“Something About Ships”
(See K. Burns, pp. 18-21, January/February 1999 Naval History)
Richard A. Klein, Universal Archives, Inc.
We read your Ken Bums interview and only could feel disappointment with his elitist attitude. What arrogance! Mr. Bums owes a great deal of his celebrity status to the History Channel, Arts & Entertainment, and the Discovery Channel. Had they not begun to popularize the documentary as an entertainment form nearly two decades before he came into prominence, Mr. Bums still might be looking for funding for “The Civil War.” As one of the earliest producers of archival documentaries for ABC Video Enterprises, I am offended that Mr. Bums would accuse me, my compatriots, and/or my work of dumbing down anyone. Moreover, cable television—and particularly narrowcasting—has made Ken Bums’s work possible.
Lou Reda, Lou Reda Productions
Arrrrgh! What a wound. Dissed by Ken Bums. A shotgun blast from Mother Teresa would have hurt less. Yet somehow, as producers of specials for the History Channel and A&E Cable Networks—great crude beasts—we must rise up and respond. To review the charges: “We have convinced people that they don’t need to have an attention span longer than eight to ten minutes,” and that we create “hardly more than journalistic considerations” because of sheer numbers and limited resources. Golly. We thought we were trying very hard to bring the mesmerizing, fascinating interlock of world history to a populace that ten years ago thought history began last Thursday. We even thought the runaway success of the History Channel, A&E, and the Discovery networks might appear to support that.
We mass-production downdumbers are so busy going fast that we do not have much time to think of Ken. But he has crept into our vocabulary. “Bums It” has taken the place of the old “Sludge It”— meaning to make up for lack of material or pace by making it pretty and freighted with overweight portent. And stre-e-e-e- tching it almost past endurance. Indeed, it
is his great contribution to our art to discover the following: If you shoot beautiful rivers and clouds.at sunset through enough gauzy filters, and pour in enough teary music, and have James Earl Jones rumble it out over six minutes, and attribute the quote to Abraham Lincoln, the critics will be so busy fumbling for their handkerchiefs and word processors that they will forget that nothing happened. But it is certainly a lot prettier than Sominex. We must now close to resume the rapid-fire destruction of America’s taste and attention span.
Joel Marks, CorVision
Ken Bums is nothing if not arrogant and elitist. He seems to be saying that anyone who watches the History Channel cannot be considered serious. He completely ignores how cable television has democratized subjects such as history by providing so much more access to excellent history programs. His attention-span argument makes me ask this question: If he is serious about this, why didn’t he produce his Civil War series in real time to fully appreciate the subject?
“Rediscovering the Asiatic Fleet”
(See R. O’Dell, pp. 40-42, November/December 1998 Naval History)
Warrant Officer Class Two Graham F. Wilson, Australian Regular Army (Retired)
With a personal interest in the Battle of the Java Sea, I was delighted to read Chief O’Dell’s excellent article on the Asiatic Fleet and the adventures of the USS Whipple (DD-217). Unfortunately, I suffer from the historian’s disease of a manic desire to set the record straight. I have to take the Chief to task over two points in his article. First, he mentions in passing the Battle off Balikpapan (not the Battle of Balikpapan as he calls it) and in doing so paints, perhaps unwittingly, a picture of a glowing victory. Sadly, the fight off Balikpapan was poorly handled by the U.S. commanders from the very outset. I have never been able to fathom why Admiral Glassford decided to detach the USS Marblehead (CL-12) from the striking force and leave the job to four obsolescent four- stackers. Then, having arrived off Balikpapan to find the Japanese transports anchored in line abreast and back lit by burning oil fields (a veritable destroyer man’s dream), Commander Talbot proceeded to make a complete dog’s breakfast of the whole affair. He threw his force into the battle with no plan and the vaguest of orders. The result was that his four destroyers, old but still potent, attacked in an uncoordinated melee which saw many targets ignored, while two or three destroyers wasted torpedoes on targets that already had been hit or fired on by others. The final score of four transports and one small escort sunk was less than credible. On this point it should be noted that while Japanese records agree that four transports were sunk off Balikpapan, both Japanese and Dutch records agree that the fourth ship was sunk by Dutch Navy aircraft, thus the final score was actually three transports and one escort. Was this poor showing the reason Talbot was relieved as Commander, Destroyer Division 59, five days later and replaced by Lieutenant Commander Parker of the USS Parrot (DD-218)?
Second, O’Dell states that the Asiatic Fleet “gave the Pacific Fleet time to recover from Pearl Harbor and start fighting back across the Pacific.’’ Come on Chief, that’s a bit of a long bow. First of all, this statement ignores the efforts and sacrifices of the other nations of the ABDA [American, British, Dutch, Australian] Command, especially the gallant and terrible sacrifices of the Royal Netherlands Navy. More important, it does not stand up to critical examination. The Pacific Fleet was busily rebuilding in Hawaii and on the West Coast. It was totally ignored by the Japanese, who were hard at work following their war plan in pursuit of their stated aim of creating the Greater East Asian Co- Prosperity Sphere. The sacrifices of ABDA, as gallant as they were, had little effect on Japanese operations and plans, and none on the recovery of the U.S. Pacific Fleet.
I do not think that it does justice to the memory of the Asiatic Fleet and its fighting men to eulogize their tale and gloss over the very real mistakes and deficiencies displayed. This goes for all of the ABDA members, not just the United States. The Dutch Admiral K.W. F. M. Doorman, as gallant a seaman and fighting admiral who ever trod a deck, made a number of basic mistakes that led not only to his own death but the destruction of most of his fleet as well. Captain “Hec” Waller of HMAS Perth, perhaps the greatest fighting sailor Australia has ever produced, made his own mistakes. It could be argued that his decision to make through the Sunda Strait cost not only his own life and those of his crew, but the destruction of the great fighting ship USS Houston (CA-30) as well.
“Neptunes Over the Jungle”
(See N. Polmar, p. 68, November/December 1998; R. Greeley, p. 6, January/February 1999 Naval History)
Colonel Richard L. Jones, U.S. Army (Retired)
This was a most interesting story and, in spite of serving in intelligence for more than 20 years, a story I had never heard before. I was especially attuned to the P2V since my assignment before I served in Vietnam, and during my tours I participated in putting Army paint on five P2Vs and served at a signal intelligence intercept platform working the DMZ. The unit was stationed at Cam Ranh Bay and received maintenance support from the P2V Navy unit there. The project was called Ceflion Lion, and was known to the troops as “Crazy Cat.” One of the five aircraft still resides at the U.S. Army Aviation Museum at Fort Rucker, Alabama. It was a great story of Navy support to the Army when the Air Force refused to allow the Army to use any aircraft larger than the Beech Baron and the DeHaviland Beaver.
“Why We Call a Ship a She”
(See F. Foley, p. 43, November/December 1998; T. Martin, p. 14, January/February 1999 Naval History)
William J. Stewart
Once again Naval History has published an article that has no historical relevance and has only two purposes—to insult women, and to show that the staff of the magazine and some contributors are out of touch with most Americans when it comes to women’s issues. Rear Admiral Foley has insulted women in this article. What is funny to this long-retired admiral is not funny to a single person—man or woman— I have talked to who has seen this article. Eight women’s names are inscribed on the Vietnam Memorial in Washington. Women, along with men, die in training accidents every year in the military. Would Admiral Foley and Naval History's staff be proud to have families of deceased servicewomen read this article? Are you willing, without reservation, to have female high school and college students read this article in libraries throughout the country? Should women be referred to as “well- stacked” with an “inviting super-structure?” I suggest you send a copy of this article to all the female midshipmen at the Naval Academy and get their reactions. If you are proud of what you publish you should have no hesitancy in doing so.
This article has harmed the credibility of all of us who advise young people about the military. As a Naval Academy Information Officer in a relatively small town, I routinely am asked about opportunities in all military services and about issues involving the military. This is the second time in a year and a half that your magazine (see p. 14 of the May/June 1997 Naval History) has been noted by people who have spoken with me as proof that you are insensitive to service women’s issues, and therefore sometimes unintentionally harmful to the naval service.
“Late Vietnam: Loyalty to Whom?”
(See K. Hagan, pp. 24-29, March/April 1998; D. G. Golio, P. S. Foley, pp. 8-10, July/August 1998; T. Generous, C. T. Wilson, pp. 15-17, September/October 1998 Naval History)
Captain Bruce A. Johnson, Sr., U.S. Naval Reserve (Retired)
I reject the statement (whenever I see it) and resent the assertion that our military forces were defeated in defense of South Vietnam. Consider these facts: first, the military objective was limited to defending South Vietnam from the incursion of the communist-supported Viet Cong; second, military targets were severely limited by White House direction; third, the Viet Cong insurgency was defeated when it failed to gain popular support in the South; and finally, the North sent regular troops south during much of the war and they were defeated as well. General Giap, North Vietnam’s chief army commander, later admitted that his armies had been totally defeated and withdrawn. Only then, a peace treaty was signed in Paris guaranteeing the sovereignty of South Vietnam. We pulled out all of our troops and ceased military support. Then Congress passed the Cooper-Church amendment that prohibited military support for South Vietnam. Meanwhile, North Vietnam was receiving massive military support from both China and the Soviet Union. It was two years after our military forces were removed that North Vietnam invaded with its entire military might—12 armored divisions—which overran the poorly equipped defenders. We gave no support whatsoever at this critical juncture. The reality is that after the military objectives were met, a political decision was made to abandon South Vietnam to the mercy of communist aggressors. This resulted in the fleeing of the boat people, the suffering, imprisonment, and slaughter of millions in South Vietnam during the invasion and afterward. And our image, respect, and determination were questioned throughout the world.
“An Effective Umbrella”
(See R. G. Van Treuren, pp. 41-44, May/June 1998; R. Cole, pp. 10-12, September/October 1998; W. Stewart, p. 12, September/October 1998; J. Fahey, pp. 12-13, January/February 1998 Naval History)
R. G. Van Treuren
Commander Fahey’s confusion may be because of the year consumed engineering the manufacture of copies of the hand- built prototype K-2. Congress authorized 48 airships in June 1940; the Navy ordered six about nine weeks later. K-ships were slowly rolling off the modest line by October 1941 when the destroyer Reuben James (DD-245) was torpedoed and the Navy ordered 21 more. U-boaters were warned of airships in February 1942, and we have a decorated pilot’s claim of a sinking off North Carolina in July of that year. Historians downplay Fahey’s “barking dog” success claim by stating many airship escorted convoys were not threatened. It is hoped Commander Fahey would lead a new study that would provide examples proving them wrong.
“At Sea on the Nagato”
(See S. M. Tave, pp. 36-39, September/ October 1998; V. Silluzio, p. 8, January/ February 1999; K. Swenson, pp. 8-10, January/February 1999 Naval History)
Don Landauer
I enjoyed Professor Tave’s most interesting account of his duty on board a Japanese battleship. It brought to mind a similar experience some of my shipmates and I had in early 1946. After the surrender ceremonies in September 1945, my ship, the USS Iowa (BB-61), left Tokyo Bay and steamed back to Long Beach, California, where the “real men” who had fought the war were discharged and hundreds of us “little boys” came on board to replace them. The mighty ship with her inexperienced crew stood out of Long Beach and steamed straight back to Tokyo Bay. We anchored temporarily off Yokosuka and then went south to Sasebo with the assigned task of sinking the Japanese submarine fleet. When we arrived, we found them all out of sight in caves along the coast. For some inexplicable reason, known only to our command master chief, the word was passed that all hands who had driver’s licenses should lay up to the quarterdeck. About 20 of us reported and were told to go with a group of boatswain’s mates and armed Marines over the side ladder to the smallboat, and then into the caves to man the submarines moored there.
The caves were unlit because of Admiral William Halsey’s recent coastal shelling, so we were greeted by the Japanese crews assembled for the operation wielding flashlights. Apprehension and suspicion abounded on both sides. We were divided into two groups: boarders and line handlers. I was a member of the latter group. All our officers were armed with sidearms, and they boarded the subs with the Japanese crewmen. As an 18-year-old kid, I was heartbroken that I did not get to go on board, although I have no idea how my California driver’s license would have made me competent enough to help operate a submarine. The subs departed the caves slowly, and we linehandlers returned to the Iowa. No one can realize how gargantuan a battleship can be unless you see her from a smallboat alongside. We boarded, honored the colors, saluted the officer of the deck and unofficially manned the rails to see the destruction of the Japanese submarine fleet.
After the subs hove to and were set adrift about 500 yards from the Iowa, the Japanese and U.S. crewmen were transferred to the battleship. The Japanese (they were “Japs” or “Nips” in those days) came on board under a very heavily-armed Marine guard. Not that anyone expected any treachery from them, but there was a well- founded need to protect them from the U.S. sailors. That may be difficult for anyone under the age of 70 to understand, but that was the way things were. We bombarded the subs with our 5-inch guns and demolished them quickly. Each pattern was the same. The sub would go down by the bow or stern, seem to rise momentarily, then slip silently to the bottom. None of us recently recruited kids had ever seen or heard a large gun fired, so we got caught up in the excitement and felt as if we had something to do with protecting the United States. While we were bursting with undeserved pride, one of my more thoughtful shipmates said, “I wonder how those Jap sailors feel about this.”
My lone souvenir of the event is a Japanese slide rule I “liberated” from a desk in an office in the cave. In my career as an engineering professor, I have used that old slide rule many times, even after the advent of calculators and computers. I cannot pick it up, however, without wondering “how that Japanese engineer would feel about this.”
Chief Sonarman LeRoy B. Cavnar, U.S. Navy Reserve (Retired)
Whether or not Stuart Tave was on board the Nagato during the “alongside visit” of the Thorn (DD-647) on 11 September 1945, his account is certainly in agreement with conditions we on the Thorn found on that once-feared dreadnought. The temporary duty crew assigned to the Nagato was quite small and the Thorn’s men had almost complete access to anything during the nearly four hours alongside. I do not recall that we put rat guards on the lines (some say we posted armed guards instead), and we did not sail nor stand watch on the Nagato. Because of the unique situation, however, our skipper, Commander (later Vice Admiral) Frederick Schneider, had recognized a way to let his men experience an enemy warship as another aspect of the history they had been making since February 1944 while serving in the 7th and 3rd/5th fleets.
While active-duty wartime destroyer crewmen have few opportunities to inscribe their mark on anything substantial, they have been known to seize any available opportunity to exercise legitimate rights of discovery. I am quite sure that the Thorn’s men will wonder if the author envisioned them when he related: “Ghostly handwriting was on the bulkhead of the last compartment, in the comforting notice that Kilroy had been there.” My personal log reference below confirms Mr. Tave’s discovery of wreckage on the Nagato.
“11 Sept. 1945. Underway at 1300, proceeding to Battleship Nagato to transfer ten thousand gallons of our fuel. Alongside and boarded Nagato about 1320. We got a chance to look the ship over and to pick up a few souvenirs. Helmets and gas masks for all. I got some ID plates from a mutilated electrical jack box, one off the door to the Admiral’s cabin inside the huge flag operations quarters, another plate from an officers’ country head and wash room, an AA gun information plate, and a ‘make and mod’ plate from a piece of radio equipment. Also in the radio shack, found a 3 record album of Franz Schubert’s 8th Symphony, Nippon Telefunken label, recorded by Berliner Philharmoniker. Hope it can be kept in good condition until I get home. This tub was really beat up and shows little signs of ever having repairs made to it. A large shell, or bomb, had ripped through the pilot house and played hell, in general. The starboard pilot house pelorus was covered with bloodstains (probably) and we saw what looked like bones (maybe arm or leg) jammed among that wreckage. All of the bridge was a super mess, most of the machine guns were shot away and a port side small boat, still in its davits, was burned to a crisp. Crawled into #3 16-inch turret but found no souvenir material. Everything shiny and shipshape but we sure didn’t find that kind of neatness in any of the below decks compartments. Lots of us finally had a chance to scratch our names (leave our personal ‘Kilroy’) somewhere on the ship before we cast off at 1700.”
“Navy Yarns”
(See R. Smith, p. 16, January/February 1999 Naval History)
Frances A. Thorington
I was amazed to see the information about the Intelligent Whale, that ill-fated submarine built by Oliver Halsted. I am the daughter of the excited gentleman who was visiting Roy C. Smith. (My father was Oliver Halsted’s great-grandson, not grandson.) We have always thought of Halsted’s untimely demise as something of a family joke, indicating great virility among the male members of the family. In looking over my own file concerning the Intelligent Whale, which includes a lengthy newspaper account of Halsted’s murder, I also found a copy of Roy C. Smith’s letter to my father, dated 22 August 1966. In it he refers to the plaque placed alongside the submarine and discusses other historical facts regarding the Civil War. During the summer of 1989, my brother and I had the opportunity to board the Intelligent Whale at the Navy Museum in Washington. The “whale” is quite small inside and feels very claustrophobic. She is only 28 feet 8 inches in length. We were given a special tour by the curator, who happens to be a cousin of my son-in-law. He has since provided me with additional information about the submarine and Oliver Halsted because of his own keen interest.
“The Navy Falls Short at Normandy”
(See A. R. Lewis, pp. 34-39, November/December 1998 Naval History)
Commander Benjamin Frana, U.S. Navy (Retired)
Dr. Lewis argues that Navy gunfire support failed at Omaha Beach on 6 June 1944. John Grant, my neighbor, and I believe that this thesis is untenable. John was the executive officer on the USS Carmick (DD-493), and I was the gunnery officer on the USS Baldwin (DD-624). Both ships were in the Omaha Gunfire Support Group. Lewis bases his thesis on a comparison between the naval fire support at Omaha and the support at selected islands in the Pacific. He ignores circumstances that favored gunfire support in the Pacific and were detrimental to support at Omaha. The selected Pacific islands were flat, target areas were visible, ample sea room existed for landing craft and support ships, and the seas were calm. On the other hand, the terrain at Omaha consisted mainly of bluffs pierced at intervals by narrow valleys containing ravines, gullies, roads, and trails—all of which ran from the beach to high ground. Targets were concealed in vegetation growing on the sides of the valleys and—most crucial of all— the seas were rough.
Most of the Omaha landing craft carrying Army tanks (which had been given the task of providing the infantry with primary fire support) were swamped by the high seas. Captain Harry Sanders in the USS Frankford (DD-497), upon seeing that very few Army tanks had reached the beach, ordered the destroyers under his command to close on the beach and provide artillery support for the infantry. The destroyers moved to within a half-mile of the beach in water so shallow that their keels almost touched the bottom of the Bay of the Seine. In fact, one destroyer ran aground. The destroyer silenced some of the German guns concealed in the valley flanks that had started firing at the infantry. This action made it possible for the infantry to exit from the beach.
The number of fire-support ships at Omaha was 18, of which 2 were battleships, 4 were light cruisers, and 12 were destroyers. Lewis claims that this was not enough. Theodore Roscoe in United States Destroyer Operations in World War II (Naval Institute Press, 1953) shows that there were 17 destroyers and 2 cruisers in the Reserve Fire Support Group. Very few of those ships, to my knowledge, provided gunfire support at Omaha Beach. Contrary to Lewis’s thesis that early Army losses at Omaha were due to inadequate naval fire support, those losses were mainly due to the lack of Army tanks.
“Photo Mission: Truk”
(See J. Bishop, pp. 43-46, January/February 1999 Naval History)
Colonel Joseph Alexander, U.S. Marine Corps (Retired)
Thanks for giving us John Bishop’s account of VMD-254’s historic photo mission over the Japanese bastion at Truk. It is nice to see one of these unique Marine Photographic Squadrons get some long- overdue credit. Many contemporary Marines are astonished to learn that Leatherneck aviators in the Pacific War flew their own version of the Consolidated B- 24 Liberator (designated the PB4Y). There was no better long-range reconnaissance means available to cover the vast oceanic distances in advance of the crucial amphibious assaults of 1943-44. I am glad to learn that VMD-254 achieved the honor of providing the first aerial photographs of Truk as early as 4 February 1944.
One small correction. The Gilbert Islands were not among the former German colonies mandated to Japan by the League of Nations after World War I. The Gilberts became a British colony in 1915 and remained as such until seized forcibly by the Japanese on 8 December 1941.
“Timeline to Justice”
(See H. Scott, pp. 47-49, July/August 1998; D. Dorflinger, pp. 6-8, September/October 1998; H. Scott, p. 6, November/December 1998; J. Rychetnik, pp. 6-8, November/ December 1998; E. Emanuel, p. 8, November/December 1998; K. Estes, pp. 8- 10, November/December 1998; D. MacEwen, p. 10, November/December 1998; L. Parker, p. 10, November/December 1998; C. Howard, p. 11, January/February 1999; K. Moore, pp. 11- 12, January/February 1999 Naval History)
Lou Torok
For 53 years (I am now 71) I have lived with growing anger over an event that took place in the South Pacific during World War II that linked the name of the city of Indianapolis with acts of cowardice, infamy, and avoidance of responsibility. Through fate I was stationed at Naval Hospital No. 18 on Guam in 1945. The morning we met the hospital ship in Apra Harbor to remove the survivors of the Indianapolis (CA-35) to the base hospital,
I was sickened by the condition of what passed for the remains of human beings— what was left after the sharks dined on them. But what sickened me even more were the events that occurred later when Captain McVay was court-martialed for negligence. Is it not about time that someone in Indianapolis is as mad as I am and will now work to erase this shameful blemish on the name of Captain McVay and the beautiful city of Indianapolis? This is one bit of history that needs revision.
“The American Helicopter Museum and Educational Center”
(See D. Wambold, p. 60, January/February 1999 Naval History)
Captain T.T. McGillicuddy, U.S. Navy (Retired)
I take issue with Mr. Wambold’s statement that: “The American Helicopter Museum and Education Center—the only museum in the country dedicated to rotary-wing aircraft—is in West Chester, Pennsylvania, the hub of early rotary-wing aircraft development.” I wish to point out that Fort Rucker, Alabama, which trains U.S. Army helicopter pilots, does have a very sizable and complete museum of helicopters. This is located near Dothan, Alabama, not too far from Pensacola, Florida. I visited Fort Rucker to see my granddaughter get her wings when she graduated from training there. The Fort Rucker museum is well worth the visit if you are interested in helos. It is on the base and has free admission. I highly recommend it.
“The Critic Within”
(See K. Hagan, pp. 20-25, November/ December 1998 Naval History)
Lieutenant, j.g., Gerard Marder, U.S. Naval Reserve (Retired)
I must dispute the statement in Kenneth Hagan’s opening paragraph that the historic transformation in relations between the United States and Great Britain occurred during World War I and not before. This change in attitude of Great Britain occurred at the end of the American Civil War. Britain had been ambivalent during that war and although they never recognized the Confederacy, they gave the South some support by building them several ships, among them the Alabama. The Alabama proceeded to wreak havoc on Union commerce on the high seas. After the war the United States sued Britain for all the damage that the Alabama had done during the war.
Britain could have thumbed its nose at the United States, but it did not—for good reason. Britain was concerned about the shifting of the balance of power in Europe because of the sudden rise of Germany and its swift defeats of Austria and France. Germany was obviously a new adversary and probably Britain’s future enemy. Great Britain needed to make some friends, not more enemies. In a calculated act of contrition, Britain paid all the Alabama damages the United States asked for. The British strategy worked. The British-American relationship has remained warm to this day.
“I’ll Be Okay”
(See T. Campbell, pp. 51-52, November/ December 1998 Naval History)
Captain James R. Knight, U.S. Navy (Retired)
My family and I had the honor of serving with “Big John” Hopkins while I was assigned to the Intelligence Directorate on the staff of the Commander-in-Chief, U.S. European Command, from 1969 to 1973. In addition to our military duties, “Big John” and I were head football coaches of local youth league teams and were also neighbors in the Patch Barracks’ Government/Officer Quarters. He was a tough U.S. Marine and also a devoted family man. My wife, who directed the Patch Barracks’ Wives’ Club Chorus, knew him as the guy who cried when the Wives’ Club Chorus sang at the Christmas Ball. He was also known as the guy who sneaked donuts into his office when he was supposed to be on a diet. John was foremost a no-nonsense Marine that Colonel Campbell admired and respected, and who never backed down when the reputation of the Marine Corps was challenged. More than one Army officer attached to EuCom found out too late that “Big John” did not take lightly any put-down of his beloved Corps. I thoroughly agree with Colonel Campbell that “Big John” had “plenty of knowledge—and his spirit always came shining through.” We will always miss him!
“History That Never Was”
(See E. Smith, pp. 22-26, January/February 1999 Naval History)
Donald A. Wambold, Jr.
Without delving into speculative or ah tentative history, certainly the “what if?” question is a valued tool. Asking the question “what if?” serves to generate an appreciation for what actually occurred in history, and an appreciation of the Hand of Divine Providence. Consider as an example the questions proposed in “We Are Products of 1898” (August 1998 Proceedings). What if the Spanish-American War had not occurred, and Germany had purchased Cuba and/or the Philippines? What if the Army had not been reorganized to fight this war? How would this have affected World War I? Consider also as an example the Battle of Midway. What if Torpedo Squadron 8 had not been separated and not found the Japanese carriers, and had not pressed their sacrificial attack? Drawing their antiaircraft fire and luring the enemy fighters down to the wave tops, allowing a free hand for the unexpected arrival of the dive-bombers— in those few moments—changed the course of the entire war. Who can study this battle and not appreciate the supreme courage of the pilots and crew of Torpedo 8 and the influence of the Divine Hand of Providence?