OCEAN war against Japan had also reached its climax. From the Bay of Bengal to the Central Pacific Allied maritime power was in the ascendant. The organisation and production of the United States were in full stride, and had attained astonishing proportions. A single example may suffice to illustrate the size and success of the American effort. In the autumn of 1942 only three American aircraft-carriers were afloat; a year later there were fifty; by the end of the war there were more than a hundred. This achievement had been matched by an increase in aircraft production which was no less remarkable. The advance of these great forces was animated by an aggressive strategy and an elaborate, novel, and effective tactic. The task which confronted them was formidable.
A chain of island-groups, nearly two thousand miles long, stretches southward across the Pacific from Japan to the Marianas and the Carolines. Many of these islands had been fortified by the enemy and equipped with good airfields, and at the southernmost end of the chain was the Japanese naval base of Truk. Behind this shield of archipelagos lay Formosa, the Philippines, and China, and in its shelter ran the supply routes for the more advanced enemy positions. It was thus impossible to invade or bomb Japan itself. The chain must be broken first. It would take too long to conquer and subdue every fortified island, and the Americans had accordingly advanced leap-frog fashion. They seized only the more important islands and by-passed the rest; but their maritime strength was now so great and was growing so fast that they were able to establish their own lines of communication and break the enemy’s, leaving the defenders of the by-passed islands immobile and powerless. Their method of assault was equally successful. First came softening attacks by planes from the aircraft-carriers, then heavy and sometimes prolonged bombardment from the sea, and finally amphibious landing and the struggle ashore. When an island had been won and garrisoned land-based planes moved in and beat off counterattacks. At the same time they helped in the next onward surge. The fleets worked in echelons. While one group waged battle another prepared for a new leap. This needed very large resources, not only for the fighting, but also for developing bases along the line of advance. The Americans took it all in their stride.
By June 1944 the two-pronged American thrust across the Pacific was well advanced. In the south-west General MacArthur had nearly completed his conquest of New Guinea, and in the centre Admiral Nimitz was pressing deep into the chain of fortified islands. Both were converging on the Philippines, and the struggle for this region was soon to bring about the destruction of the Japanese Fleet. It had already been much weakened and was very short of carriers, but Japan’s only hope of survival lay in victory at sea. To conserve her strength for this perilous but vital hazard the main body had withdrawn from Truk and was now divided between the East Indies and her home waters; but events soon brought it to battle. At the beginning of June Admiral Spruance struck with his carriers at the Marianas, and on the 15th he landed on the fortified island of Saipan. If he captured Saipan and the adjacent islands of Tinian and Guam the enemy’s defence perimeter would be broken. The threat was formidable, and the Japanese Fleet resolved to intervene. That day five of their battleships and nine carriers were sighted near the Philippines, heading east. Spruance had ample time to make his dispositions. His main purpose was to protect the landing at Saipan. This he did. He then gathered his ships, fifteen of which were carriers, and waited for the enemy to the west of the island. On June 19 Japanese carrier-borne aircraft attacked the American carrier fleet from all directions, and air-fighting continued throughout the day. The Americans suffered little damage, and so shattered the Japanese air squadrons that their carriers had to withdraw.
That night Spruance searched in vain for the vanished enemy. Late in the afternoon of the 20th he found them about 250 miles away. Attacking just before sunset, the American airmen sank one carrier and damaged four others, besides a battleship and a heavy cruiser. The previous day American submarines had sunk two other large carriers. No further attack was possible, and remnants of the enemy fleet managed to escape, but its departure sealed the fate of Saipan. Though the garrison fought hard the landings continued, the build-up progressed, and by July 9 all organised resistance came to an end. The neighbouring islands of Guam and Tinian were overcome, and by the first days of August the American grip on the Marianas was complete.
The fall of Saipan was a great shock to the Japanese High Command, and led indirectly to the dismissal of General Tojo’s Government. The enemy’s concern was well founded. The fortress was little more than 1,300 miles from Tokyo. They had believed it was impregnable; now it was gone. Their southern defence regions were cut off and the American heavy bombers had gained a first-class base for attacking the very homeland of Japan. For a long time United States submarines had been sinking Japanese merchantmen along the China coast, and now the way was open for other warships to join in the onslaught. Japan’s oil and raw materials would be cut off if the Americans advanced any farther. The Japanese Fleet was still powerful, but unbalanced, and so weak in destroyers, carriers, and air-crews that it could no longer fight effectively without land-based planes. Fuel was scarce, and not only hampered training but made it impossible to keep the ships concentrated in one place, so that in the late summer most of the heavy vessels and cruisers lay near Singapore and the oil supplies of the Dutch East Indies, while the few surviving carriers remained in home waters, where their new air groups were completing their training.
The plight of the Japanese Army was little better. Though still strong in numbers, it sprawled over China and South-East Asia or languished in remote islands beyond reach of support. The more sober-minded of the enemy leaders began to look for some way of ending the war; but their military machine was too strong for them. The High Command brought reinforcements from Manchuria and ordered a fight to the finish both in Formosa and the Philippines. Here and in the homeland the troops would die where they stood. The Japanese Admiralty were no less resolute. If they lost the impending battle for the islands the oil from the East Indies would be cut off. There was no purpose, they argued, in preserving ships without fuel. Steeled for sacrifice but hopeful of victory, they decided in August to send the entire Fleet into battle.
On September 15 the Americans made another advance. General MacArthur seized Morotai Island, midway between the western tip of New Guinea and the Philippines, and Admiral Halsey, who had now assumed command of the United States naval forces, captured an advanced base for his fleet in the Palau group. These simultaneous moves were of high importance. At the same time Halsey continually probed the enemy’s defences with his whole force. Thus he hoped to provoke a general action at sea which would enable him to destroy the Japanese Fleet, particularly its surviving carriers. The next leap would be at the Philippines themselves, and there now occurred a dramatic change in the American plan. Till then our Allies had purposed to invade the southernmost portion of the Philippines, the island of Mindanao, and planes from Halsey’s carriers had already attacked the Japanese airfields both there and in the large northern island of Luzon. They destroyed large numbers of enemy aircraft, and discovered in the clash of combat that the Japanese garrison at Leyte was unexpectedly weak. This small but now famous island, lying between the two larger but strategically less important land masses of Mindanao and Luzon, became the obvious point for the American descent. On September 13, while the Allies were still in conference at Quebec, Admiral Nimitz, at Halsey’s suggestion, urged its immediate invasion. MacArthur agreed, and within two days the American Chiefs of Staff resolved to attack on October 20, two months earlier than had been planned. Such was the genesis of the Battle of Leyte Gulf.
The Americans opened the campaign on October 10 with raids on airfields between Japan and the Philippines. Devastating and repeated attacks on Formosa provoked the most violent resistance, and from the 12th to the 16th there followed a heavy and sustained air battle between ship-borne and land-based aircraft. The Americans inflicted grievous losses both in the air and on the ground, but suffered little themselves, and their carrier fleet withstood powerful land-based air attack. The result was decisive. The enemy’s Air Force was broken before the battle for Leyte was joined. Many Japanese naval aircraft destined for the fleet carriers were improvidently sent to Formosa as reinforcements and there destroyed. Thus in the supreme naval battle which now impended the Japanese carriers were manned by little more than a hundred partially trained pilots.
To comprehend the engagements which followed a study of the accompanying maps is necessary. The two large islands of the Philippines, Luzon in the north and Mindanao in the south, are separated by a group of smaller islands, of which Leyte is the key and centre. This central group is pierced by two navigable straits, both destined to dominate this famous battle. The northerly strait is San Bernardino, and about 200 miles south of it, leading directly to Leyte, is the strait of Surigao. The Americans, as we have seen, intended to seize Leyte, and the Japanese were resolved to stop them and to destroy their fleet. The plan was simple and desperate. Four divisions under General Mac-Arthur would land on Leyte, protected by the guns and planes of the American fleet—so much they knew or guessed. Draw off this fleet, entice it far to the north, and engage it in a secondary battle—such was the first step. But this would be only a preliminary. As soon as the main fleet was lured away two strong columns of warships would sail through the straits, one through San Bernardino and the other through Surigao, and converge on the landings. All eyes would be on the shores of Leyte, all guns trained on the beaches, and the heavy ships and the big aircraft-carriers which alone could withstand the assault would be chasing the decoy force in the far north. The plan very nearly succeeded.
On October 17 the Japanese Commander-in-Chief ordered his fleet to set sail. The decoy force, under Admiral Ozawa, the Supreme Commander, sailing direct from Japan, steered for Luzon. It was a composite force, including carriers, battleships, cruisers, and destroyers. Ozawa’s task was to appear on the eastern coast of Luzon, engage the American fleet, and draw it away from the landings in Leyte Gulf. The carriers were short of both planes and pilots, but no matter. They were only bait, and bait is made to be eaten. Meanwhile the main Japanese striking forces made for the straits. The larger, or what may be termed the Centre Force, coming from Singapore, and consisting of five battleships, twelve cruisers, and fifteen destroyers, under Admiral Kurita, headed for San Bernardino to curl round Samar Island to Leyte; the smaller, or Southern Force, in two independent groups, comprising in all two battleships, four cruisers, and eight destroyers, sailed through Surigao.
On October 20 the Americans landed on Leyte. At first all went well. Resistance on shore was weak, a bridgehead was quickly formed, and General MacArthur’s troops began their advance. They were supported by Admiral Kinkaid’s Seventh United States Fleet, which was under MacArthur’s command, and whose older battleships and small aircraft-carriers were well suited to amphibious operations. Further away to the northward lay Admiral Halsey’s main fleet, shielding them from attack by sea.
The crisis however was still to come. On October 23 American submarines sighted the Japanese Centre Force (Admiral Kurita) off the coast of Borneo and sank two of his heavy cruisers, one of which was Kurita’s flagship, and damaged a third. Next day, October 24, planes from Admiral Halsey’s carriers joined in the attack. The giant battleship Musashi, mounting nine eighteen-inch guns, was sunk, other vessels were damaged, and Kurita turned back. The reports of the American airmen were optimistic and perhaps misleading, and Halsey concluded, not without reason, that the battle was won, or at any rate this part of it. He knew that the second or Southern enemy force was approaching the Surigao Strait, but he judged, and rightly, that it could be repelled by Kinkaid’s Seventh Fleet.
But one thing disturbed him. During the day he had been attacked by Japanese naval planes. Many of them were shot down, but the carrier Princeton was damaged and had later to be abandoned. The planes, he reasoned, probably came from carriers. It was most unlikely that the enemy had sailed without them, yet none had been found. The main Japanese fleet, under Kurita, had been located, and was apparently in retreat, but Kurita had no carriers, neither were there any in the Southern Force. Surely there must be a carrier force, and it was imperative to find it. He accordingly ordered a search to the north, and late in the afternoon of October 24 his flyers came upon Admiral Ozawa’s decoy force, far to the north-east of Luzon and steering south. Four carriers, two battleships equipped with flying decks, three cruisers, and ten destroyers! Here, he concluded, was the source of trouble and the real target. If he could now destroy these carriers, he and his Chief of Staff, Admiral Carney, rightly considered that the power of the Japanese fleet to intervene in future operations would be broken irretrievably. This was a dominating factor in his mind, and would be of particular advantage when MacArthur came later to attack Luzon. Halsey could not know how frail was their power, nor that most of the attacks he had endured came not from carriers at all but from airfields in Luzon itself. Kurita’s Centre Force was in retreat. Kinkaid could cope with the Southern Force and protect the landings at Leyte, the way was clear for a final blow, and Halsey ordered his whole fleet to steam northward and destroy Admiral Ozawa next day. Thus he fell into the trap. That same afternoon, October 24, Kurita again turned east, and sailed once more for the San Bernardino Strait. This time there was nothing to stop him.
Meanwhile the Southern Japanese Force was nearing Surigao Strait, and that night they entered it in two groups. A fierce battle followed, in which all types of vessel, from battleships to light coastal craft, were closely engaged.* The first group was annihilated by Kinkaid’s fleet, which was concentrated at the northern exit; the second tried to break through in the darkness and confusion, but was driven back. All seemed to be going well, but the Americans had still to reckon with Admiral Kurita. While Kinkaid was fighting in the Surigao Strait and Halsey was steaming in hard pursuit of the decoy force far to the north Kurita had passed unchallenged in the darkness through the Strait of San Bernardino, and in the early morning of October 25 he fell upon a group of escort carriers who were supporting General MacArthur’s landings. Taken by surprise and too slow-moving to escape, they could not at once rearm their planes to repel the onslaught from the sea. For about two and a half hours the small American ships fought a valiant retreat under cover of smoke. Two of their carriers, three destroyers, and over a hundred planes were lost, one of the carriers by suicide bomber attack; but they succeeded in sinking three enemy cruisers and damaging others.† Help was far away. Kinkaid’s heavy ships were well south of Leyte, having routed the Southern Force, and were short of ammunition and fuel. Halsey, with ten carriers and all his fast battleships, was yet more distant, and although another of his carrier groups had been detached to refuel and was now recalled it could not arrive for some hours. Victory seemed to be in Kurita’s hands. There was nothing to stop him steaming into Leyte Gulf and destroying MacArthur’s amphibious fleet.
But once again Kurita turned back. His reasons are obscure. Many of his ships had been bombed and scattered by Kinkaid’s light escort carriers, and he now knew that the Southern Force had met with disaster. He had no information about the fortunes of the decoys in the north and was uncertain of the whereabouts of the American fleets. Intercepted signals made him think that Kinkaid and Halsey were converging on him in overwhelming strength and that MacArthur’s transports had already managed to escape. Alone and unsupported, he now abandoned the desperate venture for which so much had been sacrificed and which was about to gain its prize, and, without attempting to enter Leyte Gulf, he turned about and steered once more for the San Bernardino Strait. He hoped to fight a last battle on the way with Halsey’s fleet, but even this was denied him. In response to Kinkaid’s repeated calls for support Halsey had indeed at last turned back with his battleships, leaving two carrier groups to continue the pursuit to the north. During the day these destroyed all four of Ozawa’s carriers. But Halsey himself got back to San Bernardino too late. The fleets did not meet. Kurita escaped. Next day Halsey’s and MacArthur’s planes pursued the Japanese admiral and sank another cruiser and two more destroyers. This was the end of the battle. It may well be that Kurita’s mind had become confused by the pressure of events. He had been under constant attack for three days, he had suffered heavy losses, and his flagship had been sunk soon after starting from Borneo. Those who have endured a similar ordeal may judge him.
The Battle of Leyte Gulf was decisive. At a cost to themselves of three carriers, three destroyers, and a submarine the Americans had conquered the Japanese Fleet. The struggle had lasted from October 22 to October 27. Three battleships, four carriers, and twenty other enemy warships had been sunk, and the suicide bomber was henceforward the only effective naval weapon left to the foe. As an instrument of despair it was still deadly, but it carried no hope of victory.
Long should this victory be treasured in American history. Apart from valour, skill, and daring, it shed a light on the future more vivid and far-reaching than any we had seen. It shows a battle fought less with guns than by predominance in the air. I have told the tale fully because at the time it was almost unknown to the harassed European world. Perhaps the most important single conclusion to be derived from study of these events is the vital need for unity of command in conjoint operations of this kind in place of the concept of control by co-operation such as existed between MacArthur and Halsey at this time. The Americans learnt this lesson, and in the final operations planned against the homeland of Japan they intended that supreme command should be exercised by either Admiral Nimitz or General MacArthur, as might be advisable at any given moment.
In the following weeks the fight for the Philippines spread and grew. By the end of November nearly a quarter of a million Americans had landed in Leyte, and by mid-December Japanese resistance was broken. MacArthur pressed on with his main advance, and soon landed without opposition on Mindoro Island, little more than a hundred miles from Manila itself. On January 9, 1945, a new phase opened with the landing of four divisions in Lingayen Gulf, north of Manila, which had been the scene of the major Japanese invasion three years before. Elaborate deception measures kept the enemy guessing where the blow would fall. It came as a surprise and was only lightly opposed. As the Americans thrust towards Manila resistance stiffened, but they made two more landings on the west coast and surrounded the city. A desperate defence held out until early March, when the last survivors were killed. Sixteen thousand Japanese dead were counted in the ruins. Attacks by suicide aircraft were now inflicting considerable losses, sixteen ships being hit in a single day. The cruiser Australia was again unlucky, being hit five times in four days, but stayed in action. This desperate expedient however caused no check to the fleets. In mid-January Admiral Halsey’s carriers broke unmolested into the South China Sea, ranging widely along the coast and attacking airfields and shipping as far west as Saigon. At Hong Kong on January 16 widespread damage was inflicted, and great oil fires were started at Canton.
Although fighting in the islands continued for several months, command of the South China seas had already passed to the victor, and with it control of the oil and other supplies on which Japan depended.
