THE RECOVERY OF TF 58’s PLANES had taken almost four hours, and during this time the force had to steam east at 22 knots. When TF 58 finally came back west it was making only 16 knots in order to rescue as many fliers as possible, and was heading almost due west. Since the Mobile Fleet was heading northwest at 20 knots, TF 58 was losing ground.
The search for Ozawa’s ships went on, however. The Americans had no way of yet knowing that the Shokaku, Taiho, and Hiyo had gone down, but figured there had to be cripples to go after. A report received at 0130 on the morning of 21 June from a VP-16 PBM tended to confirm this point. The plane told of shadowing many ships, some of them trailing oil, at 16°15’N, 133°05’E at 2305. A few minutes after receiving this message Admiral Mitscher ordered deck-load strikes readied for launch as soon as possible after dawn.
On the afternoon of the 20th Bill Martin had proposed to Mitscher a night minimum-altitude attack on the Mobile Fleet using eight VT-10 snoopers, plus the Avengers recovered from the afternoon strike. It was planned to launch two snoopers at midnight, followed by the remaining planes at 0200. Mitscher had approved the plan; but because of the confusion during the recovery and the fact that the five planes in the attack were now unavailable, he cancelled the strike shortly before 0200.1 However, two of the Enterprise’s torpedo planes, carrying full bomb-bay tanks, were launched at 0230 to pick up the Mobile Fleet where the PBM had left off. Once again Lieutenant Nelson, with Lieutenant (jg) Moore flying wing, found the enemy. Following is Nelson’s report of the mission:
Two snoopers were originally scheduled to go out . . . with belly tanks to find and shadow their retreating fleet, and aid an approved night bombing attack by VT-10.
Because of confusion of planes of the previous evening strike returning at night, take-off time was postponed. We busied ourselves perfecting plans, trying to think of every detail to mutually aid each other in the event of plane equipment failure, how to report satisfactorily what would be seen or picked up by radar, the use of extra flares and floatlights we would carry to illuminate for identification, leading in attacking planes, or turning the Jap fleet and slowing their withdrawal.
Word finally came to man planes about 0030. . . . Our best and only enemy position was: 1900, Lat. 15-30N, 133-05E. As no course and speed was known, I decided to advance that 100 miles on 270 was an average possible retirement course. . . . Just as the catapult officer was about to wave us off, we were told to cut engines. In a few moments we were told to return to ready room. The night strike for VT-10 was cancelled and the pilots who had been up all night were bitterly disappointed. At 0145, word was passed that snoopers would go out immediately, and a strike launch about 0500. Just before take-off a note was brought to our planes reading “Saipan snooper now reports enemy fleet at 16-15N, 133-05E, course 180, speed 15, at 2330K, 20th.” This corroborated a report given us in ready room half an hour earlier about snooper picking up a “suspicious ship trailing oil” in that direction. I did not have time to plot or rework our course prior to take-off at 0230. At 0235 we departed formation. In a few minutes, Moore called on VHF with a (coded) new position of enemy which my radioman (decoded) as 16-30N, 132-48E, course 330, which the ship had sent. . . . We held our original track while I replotted a course to this latest position 40 miles advanced; a course 295°, 252 miles from our 0305 position when we turned. We were flying blacked out, no moon, no horizon, hazy, sky .6 covered by scuddy clouds getting worse toward the target forcing us to stay below 1500 feet, whereas I wanted to get higher for longer range radar pickup. Before leaving the ship, the call of the PBM snooper 8V211 was given us, his frequency 3755, and that he intended to stay on station until 0230. At about 0330 I tried desperately to raise him by both voice and CW hoping to get some further report. We received no answer, but I want to say he did a fine job and his reports helped us considerably in picking up the Jap fleet.
I expected to intercept about 0440; I began climbing slowly about 0435. Moore and I had been in good VHF communication up to this time. Suddenly he did not answer back and my gunner lost sight of him as we entered a cloud. I was very worried thinking he might have gotten vertigo so I descended to the water within five minutes, dropped a smoke light, turned on all my plane lights and started searching for any evidence of him on the water. I called him on VHF and 6420 continually telling him to return to our 0440 position, what steps I was taking to find him, and that I would keep looking for him for about 45 minutes. I even tried to tell him how to continue our search to cover more area as we were separated anyhow. I dropped several more smoke lights and in my searching for Moore ran across an oil slick wake running 300° which I mentally noted knowing there would be good hunting on the end of it. Finally as I was about to give up hope, at 0512 Moore joined up. He reported that during his search for me his radarman had picked up blips. Another hectic period ensued wherein we lost and found the blips several times. We then proceeded up the oil wake about 10 minutes and again got echoes 90° starboard about 16 miles. Knowing attack planes might be enroute we dropped smoke light, plotted and sent this report about 0530, “First enemy force time 0522K, Long. 131-35E, Lat. 17-15N, 6 medium, heavy oil wake course 300. We will search further for other forces.” As the sky was beginning to lighten we proceeded toward our radar contact and saw DDs (6). Then this report was sent, “Correction Long. 138-03E, Lat. 17-30N, course 320, speed 20, 6 DD’s, 1 lagging, oil wake from another group will report further HF.” Neither of these CW reports seem to have been received by the ship.
We then turned left to angle toward the oil slick when I saw the CA group ahead of the DD group. Again I started toward our slick when ahead about 10 miles appeared the CV force on about 030(T). After a few minutes contemplating this awesome sight I looked to the left (south) about 10 miles and beheld the BB group on course 300° at about the point where the carrier oil wake turned. It was about 0605 by this time. We found ourselves in the center of the diamond described in “A.” We orbited around clouds, alert for air opposition, replotting our position, and sent in amplifying reports. Although I only saw the BB shoot at us, the crew report DDs in the CV formation also fired. At one time a DD between us and CVs started laying smoke screen of brownish smoke in expectation of our coordinated attack, no doubt, but ceased after about 500 yards. We took departure at 0655, as I thought there were a few planes on the stern of the rear (leaking) CVL and they seemed to be turning into the wind, and further delay seemed to be stretching our luck.
Further attempts at identification beyond that given in “A” would lead to seeing pink elephants, except to say that all the CVLs looked alike, low, long, no appreciable difference in length, and no apparent distinguishing features between them, and no apparent open spaces between hull and deck either fore or aft. The cruisers we are agreed were heavy from massed superstructure characteristics. The BB identification is positive, the Yamotos looking a great deal like recognition sketches and our own Iowa class. When last seen the CVLs were heading into a heavy rain squall. . . . Along about 0730 I began sending in amplifying reports on voice (6740) and also began hearing VHF from Rebel 1, (Bunker Hill VF). We then repeated our reports on VHF through Rebel 1 and Rebel 32 who acknowledged and retransmitted to our forces. 81 Sniper’s call to us was heard and he picked up our transmissions. Even a greater disappointment than that we did not have a couple of bombs in place of half of our belly tank gas, was the realization that our striking planes would not be able to reach those sitting duck targets. We heard a Rebel plane call base “enemy position out of range we will carry out alternate plan.”
About 0820 started climbing to 5000 feet for YE signal and began sweating when 0830 and 0840 passed without results. Finally about 0850 the YE was picked up. Arrived over base at 0915; landed at 1010 exhausted, with about 150 gallons left, having started with 605.”2
As Nelson and Moore looked for the Japanese, Mitscher radioed Spruance, “With wind to easterly, it will not be possible to close enemy at option speed greater than 15 knots. Enemy appears to be escaping northwest with idea of fueling. Some damage done. Yesterday, antiaircraft fire extremely heavy and accurate. Many planes damaged. We hope to find a few crippled ships today.”3
Between 0545 and 0615 the task groups launched deckload strikes, with the Hellcats carrying 500-pound bombs. The pilots were told to fly about 300 miles and if finding nothing, return rather than risk water landings again. And nothing is what they found, for Ozawa’s ships were at least 70 miles farther to the northwest by this time. Though Nelson sent the attackers a heartfelt “It’s a beautiful day. I hope you sink them all,”4 there was nothing the TF 58 planes could do.
At 0800, with his planes still looking for the enemy, but now with information gleaned from Nelson’s reports, Mitscher gloomily told Spruance, “Report of special scouts equipped with special fuel tanks and without bomb load, the enemy heading northwest, speed 20 knots, distance 360 miles. Maximum range of plane with bomb load is 250 miles. Strike now in air ordered to hit cripples within range. If they go farther many of them will again make water landings. Air strikes cannot reach target at present range.”5
Although sure there was now no chance to catch the enemy, Spruance decided to send TG 58.7 ahead to look for cripples while the rest of TF 58 followed searching for survivors of the action the night before. Task Group 58.2 joined forces with TG 58.7, minus the Cabot which went to TG 58.3 and the Monterey which went to TG 58.1. (Both carriers rejoined TG 58.2 the next day.) The combined task groups did not proceed with great haste westward, however. Fuel for TG 58.7’s destroyers was urgently needed, so these ships were topped off, starting after noon. Not until 1516 was a course of 280 degrees resumed.
While little Japanese air activity was evident throughout the day, a few snoopers did make appearances. Cowpens planes downed one Betty, while seven Belleau Wood fighters, returning from the abortive search/strike, ganged up on another of the twin-engined bombers and sent it cartwheeling into the water. The cruiser Vincennes picked up another kind of snooper when she reported capturing three Japanese carrier pigeons. Unfortunately for the intelligence officers, the birds were not carrying any messages. The cruiser did not report the fate of the pigeons.
More searches flown in the afternoon again failed to turn up anything, and it was now obvious that the enemy had gotten away. As the day wore on, TF 58 approached the area of the battle the day before. To a casual observer flying high over the Philippine Sea, it might not have appeared that a naval battle had been fought here during the last couple of days. But, though the sea had scoured much of itself clean, there were signs. If this observer looked closer he might have seen clots of oil clinging tenaciously to the surface of the water, some areas of debris, and, here and there, yellow specks in the water—fliers in life jackets and rafts. Rescue efforts began immediately and continued for several days, with a number of aviators (including McLellan and his crew and Brown’s crew) being picked up.
Task Force 58 suffered a number of operational losses during the rescue phase, but most crews were picked up. One who was lost was the Lexington’s Ensign William J. Seyfferle. Seyfferle had flown all the way to the Mobile Fleet and back on the 20th, landing on another carrier during the madhouse around TF 58. Now the next day, he was returning to his ship. As he settled into the groove for the approach, his plane suddenly went into a spin and slammed into the water. Only a patch of foam marked the spot. There was another tragedy that evening when a PBM not showing any IFF began to approach TG 58.1. Destroyers of DesDiv 92 opened fire and brought the plane down. There were no survivors.
At 1920 on 21 June Admiral Spruance issued orders that if the last search of the day did not spot anything, TF 58 would retire. Nothing was seen and at 2050 the task force turned east and speeded up to 18 knots. At the time the task force began its retirement, TG 58.7 had reached 133 55’E to become the westernmost American unit.
Meanwhile, in hurrying northwestward the Japanese had also launched a pair of small searches to their rear, with equally negative results. As Ozawa led the Mobile Fleet toward Okinawa, he called in his chief of staff, Captain Toshikazu Ohmae, to record his letter of resignation to Admiral Toyoda. Ozawa wrote his superior that he regretted he had not led his forces to victory, but his own “inadequacies” and the lack of training for his aircrews had been a big factor in the defeat. Toyoda refused to consider Ozawa’s request and Ozawa remained to serve, along with his carriers, as a sacrificial lamb at the battle of Leyte Gulf.6
The Mobile Fleet anchored in Nakagasuku Wan, Okinawa, on the afternoon of the 22nd. Survivors from the Hiyo and Taiho were transferred to the Zuikaku, while those from the Shokaku were taken to the Maya. At 0515 on 23 June A-GO was terminated. The carriers, plus the Haruna and Maya, went to Japan for repairs, while most of the other vessels returned to Singapore.
After it turned back, TF 58 headed for a fueling rendezvous with TG 50.17 some 220 miles to the east. Fueling was begun as soon as possible on the afternoon of the 23rd and was completed the next day. Following the fueling Spruance took the Indianapolis and the ships borrowed from TF 52 back to Saipan. Task Force 58 would go back to Eniwetok in bits and pieces, for a fully deserved rest. Task Group 58.2 was the first to head back, while TGs 58.3 and 58.4 remained off the Marianas until the first days of July, supporting the operations on Saipan and Tinian. Task Group 58.1 was ordered to hit Pagan on the way back to the Marshalls. Clark, though willing to do this, had bigger things in mind. Not satisfied with the pounding that his and Harrill’s groups had given Iwo Jima, Clark asked Mitscher on the 23rd for permission to strike Iwo Jima again. Mitscher quickly gave his permission and “Operation Jocko” was on.
Clark’s carriers struck Pagan on the afternoon of the 23rd. Little of value was found there but the deadly antiaircraft fire knocked one Hellcat out of the sky. Bataan pilots had a profitable afternoon, however, bagging four Zekes and a Betty on the last CAP of the day.
After striking Pagan, TG 58.1 turned north for the run to Iwo Jima. In the path of the group bobbed a tiny raft carrying an American pilot shot down on 13 June. Lieutenant Commander Bob Price, the Cowpens air group commander, had survived in his cramped raft, living on a few fish and sparse water. Now, on the 23rd, the Boyd spotted his raft and crept in so quietly that Price did not see her until she was only 300 yards away. He was soon aboard the destroyer and just as quickly aboard the Hornet. Rapidly regaining lost weight, Price returned to command of Air Group 25 on 6 July. (Tragically, Bob Price had only five more months to live. On 18 December he was washed overboard from the Cowpens and lost when Halsey’s Third Fleet stumbled into the path of a typhoon.)
Clark’s foray against Iwo Jima was well timed. Sitting on the Iwo and Chichi Jima airfields were 122 aircraft waiting for the word from Kakuta to move to the Marianas. At 0600 on the 24th, TG 58.1 was about 235 miles southeast of Iwo Jima. The day was cloudy with scattered showers. From the Hornet’s, Yorktown’s, and Bataan’s decks rose fifty-one Hellcats, each laden with 500-pound bombs. The Belleau Wood supplied the CAP and ASP chores for the group.
The Japanese were not fooled this time, having snooped Clark’s group earlier; they were waiting for the Hellcats. But the warning did them little good. Admiral Sadaichi Matsunaga sent almost sixty fighters and even a few bombers of his 27th Air Flotilla to intercept the Americans. The two forces collided about halfway between Iwo Jima and TG 58.1. All but four of the Americans jettisoned their bombs and joined the fight. The four pilots who kept their bombs proceeded to Iwo Jima, where they dropped them on the airfield.
The Japanese defenders were generally inexperienced but their ranks were leavened with a scattering of veterans, including a one-eyed fighter pilot named Saburo Sakai. (Sakai had lost his right eye in combat over Guadalcanal; now his experience was needed so badly that he was in combat again. He survived the war to become Japan’s greatest living ace with sixty-four confirmed victories.) Sakai was amazed at the speed and maneuverability of the Hellcats, but that did not stop him from throwing himself into the fight. Sakai, who claimed several aircraft himself, believed his friends had also done well.7 But when the fracas was over, the 27th Air Flotilla had lost twenty-four Zekes and five Judys. The TG 58.1 group had lost only six planes. Seventeen Bataan fighters had a good workout, claiming seventeen kills and three probables, but losing two pilots. Now without bombs, the remaining fighters returned to their ships.
The Hellcats arrived over TG 58.1 in enough time to get into another fight. Along with the abortive interception, Matsunaga had sent two strikes against Clark’s ships. The first wave of twenty torpedo planes was annihilated by the CAP and ships’ fire. At one point two Belleau Wood pilots chased a Kate down through the black puffs of antiaircraft fire to finally splash it in the middle of the formation.
Nine Jill and nine Judys, escorted by twenty-three Zekes, made up the second attack. They fared somewhat better than the first group. Only ten Zekes and seven Jills were lost, nine of these to the Bataan fliers. VF-50’s skipper, Lieutenant Commander R. S. Lemon, got one of the Jills in this afternoon attack but was himself missing after the fight. When the Japanese fliers returned to Iwo Jima they reported, “The results were vague and the target was not sighted.”8 Obviously, the Americans didn’t think the results were vague. Following these attacks Clark released the Baltimore, McCall, and Helm to proceed to Eniwetok. At 1900 the rest of TG 58.1 turned for Eniwetok. Matsunaga, however, had kept a few planes in the area all day, and when five small attacks occurred between 2142 and 2305, Clark recalled the cruiser and her escorts. Then, when things finally calmed down, Clark was able to take all his ships to the Marshalls, anchoring there on the 27th.
As the sounds of gunfire faded from the waters of the Philippine Sea, another battle—this one with words—flared up.
The outcome of the battle left both sides with a bitter taste in their mouths—the Japanese, not surprisingly, because they had lost the battle; the Americans because the bulk of the Japanese fleet had escaped. Admiral Ozawa had fought a good battle, but he had been operating with too many handicaps. His air units were especially green, and this was all too obvious when they were chewed up on 19 June. Ozawa had also been hurting for destroyers to flesh out the antiaircraft fire of his ships and to provide a better antisubmarine screen. This latter point was brought home forcibly to the Japanese when the Taiho was torpedoed out from under Ozawa by the Albacore and the Shokaku sunk by the Cavalla.
“It is admitted that the antisubmarine defense (especially during a battle) should be re-examined,” the Japanese commented afterwards. “Since a battle of a fleet is now mainly carried out by the aerial battle by its planes, the fleet is frequently staying in the same combat area to launch or receive the planes. Therefore, the antisubmarine defense must be carried out more strictly than ever before. In spite of this situation the fleet observes practically no other precaution than posting lookouts for submarines in a circular fleet formation, and cruises unconcerned at a high speed with the blind trust that the submarine danger is not much to worry about. This is indeed a serious misconception which makes us really worried.”9
This report went on to mention that the three carriers lost had been sunk by submarines (erroneous in the Hiyo’s case for she had been torpedoed by the Belleau Wood aircraft, and had sunk following internal explosions) and that antisubmarine measures needed to be tightened up, possibly incorporating a small carrier specifically for these operations.
Nevertheless, it appears that the Japanese failed to heed the recommendations in “Impressions and Battle Lessons (Air) in the ‘A’ Operation.” Effective antisubmarine warfare continued to elude them the rest of the war. Even worse than their antisubmarine tactics during the battle were the operations of their own submarines. In this area the Japanese suffered a complete debacle.
“During the operation No. A,” the Japanese said, “enemy submarines were sighted, yet our submarines engaged in the battle very little, out of proportion to damages done to them. This was admittedly due to lack of improvement in the radio instruments of submarine detection at the base, while the enemy submarines were equipped with improved radars. Furthermore, in order to avoid confusion among our submarines, their field of operation was restricted to the water east of the line joining the archipelago. This was very regrettable. It would admittedly have been better, if the submarines had not been subjected to restriction to the operational field and ordered about where to go according to the development of the battle.”10 Unfortunately for them, Japanese submariners throughout the war were hampered by the lack of true strategic goals. Thus, their operations were ineffective and, except for early successes, their attacks on U.S. fleet units were generally lackluster.
But the Japanese had excelled in long-range search. Throughout the battle their search efforts continually outshone those of their American counterparts. Ozawa, knowing Spruance’s innate caution and figuring that Spruance would tie his force to Saipan, held his ships out of the U.S. search planes’ range while his long-legged searchers pinpointed the enemy’s position. Except for two errors in plotting on 19 June which led to some abortive missions, Ozawa’s fliers were reasonably accurate in their position reports.
But the A-GO plan fell apart completely when Ozawa had to use his ill-trained air groups. They were incapable of fighting a major engagement that early in their air-group life. Then, the idea of shuttling planes between the Mobile Fleet and Guam was an idea built of sand, which crumbled in reality. The A-GO planners labored under the false assumption that the Americans would be tied up elsewhere and would allow the Japanese to complete the circuit with impunity. Also a very important part of the plan was the use of land-based planes to attack the enemy fleet. This overly-ambitious portion of A-GO was thrown into almost complete disarray in the first few days of action. Later attacks by the remaining planes accomplished little while losing more of the valuable aircraft.
Admiral Kakuta’s glowing, but totally false, reports of aircraft available and safe bases on Guam, plus reports of great damage to TF 58, played a not inconsiderable part in the Japanese defeat. If Kakuta had been honest, Ozawa might have changed his tactics, perhaps sending his strikes out in larger numbers in hopes of breaking through the U.S. defenses in greater mass. Whether new tactics would have worked is debatable, but Ozawa might not have lost so many of his valuable pilots. In the end, Kakuta must be assigned much of the blame for the disaster that enveloped the Japanese.
Did the Japanese have a choice in fighting or not fighting this battle? Not really. Although a delay would have been beneficial to the air groups, the odds were mounting daily against the Japanese. Any war of attrition could only go against them and, therefore, a “decisive” battle where they could destroy the offensive power of the U.S. Navy—the carriers of TF 58—seemed to be the only way to slow the American juggernaut. Finally, the Marianas were an important part of the inner defense line, an area that required the strongest defense measures.
While the Japanese were upset over the outcome of the battle, they might have been very surprised if they had known the feelings of the victors, who were no less upset about the results. A feeling of frustration swept through TF 58 immediately after the battle. It was obvious that Japanese airpower had been rudely handled. Not so obvious, however, was how much damage had been done to the enemy’s ships. The Hiyo had been counted sunk, but the fate of the other carriers was still unknown. The Shokaku and Taiho had not been seen to go down by their attackers. Also, pilot reports could not be considered as the final word on damage to the ships. So there were still at least six, and maybe as many as eight, carriers available to the Japanese.
In his action report Mitscher regretfully concluded, “The enemy escaped. He had been badly hurt by one aggressive carrier strike, at the one time he was within range. His fleet was not sunk.”11
Admiral Montgomery was blunter. “Results of the action were extremely disappointing to all hands,” he wrote, “in that important units of the enemy fleet which came out in the open for the first time in over a year and made several air attacks on our superior force, were able to escape without our coming to grips with them. It is true that our troops on Saipan were well screened and protected against the enemy surface force, but it is considered unfortunate that our entire strength was deployed for this purpose until too late to prevent the enemy’s retirement.”12
Back at Pearl Harbor many on the CinCPac staff harbored feelings of dissatisfaction, too. Admiral Nimitz never criticized Spruance’s actions in the Philippine Sea, but he also must have felt a twinge of disappointment. Some of Nimitz’s subordinates, however, were harsh in their statements about Spruance, particularly if they leaned toward aviation. Many of these people felt that if an aviator (which Spruance was not) had been in charge, the Japanese would have suffered tremendous losses. Much of the criticism was just unjustified, but some was stingingly relevant.
Did Spruance blunder in the Philippine Sea? Did he take too cautious an approach—an approach that wasted the overwhelming superiority of his forces? It is this observer’s belief that he did; and because the majority of the enemy’s ships (including the all-important carriers) were permitted to escape, a confrontation with nearly tragic consequences for the Americans was allowed to take place, in the Battle for Leyte Gulf.
To understand fully Spruance’s handling of TF 58 off the Marianas (for it was he, not Mitscher, calling the tactical shots),13 we need to go back to 1942 and Midway. When Halsey became ill just before that battle, he recommended the brilliant Spruance to command the Enterprise/Hornet group. Admiral Frank Jack Fletcher was to be in tactical command of the entire operation. Spruance, a “big gun” man fresh out of a cruiser command and “knowing only vaguely the fine points of carrier-group command,”14 inherited Halsey’s staff, led by the exceptionally knowledgeable, but also exceptionally temperamental, Captain Miles Browning. Midway was Spruance’s battle, not Fletcher’s, and the decisions he made there led to that great victory. In his biography of Admiral Spruance, Thomas B. Buell shows that Spruance made the decision to attack the Japanese carriers on his own.15 However, it should be noted that this decision most likely was based upon strong advice from his aviation-oriented staff.16
Spruance’s stay with the carriers was short. His command at Midway, though brilliant, was a fluke and he never again was intimately involved in the “nuts and bolts” aspects of carrier operations. Following Midway Spruance went to CinCPac as Nimitz’s chief of staff. There his gifted and analytical mind was put to good use planning future operations. Unfortunately, at a time when the carrier was becoming the major weapon of the Navy, and the battleship had begun a slow slide to oblivion, Spruance apparently never took the time or never really understood the need to become conversant with carrier operations. Perhaps his success at Midway unduly shaped his conception of the way carrier operations and tactics should be handled.
From his job at CinCPac Spruance moved to Commander Central Pacific Force. In this capacity during the Gilberts operations in November 1943, his inherent caution led him to restrict carrier activities to a limited area around the islands. Not being as mobile, the carriers were needlessly exposed to enemy air and submarine attacks and suffered unwarranted damage in the operation. In particular, the Independence was torpedoed and put out of action for several months. The fast carriers could have been more useful with greater freedom of action, beating down Japanese airpower in the Marshalls.
By the time June 1944 rolled around, Spruance (as Commander Fifth Fleet) should have had ample opportunity to observe and take notice of carrier tactics in the Gilberts, Marshalls, Truk, and other operations. The somewhat “free-wheeling” nature of these actions, however, did not lend themselves to Spruance’s own character. Thus, when the Japanese sortied to fight in the Philippine Sea, Spruance, a tidy and cautious man, was not about to fight a battle that possibly involved taking risks; his battle would be like the man—tidy and cautious.
Spruance’s staff might have had some effect on him, but they were too homogenous. Most of them were surface sailors like Spruance, and their thought processes ran right alongside their commander’s. Burke believes this may have been an elemental error in Spruance’s command.17 A little healthy disagreement from those with different outlooks might have been beneficial.
Samuel Eliot Morison states in his semi-official history of the U.S. Navy during the war that Mitscher’s only responsibility was to TF 58, while Spruance’s responsibilities, were greater—that of the entire operation, including TF 58, the troops, and transports. Therefore, Spruance had to play it close to the vest in order to protect his mission, the securing of the Marianas. Apparently Mitscher’s only worry was the enemy carrier force that “menaced” his own vessels.18
Morison’s interpretation is fine up to a point; obviously Spruance had the greater responsibility. But does greater responsibility necessarily go hand in hand with greater caution? Morison also seems to place more importance on the danger to the American carriers than did Mitscher or even the Japanese. The very tactics the Japanese used shows their wariness of the American flattops. They knew the shortcomings of their fliers. On the other hand, Mitscher realized his fliers and planes were better than most of their opponents, and his TF 58 gunners had gotten good practice in previous months shooting Japanese planes out of the sky. Task Force 58 clearly was the force with which to contend.
“I think that going after the Japanese and knocking their carriers out would have been much better and more satisfactory than waiting for them to attack us,” Admiral Spruance told Morison some years after the battle, “but we were at the start of a very important and large amphibious operation and we could not afford to gamble and place it in jeopardy. The way Togo waited at Tsushima for the Russian fleet has always been in my mind. We had somewhat the same basic situation, only it was modified by the long-range striking power of the carriers.”19
But the Philippine Sea was not Tsushima. Those carriers that Spruance mentioned had changed the nature of naval warfare; that “long-range striking power” meant that one could not sit and wait. Carriers were meant to be mobile and aggressive, not static and passive as they were too often in the Philippine Sea.
Spruance was also unduly concerned with a flank attack (a favorite gambit of the Japanese, but one that could be countered) and the safety of the transports that were supposedly lying to off Saipan. He had apparently read the captured Japanese Z Plan and from it “assumed the Japanese were after Turner’s transports.”20 Spruance was very confident that he could read the character of his opponent and divine his intentions. His confidence was misplaced. Ozawa, on the other hand, was much more skillful in guessing what Spruance would do and planning accordingly.21 Spruance apparently missed in the Z Plan the far-from-new Japanese adherence to the theory of destroying the American carriers first.22 Basically, the Japanese were still seeking a “decisive” battle with the American fleet, and the destruction of the transports, though important, was secondary to the battle with TF 58.
In Admiral King’s memoirs it is said that, “King’s first act on stepping ashore (at Saipan) was to tell Spruance that he had done exactly the correct thing with the Fifth Fleet in the Battle of the Philippine Sea, no matter what anyone else might say, especially since he had to remember that the Japanese had another fleet ready in the Inland Sea to pounce upon the many American transports that had not entirely discharged their cargoes at Saipan. Consequently King repeated to Spruance that his decision had been, in King’s view, entirely correct, for which Spruance thanked him.”23
But where, actually, were most of the transports that Spruance felt compelled to protect? Two hundred miles east of Saipan and completely out of the danger area!24 And, unfortunately unknown to Admiral Spruance because he had not been conveyed General Holland Smith’s optimism, the transports probably would not have been needed en masse for the two days it took to fight the battle.25
And what of a flank attack? King must have known from intelligence reports that little of the remaining Japanese naval power was based in Japan. King’s statement, therefore, must be taken with a grain of salt, and was probably only intended to show Spruance that King still stood behind him in spite of any criticism. An attack around the southern end of the American forces was a better possibility, but it would have been more susceptible to detection by Admiralties-based PB4Ys, not to mention searchers from the carriers. If an attack did get through to Saipan, the enemy would not find a defenseless force. A flanking move would most likely mean a divided force on the enemy’s part; thus, neither unit would be at full strength. Even if the heavy forces (the Yamato, etc.) got through, they would be met by seven old battleships which, though outranged, could still inflict damage and would not be sitting ducks. Six escort carriers were also available. They carried about eighty Wildcat fighters and over fifty Avengers. If needed, the five escort carriers of the Southern Attack Force were nearby. Three of these carried Hellcats. The “jeep” pilots were not so well trained as their TF 58 counterparts, but as they proved later in the war, they could certainly hold their own.
Mitscher was not greatly concerned with a flanking attack, saying in his action report, “The decision was then reached that even if the Japanese chose to make such a suicidal attempt (a flanking attack) our forces could still attack the main Japanese fleet if it approached directly from the west or southwest. It was believed that this decision was in accord with the desires of the Commander in Chief to fight a decisive battle. [Italics added.] It appeared that there was nothing the Japanese could do with their fleet to affect seriously the occupation of the Marianas, so long as the Fast Carrier Task Forces were intact. Even the slight possibility of damage to our landing forces could be avoided if the Fast Carrier Task Forces did not go more than 300 miles from the Marianas without some definite indication as to the location of the main Japanese force, for we could attack a diversionary force as easily from a position 300 miles west (down wind) of the Marianas as we could from the near vicinity of Saipan.”26
The portion of Mitscher’s report regarding a decisive battle is crucial, for it is obvious that Mitscher believed that such a battle should be fought, and it is a fair assumption that in his message to Spruance and Mitscher, Nimitz believed that a decisive battle would be fought.27 In a message to King prior to Forager, Nimitz said, “Your [message] concerns questions to which both Spruance and I have continuously given extensive consideration. Destruction of the enemy fleet is always the primary objective of our Naval Forces.”28 Spruance’s obsession with the protection of the invasion fleet apparently obscured his understanding of this basic point.
If Spruance was still concerned with his defenses around Saipan in case of a flanking movement, why didn’t he return all or part of TF 58’s battleships to the island? Except as antiaircraft ships, the big vessels played little part in the battle. The battlewagons might have been better used split between the task groups (especially since Lee thought it unwise to fight a night surface action with his ships, and it would have been virtually impossible to fight a daylight battle with enemy planes present), or with some left behind at Saipan.
What if TF 58 had headed west on the 18th? Would Mitscher have been sticking his neck out for the Japanese cleaver? Doubtful, because of the tactics the Japanese actually used. At all times Ozawa wanted to keep TF 58 at arms’ length (his own arms—his planes’ range—having more reach than his enemy) and most likely would have retreated for a while to stay out of range. If Ozawa had retreated, then headed back east in two groups to try a flanking maneuver, he would have been crisscrossing an area of heavy American submarine activity, and might have lost more ships to these opportunistic hunters.
By heading west on the 18th, Mitscher might have just pushed Ozawa away from the Marianas and kept the Mobile Fleet from doing any damage at Saipan. In other words, a little aggressiveness on the part of the Americans would very likely have protected the Saipan beachhead just as easily, and more emphatically, than merely waiting for the first blow.
Finally, if TF 58 had headed west and closed the distance with the Mobile Fleet enough to launch a strike on the morning of the 19th, would the results have been less in TF 58’s favor? Morison seems to think so, believing that massed Japanese planes and antiaircraft fire would have exacted a much greater toll of U.S. planes. Also, some U.S. carriers could have been sunk by the enemy. Then, with TF 58 occupied with the enemy ships, the Guam-based planes would have had a field day.29
American aircraft losses probably would have been greater than the combat losses they actually suffered, but would they have exceeded the eighty-two planes lost “operationally” following the 20 June attack? This is extremely doubtful. Japanese antiaircraft gunnery was not so effective as it could have been at this stage of the war (radar-controlled gunnery was still in its infancy in the Japanese Navy); the amount of flak thrown up by a unit like C Force often looked more awesome than it was. And as has been mentioned repeatedly throughout this book, the caliber of most of the Japanese fliers made heavy losses of U.S. planes unlikely. Conversely, the quality of American radar-controlled gunnery and aircraft intercepts would have made enemy attacks on TF 58 quite dangerous, and almost suicidal. (This was actually the case in the 19 June raids.) The enemy might have been able to hit a few carriers, but it is highly unlikely they would have sunk any. The Essex-class carriers were very tough, as were the light carriers, and American damage control techniques had improved considerably since the early days of the war.
An attack on the Mobile Fleet on the 19th would have been much better organized than the attack that was actually made. Being better organized, it would have had a greater chance of inflicting heavier damage on the enemy. Sunk or damaged carriers would have been of little use to the pilots in the air, and a flight to Guam past TF 58 would not have been easy. And this brings us to another point by Morison—the Guam-based planes. How many of these were there? Only about fifty. Almost all of the Marianas-based planes had been destroyed during the preinvasion operations. Yap, Palau, and Truk shuttled in replacements that created some problems on the morning of the 19th, but these were soon beaten down. If they had been left alone on the 19th, these fifty planes might have irritated TF 58, but being of such a small number (just a little over half of what just one fast carrier had), they can not be considered a major threat. Much of the activity over Guam on 19 June was caused by planes from Ozawa’s force trying to reach the dubious safety of Orote field. Even these planes probably would not have reached Guam if Mitscher had attacked their ships that day.
“The greatest loss (to TF 58) was one of position,” Land and Van Wyen concluded, “which even during the battle had not been too desirable. The Task Force was caught between two forces, being to the lee of the enemy’s land bases and holding the enemy carrier force downwind. The necessity of heading into the wind for the rotation of fighters during the battle resulted in the relative position of the two carrier forces remaining about the same, both moving closer to the Japanese land bases as the battle progressed. At the end of the day the Japanese Fleet was still beyond the range of our carrier planes.”30
On the 17th Spruance had issued his battle plan, saying, “Our air will first knock out enemy carriers. . . . Action against the retreating enemy must be pushed vigorously by all hands to insure complete destruction of his fleet.” Aggressive sounding, but the next day he had already settled into a defensive posture. Instead of pressuring the Japanese, he was allowing himself to be pressured. It is hard to reconcile Spruance’s aggressive ardor of one day, and his defensive pallor of the next. It is interesting to note that in his battle plan he gave no thought to an enemy flanking maneuver, considering his concern for that possible tactic. It also appears that Spruance, still the surface sailor, did not comprehend the possibility that the Japanese would use to advantage the range of their planes, and attempt to destroy or damage the U.S. ships before closing for a purely surface action.31
To Spruance a “fleet action” still meant battleship against battleship. This conception was not that unusual; there were still many in the U.S. Navy who thought that way. But naval warfare was changing, and a fleet action could now mean either a surface or an aerial action.32 If Spruance had been more conversant with the aviation capability of his fleet perhaps he would have headed west for the “decisive” action.
Besides Spruance’s fateful decision not to head west, there was another factor that hindered the Americans during the battle. This was the relatively poor performance of American searchers. Not just the carrier planes, but the land- and sea-based patrol planes fell far short of what was required. Carrier search endeavors had fallen by the wayside as the war continued, and the other patrol planes had been unable to take up the slack. Still, in the Philippine Sea the PBMs may have had some excuse. “The PBMs were buffeted about considerably at their open sea moorings,” ComAirPac said later, “were attacked on the water by enemy planes, and on account of the rugged operating conditions, suffered radio and IFF failures which may have hindered their contact reporting as well as subjected them to attack by F6Fs and our own forces (which shot down two).33
The Battle of the Philippine Sea brought home hard the deficiencies of U.S. search techniques. Because of communications problems the PMB and PB4Y searches too often provided information to Spruance and Mitscher too late to be of use. Commenting on the initial contact report from Lieutenant Arle which was not received until eight hours later, ComAirPac said, “During this delay the Japs hit TF 58 first from a fleet of then unknown exact location. Their force, then out of round-trip range of ours, could possibly have been closed sufficiently to permit an early morning attack if the message had been received.”34
Also in the matter of searches, Mitscher and his carrier admirals seemed to be operating under the idea that the battle was just another tactical exercise. Except in the last stages of the fight, little effort was expended in extending the range beyond the normal distances the search planes always flew. Eventually, using Avengers with bomb-bay tanks or utilizing the Hellcat’s remarkable range, the distances were extended; but by that time it was too late. “Our carrier planes can reach the limits of their versatility, and inflict maximum damage on the enemy,” ComAirPac stated after the battle, “only if their capabilities are realized and exploited by flexible minds. In 1942 ‘more range’ was the cry of the entire carrier force; now that we possess the range, it should be used.”35 Task Force 58’s commanders also did not seem to attach great importance to the fact that enemy carrier planes had been seen (and shot down) at fairly great distances from TF 58. There appears to have been no attempt to follow up on these sightings by sending more long-range searches to these areas.
Following the battle, numerous recommendations based on various aspects of the fighting began their slow way up the chain of command. Among the many recommendations were several complaints about the relatively poor performance of the torpedo planes in the shipping attack role. These complaints soon led to the Avengers’ carrying of smaller bombs and a reversion back to their original weapon, the torpedo.36 The various problems that surfaced during Forager were eventually overcome as U.S. forces slugged their way to Japan.
Though there had been problems in various areas, there were also some bright spots. One such “star” was the activity of the U.S. submarines. Constantly harassing the Japanese at Tawi Tawi, then reporting their movements; providing lifeguard service for downed pilots in the Marianas; and finally, topping it off by sinking two enemy carriers—in all these, the submariners proved invaluable. Working the other side of the street from the submarines, but equally important, were the U.S. antisubmarine units. With the England leading the way, they decimated the Japanese undersea forces and prevented them from being of any use during the battle.
However, in the final analysis, it was the pilots of TF 58 that broke the back of the Japanese in the Philippine Sea. In the Turkey Shoot they completely controlled the sky, and only small remnants of the enemy escaped to fight again. Then on the 20th they attacked the Mobile Fleet and, though not doing as much damage as was hoped, reduced enemy airpower to an insignificant factor, and battered some Japanese ships.
The Battle of the Philippine Sea was a great, though frustrating victory for the Americans. However, had Spruance been more aggressive, it could have been decisive and the Battle of Leyte Gulf might never have taken place. That it could have ended the war in a few days, as Jocko Clark thought,37 is very unlikely considering the vast amount of territory Japan still controlled, the time period during which the battle was fought (mid-1944), and the state of Japanese civilian and military politics at that time.
Yet Operation Forager, in which the Battle of the Philippine Sea played such an important part, probably did help shorten the war. Repercussions in Japan over the Battle of the Philippine Sea and the occupation of Saipan were immediate. “Hell is on us,” remarked one anguished Japanese official following the fall of Saipan.38 Many knowledgeable Japanese agreed with this assessment of the situation. To these people, the war had become increasingly unfavorable to Japan, and Premier Hideki Tojo’s government had drawn more and more blame for the country’s predicament. The loss of Saipan further inflamed the situation. Tojo made an effort to compromise by offering some of his positions in the government to others, but was unable to get anyone to accept. On 18 July 1944 (the day the fall of Saipan was finally announced to the Japanese public) Tojo and his cabinet resigned. A new cabinet was formed under General Kuniaki Koiso. Koiso vowed to fight the Allies with all his power, but the fall of Saipan had allowed a peace party to slowly gain strength in the inner circles of the Japanese government.
In a militaristic government such as that in Japan during World War II, the peace movement had to be circumspect, for many of the military firebrands used assassination as a tool to eliminate opposition or dissent. But as the war continued to go against Japan, the peace movement grew and would eventually prevail. Thus Forager and the Battle of the Philippine Sea had played an enormously fateful role in the internal development of the Japanese government.39
What had the Battle of the Philippine Sea cost the combatants during the two days of action, the 19th and 20th? American losses were remarkably light for the ferocity of the fighting. On the 19th TF 58 lost three planes on search missions, one plane to an enemy fighter and seven to flak over Guam, fourteen to enemy planes on interception missions, and six operationally. With these thirty-one planes were lost twenty-seven pilots and crewmen. While the next day’s loss of aircraft tripled, the number of fliers lost did not quite double. Only six planes were shot down by flak, while eleven fell to the Zekes. Listed as operational losses were an incredible eighty-two planes; many of these planes had run out of gas or made water landings. But with superlative search and rescue work by TF 58 and the Saipan-based PBMs, only sixteen pilots and thirty-three crewmen were lost.40
One high-ranking officer in TF 58 might be considered an indirect loss. On 29 June Rear Admiral “Keen” Harrill was felled with acute appendicitis and had to undergo surgery. He never returned to a command in the fast carriers. Although his operation provided a convenient excuse to ease him out of the carriers, the real reason was Harrill’s less-than-acceptable handling of his task group throughout the battle and—unforgivable to some fire eaters—his apparent non-aggressiveness.
While American losses were relatively light, Japanese losses were overwhelming. When dawn broke on 19 June Ozawa had 430 carrier planes and 43 floatplanes available. During the day he launched 355 carrier planes and 19 floatplanes. Only 130 of these returned to the Mobile Fleet! Twenty-two planes had also been lost when the Taiho and Shokaku went down. Some of the planes that did not return to the Mobile Fleet made it to Guam and Rota, where most were wrecked upon landing or were too damaged for further use. The next morning Ozawa could report only 100 carrier planes and 27 floatplanes operational. Many of the planes that had made it back to their ships were too shot up to use on the 20th. On 19 June the Japanese had lost about 300 fighters and bombers and 16 float planes!
Following the action on the 20th, Ozawa could report only 25 Zekes and 10 other carrier planes, plus 12 floatplanes, in operational condition. According to the Japanese, Ozawa lost only 19 carrier planes in combat on the 20th, but an amazing 46 carrier planes and 15 floatplanes operationally. It seems incredible that 61 Japanese planes could have been lost “operationally” during combat over their own fleet; Morison estimates that about 40 planes were shot down by the Americans.
No matter what the cause of the losses, Japanese naval airpower had suffered a blow from which it would never recover. On 19 and 20 June the Mobile Fleet lost 426 aircraft, plus about 50 more from Kakuta’s land-based units. With these 476 planes went approximately 450 aviators. It was a terrible loss. When the Japanese sortied again in October to fight at Leyte Gulf, the carriers would be used only as decoys, for there were few planes or aviators to man them.41
When the sun went down in the Philippine Sea on 20 June it did not mark just the passing of another day. It also prefigured the end of Japanese aspirations in the Pacific. The two-day Battle of the Philippine Sea had shorn the Japanese Navy of its most potent weapon—its airpower. Now there would be no more great victories; only the slow, inexorable slide into the darkness of defeat. Japan’s red sun was setting.