it felt like the Japanese - in the role of neighborhood bully - had first taken away our toys and then punched out our Dad when he showed up to set things right. Spies in Our Midst? The USN spent literally years after the battle convinced that Japan had obtained prior intelligence of the American move against the Solomons. Boards of Inquest investigated everything from code breaking to human spies to explain the sudden appearance of Japan's Kido Butai in the right place at the right time to wreak havoc. It was only after the war that the West learned of Japan's planned attack on Sydney harbor that led to the battle. This is instructive, however, as the Sydney attack was originally conceived in large part because of Japan's opinion that USN long range patrols in the New Hebrides were insufficient to detect the approach of the Japanese carriers. This factor, along with Japan's strong search network, was critical to providing the enemy with far more information about American movements than vice versa. In the end, the answer to the agonizing question "how did they know," was an unsatisfying combination of good grunt work and good luck. The attack on Munda Point The attack on Japan's major air installation at Munda Point was the reason our carriers were at the Torres Islands in the first place. Admiral Nimitz' staff had correctly divined that Japan was using Tulagi as a fortified outpost and seaplane base. Behind Tulagi lay Munda and The Shortlands. The latter base, however, was not complete and farther from possible invasion sites on Guadalcanal or Rennell Island. Neutralizing Munda's land based torpedo bombers was seen as a pre-condition to a ground offensive. On October 22nd, the USN fleet was posted 480 miles south of Munda, probing the range at which an effective Japanese strike could be launched and hoping to goad the enemy into an ill-fated attack. Things went well at first, as the Japanese complied, impaling some of their better Zero fighter pilots and a group of G3M2 Nells on the Navy's combat air patrol of Wildcats. The Turn East The reason the Torres Islands happened at all lay in Admiral Halsey's decision to retire directly toward the fleet's current base at Suva. Had the carriers returned by the same route as they approached, they would have avoided contact entirely. Admiral Nagumo was aware of this, but chose to move only as close as he did in hopes the USN would stay near its current position on the 23rd. The IJN brass reasoned that if the Americans stayed, it meant an invasion was in the offing, and that the Combined Fleet would be ready to meet it. Because Japanese search planes and subs had seen nothing behind the US carriers, they assumed nothing much would come of their move toward Ndeni. In fact, of course, all these assumptions were incorrect, and the two mighty fleets were on a collision course... October 23, 1942 Ensign Handa Kazunori was only 23 years old, but already one of the most experienced carrier dive bomber pilots in human history. This wasn't hard to do given that the history of wartime carrier dive bombing was only 10 months old, but Handa's resume was still impressive. He had bombed Pearl Harbor, Darwin, Soerabaja and Colombo. Oddly, his pre-war training had focused on attacking ships in open waters, and yet only today would he put those techniques into action. For the moment, his primary concern was surviving long enough to drop his bomb. For twenty minutes, American Wildcat fighters had torn through the approaching Japanese air formation, shooting and being shot at by the Kaigun's fighters, dive bombers and torpedo bombers. Now, the B5Ns had gone low for their runs, leaving Handa's bombers and their escorts to stay up top. Kazunori winced as his tail gunner opened fire on yet another incoming fighter. The young pilot maneuvered wildly but felt his Aichi shudder as bullets impacted the tail. Amazingly, the plane still responded to his controls despite the damage. Below him loomed an enemy carrier, believed to be the USS Lexington and already on fire from previous hits. Handa pushed over into his dive, watching as the big ship filled his target reticle. The hunted was about to become the hunter... ... William "Socket" Saukert was a fixer. His handiness with a socket wrench and his hard to pronounce last name had combined to render his shipboard nickname equivalent to a tool, which suited him fine. As a flight mechanic, he had been out of a job once the last of Lexington's aircraft had launched to attack the Jap carriers spotted to the NNE. Once the bombs started falling on his beloved ship, he quickly found new employment. "Socket, get over to that machine gun and clear the jam," yelled his boss, Chief Johnson. The Chief had organized his crew into an impromptu damage control party, currently fighting fires from the third bomb to hit the carrier. Or was it the fourth? William propelled his lanky frame across the slowly listing deck toward a machine gun post with only one surviving gunner, a green kid from the Plains somewhere named Jim or John or something similar. Time slowed down as Socket went to work on the gun, clearing the jam with expert touch in less than a minute. "Thanks, Mac," said Jim/John, as he pointed the gun skyward at yet another dive bomber overhead. The stream of bullets never got to its target. The bomber had already dropped its payload, which exploded near the bridge with a deafening blast, quickly followed by secondary explosions that literally rocked the Lex to her bones. Dusting himself off and helping Jim/John up, Socket looked for the Chief, but there was no sign of him or their crew anywhere near the newest gaping hole in the flight deck. "Jesus, Mac, what do we do now?" Jim/John suddenly looked like a young child who'd lost his Mom at the Five and Dime. Socket looked over the Lexington. The latest fire had cut them and anyone else near the bridge off from any escape over the deck. Lady Lex was so much more than a ship to all aboard, but she was also a machine, and William Saukert was enough of a mechanic to know that this machine was broken. "We jump," he said matter of factly.
< Message edited by Cribtop -- 6/12/2012 4:13:10 AM >
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