The Saratoga’s bow cut through the black water, leaving a luminescent trail in her wake as she moved through the darkness in the early hours of 26 January 1929. The big flattop was steaming north in the tranquil waters of the Gulf of Panama at 26 knots. Seventy planes stood silently on her 888-foot flight deck waiting for the signal to start engines. On her flag bridge, standing in the cool night air, was Rear Admiral Joseph Mason Reeves, the commander of Aircraft Squadrons, Battle Fleet.
Admiral Reeves, known as “Bull” since his football-playing days at the U.S. Naval Academy, was a hard-boiled, demanding officer, who knew how to get the most out of the men in his command. A shrewd and innovative tactician, he was an officer trained to the gun, but not wedded to it. For the past four years he had worked diligently to transform the Navy’s nascent air force from a small collection of rudimentary aircraft operating from the experimental USS Langley (CV-1) into a potent aerial strike force operating from two of the most modern aircraft carriers in the world, the USS Lexington (CV-2) and Saratoga (CV-3). The battlecruiser design that had given birth to those powerful ships made them the fastest and largest warships in the Fleet. Now, as the commander of the “Black” Fleet’s air force in Fleet Problem IX, Reeves was about to launch an aerial offensive that would revolutionize the way warfare was conducted at sea.
Fleet Problem IX
From his lofty perch on the flag bridge, he surveyed the three squadrons of aircraft that had been spotted on the flight deck. Their mission that morning was to deliver a simulated bombing attack on the locks of the Panama Canal.
Standing next to Reeves on the flag bridge was his highly regarded chief of staff, Commander Eugene E. Wilson. As the Saratoga steamed toward the aircraft launching point, Wilson contemplated the risk of the peacetime operation they were about to undertake. Never before had so many carrier planes been launched at one time. And no aerial operation of this magnitude had ever been attempted in the pre-dawn darkness (albeit the full moon and clear skies made visibility excellent for night flying). As Wilson later explained, letting the other fellow take the risks was an old game in the peacetime Navy (some ambitious officer was always waiting in the wings to take over if a commander fouled up), but “Bull Reeves had never played that game.”
As the Saratoga neared the launching point, Wilson approached Reeves intent on expressing his concerns about the operation that was about to begin: “Sir, there’s a lot of brass hats watching us tonight and there’d be many a dry eye tomorrow if you should slip.”
“I know,” Reeves replied, “but a commander who stops to appraise the impact of a military decision upon his personal fortunes has no right to be entrusted with a command.” Those words say a great deal about the man who was about to create a revolution in military affairs—a man who valued duty, loyalty, and hard work above all else.
The mock surprise attack that Reeves was about to orchestrate would demonstrate beyond the shadow of a doubt the value of carrier-borne aircraft and their ability to strike unexpectedly at ranges far beyond those of the big guns that formed the backbone of every major navy in the world.
After a while, dark figures began stirring among the parked aircraft. The roar of engines broke the peaceful rhythms of the night as one by one the radial engines of the planes sprang to life. Exhaust flames bathed the flight deck in eerie shades of bluish light as the Saratoga turned into the wind to launch her aircraft.
First in line for takeoff were the 17 F3B fighters of VB-2. Since none was equipped with radio, this flight, plus those that would follow, would be accompanied by a single radio-equipped O2U. Next were the 18 F3Bs of VF-2, followed by 14 F2Bs of VF-1. Last in line were the 17 T4M heavy bombers of VT-2. A second detachment of 13 O2Us waited in the hangar deck below. They would be brought on deck as soon as the flight deck was clear.
At 0445 the Saratoga slowed to two-thirds speed to begin launching aircraft. As the planes moved off, the faint blue of their exhausts faded away and the tiny running lights on their wings disappeared into the night.
Friend or Foe?
After the last plane was airborne, the Saratoga changed course, heading for a rendezvous with the friendly battleships that were supposed to cover the carrier during the recovery operations. As the sky began to lighten, the silhouettes of four battleships suddenly appeared on the horizon directly ahead. At first, those standing on the Saratoga’s bridge believed that they were the battleships sent to protect the carrier. But as the ships approached, it became clear they belonged to the “Blue” enemy forces. Under actual battle conditions the Saratoga would have turned away from the enemy ships and sprinted to safety, though in doing so she would have deserted the returning planes. With no place to land, her planes would have had to ditch in the open sea. But this was not wartime, and Reeves wisely had the ship continue on her course to safeguard the planes already in the air. This brought the Saratoga directly under the guns of the opposing battleships, which opened simulated fire at close range. In less than five minutes, the on-board umpire declared her theoretically sunk.
The Saratoga’s encounter with the big guns of the enemy battleships had been preceded the day before by a similar encounter by her sister ship, the Lexington. Those unexpected run-ins with the Fleet’s dreadnoughts hindered the development of carrier tactics for the next decade as the battleship admirals, fearful of losing their only carriers, insisted that they remain tied to the Battle Fleet.
Although the Saratoga was technically out of action after her encounter with the Blue battleships, she was allowed to continue with the exercise. This gave the pilots, aircrews, and deck personnel the opportunity to gain the additional experience that was one of the main objectives of this Fleet problem.
After passing San Jose Island—the navigation checkpoint halfway to the Panama Canal—the F3Bs of VB-1 began climbing to the high-altitude approach that would put them out sight as they crossed the coastline on their way to attack the Pedro Miguel and Miraflores locks on the Pacific side of the canal. They had timed their approach to coincide with first light. Visibility at that point would be sufficient for them to see the land below, but not enough for them to be picked up by the Army pursuit planes from the Canal Zone that they spotted on patrol 10,000 feet below. After passing to the east of Panama City, the squadron split into two divisions, each heading for a different lock. As they approached their targets, the planes began a steep power glide. This maneuver served a dual purpose: It increased their speed, making it more difficult for the Army planes to intercept them, and it brought them down to 9,000 feet, which was the optimum altitude from which to begin their simulated dive-bombing attack. At 0638 the leading sections of each division reversed course and pushed over, commencing a criss-crossing attack on the two locks.
Go Navy, Beat Army
After completing their unopposed attacks, the squadron reformed for the return flight to the Saratoga. En route, the first division dropped out of the formation and conducted a simulated strafing attack on Fort Clayton and Albrook Field. Within minutes of rejoining the formation, VB-2 was attacked by a large number of Army planes. The superior performance of the Navy’s air-cooled fighters, which was apparent during the ensuing melee, enabled the Navy pilots to hang on the tails of the Army planes without difficulty. After 20 minutes of dogfighting, they broke off the engagement and headed back to the Saratoga, which had begun launching the 13 O2Us of the third wave at 0658. The Saratoga’s air group now had 83 planes aloft—the most that had ever been put in the air at one time by a single aircraft carrier.
While the first wave was still engaged in dogfights with the Army planes, the second strike group had yet to make landfall, its progress hindered by the slow speed of the heavy bomb-carrying T4Ms that formed the nucleus of the main strike group. At 0800 the T4Ms began their level bomb run on the locks from 11,600 feet. With no enemy planes in sight, the escorting fighters were free to conduct mock dive-bomb attacks on the locks, which they began to do as soon as the heavy bombers had passed over the target.
At 0950 the third wave, less three planes from VS-1 that had engaged enemy fighters on the way to the target, arrived over the Miraflores locks. No Army aircraft were sighted, and they promptly commenced their mock bomb runs against the Miraflores locks, the third such attack made that day.
The magnitude of the aerial operations conducted off the Saratoga’s flight deck and their impact on naval thinking in the biplane era is difficult to appreciate in an age when the average person thinks nothing of boarding an airplane for travel to some distant city hundreds, if not thousands, of miles away. In Reeves’s time, the sciences of aeronautics and aerial navigation were still in the early stages of development. Though Charles Lindbergh’s flight across the Atlantic a year and a half earlier had demonstrated the feasibility of long-range flights over the ocean, flying beyond the sight of land was still considered a risky undertaking, especially at night when pilots faced the additional hazards of poor visibility and vertigo.
The rudimentary carrier aircraft of the day had little more than a magnetic compass for navigation, and because of weight and performance considerations, were not equipped with radios. To maintain contact with the Saratoga, each detachment was accompanied by a two-seat liaison plane equipped with a radio operated by the second crew member, who had to rely on Morse code for transmitting and receiving information. Despite the lack of sophisticated navigation gear or individual radios, each strike group, including the two launched in darkness, was able to rendezvous over the carrier, proceed to its target some 140 miles away, engage the enemy, and find its way back to the ship without losing a single aircraft.
‘Fine Seamanship and Airmanship’
The exercises conducted off Panama provided the Navy with a perfect opportunity to show off the Fleet and they received considerable coverage from the press, especially The New York Times, whose special correspondent, Louis R. Freeman, was a lieutenant in the Royal Navy Volunteer Reserve. Reeves recognized the important role of public relations and was a great showman when it came to publicizing the achievements of the Navy’s aviators. Although there is no record of Reeves’ direct association with Freeman, evidence suggests that much of the information concerning the aerial operations contained in his articles was provided by Reeves or his staff. Freeman’s articles, which appeared daily and as a special Sunday feature while the maneuvers were in progress, brought home to the public the importance of naval aviation. The favorable nature of his reports on the aerial activities of the Fleet strengthened the public’s opinion of naval aviation just as Congress was considering a measure to authorize the addition of another aircraft carrier, which the Navy badly needed.
The success of the attack on the Panama Canal and the other operations conducted from the Saratoga’s flight deck also enhanced Reeves’ standing within the upper echelons of the Navy. It justified the trust that Admiral William V. Pratt, commander-in-chief of the Battle Fleet, had placed in the plan that Reeves had prepared for the operation. Pratt was so pleased with the outcome that he sent a dispatch to his aircraft commander praising “the brilliant work of the Air Force,” which Reeves forwarded to his men, adding his own compliments on their “fine seamanship and airmanship.” To show his personal pride in the accomplishments of Reeves’ command, Pratt flew his flag in the Saratoga during the return voyage to San Diego.
Although the results of Fleet Problem IX proved inconclusive with respect to the future demise of the battleship, they laid the groundwork for the basics of the carrier doctrine that would successfully serve the U.S. Navy for years to come. Reeves’ decision to maximize the number of aircraft that could be spotted and launched from the flight deck at one time was among the most important principles that emerged from Fleet Problem IX. Although Reeves had been working on the problem for several years, its real impact was not felt until the Saratoga’s 83-plane raid. The value of putting as many planes in the air as possible may seem obvious today, but its implementation in the early days of carrier aviation required a leader who was willing to take a certain amount of risk and who had the foresight and forcefulness to insist, over the objections frequently voiced by some of the pilots, that it be done.
The essential qualities of superior leadership did not come to Reeves by accident, but were developed through a long period of professional growth and advancement in the Navy. The specialized education, training, and operational experience that Reeves had during his long and varied naval career were instrumental in preparing him for this monumental task.
Although Reeves had previously used the Langley to conduct aerial raids on installations ashore, the Saratoga’s attack in Fleet Problem IX was the first to demonstrate the tactical potential of the carrier task force. On the two previous occasions, the Langley had been tied to the Battle Fleet. In this exercise, Reeves insisted that the Saratoga be detached from the Battle Fleet and allowed to complete a wide, southerly detour that would prevent location by the enemy until it was too late for them to take action. The tactics employed by Reeves in this problem would serve as a model for the hit-and-run carrier raids conducted by another “Bull”—Vice Admiral William F. Halsey Jr.—during the early stages of World War II.
‘Unanswered Salvo’
The use of the light cruiser Omaha (CL-4) in place of the short-legged destroyers that usually accompanied the Saratoga suggested the need for a new type of formation consisting of an aircraft carrier, heavy cruisers, and destroyers. Such a group, according to Reeves, “could utilize its speed to avoid detection, could force its way through the light forces of a scouting line and arrive at a point from which it could launch an air attack that could be stopped only with the greatest difficulty.” This formation became the carrier task force used with great success in World War II.
The most important conclusion drawn from the Saratoga’s raid was the impossibility of stopping a determined air attack once it was launched. The solution that Reeves advocated was to stop the aerial attack before it could start, and the only way to do this was to bomb the carrier while her planes were still on her deck. To search for and locate such a highly mobile target could only be accomplished by the aircraft of another carrier. It was evident to Reeves, and to the carrier commanders who followed in his footsteps, that in any future engagement involving aircraft carriers at sea, the first carrier to locate and bomb the other would determine the outcome. It was a concept that later was termed the “unanswered salvo.”
The stunning success of the aerial operations conducted under Reeves’ command during Fleet Problem IX exerted a tremendous influence on the future of all U.S. carrier operations. His aggressive use of the Saratoga and her aircraft laid the fundamental tenets of the U. S. Navy’s carrier doctrine.