Just before Thanksgiving 1944, as the USS Suwannee (CVE-27) limped into Pearl Harbor after having been struck by two kamikazes during the Battle of Leyte Gulf, her weary, wounded sailors were greeted by the sight of crews manning the rails of every Navy ship at anchor there, offering salute. Pacific Fleet Admiral Chester Nimitz radioed a message to the battle-scarred vessel and those on board who had survived the maelstrom:
“Your successful fight against great odds will live as one of the most striking tales of naval history. The people of our country and those of us in the Naval Service are gratified and proud of your outstanding performance of duty against the best the enemy could offer. As long as our country has men with your heart, courage, skill, and strength she need not fear for her future. To each and every one, a ‘Well Done.’”
One of those who made it back was Suwannee medical officer Lieutenant Walter B. Burwell, who would receive the Silver Star for his actions at Leyte. He later recalled, “I departed with great pride in my ship and shipmates and their accomplishments, for I had witnessed innumerable instances of cool courage, bold bravery, and unselfish heroism blended with faith, friendship, and self-sacrifice. But I will say that I had gained no fondness for naval warfare, and I was thankful to go on to other endeavors.”
Cool courage. Unselfish heroism. Self-sacrifice. The greatest naval battle in the history of the seas witnessed abundant examples of these inspiring qualities. And as we look back at Leyte Gulf from the vantage point of 80 years on, these are the elements that continue to resonate and uplift, to make us aspire to the best in ourselves.
But there are other takeaways, of course, from the Battle of Leyte Gulf that should never be forgotten: how close things came to falling apart, how perilously stovepiped the disparate chains of command proved to be at crucial points in the multiple-day, geographically spread-out clash. Those vital lessons learned must be ever part of Leyte’s legacy as well.
In this issue, we feature a trio of articles that dive into the various aspects of the Pacific war’s cataclysmic showdown. James Young, Karl Zingheim, and Midshipman Pierre S. C. Briand each offer insightful pieces on Leyte from multiple angles. We’re also pleased to present a brief excerpt from the Naval Institute’s oral history of David McCampbell, the towering icon of U.S. naval aviation, offering a you-are-there account of his exploits in the battle, where he earned a lasting place in the annals of air warfare.
The flight theme continues in these pages with a fascinating look at the early history of U.S. Marine Corps aviation, courtesy of Major Fred H. Allison. Tracking the career arcs of the first two Marine aviators, First Lieutenants Alfred A. Cunningham and Bernard L. Smith, Allison argues convincingly that their divergent upward trajectories were analogous to—and indeed helped foster—a duality that came to define the two pillars of the Marine air mission.
Elsewhere in this issue, David McCormick shines a searchlight on the Confederate blockade runners of the Civil War. And Coast Guard Lieutenant (j.g.) Brennan Suffern serves up a tribute to an early American statesman who was a tireless champion of sea power—first name “John,” last name “Adams.” No, not that one—but rather his son, John Quincy Adams, who, like his father, should be recognized for his “stalwart support of the Navy and his contributions to America’s maritime presence.” Here’s to you, JQ.
Eric Mills
Editor-in-Chief
