Fletcher’s return to Pearl coincided with round two of the fundamental strategic debate between Cominch and Cincpac over whether the Pacific Fleet should defend Australia as well as the central Pacific. King’s attention remained firmly fixed on the southwest Pacific and Far East, where the defense of Singapore and Dutch East Indies rapidly crumbled. The loss of Rabaul posed not only immediate peril to adjacent New Guinea and the Solomons, but also threatened New Caledonia, Fiji, and Samoa. Nimitz, on the other hand, stubbornly placed the main danger squarely to Hawaii and outposts of Midway and Johnston in the central Pacific. Hawaiian defenses were too weak, particularly against raids, to permit any wide dispersion of the carriers.1
King worked furiously to create an American presence in the South Pacific beyond Samoa. A line of mutually supporting bases would check the Japanese and support the counteroffensive. He had not only to whip Nimitz into line, but also persuade the War Department to disgorge garrison troops and aircraft for the new island bases. They must be in place before Japan turned eastward into the South Pacific. On 19 January King announced to Nimitz that he was thinking of occupying Funafuti, in the Ellice Islands southeast of the Gilberts, as an “outpost” for Samoa and Fiji and a “linkage post toward the Solomon Islands.” The army reluctantly agreed to send units to Bora-Bora, Canton, Christmas, and New Caledonia, but King was far from satisfied. In January following the Arcadia Conference of U.S. and British leaders in Washington, the Combined Chiefs of Staff contemplated a special naval command, Anzac, to secure the seas adjacent to Australia and New Zealand and north as far as New Caledonia and Fiji. It was to be a twin to the multinational ABDA (American-British-Dutch-Australian) command created to defend Malaya, the Philippines, and the Dutch East Indies. The British greatly desired American involvement in Anzac, because the hard-pressed Royal Navy alone could not defend it. An Anzac command fitted King’s own strategic agenda, but he was loath to use Pacific Fleet warships to escort convoys all the way to Australia.
The principals hammered out an agreement that placed Anzac under King’s direct control through an American subordinate. The Royal Navy was to provide the elderly carrier Hermes (refitting in South Africa), and the Pacific Fleet a heavy cruiser and two destroyers. Australia and New Zealand agreed to contribute two heavy and three light cruisers, plus escort ships and auxiliaries. The Hermes never reached Australia, so Anzac’s naval power was vested in the Australian Squadron (renamed the Anzac Squadron) under Rear Adm. John Gregory Crace, Royal Navy (RN). Born in 1887 in Australia, Crace joined the Royal Navy as a cadet in 1902 and specialized in torpedo and antisubmarine warfare. After commanding a light cruiser and a light cruiser squadron, he received the Australian Squadron in November 1939. The tall, gray-haired Crace carried the well-earned reputation of a fine, aggressive seaman, who was frank, honest, and straightforward. After two frustrating years limited to escort duty and hunting raiders, he found himself in the ticklish spot of having to work with and under the Americans in a multinational command while carefully maintaining his prerogatives.2
Rear Adm. John G. Crace, RN, 1940.
Courtesy of Australian War Memorial (Negative Number 305285)
Nimitz was told to nominate the commander of the Anzac Area, subject to approval in Washington. King suggested his friend Admiral Pye. Nimitz assented, but Roosevelt and Knox, still angry over Pye’s failure to prevent the fall of Wake (but also perhaps preventing a greater disaster to the Pacific Fleet), would not have it. Nimitz urgently requested reconsideration of Pye, the “most capable and suitable officer available” (that is, he was levelheaded and not dangerously aggressive). If not Pye, then for Commander, Anzac Area (Comanzac), Nimitz desired Rear Adm. H. Fairfax Leary, Comcrubatfor. An able, strict disciplinarian disliked for his argumentative personality and loud, raspy voice, Leary was certainly “available” after the Saratoga was torpedoed. According to rumor, Nimitz welcomed an opportunity to ease his truculent Annapolis classmate out of the Pacific Fleet. With Washington unrelenting regarding Pye, King selected Leary on 29 January. He was promoted to vice admiral and left for New Zealand. The Chicago would follow to become his flagship. An unforeseen complication was that Leary was junior to Admiral Brown, whom he was to command.3
King remained far from satisfied with Nimitz’s efforts to engage the enemy and divert his resources away from the Far East. The day after the Marshalls raid, Rochefort’s Hypo radio intelligence analysts at Pearl informed Washington of the hubbub in the Mandates, but found “no definite indications forces outside [that] area are to be disturbed.” That was not what King hoped to hear. On 5 February he queried Nimitz regarding two distressing alternatives: instantly sending strong reinforcements directly to Anzac or the Far East, or undertaking major aggressive action in the central Pacific “with maximum forces available.” By that King meant carriers and battleships. On 7 January Nimitz had formed the Pacific Fleet battleships into Task Force 1 under Rear Adm. Walter S. Anderson (Commander, Battleships, Battle Force) and gathered them at San Francisco as they became available. Soon Anderson controlled seven elderly leviathans (Pennsylvania, Tennessee, Idaho, Mississippi, New Mexico, Colorado, and Maryland), only one short of the number available on 7 December. Up to that point Nimitz merely used a few battleships to escort convoys between the West Coast and Pearl, which irked Cominch. Now King insisted they be included in any offensive plans. McMorris examined a number of dismal alternatives, even a possible strike against Japan that was rejected because of the seasonal bad weather. With four or more battleships in support, he proposed a combined assault on Truk; if not, perhaps a carrier strike against the Bonin Islands or Saipan in the Marianas or both.4
Even before Nimitz could reply, King fired another blast. Japan could now raid all along the line—from Midway to Hawaii to the South Pacific to northeast Australia—and threaten Anzac with an amphibious offensive covered by two carriers. Crace’s Anzac Squadron would be greatly outmatched. Conveniently at hand, however, was Brown’s TF-11 (Lexington), available after Halsey had no need of its oiler. Brown headed for a central position off Canton in the Phoenix Islands but anticipated returning to Pearl in mid February. Once TF-11 dipped south of the equator, though, King would see that it did not return north very soon. On 6 February he directed Brown to proceed “at once” to the Anzac Area, and thus beyond Cincpac’s direct control. In addition to the Anzac Squadron, King reinforced TF-11 with heavy cruisers San Francisco and Pensacola and six destroyers hitherto dispersed on convoy escort duty. Nimitz was to provide “all practicable” navy patrol planes and army heavy bombers in support. To Brown the orders to steam to the remote South Pacific was tantamount to “jumping off into space.” Scanning his admittedly inadequate charts, he could find no harbor short of Sydney that could shelter the massive Lex if need be.5
Aghast at King’s command to strip the central Pacific of TF-11 and so many land-based aircraft, Nimitz replied on 7 February that he lacked the strength to respond to the threat with anything but swift raids. Such pinpricks, though, would fail as significant diversions. Displaying a firm grasp of realities, Nimitz discounted the combat effectiveness of the old battleships in the era since December 1941 and assessed them especially ill suited for hit-and-run warfare. They lacked the speed to keep pace with the carriers but could not fight on their own without a proper screen of scarce light cruisers and destroyers. They also consumed a great deal of fuel. Nothing the battleships could accomplish in the short run equaled their possible loss. Nimitz’s two remaining carriers were tied up for the next five days for upkeep. He planned to deploy one carrier group toward Fiji and keep the other in reserve near Pearl. It was not wise to execute any more raids at present, “because the probable results do not balance the probable risks.” Nimitz suggested that Pye fly immediately to Washington to discuss the situation personally with King. As historian Frank Uhlig Jr. shrewdly commented, while Nimitz wrested for strategic control of the Pacific Fleet, King probably posed a greater hazard to him than Yamamoto. On 9 February, before Pye left for Washington, King confuted virtually all of Nimitz’s points. “Pacific Fleet [is] not, repeat not, markedly inferior” to those ships the Japanese could employ against Hawaii if the enemy also tried something bold in the southwest Pacific. “Action by you towards and in Mandates will of itself cover and protect Midway-Hawaii.” Cincpac was using the old battleships improperly, King averred, but declined to explain how best to employ the dinosaurs. Nimitz realized their grave limitations far sooner than anyone else and wisely refused to squander them. King also decreed the Pacific Fleet must continue striking the enemy in the central Pacific to provide some relief to the hard-pressed Far East. He mentioned Wake and the northern Marshalls as possible targets.6
Nimitz huddled with Milo Draemel and Soc McMorris to ponder how best to carry out King’s edicts. That proved especially difficult after losing the reinforced Lexington task force, along with the three oilers necessary to maintain it so far from Pearl. Nimitz found it difficult to select an objective that constituted a meaningful diversion, but posed no inordinate risk. One possibility was for Halsey’s Enterprise to join Brown in the Anzac Area and raid Rabaul. At the same time Fletcher’s Yorktown could either remain in reserve or strike Wake. Yet if Cominch got Halsey as well as Brown, he might not give either back. The idea of raiding Tokyo came up again. A successful strike would reap tremendous psychological impact, but aside from strong defenses, the North Pacific’s notoriously rough winter weather would impede vital refueling. Little did Nimitz know that the same thought already percolated in King’s mind, and nothing trifling like horrifying weather would deter Cominch. Finally on 11 February Nimitz accepted a plan by McMorris for simultaneous carrier strikes against Wake and Eniwetok, located 620 miles southwest of Wake. If Eniwetok proved inappropriate, tiny Marcus Island, 760 miles northwest of Wake and only a thousand miles southeast of Tokyo, would take its place. McMorris cautioned such raids “will not divert much strength from the southwest but it is as strong and aggressive operation as can be undertaken at this time.” Intelligence offered reasonable assurance that no carriers prowled the central Pacific. Nimitz informed King of these plans, but temporized with regard to the battleships. He contemplated employing the battlewagons “in support of raids where strong enemy forces are likely to be encountered,” but in truth he did not yet intend to go against “strong enemy forces.”7
Halsey incorporated the Enterprise and Yorktown into one task force of two carrier groups and characteristically reserved for himself Eniwetok, the more distant and presumably more dangerous objective. That left Wake for Fletcher, just fine with him, as he had a personal grudge to settle there. In a thoughtless moment Cincpac not only numbered the new task force thirteen, but also directed Halsey’s own TG-13.1 to sail on Friday, 13 February. With mock seriousness Browning, Halsey’s chief of staff just promoted to captain for his superb planning of the Marshalls raids, hastened to headquarters to ask an amused McMorris what gives. The Greybook diarist noted how “deference was paid to possible superstitious persons,” when later that day Cincpac changed the number to sixteen and postponed Halsey’s departure to more felicitous Valentine’s Day. Fletcher had to tarry at Pearl until 16 February while his assigned oiler, the Cimarron-class Guadalupe, finally arrived from the West Coast.8
On 12 February Halsey issued his operations order for the upcoming raids. Both carrier task groups were to approach their objectives from the north. His own TG-16.1 (Enterprise, two heavy cruisers, seven destroyers, and oiler Sabine) was to depart Oahu the evening of 14 February and circle well north of Wake to avoid being spotted. He would begin his run-in on the evening of 24 February from 425 miles north of Eniwetok and 270 miles west of Wake and take the Enterprise and Raymond Spruance’s cruisers ahead at twenty-five knots, with the destroyers following at fifteen knots. At dawn on 25 February the Enterprise SBDs alone would execute a single long distance strike against Eniwetok from 175 miles north. Halsey set aside two days to evade pursuit and retrace his route back around Wake to his second fueling point and be back at Pearl about 4 March. In the event he was sighted on the way, he would either turn west against Marcus or join Fletcher in pummeling Wake. Fletcher’s TG-16.2 (Yorktown, two heavy cruisers, six destroyers, and an oiler) was to bomb and shell Wake starting at dawn on 25 February in concert with the Eniwetok raid. The Yorktown would launch a full strike from one hundred miles northwest of Wake, after which the TF-17 cruisers would bombard the island. These plans were sound, but two developments forced a change. On 12 February the submarine Cachalot radioed the results of her survey of both objectives. It jolted the War Plans Section. If Wake seemed pretty quiet, only one small gunboat in evidence, Eniwetok was purely somnolent. The Cachalot’s periscope revealed nothing military there at all, not surprising inasmuch as the Japanese never built anything there. McMorris’s gang was puzzled, for prior to the war Hypo’s radio intelligence pegged Eniwetok as a major air base. Now it “appears to be even less of an optimum objective for attack than had been believed before.”9
Things also heated up in the Anzac Area. King and Leary clashed over how to exercise command. Leary’s original orders were to establish his headquarters at Melbourne, but King now wanted him in the Chicago leading a “strong and comprehensive offensive” to cover a U.S. Army convoy expected shortly at New Caledonia. Leary preferred Melbourne, from where he could coordinate sea and air operation without worrying about radio silence. He made a good case. On 14 February King grudgingly told Brown, cruising off Fiji, to take direct charge of offensive operations with Crace’s Anzac cruiser squadron and available land-based air. The next day Brown proposed raiding Rabaul on 21 February. King heartily approved, as did Leary. Nimitz dug deep for air support. A dozen army B-17 heavy bombers and six PBY-5 flying boats flew south to Fiji. Brown advanced the B-17s all the way to Townsville in northeast Australia from where they could bomb Rabaul. He also moved the PBYs and their tender Curtiss to Nouméa on New Caledonia. A disappointed Crace received the “dreary task” of escorting the oiler Platte coming out to join TF-11. Brown advised he lacked the fuel to use the Anzac Squadron offensively.10
Still expecting to raid Eniwetok, Halsey departed Pearl on 14 February. That day across the date line Singapore surrendered, an appalling if not unforeseen development that eased the pressure for immediate action. On the fifteenth the first fruits of Pye’s visit to Washington became manifest, when King allowed that occasional raids against the Mandates would suffice as diversions. He preferred to deploy the Pacific Fleet’s mobile forces to meet likely threats and suggested moving either Halsey or Fletcher south to Canton near the equator. From there the carrier task force could range north or south if necessary. That was enough for Nimitz. A raid on an unoccupied Eniwetok would have all the impact of a wet firecracker. Because Halsey was already on his way, he might as well tackle Wake. Halsey attacked on 24 February. Approaching from the northeast, he confidently unleashed Spruance’s two heavy cruisers and two destroyers to shell the atoll, while the Enterprise launched a full air strike from one hundred miles. Although TF-16 did not inflict severe damage, it certainly drew attention. The Shōkaku and Zuikaku temporarily remained in Japan in case the United States grew more bold, while Nagumo’s other four carriers attacked Port Darwin in northeast Australia on 19 February to cover the pending invasion of Java.11
Fletcher welcomed the stay in port to take care of business regarding TF-17 and the administration of Cruscofor. He exchanged light cruiser St. Louis for an old friend, the Astoria, wearing the flag of Rear Adm. William W. Smith, the former Cincpac chief of staff. Poco Smith first broke his flag in the Chicago in Brown’s TF-11, but for only one cruise before Kinkaid and the Minneapolis took his place. Then he nearly ended up back on staff duty, but King desired him in cruisers. A 1909 Annapolis graduate, the steady, savvy Smith possessed a mathematician’s precise mind and a great sense of humor. The nickname “Poco” started at Annapolis when an upperclassman commented that Smith, with his dark complexion and prominent nose, must have been “the result of some hanky panky between Captain John Smith and Pocahontas.” Fletcher respected his intelligence and admired him, and they worked well together. Capt. Charles P. Cecil, Commander, Destroyer Division (Comdesdiv) Eleven, took Fahrion’s place in TF-17. Ironically nearly all his destroyers derived from Desron Two, indicative of how the Pacific Fleet’s elaborate prewar destroyer organization broke down due to operational necessities.12
Fletcher fought to keep his own staff intact. Stark requested Spence Lewis to accompany his former boss John Henry Newton for duty with the Office of the Chief of Naval Operations (Opnav) in Washington. Securing Nimitz’s endorsement, Fletcher asked Bunav to cancel Lewis’s orders, as he was “urgently needed as my chief of staff and no relief available.” To his delight (and Lewis’s), the bureau relented. As intended, he secured the services of Newton’s old flag secretary, Lt. Cdr. Ira H. Nunn (USNA 1924), an efficient disciplinarian, to take absent Latimer’s place. On 10 February nearly all the Cruscofor staff and flag allowance trooped on board the Yorktown. Cdr. Harry A. Guthrie (USNA 1921) was the damage control expert, who also handled combat intelligence. His classmate Cdr. Walter G. “Butch” Schindler, the staff gunnery officer, was also a qualified air observer. The rest comprised the four communication watch officers, flag warrant officer, and radiomen, yeomen, signalmen, quartermaster, officers’ cooks, stewards, and mess attendants. For the time being Commander Thorington, assistant operations officer, remained with Smith in the Astoria. Likewise Commander McLean, the staff aviator, advised Kinkaid in the Minneapolis, but Fletcher could rely on the Yorktown for all aviation counsel he desired.13
Vice Adm. William Ward Smith.
Courtesy of Col. W. W. Smith Jr.
Lt. Forrest R. “Tex” Biard (USNA 1934), the new assistant combat intelligence officer, was a Japanese linguist with Rochefort’s radio intelligence unit. After the Wake relief, Fletcher requested “specially trained radiomen to copy Japanese sending, and specially trained officers to interpret what is being intercepted.” He got exactly that. In January marine Captain Holcomb went in the Enterprise, but without any radiomen. Thereafter, Nimitz tried to place a radio intelligence team with each carrier task force. Biard “lost” Rochefort’s coin toss over Holcomb’s relief in the Enterprise and to his eventual regret ended up in the Yorktown with Fletcher. Able but extremely intense, Biard did not get along well with the admiral and his staff. His primary task was to translate low-level enemy radio transmissions sent in the clear, such as aircraft sighting reports, that could be of great value in the midst of battle. His team also monitored radio frequencies, circuits, and call signs for later traffic analysis by Hypo, but itself possessed only a very limited deciphering capability. Biard did not handle the special intelligence that passed directly from Cincpac to Fletcher.14
Another problem facing Fletcher was his burgeoning administrative responsibilities. With Leary leaving for Anzac, Fletcher learned that as of 6 February he was now responsible for the light cruisers as well. In fact, the whole administrative apparatus of the Pacific Fleet fell apart. Most ship type commanders and their staffs served constantly at sea leading task forces under radio silence, making it nearly impossible to process paperwork and render administrative decisions. From 7 December through 5 February, Fletcher himself was at Pearl Harbor only seven days. On 17 January Cincpac ordered the type commanders to establish separate offices ashore, which proved another bureaucratic burden for overworked staffs. Fletcher recommended on 12 February that their administrative functions be merged into a shore office under Cincpac. At the same time a Cincpac adviser proposed abolishing both Cruscofor and Crubatfor to simplify administration. Nimitz called that too radical, but did agree with King that the Base Force (soon designated Service Force) should supervise maintenance of the carriers and cruisers. They looked into overhauling the whole structure of type commands. On 16 February Fletcher set up an administrative office in the Pearl Harbor Navy Yard.15
The Yorktown herself experienced changes that ultimately enhanced Fletcher’s handling of TF-17. Buckmaster detached dissatisfied executive officer Jock Clark, when he found Clark’s relief, Cdr. Dixie Kiefer, was at hand. A member of the 1919 Annapolis class (the year after Clark), Kiefer was a more seasoned naval aviator (wings 1922 versus 1925) and, like Clark, highly competent. He was also not apt to second-guess every decision and thus was a great deal easier to live with. His warm personality resonated throughout the ship. When air officer MacComsey left for medical treatment, Buckmaster replaced him with his assistant, Cdr. Murr E. Arnold (USNA 1923), a dynamic, demanding, bantam-sized warrior much respected by his wary pilots, whose eardrums quivered from his orders barked over the bullhorn. A recent commanding officer of VB-5, Arnold was well versed in the present state of carrier doctrine and operations. Fletcher came to rely greatly on him for aviation advice.16
On 15 February Fletcher learned he was again CTF-17, with new orders to “proceed to area between Canton and Ellice Islands and operate therein awaiting further orders which are dependent on developments.” Although not party to the exchanges between King and Nimitz, Fletcher knew of Brown’s plans to raid Rabaul and that very likely a voyage to the remote South Pacific also lay in his future. Late the next morning, Fletcher sailed from Pearl with the Yorktown (seventeen fighters, thirty-five dive bombers, and twelve torpedo planes), Smith’s heavy cruisers Astoria and Louisville, Cecil’s six destroyers, and oiler Guadalupe.17
During Fletcher’s cruise to equatorial waters, the usual stream of messages detailed what happened elsewhere. Thus he learned of Brown’s misadventures while attempting to raid Rabaul. On 20 February, one day before the scheduled attack, search planes discovered TF-11 still four hundred miles east of Rabaul. Lexington fighters swiftly downed two flying boats, but his cover blown, Brown canceled the raid, despite the urging of the Lex’s Capt. Ted Sherman and others to press on. Instead of immediately retiring, however, he continued toward Rabaul for a few hours, accepting the prospect of an afternoon air strike to create more of a diversion. Rabaul eagerly complied, hurling seventeen medium bombers (Mitsubishi G4M1 Type 1 “land attack planes” or “Bettys”) against TF-11, but failed to inflict any damage. The Grumman Wildcat fighter pilots were brilliant. The star was Lt. Edward H. “Butch” O’Hare, credited with shooting down five bombers and saving the Lex. Brown thought thirty or more “heavy bombers” attacked TF-11 and lost more than a dozen of their number. In fact only two land attack planes returned to base, a stunning U.S. victory, although the Japanese themselves wrongly believed they crippled the carrier. The Lex’s fighters had blasted open the way to Rabaul, but Brown withdrew to refuel prior to resuming the offensive. Reinforcements, though, quickly restored Rabaul’s crippled air arm.18
On 21 February TF-17 crossed the equator and marked time fighting the weather while maneuvering back and forth west of bleak Canton Island. Meanwhile King, Nimitz, Leary, and Brown were busily determining Fletcher’s next mission. Deeply impressed by the excellence of Rabaul’s search network and its ferocious riposte, Brown opined, “Any further attempt should be made by two carriers in order to provide force with adequate air protection.” A fuel shortage again compelled him to retain Crace’s Anzac cruiser squadron between Fiji and New Caledonia, while TF-11 took position southeast of the Solomons “in readiness to contest enemy advance to southeastward or to Port Moresby.” Brown essentially shut down in defense mode until reinforced. Leary thought the solution was simply to hustle Fletcher down to join Brown for another jab at Rabaul. On the evening of 24 February Nimitz concurred with Brown that Rabaul required a minimum of two carriers. King speculated that a Rabaul raid would help cover the large convoy of U.S. Army troops set to proceed in early March from Australia to New Caledonia. Nimitz replied that Fletcher could join Brown west of Fiji after both task forces refueled. Logistics were key. TF-11 alone required three Cimarron-class oilers shuttling from distant ports. The loss of just one oiler, Nimitz warned, would “seriously jeopardize important ships.” Even so, if the two carrier task forces joined, they should strike Rabaul with the support of Leary’s land-based air in Australia, but logistics would soon compel at least one carrier task force to withdraw from the South Pacific. Brown became aware, to his intense displeasure, of Leary’s push for an immediate two-carrier raid against Rabaul and commenced backpedaling. He radioed King, Nimitz, and Leary that he never intended to advocate a two-carrier attack on Rabaul. “Do not recommend it under present conditions.” Events, though, had gone too far for such caution.19
On 26 February Fletcher copied a long message from Cominch that disclosed what was in the wind. Brown and Leary were fellow action addressees. King clarified the Anzac command structure. Unquestionably Leary was to run the forces afloat and coordinate land-based air operations from Australia and Port Moresby in New Guinea to support his naval forces. The fluid situation, however, never allowed Leary the measure of strict control over Brown or Fletcher that he so greatly desired. He could only echo the general directives that Cominch passed down to the task force commanders, who exercised great independence because they had to maintain strict radio silence. The important 26 February Cominch message also elucidated King’s basic philosophy regarding carrier operations in Anzac. “Whenever circumstances permit,” single carrier task forces should not undertake raids without land-based air coverage or execute so-called offensive sweeps that lacked definite objectives. That risked detection that removed the advantage of surprise. Refuting Brown’s newly emerging caution, King stressed that present tasks were “not merely protective but also offensive where practicable.” However, simply raiding shore bases often were not profitable unless significant naval forces were also present. The best way to safeguard a position was to reduce the enemy’s offensive strength by destroying his mobile forces, “particularly carriers, cruisers, loaded transports and long range bombers.”20
Of direct interest to Fletcher, King’s message also directed that either TF-11 or TF-17, but preferably both, should remain in Anzac until the army settled into New Caledonia. Of course to remain in the Anzac Area, Fletcher must first be there. The summons could not be long in coming. He knew Halsey was enjoying himself, given Nimitz’s orders to TF-16 to strike Marcus if possible after plastering Wake. Interesting events, too, were in the offing for TF-17. Pearl warned of a large tropical storm developing north of Fiji and expected to move across the direct route between Canton and the New Hebrides. On 27 February the Yorktown copied two messages addressed to Fletcher, one from Cominch, the other from Cincpac, that were transmitted in ciphers the flag communicators could not break. Not being able to read his mail was disconcerting, but enjoined to strict radio silence, he could do little about it. After the weather moderated late that afternoon, he sent the Hughes eastward toward Canton where she could safely radio a message asking Cincpac to rebroadcast the dispatches in a cipher that TF-17 held.21
In fact King jumped the gun by placing TF-17 in the southwest Pacific. Pye returned to Pearl on 26 February from his conference with Cominch bringing dismaying news that strategic planning in Washington seemed muddled. King still lacked a comprehensive plan other than to create a series of island bases in the southwest and South Pacific. On the twenty-seventh Nimitz, Pye, Draemel, and McMorris deliberated over the necessity of committing strong forces so distant from the central Pacific. “We don’t know how ‘all-out’ our help is to be to Australia,” McMorris moaned. Finally Nimitz bowed to the inevitable and sent Fletcher south to Anzac. That evening just as the Hughes departed, Fletcher finally received the word he awaited, and happily he could decipher it. Cincpac told him to rendezvous with TF-11 at noon on 6 March three hundred miles north of Nouméa. That was just west of Efate in the New Hebrides and nearly twelve hundred miles southeast of Rabaul. Soon after Fletcher read a long message from Nimitz to King that confirmed his orders. Nimitz acknowledged deteriorating weather might affect the rendezvous. The present state of supply would support both task forces if offensive action against New Britain began “promptly” upon Fletcher’s arrival. However, Brown’s TF-11 must depart by mid March, and just to reach Pearl it would deplete the store ship Bridge at Samoa. Brown considered food almost as serious a problem as oil. He estimated his cruisers and destroyers would run out of dry provisions by 20 March, despite supplemental food from the Lexington.22
Fletcher saw that he had plenty of time to complete fueling and await the return of the Hughes before it became necessary to leave. Fortuitously the weather on the last day of February allowed TF-17 to resume refueling west of Canton. The process took two days. The Hughes returned the morning of 1 March from her errand, but Pearl did not rebroadcast the two offending messages or further elucidate them. Fletcher would not know until 6 March, when he met Brown, that the unbreakable Cominch communication contained a fairly accurate estimate of enemy strength in the Bismarcks: a cruiser division, a destroyer flotilla, and about fifty land-based planes at Rabaul. More enemy strength would become available after the Dutch East Indies fell, threatening northeastern Australia, New Caledonia, and Fiji. Even before then, the Japanese might try for Lae and Salamaua on the north coast of Papua, or even Port Moresby on its south coast, and also Tulagi, an important anchorage in the lower Solomons. The evening of 1 March Fletcher departed Canton waters bound for the Ellice Islands and the New Hebrides beyond.23
Rear Adm. Spencer S. Lewis, circa 1944.
Courtesy of Harriet L. Houck
Flag officers conducted themselves at sea according to an elaborate protocol that evolved to ease the ever-present tension between an admiral and the captain of his flagship. The captain’s inherent status as commanding officer of his ship had to be preserved without undue interference from above. By tradition the admiral was merely a guest on board his flagship. Thus before visiting the navigation bridge, he would as a courtesy ask permission of his flag captain. An embarked admiral usually limited his presence to “flag country,” the spaces that served as his living quarters and personal command post. In turn ship’s company entered flag areas only upon invitation. Led by Cpl. William E. Thompson, the ten elite seagoing marines of the Commander, Cruisers, Scouting Force (Comcruscofor) flag allowance preserved Fletcher’s privacy and served as personal aides. One marine orderly accompanied him everywhere on the ship and stood watch beside the door to his cabin. Chief of staff Spence Lewis also had a marine orderly.24
The Yorktown’s flag quarters were located port side forward on the gallery deck one level beneath the flight deck. There Fletcher enjoyed a lavish suite replete with sitting room, spacious bedroom, and a small personal office. The nearby flag office served as home base for the nine yeomen under Frank W. Boo, Yeoman First Class. Lewis slept in the adjacent cabin, and the staterooms of operations officer Gerry Galpin, flag secretary Ira Nunn, and Harry Smith, the flag lieutenant, were also nearby. The other staff officers lived with ship’s company in “officer’s country,” and the flag allowance bunked with the crew. Care of the flag quarters was the domain of Luis Motas, Officer’s Steward First Class; Melchor Punongbayan, Officer’s Cook First Class, supervised the flag galley and pantry. All eight flag stewards, cooks, and mess attendants hailed from Guam or the Philippines. Under the navy’s rigid hierarchy the rated stewards and cooks did not get to wear the eagle badge (“crow”) and chevrons of equivalent petty officers, although they received the same pay. Fletcher’s quarters were sumptuous, but when the situation was the least bit tense he was rarely there except to eat. His customary dining companions were Lewis, Nunn, and Smith, although on occasion the entire staff assembled for a meal. When necessary Fletcher lived in his emergency sea cabin located in the Yorktown’s island, where he had a bed, an easy chair, a table, and a shower. Captain Buckmaster led a more cloistered life. His own plush in-port living quarters, office, and galley were situated to starboard across from flag country, but while at sea he stayed in his own sea cabin behind the pilot house on the navigation bridge one level above the flag bridge. Buckmaster ate alone and often had his evening meal before sunset, so he would not need to shine any lights in his emergency cabin that would harm his night vision.25
Fletcher ran his task force from the flag bridge, situated two decks up from the flight deck inside the island. The command post was flag plot, the forward compartment on that deck, where the junior members of the staff rotated as duty watch officer. A large chart table abutted the forward bulkhead, upon which the plot displayed the latest known positions of friendly and enemy forces, sighting reports, and other important information meticulously entered by Lloyd V. Sternberg, Quartermaster First Class. The current message files were always handy. Various communication devices, including the new TBS transmitter-receiver (the VHF short-ranged radio used to contact ships of the task force), cluttered the side bulkheads. There was also a speaker that relayed aircraft radio transmissions, internal telephone circuits, and a voice tube to the navigation bridge directly above. A duty yeoman manned the TBS at all times, and Thomas I. Newsome, Yeoman Second Class, a calm, careful speaker, was the designated combat talker. Fletcher generally conducted business from a comfortable brown leather transom couch that rested against the aft bulkhead. A doorway to starboard opened outside to a small, squared-off platform tucked beneath the large overhanging wings of the navigation bridge. There Fletcher enjoyed a swivel chair reserved for his exclusive use. Extending aft alongside the island, the platform connected with ladders leading to the navigation bridge above and the flight deck below. The next compartment aft of flag plot was the small flag radio, which Lewis turned over to Biard’s two radiomen. They installed their radio receivers and special typewriters for reproducing Japanese kana syllables. Periodically Biard would emerge from the green-curtained doorway that barred trespassers and rather mysteriously whispered his intelligence reports in the admiral’s ear. Fletcher’s sea cabin was located beyond flag radio. Between stints in flag plot, he liked to relax there, doffing his khaki shirt for an athletic-style undershirt to help beat the tropical heat. His favorite leisure activity was reading Westerns. Occasional walks on the flight deck offered additional recreation, but he was no hiking fanatic like Raymond Spruance. Fletcher often smoked a corncob pipe (he had a dozen shipped to him at a time) and liked iced coffee delivered from the flag pantry. His middle name and yen for Black Jack licorice gum either inspired or coincided with his navy nickname of “Black Jack.”26
Boatswain Hubert R. Cooley’s eight flag signalmen took over the Yorktown’s signal bridge one deck above the navigating bridge. Under the supervision of Harry Smith, they handled visual communications with the rest of the task force by means of flag hoists (the most common means of maneuvering the ships during daylight), blinking lights, and semaphore. Charles Brooks’s flag radio team comprised the four communication watch officers and RM1c Henry F. Duggins’s ten radio operators. They worked alongside the Yorktown’s own communicators in Radio I, one deck below the flag bridge. When the flag radiomen copied a message addressed to CTF-17, the communication watch officer on duty used the navy’s electrical cipher machine (ECM) Mark II to decipher it. Admirals were usually provided with additional rotors for the ECM to handle special flag ciphers, but Fletcher did not always have all he needed to read his message traffic. Routine messages were delivered to the staff duty officer in flag plot, but the communication watch officer personally brought those with high priority immediately to Fletcher. To send messages the process was reversed.27
The Cruscofor enlisted flag allowance was a quietly competent, tight-knit group conscious of their favored status and proud of their access to the top man. Admirals did not awe them. They soon got to know Fletcher well, and judging from later testimony, they came to like and respect him a great deal. “Very cordial, level-headed and decisive” was Tom Newsome’s assessment. He never heard Fletcher raise his voice or use profanity. The only time Newsome ever remembered seeing Fletcher agitated (and that included three battles during which he was the admiral’s combat talker) was early one morning in flag plot. “He shook me!” a shirtless Fletcher shouted as he stormed out of his sea cabin after a hapless seaman had blundered onto the flag bridge, slipped past the marine orderly, and thought he was waking someone else for the watch. Fletcher took no disciplinary action for the incident. Frank Boo called Fletcher “the very best officer I ever had the privilege of working for.” He was “firm and tough, but fair, sensitive, caring, and emotional.” Fletcher took an interest in Boo’s family and liked to hear the latest news. Norman W. Ulmer, a signalman, thought Fletcher was “always calm, cool, collected, always pleasant, calm and sure,” not one to unduly interfere or try to micromanage a situation. Raymond W. Kerr, one of the marine orderlies, recalled Fletcher as very quiet, almost “deadpan,” definitely “no smiler.” That stern demeanor reflected the enormous strain Fletcher often endured. However, he loosened up in flag plot, where Kerr would not ordinarily have seen him. Newsome particularly enjoyed hearing Fletcher reminisce about his experiences as an ensign and young destroyer skipper in the old Asiatic Fleet. The design of the tattoo on Fletcher’s arm, a souvenir of his early days in the Far East, is still a bone of contention among surviving members of the flag allowance. Some say it was a dragon, others a rose. They are proud of their association with the admiral during some of the darkest but most crucial days of World War II, and they bristle at the criticism of their former leader that has become prevalent in historical treatments of those perilous times.28