Somebody yelled, "Duck, it's a bomb!" As one man, the four officers standing on the flag bridge of one of our big, fast carriers flattened down behind the armor plate which formed the protecting rampart around the bridge. When, seconds later, no explosion had occurred, cautious heads were raised. A column of water was cascading down upon the starboard side of the flight deck forward. A Japanese plane had sneaked in undetected out of the sun and dropped its bomb, barely missing the Farrier. A pilot whose plane happened to be In position to receive a part of the water from the bomb splash said, "My cockpit smelled like a fish market for a week." The time of this incident was shortly after eleven o'clock in the morning; the day, June 19, 1944; the place, the waters west of Saipan; and the Jap plane's prospective victim, one of the carriers of Vice Admiral Mitscher's fast Carrier Task Force—Task Force 58.
This Task Force, part of Admiral Spruance's 5th Fleet, had been assigned four primary functions in connection with our assault and capture of the Marianas, 1,200 miles from Japan. First of these was to render all possible support in connection With our amphibious landings. The second, stemming from the first, was to destroy Japanese air power in those islands and, insofar as possible, in the Boning, Volcanos, Palaus, and Western Carolines; a third assignment was the isolation of enemy ground forces from ship-borne supply and reinforcement. Finally, Task Force 58 had been ordered to be prepared to meet and destroy the enemy fleet should it attempt to aid the Japanese garrisons and risk a surface engagement. In connection with the first three of these missions, the Task Force, beginning on D-4 Day—June 11 (E.L.D.)—struck repeatedly at Japanese shipping, plane concentrations, airfields, and other installations at Chichi Jima and Haha Jima in the Boning, and Iwo Jima in the Volcanos, as well as Guam, Pagan, Rota, Saipan, and Tinian in the Marianas. (In July, Ulithi, Yap, Fais, Ngulu, Soror, and Palau in the Western Carolines were hit.)
Task Force 58 was a powerful aggregation of naval shipping and, while military security prevents precise figures, it may be safely said that it consisted of many large and medium-sized carriers, most of our newest and fastest battleships, numerous heavy and light cruisers, and a very large number of destroyers.
For some time before the opening of the Marianas campaign, speculation was rife as to whether the enemy would risk his fleet in an attempt to oppose our offensive. The enemy's approach to the central Marianas area could be from the northwest, from the west, from the southwest—or he might use a combination of two or three approaches. By morning of June 16, it was fairly evident that the saps were either preparing to fight or attempting to lead us to believe that they would do so.
From the 15th on, tension on our ships mounted steadily. Would we get a crack at the Japanese fleet or wouldn't we? That was the question which dominated all thought and all conversation. The flag operations officer on one of the carriers bet the carrier's fighting squadron $1,000 that the battle would be joined. So keen were the fighter pilots for the opportunity of meeting the Japs that they made up a pool to match the bet, figuring that the money, if lost, would be well lost.
Our own situation on June 16 was that two task groups were operating in the neighborhood of Saipan; the other half was 600 miles to the north, on strikes against Iwo Jima, and incidentally, only 600 miles from Japan—closer than our surface forces had ever been to the Empire. With the imminent possibility of a major fleet action, these strikes were curtailed and the Iwo Jima task groups were ordered to rejoin the rest of the force. This rendezvous was accomplished on the morning of the 18th. Early on the 18th one of our indefatigable submarines reported a large portion of the enemy fleet now about half way between the Philippines and the Marianas, heading east at high speed. Because of the necessity of keeping Saipan (where our troops had now been ashore for three days) within range of air cover at all times, and to guard against an enemy carrier flanking movement from the north, it was impossible for Task Force 58 to steam continuously westward in an effort to engage the Japanese fleet.
A dispatch, which must have stirred even the most phlegmatic aboard our ships, was received from the Commander in Chief, Pacific Fleet, Admiral Nimitz. It read about as follows: The officers and men of the Fleet have the confidence of the naval service and their country on the eve of a possible major surface engagement with the enemy. We count on you for a decisive victory.
It was well known that the Japanese carrier-based planes, being lighter and less heavily armored and armed than our own, had a considerably greater range and that, consequently, there was every likelihood that the Japanese would be able to launch strikes against our forces before we could do so against them. From early morning on the 19th, therefore, every ship was on the qui vive for the anticipated raids. We did not have long to wait.
The 19th had dawned as lovely a day as one could wish to see. The sky at morning general quarters was a matchless pattern of deep reds and grays which paled to salmon, pink, and silver as the light increased. The sun rose to a clear and virtually cloudless sky and throughout the day shone brilliantly, its heat being tempered by a fine breeze. All nature was calm, peaceful, and lovely; but man, with his planes and guns and bombs, his dispatches bearing calls to action, was not in tune.
Shortly after dawn "bogeys" were picked up southwest of our forces, apparently on courses for Guam and Rota. Our ships went to general quarters, steel battle ports were secured over the portholes, life jackets and helmets were brought out. (As a precaution against flash burns, rolled up sleeves and shorts had been banned for several days.) By seven o'clock planes of our own which had been sent in on strikes against Guam reported that numbers of enemy planes were landing and taking off. The Japanese, launching at long range, evidently planned to land and refuel their planes at these bases and perhaps supplement the carrier strikes with additional shore-based aircraft. Again at eight o'clock a large number of "bogeys" were detected, also coming from the southwest and on course for Guam. Our fighters protecting the strikes over that island were reinforced and by 9:30 A.M. a considerable number of enemy planes had been destroyed, but reports came back with disconcerting frequency and consistency to the effect that the Japanese were taking off in waves and had large numbers of planes readying on the fields.
And now "bogeys" began to be picked up northwest of us; by 9:50 they had appeared virtually all around the horizon. This northwesterly group, and a second large group detected a few minutes later 130 miles west, were the first of the enemy carrier-based strikes. Our own strikes against Guam were recalled and our carriers prepared to recover their planes. For this, aircraft had to be "spotted" forward on the flight decks so as to leave their after portions free for the recovery of the returning planes. This setup is one which carriers most fear and which is most dangerous to them. Unless the planes can subsequently be respotted aft and launched in sufficient time, it means that the enemy raid will be unopposed, or virtually so, by strong fighter units of our own, and that if the enemy is able to get to the carriers, planes on the flight deck may be destroyed and, indeed, the carriers them selves (as well as other ships of the force) risk severe damage and possible sinking.
Over the ships' "bull horn" every few minutes came announcements of the bearing and distance of the incoming Japanese raids: "Raid I now 232, 86 miles; Raid II now 238, 78 miles." These announcements were punctuated on the carriers by the air officers' exhortations to the laboring flight deck crews who, working at fever heat and knowing that their lives and the safety of the ship might well depend upon their efforts of the next few minutes, were furiously engaged in rushing the planes aft. One watched these youngsters—from Maine, Kentucky, Oklahoma, Kansas, California. A year or two before, the majority of them had probably never been on a ship and had never seen a plane at close range. Realizing this, and watching their calm efficiency and speed, one could take considerable pride in the adaptability of young America and the way in which the Navy has trained its men.
Finally the planes were all respotted aft and launched. The fighters flew out to meet the incoming Japs and the torpedo planes and bombers were sent off in the opposite direction out of harm's way. It was only just in time. Our fighters met the enemy strike at distances from 50 to 60 miles away from our ships, and dealt with it so successfully that very few attacking planes got through; most of those which did were shot down by ships' anti-aircraft fire. The Japs made repeated attacks, totaling 9 separate raids, of which at least 3 were of major proportions, involving probably 40 to 50 or more planes each. On at least one occasion so many Japanese planes were being shot down— great balls of fire which, in spite of intense sunlight showed brilliantly red against the sky, or long plummets of black smoke plunging to the sea—that it was impossible to make an accurate count of them. For minutes on end there were beautiful vapor streams forming crisscrossing white arcs against the azure sky as planes dove and climbed.
During the day our fighter pilots were continually being landed back aboard in order to rearm and regas their planes. Eagerness of the pilots to get back in the fight was so great that it gave those on the ships a feeling of limitless confidence not unmixed with envy. One also felt that the pilots wished that their planes could be serviced in half the time it actually took. As the pilots returned they reported to their ready rooms on the action in the air: one pilot had shot down 2 enemy fighters, another a fighter and a dive bomber, a third a dive bomber and a torpedo plane, and so on. Before long individual ships could tally 20 or more of the enemy's aircraft destroyed and it was thought that the battle must be about over. But no, the score continued to mount, and presently inter-ship dissemination of individual ships' reports made it excitingly clear that we were in the middle of something really big. There were other emotions, too: anxiety over Jim who had not returned, had last been seen with his engine smoking; the choking but restrained relief when, much later, he came back aboard; the grim acceptance of the fact that Harry did not come back and was never coming back.
The Jap strikes lasted until about three o'clock in the afternoon, sporadic contacts continuing for another two hours, and it was inevitable that in the face of such large-scale and determined efforts we should suffer some damage. We lost, combat and operational, 33 planes and 26 flight personnel. But final count of the enemy's losses indicates that in the "Marianas turkey shoot," as the Navy calls this day of sky battles, we destroyed not fewer than 358 of his planes and probably destroyed an additional 25, representing in all the equivalent of the plane complements of at least 4 major carriers, and the largest number of an enemy's planes to be shot down anywhere in a single day up to that time.
Late on the 19th one of the task groups left the Force and proceeded to its fueling area to fuel; from its fueling area it provided air cover for our amphibious forces on the island and was in a position to forestall any possible enemy flanking attack against it. Daylight searches were launched and during the day the Task Force continued at high speed on a westerly course, the carriers being prepared to send off large strikes should contact with the enemy fleet be made. The results of the search were, however, negative. Two reports—one received at 3:45, the second a few minutes later—sent by one of our afternoon search planes, finally brought the long-awaited word. Despite the late hour, which would inevitably mean night recovery of our planes, and despite the extreme range—about 300 miles—it was decided to launch the strikes. Every pilot knew the hazardous nature of the mission he was about to embark upon and that such a long-range flight over water, even without the enemy fleet at the other end and without the night landings on the return, would be dangerous. Though, as goes without saying, no man hesitated in this moment, there must have been a few short curses when, after our first planes were airborne and while they were forming up, there was passed to them a revised contact report to the effect that the target was 30 miles farther distant than had first been thought. Those 30 miles, meaning 60 miles of round-trip flight, undoubtedly cost us a good many planes. The first strike of 216 planes was launched shortly before 4:30. Two hours later our striking groups reached the enemy force and commenced their attack, with dusk only a few minutes away.
Present estimates of the losses which the Japs suffered are one large carrier sunk, 1 large and 1 medium carrier possibly sunk, 1 large and 1 medium carrier damaged; 1 battleship, 1 light and 2 heavy cruisers damaged; 1 destroyer sunk and 3 destroyers damaged; 2 tankers sunk, and 3 damaged. (In addition, of about 35 enemy planes encountered over his fleet, 22 were destroyed.) It was the most serious naval loss the Japanese had suffered since the Battle of Midway, exactly two years and two weeks before.
Our attacks on June 20, launched late in the afternoon, did not return until after dark. Steaming eastward into the wind, it took the carriers over two hours—until 11:00 P.M.—to recover the planes which got back. All were low on gas. Some had considerable battle damage and it is no surprise that pilots were worn after their long and dangerous mission. There was little thought of locating the parent carrier; pilots landed on the first available deck they found, and felt themselves fortunate to be able to make any landing at all. Many were not so fortunate; due to the extreme range at which the attack was made, which no doubt resulted in some engine failures, as well as gas shortages, and due to losses 'from enemy ships' anti-aircraft fire, 100 of our planes were lost. Several had the heartbreaking experience of being about to come aboard when their fuel ran out and they were forced to land in the water. One pilot landed safely aboard his carrier, only to discover that he actually did not have sufficient gas left to taxi up the flight deck! Another, shot down by the ackack of an enemy ship and later recovered, had the unique thrill of observing the torpedoing and eventual sinking of a large Japanese carrier only a few hundred yards from him.
If there is one law which is inviolate for our forces operating in combat waters, it is that no light be shown after "darken ship." Even the glow from a single cigarette may be seen at considerable distances in the dark, and the man who is so careless or so poorly Indoctrinated as to light one in outside spaces after sunset is subject to severe disciplinary action. But for the emergency of this momentous occasion, each task group was ordered to turn on one searchlight. For everyone it was a strange and eerie sight to see those lights playing over the dark Pacific and to watch the smaller pin points of light coming from the waterproof flashlights of our downed pilots. There were yells, too, and whistles as a searchlight beam came close to, went beyond, and then returned to a swimming aviator. The memory of the scenes that night will remain with those who witnessed them throughout their lives. Untiring efforts on the part of our destroyers and cruisers—and later on the part of long-range patrol planes and submarines—resulted in the rescue of a large number of our personnel. At the final count our losses were 38 pilots and aircrewmen.
After recovery and rescue had been completed, course was again set to westerly. During the night a searching patrol bomber sighted the Jap fleet on a northwesterly course, and torpedo bomber search planes launched by Task Force 58 at two o'clock on the morning of the 21st found 4 groups of enemy ships, but because of their extreme range dawn strikes which were launched were unable to reach the enemy. Further active pursuit on the 21st was impossible.
The Battle of the Coral Sea, May 4 to May 8, 1942, had been the first naval defeat in modern Japanese history; this engagement effectively checked the Japanese advance to the southward. The Battle of Midway, June 3-6, stopped his advance eastward, averted the threat to Hawaii and the west coast, and restored the balance of naval power in the Pacific. The Battles of the Eastern Solomons, August 23-25, Cape Esperance, October 11-12, and Guadalcanal, November 11-15, put further crimps in Japanese sea power, assured our success in the Solomons and the protection of our lines of communication to Australia and New Zealand. The Battle of the Philippine Sea made certain that the Japanese could not interfere with our taking of the Marianas, dealt the Jap fleet a very severe defeat, and paved the way for the Battle of Leyte Gulf, October 23-28, which favorably affected the Philippine campaign and the drive on to Iwo Jima.
Commissioned as Lieutenant (j.g.) in the Naval Reserve in 1943, Lieutenant Danton attended Indoctrination School and the ACI school at Quonset. After duty in the Operational Intelligence Section of Commander Air Forces, Pacific Fleet, he served as ACI officer for Commander Carrier Division One in the campaigns of the Northern Solomons, the Gilberts and Marshalls, and the Marianas, as well as in numerous strikes and raids on other Japanese-held islands. At present he is attached to an air unit in the Pacific.