“Blue Jacket”

EVERYONE WHO KNEW HIM AGREED: Raymond Spruance had one of the finest minds in the U.S. Navy. Which was fortunate, because he had to keep the concerns of several subordinates and his main opponent properly ordered at the same time. Now, with the Saipan landings and the fleet engagement almost certain, his mental juggling act needed to remain nearly flawless.

First his subordinates. Though riding Indianapolis with Mitscher’s carriers, Spruance’s primary concern was with Vice Admiral Richmond Kelly Turner’s amphibious force. “Terrible Turner” (his temper was legendary) had put the assault troops ashore to wrest Saipan from the Japanese, always suicidally tenacious in defense. But it was a given that Tokyo would respond violently to the attempt, and a major naval battle seemed inevitable.

Consequently, Spruance faced a dual concern at sea: Protect the ’phibs while taking advantage of the rare opportunity to sink the enemy fleet. As usual, his operations plan included a “major action annex,” describing the contingencies he anticipated, but it lacked the decisive quality advocated by the Naval War College. Spruance knew that plans were only starting points: The conventional wisdom held: “No battle plan survives contact with the enemy.” Still, certain assumptions were necessary, and the annex laid them out.

Spruance and his chief of staff, Captain Charles J. Moore, considered a surface engagement most likely. Certainly the past two years pointed in that direction, since Japan’s carriers had not been committed since late 1942.

That afternoon Spruance sent his thoughts to Mitscher and Lee. ComFifthFleet envisioned the carriers doing most of the fighting, with the battleships and surface forces mopping up: “Our air will first knock out enemy carriers then will attack enemy battleships and cruisers to slow or disable them. Battle line will destroy enemy fleet if enemy elects to fight or by sinking slowed or crippled ships if enemy retreats. Action against the enemy will be pushed vigorously by all hands to ensure complete destruction of his fleet. Destroyers running short of fuel may be returned to Saipan if necessary for refueling.”

The directive caught Mitscher off guard. It sounded as if Spruance were assuming command of the upcoming battle, maneuvering Mitscher’s queens and Lee’s bishops around the oceanic chessboard with squares defined by degrees of latitude and longitude. To avoid any confusion, Mitscher requested amplification as to who was calling the shots. Spruance’s reply confirmed that Task Force 58 was to conduct its own fight in accordance with his overall policy.

 
That evening, some six hundred miles west of Guam, Cavalla’s radar strobed with some major blips. There were at least seven big ships ten miles to the east.

Closing the distance, Herman Kossler mentally smacked his lips: The procession crossing his viewfinder was unlike anything he had ever seen. He counted at least fifteen ships steaming east at nineteen knots. In the darkness he was unable to see many more, but Cavalla had found the First Mobile Fleet.

With the discipline of an Annapolis professional, Kossler passed up the chance to add major tonnage to his score. He avoided attacking in favor of notifying Lockwood of Neptune’s jackpot. Subsequently ComSubPac ordered Cavalla to pursue and attack, even if it meant running his fuel to near exhaustion. Many hours in trail, Kossler exercised his initiative. Beneath a fourth-quarter moon, he headed for a point in the Pacific Ocean where he suspected he might resume the trail. In Cavalla’s engine room, four sixteen-cylinder General Motors diesels sucked fuel from her ninety-four-thousand-gallon tanks. She would be heard from again.

Meanwhile, the aggressive Lockwood signaled all skippers: “The . . . list of enemy ships does not frighten our varsity. We have all that and plenty more ready and waiting, and they are all rough, tough, and nasty.”