The new Essex and Independence class carriers met their first test against an enemy fleet in the Philippine Sea on the 19th and 20th of June, 1944, during the campaign to capture the Marianas. All 15 carriers in the action, except the indestructible Enterprise, had joined the Fleet less than a year before. Some had seen action against land forces in the Gilberts and Marshalls, but this was their first fleet action, and for four was their first action of the war.
The battle was extremely important, full of interesting developments, and, for a time, the most discussed of the Pacific war. Like Coral Sea and Midway, it was an air action, but there the similarity ended. At Midway, the Japanese were deep into territory controlled by our carrier and land-based air; in the Marianas our forces were in the exposed position. At Coral Sea and Midway, both sides launched almost simultaneous air attacks against opposing surface forces, but in the Battle of the Philippine Sea the offensive belonged to the Japanese on the first day and to us on the second. Its air-to-air action was the most decisive of the war; its air- against-surface phase left something to be desired. It was a battle marked by the extreme caution of both commanders. The Japanese feared heavy losses in ships; the United States forces feared losses in men, supplies, and ships committed to a landing operation. The battle involved forces larger than any of the war to that date and saw in action, except for those engaged in the Battle for Leyte Gulf four months later, the largest naval forces of the war.
The battle was also interesting for the contrasting views it brought out on how our forces should be employed against the enemy fleet and for the discussion after the battle as to whether the proper course had been taken. Both views favored seizing this opportunity to eliminate the Japanese Fleet and both wanted to give full protection to our forces fighting on Saipan. The difference was not an “either-or” question; it was a matter of emphasis. Those thinking more of the opportunity to sink the enemy favored the offensive, with a strong advance by our forces to meet the oncoming fleet as far out as possible. Sinking the Japanese Fleet was the best kind of protection for the forces ashore. Others were no less conscious of the opportunity the Japanese advance offered but, thinking first of the success of the island campaign, favored a covering action which would insure its protection. This would delay but not avoid contact with the enemy fleet. Either course could achieve the same result, but each required a different strategy. Debate over the relative merits of these points of view was heavy, particularly when hindsight could be brought in, and ended four months later only because the events of the Battle for Leyte Gulf provided a much richer field for similar speculation.
By early 1944 the selection of the Marianas as the next objective for Central Pacific forces under Admiral C. W. Nimitz was the logical move. Positions in the Marshall Islands were secure, and with more and more new fleet units arriving in the Pacific, our prospects were becoming brighter by the day. The capture of the Marianas, situated over 3,000 miles west of Pearl Harbor and 1,000 miles beyond the Marshalls, would not only be a long advance into enemy dominated territory but would provide the base from which deeper advances could be launched and supported.
Our success in the Marshalls and strikes by our fast carrier forces against Truk, the Marianas, the Palaus, Yap, and Ulithi, brought the Japanese squarely against realities. Loss of the Marshalls was a hard blow to them, but more alarming was the freedom with which United States carriers were beginning to move about the Pacific, striking without warning and leaving before an effective counterblow could be launched. The island perimeter behind which the Japanese hoped to exploit the riches of the Indies was being threatened, and for many the handwriting was beginning to stand out on the wall.
This line of islands, reaching from Tokyo through the Bonins and Volcanoes, the Marianas, Carolines, and Palaus to the Philippines and Formosa, was an inner defense ring to any part of which the Japanese were able to move aircraft under their own power. It was a system of bases ideally situated for mutual support and strong flanking attacks on any force daring to penetrate it. Cutting across our approaches to Japan, it was a natural barrier protecting the homeland.
While geography made the Japanese position strong, other factors were not so favorable. The line was long and garrison forces were too limited to make it strong enough at all points to meet the kind of attack we were now capable of launching. With the place a matter of our choosing, it was up to the Japanese either to divine our plans or to be ready at all points at all times. The loss of any island in the ring would weaken the whole structure by destroying its possibilities for mutual support, and the first break would lay wide open the way to Japan itself. If the war was to be won, this ring had to be held; further advance could not be allowed.
This unpleasant prospect faced Admiral Toyoda on May 3rd, the day he took over as Commander-in-Chief of the Combined Fleet. If he were not already aware of the seriousness of the situation, he was rudely awakened by the vivid account of it in a letter from the Chief of the Naval General Staff on “Urgent Operational Policy to be followed by Combined fleet.” In this letter, Toyoda was ordered to lose no time in getting his forces into fighting trim for decisive action against the enemy fleet. He was to be prepared to fight this action as early as the latter part of May, somewhere on the seas “from the Central Pacific Area to the Philippines and north of Australia.”
The action outlined in the policy was designated the “A” operation, and to carry it out Toyoda set forth the tasks and assigned them to units under his command. Under this plan, his fleet would be stationed so that its strength could be applied south of the Central Pacific and north of the New Guinea coast where, with the cooperation of friendly forces ashore, it would destroy the enemy offensive strength in the decisive battle. This phase of the “A” operation was designated “AGO,” and the Admiral announced that it would be fought either in the Palau or western Carolines area. Into one of these, the enemy was to be lured and then attacked with full force at a favorable opportunity. Until that opportunity appeared, the efforts of the fleet were to be directed toward gaining intelligence of the whereabouts and strength of United States forces and no intermittent attacks by small fleet forces were to be made. These would be left to the air forces stationed on islands of the defensive ring and would begin at an announced time.
Deception, a favorite strategy of the Japanese, figured high in Toyoda’s plan. Two baits would be offered to lure United States naval units into the decisive area. A major part of the Japanese air force would be concentrated in rear areas in the western Carolines and Philippines, so that United States forces would underestimate its total strength. The main body of the surface fleet would be simulated by a special unit—the battleship Fuso, a cruiser division, and two destroyers. This unit would base at Ulithi or Palau, where it would invite discovery by United States forces. When this enticing bait was attacked, the main element of the Combined Fleet would move out of hiding and, by its sudden appearance and slashing action, annihilate the enemy force.
As to the area in which our next invasion would occur, Admiral Toyoda was so sure of the western Carolines that he laid plans to discover our fleet south of Truk. He also considered that our forces might split and hit the Marianas as a diversionary move. If this developed, shore-based air in that area would oppose it, but strong air and surface forces would wait for our invasion of the western Carolines.
Preparations ordered in the plan for the “A” operation proceeded immediately. Because most of the Japanese carrier air groups had been dissipated in shore-based operations in the South Pacific and at Truk and Rabaul from the time of the Battle of Midway through most of 1943, it had been necessary to reform the groups and train replacements. This had been underway since January, and by May new air groups for three carrier divisions were far enough along to engage in shipboard training. Now, according to orders, three carrier divisions of three carriers each assembled at Tawi Tawi to which point other elements of the Fleet were also moving. Carrier Division One moved up from Singapore and Carrier Divisions Two and Three from the Western Inland Sea and, with their arrival on the 15th and 16th of May, made the concentration of the Combined Fleet complete.
By that time Japanese shore-based air forces were also building up to desired strength. A total of 990 aircraft were being deployed across possible lanes of approach, almost half of which—484—were concentrated in the Marianas. Of the remainder, 114 were assigned to the western Carolines, 132 to the southern Philippines, and 112 to Haru and Kame. Only 56 of these were reconnaissance aircraft, the rest were fighter and attack types. Although this deployment did not follow Toyoda’s original plan to hold the main part of his force out of our reach until, action was imminent, it placed the largest part in a position from which it could move south to flank our fleet when it made its expected entrance into the area north of New Guinea. By the end of May the assigned strength was being' reached, and Toyoda had his forces almost ready for “decisive action.”
Our moves during the latter part of that month convinced the Japanese that we were up to something, but there was no clear pattern to show our final objective. Our bombing of by-passed islands in the Gilberts and Marshalls was being stepped up, and the eastern Carolines were also getting more than their usual share of attention. When on the 19th we launched carrier strikes on Marcus Island, only a little more than 1,000 miles from Japan, it appeared that we were moving in for an attack on Japan itself, and Japanese reaction was immediate. The “TO” operation, planned for just such an emergency, was executed. Under it all naval aircraft in Japan were transferred to the control of the Commander, Yokosuka Air Group for a gallant last ditch defense of the homeland. For four days this group was poised for action, but when our carriers attacked Wake Island next, it was clear that we were moving away from Japan. The threat being no longer present, the emergency operation was cancelled.
This threat had barely gone when another appeared. On May 27, Southwest Pacific Forces under General Douglas MacArthur carried out amphibious landings on the island of Biak. Here was the threat Admiral Toyoda had prepared for, and to make his satisfaction complete, in exactly the quarter he expected. To crush it before it could develop, he despatched on the 29th his “bait,” the battleship Fuso, Cruiser Division 5, and Destroyer Divisions 10 and 27, and ordered the 2nd Supply Force east of the Philippines to provide support. Then, before the bait could reach the battle area, Toyoda, undoubtedly disturbed by air reconnaissance reports showing our fleet anchored at Majuro on the 6th but absent on the 9th, recalled it on June 8 only to send it out again two days later. This time he decided to bring up the Combined Fleet for decisive battle and made plans to sortie on the 13th. But on the 11th a report of a heavy carrier air attack on the Marianas confused the whole situation. Was this the expected diversionary move, or was it the beginning of a real attack? Only additional developments would tell. But the Combined Fleet must be ready, and on the 13th the order was given to prepare to execute the decisive “AGO” operation. On that day, the Fleet left Tawi Tawi, but once more the bait despatched to the aid of Biak was recalled.
Central Pacific Forces, unaware of the confusion they had created, began the preliminary phase of their next invasion. On June 6, Task Force 58 sortied from Majuro to eliminate enemy air opposition in the Marianas. Operations in that area would take the task force far from the protection of its nearest base at Eniwetok, over 1,000 miles away, and also beyond the cover of friendly land- based air. Task Force 58 was steaming into an exposed position, flaunting itself into the face of the enemy with only its own powers for defense against attack.
But the power of Task Force 58 was no little thing. As it advanced toward the Marianas, it was the largest and most powerful fleet assembled up to that point of the war. It was made up of seven large and eight light carriers with 900 aircraft aboard, seven battleships, three heavy, six light, and four antiaircraft cruisers, and 58 destroyers. These ships, organized into four task groups under Rear Admirals J. J. Clark (58.1), A. E. Montgomery (58.2), J. W. Reeves (58.3), and W. K. Harrill (58.4), were under the command of Vice Admiral Marc A. Mitscher, leading Task Force 58 for the second time. This was the striking power of the Fifth Fleet commanded by Admiral Raymond A. Spruance, directing the entire campaign.
On the evening of June 11, while still 200 miles from its destination, the task force launched a fighter sweep over Guam, Saipan, and Tinian. Catching the Japanese by surprise, this attack destroyed almost one-third of the aircraft assigned to the Marianas. In the next three days, pilots spread devastation over the islands, reduced the air force to remnants, fired ground installations, bombed defense emplacements, and in addition caught two convoys of 26 ships and reduced them to wreckage and a few survivors.
As the attack mounted, it became clear to the enemy that this was more than a diversion, and on the morning of the 15th when, under cover of heavy bombardment by air and surface forces, landings were made on Saipan, he had proof that the capture of islands in the Marianas was our objective. Although not in the expected quarter, it was a threat so serious that it could not be ignored. The time for decisive action had come.
At 1717 on June 15, Toyoda issued the order to execute the “AGO” operation and within the hour the Japanese Fleet left Guimaras Island, where it was taking on supplies, and began its passage through the Visayan Sea toward San Bernardino Strait. Next day when the units returning from the abortive Biak battle joined the force, the main strength of the Combined Fleet was assembled and ready for destiny. Composed of nine carriers (six CV and three CVL types) with an estimated 450 aircraft aboard, five battleships, eleven heavy and two light cruisers, and 25 destroyers, with six oilers and six destroyers in the Supply Force, it was a formidable array and in heavy units represented almost all the strength the Japanese could muster. Only two carriers, four battleships, three heavy and eleven light cruisers remained behind, and not all of these were in condition to fight.
Unaware of Japanese plans, Mitscher went ahead with his own. The carrier groups under Harrill and Clark separated from the main force on D-day to knock out aircraft in the Bonins and to cut off air reinforcements likely to be on their way from Japan. In spite of heavy seas on the 16th, they launched their strikes and found happy hunting, catching the Japanese on the ground secure in their belief that no one could fly in that kind of weather.
All was proceeding according to plan when from far to the west two of our submarines reported significant developments—heavy units of the Japanese Fleet were leaving San Bernardino Strait. The Fleet, under close observation since early June and reported on the 13th as missing from its haunts in southern Philippine waters, was apparently on its way to do battle.
This news changed the outlook. The ships carrying supplies, equipment, and reinforcements were still in the area, and only a few had completed unloading. Troops ashore were not well enough established to be self- supporting for even a short period. The whole operation was in its most critical stage, and an attack by strong surface forces could be extremely damaging. But the advance warning of the enemy’s approach lessened the danger and provided the time needed to prepare a counter move. To keep close watch over the enemy fleet, submarines operating in the approach area were alerted to take their toll and report locations, and Southwest Pacific patrol planes from the Admiralties began long range search north of the Carolines.
Next morning, on the 16th, Admiral Spruance held a council of war with Vice Admiral R. K. Turner, commander of the amphibious forces, in which full account of the situation was taken. As a result, plans for landing operations were changed and fleet forces reorganized to meet the new developments. Landings on Guam, scheduled for the 18th, were postponed. The unloading of supplies and men at Saipan would continue, but the ships would be withdrawn from the area on the night of the 17th. Only those carrying urgently needed supplies would return next day. The old battleships, cruisers, and destroyers of the bombardment force would cover Saipan from the west, and Guam attack forces would be withdrawn eastward. Six patrol planes would be brought up from the Marshalls for long range search to the west. Jeep carriers, protecting the ships of the amphibious force, would in addition take over TF 58’s responsibility for close air support for the troops. Further air attack on the Bonins was cancelled and the two carrier groups recalled. Cruiser and destroyer units from the bombardment force would be transferred to Task Force 58, which, relieved of all other responsibility, would turn to the major task of meeting the approaching enemy.
Admiral Spruance then summarized the reports of enemy fleet movement and issued his battle plan. In it he naturally enough concluded that the aim of the Japanese was the destruction of units supporting our forces engaged on Saipan and that the primary mission of Task Force 58 was to prevent it. Because the enemy’s objective could be best achieved by avoiding fleet action until he was within range of Saipan, Spruance expected the whole force, or at least a part of it, to attempt a sweep around the area in which our carrier force was operating. To counter this possibility he considered it necessary for the carriers to remain near the forces they were to protect. Any other action would leave the landing forces exposed to serious damage. Although he had the old battleships and jeep carriers of the bombardment and amphibious forces stationed in the immediate vicinity, his main strength— both surface and air—was concentrated in the fast carrier force and he was taking no chance of losing the supplies, equipment, and men ready to go ashore, or those already landed. Only after the location of all units of the Japanese Fleet had been established should Task Force 58 move out to attack, and then “action must be pushed vigorously by all hands to ensure complete destruction of his fleet.”
With this estimate of the situation, it was plainly up to the fast carrier force, already sending planes in search of the enemy. After fueling on the 16th, the two carrier groups off Saipan made 23 knots westward to gain every possible mile before launching night search. This was sent off shortly after midnight but returned next morning without having made contact.
Next day air operations for the fast carriers were held to the minimum to complete a reorganization of the force. Cruiser and destroyer reinforcements from bombardment groups were absorbed, increasing the strength of the task force by five heavy and three light cruisers and nine destroyers. A battle line, designated Task Group 58.7 and under command of Vice Admiral W. Lee, was formed by withdrawing all seven of the battleships from the carrier task groups along with four heavy cruisers and fourteen destroyers. This group concentrated the heavy surface power of the fleet. Although it weakened the antiaircraft defense of the carrier groups, its formation provided a powerful unit ready for immediate action, if the opposing fleets came within shooting range of each other. It would also be useful in disposing of cripples should the fleets come only within air range of each other. To be in the best position to perform these functions, this group was placed between the carrier groups and the most probable approach of the enemy.
The fast carriers now adopted a plan of operation designed to meet the enemy under advantageous conditions and at the same time protect the amphibious forces. Westerly headings kept during the night brought the force not more than 300 miles out from Saipan by morning, and easterly headings during the day brought it close in by nightfall. This kept the force constantly within striking distance of Saipan yet allowed an advance toward the enemy each night for a possible early morning attack. Because the prevailing wind was easterly, it also allowed the carriers to launch aircraft all day without basic change of course.
Except for the absence of two carrier groups, all was now in readiness. But an important element of intelligence was lacking —the location of the Japanese Fleet. Under careful watch from the time it left Tawi Tawi to the time it left San Bernardino Strait on the 15th, there was no doubt that it was headed for the Marianas, but for all the reports of it on the 16th it might have joined the Flying Dutchman. Next day was no better. Southwest Pacific planes from the Admiralties found no trace of it, and submarines spread across lanes of approach reported only one oiler, one unidentified vessel, and three escorts on the 17th. If reports of the 15th had been correct, the enemy fleet would soon be within attacking range, but it was nowhere to be found.
Late that night, at 0331 on the 18th, a report from the submarine Cavalla gave promise of something better. Fifteen or more ships were reported in position 12-23 N, 132-20 E, making nineteen knots on a due east course. An amplifying report received at 0730 the same morning told what the fleet was waiting to hear. The Cavalla was trailing a major portion of the Japanese Fleet, still making nineteen knots now on course 080 and in position 12-29 N, 134-30 E. This gave Admiral Mitscher something to work with.
Having been given a free hand by Spruance to select his own disposition and movement, Mitscher had considered, on the basis of the first report, the possibilities of closing the range. With a divided force he was at a distinct disadvantage, and he could not expect his two groups from the Bonins to join until next day. He could wait for the two groups or attack without them—but it required little wisdom to see the advantage of the first course. In any event, search planes would first need to find the enemy, and so Mitscher decided to wait until his forces were at full strength. Harrill and Clark, informed of his decision, were told to put on all speed to join as early as possible next morning.
The amplifying report convinced Mitscher that his earlier estimate had been correct. The enemy was coming on schedule. If he held to it, search planes should pick him up about mid-afternoon. If Task Force 58 moved west immediately and continued westward after dark, there was a good possibility that the fleets would come close enough during the night to engage in surface action. But the commander of his battle line, Admiral Lee, was not in favor of night action, if it could be avoided.
Neither was Admiral Spruance. He had also studied the situation on the basis of the new reports but was not convinced that all the enemy fleet was in the location reported by the Cavalla. That flanking movement still had to be considered as a possibility. With the enemy now coming close, the protection of the amphibious forces was in the critical stage, and he was not willing to risk its safety to the old battleships and CVE’s of the bombardment force. Admiral Spruance felt that it would now be safer to reverse the order of Task Force 58’s operations by moving west during the day and east during the night. Although this would make air operations more difficult, it would eliminate the chance that the Japanese Fleet would slip past in the night.
In the light of this estimate, Mitscher had no choice but to cancel plans to meet the enemy, and Task Force 58 retired toward Saipan. Harrill and Clark joined next morning and three carrier groups were deployed in a general north-south line about twelve miles apart, with the fourth group, under Harrill, assigned the job of protecting Lee’s battle line ahead. When this deployment, which allowed complete freedom of movement for air operations, was completed, search planes were sent off and the whole force took course westward. At 2030 the force turned about and retired once more toward Saipan.
Search during the day had been uneventful, and at 2300 the PBM’s of Patrol Squadron 16 took off for night radar search covering sectors to a distance of 600 miles from Saipan. Shortly before the take-off, Admiral Nimitz informed Admiral Spruance from Pearl Harbor that radio direction findings indicated an enemy fleet within 100 miles of position 13 N, 136 E. This was about 585 miles from Saipan in direction 257, and about 355 miles from Task Force 58. With both forces on an easterly heading all night, their relative position would not change by morning. Since this distance was within the range of Japanese carrier planes, that could continue on to Guam after delivering an attack, but beyond the range of his own, Mitscher was in a very uncomfortable spot, not at all improved by the proximity of enemy airfields on Guam and Rota which could launch attacks on his force from the other side. To move off the spot and at the same time bring the enemy within range for a strong early morning attack, it was only necessary to reverse course. This he proposed to Spruance.
But once more Spruance was willing to wait. The possibility of a flanking move was still there, and it must be guarded against. If launching an attack meant leaving the amphibious forces unprotected, the attack had better not be made. Nothing would be gained by rushing out when the Japanese were coming in, because when they came in they could be hit. Accordingly, Task Force 58 continued through the night on its course toward Saipan.
By early morning of June 19 it had reached a position approximately 90 miles northwest of Guam, and Combat Air Patrol from the Monterey made a routine interception of two Judys approaching the task force. A short time later planes' from the Belleau Wood, on station over Guam, reported many aircraft taking off from the, airfield and requested help. At 0800, a group of 30 to 40 enemy planes was detected by radar at a distance of 80 miles to the southwest apparently on its way to Guam. About 35 fighters were vectored out to intercept. By 0930, fighters over Guam had the situation in hand but reported enemy planes still taking off and many more still on the ground. By 0950, enemy planes were appearing all around the radar scope. Shortly after, radar plots developed large groups orbiting about 130 miles to the west. There was altogether too much enemy activity to please Mitscher, and he concluded that what he had feared the night before was about to take place—his force was due for a working over by both land and carrier-based planes.
That was exactly the Japanese plan. Knowing full well the advantage in range which his planes held over Mitscher’s, Toyoda was staying out of reach. He was launching a shuttle attack from his carriers to Guam and back again. He was also relying on his land-based air. Small groups of planes had been moving up from the western Carolines for the past three days and, except for one group of from 20 to 30 planes appearing on the radar scope on the night of the 17th, had reached the Marianas without being detected by Task Force 58. These were now taking off for the attack. Others were moving in from Japan through the Bonins and, since our two carrier groups had left the area on the night of the 16th, this way was wide open. On the 19th alone, over 100 planes of the Yokosuka Air Group arrived in the Marianas to assist in the attack. On the morning of the 19th, the Japanese plan was in motion. More than 600 carrier and land- based aircraft were converging on Task Force 58!
All that Mitscher knew on the morning of the 19th was that a Japanese attack was certain. At this critical point, he received the word he had been awaiting for two days. A PBM from Saipan had located the Japanese Fleet at 0115 the night before in position 13-40 N, 135-48 E, exactly in the circle radio direction findings had placed it five hours earlier. Unfortunately, at the moment of sighting, the PBM radio was out of order, and no report could be made until it returned to the base. Eight hours late as it was, the information was welcome, but before our forces could act upon it, they had the immediate problem of warding off the coming attack. The more enemy planes that could be destroyed immediately, the better.
The general alarm for the Task Force was sounded at 1004, and the fighters over Guam since 0800 were recalled. To clear the decks rapidly, bombers and torpedo planes were flown off to orbit to the east, and preparations were made to arm, service, and launch fighters on a rotating schedule. The whole force made ready for prolonged battle. For the present at least, attack on the Japanese Fleet was out of the question; the defensive battle came first. From the look of things, it would be a big one.
The fighters were vectored out to meet the large group of planes coming from a rendezvous point about 130 miles from the force at an altitude of 24,000 feet. The two groups met head on about 60 miles out, and our attack split the enemy into three groups and almost wiped them out. The excitement of the action was echoed by the men aboard the ships of the force as the battle raged in the distance. Although most of the fighting was too far away for the planes to be seen, the sky was full of vapor trails livened at frequent intervals with flame and smoke as another pilot rode his plane down to destruction.
A few of the enemy aircraft slipped through the interceptors and, unfortunately for them, chose to attack the ships of the battle line which happened to be the first group sighted. Survivors of the tremendous volume of antiaircraft fire which these ships sent up were few, but even so a 500 pound bomb hit the South Dakota, a near miss was scored on the Minneapolis, and one plane destroyed itself against the side of the Indiana.
Right on the heels of the first attack, a second enemy group appeared in the same area. The same pattern of attack and destruction was repeated as the enemy was intercepted 60 miles out. Only four dive bombers of this group sneaked through. These scored two near misses on the Bunker Hill and one on the Wasp.
During the lull which developed briefly after this second raid, the bomber and torpedo planes, which had been orbiting to the east since the beginning of the battle, were called in. On the way they dropped their bombs on the runways at Guam, cutting off an avenue of escape for the hard pressed Japanese pilots and providing at least temporary interference for the few completing the shuttle run.
At about the same time, Spruance put in a call for more patrol planes at Saipan and requested those already there to increase their night search to 700 miles. The enemy fleet, lost the night before through a failure in communications, had to be found again. The sooner it could be done, the better chance Task Force 58 would have to retaliate with a strong counter attack.
At 1320, a third large group of enemy planes was detected in the distance. Again some were able to elude our fighters. Some slipped through to attack the ships, the first dropping a bomb close to the Wasp before any of the ships opened fire. Stragglers, lone pilots, and small groups, all determined to make one more try, continued to come in at odd moments during the day, but antiaircraft fire accounted for about one-fourth of them.
At 1823, more than ten hours after the first Japanese attack, what appeared to be an entire enemy air group was detected on its way to Guam. Our fighters again went to work. They followed enemy planes into the field, shooting down many in the act of landing. Two pilots even maneuvered into the landing circle and shot down five planes each, getting away unscathed.
As the day’s score was being added, the full story was revealed. Although there was bound to be some duplication in reports made in the heat of battle, it was clearly evident that the enemy air force had been nearly wiped out in its attempt to break through our fighter cover. A total of 402 enemy air craft had been destroyed—>366 in aerial combat, nineteen by antiaircraft fire, and seventeen on the ground. Statistically it was the biggest day of the war for our fighters, and historically this, the “Marianas Turkey Shoot,” was the very symbol of our mounting superiority.
While it was a smashing victory for the fighter pilots of Task Force 58, the success with which radar plots had been interpreted played no small part in the battle. It was the teamwork of fighter directors aboard the carriers and pilots in the air that provided the advantages which had spelled disaster for the attackers. The price of victory and the overwhelming destruction of Japanese air power was 25 aircraft and eighteen pilots and six aircrewmen lost in aerial combat, and seven aircraft, one pilot, and one aircrewman lost operationally. Only superficial damage to three ships of the force resulted from the attack.
In terms of catching the Japanese Fleet, at last confirmed as being in one body, our greatest loss was one of position. Required to hold easterly headings most of the day to conduct air operations, the relative positions of the two fleets had remained unchanged. If, however, the enemy had begun an early retirement, as was quite likely, the distance between the forces was being lengthened during the latter part of the day. Speed was necessary to get close enough to strike back.
Once all planes had been recovered, the Task Force at about 1900 turned toward the Japanese Fleet and put on 23 knots to get in position for an early morning attack. A heading of 260, slightly north of the estimated position of the enemy, was taken to cut off his suspected retirement to home base. Since Task Group 58.4 under Harrill was low on fuel, it did not accompany the main force but proceeded to the fueling area northeast of Saipan. En route it launched strikes on Guam and Rota where enemy planes were reported to be landing. While the main force was speeding westward, this group helped the CVE’s keep the air over Guam and Rota clear of enemy planes and cut off reinforcements coming from the Bonins.
With his force making all possible speed to the west, Mitscher had time to consider the events of the day. Among these the delayed report of the PBM search plane loomed large. The eight hour delay had come at a crucial point of the battle. Although it did not mean disaster for Task Force 58, it meant at the very least that the Japanese took the offensive that could so easily have been ours. The sighting of the enemy fleet had been made at 0115 and indicated two groups, totalling 40 ships, on an easterly course in position 13-40 N, 136-48 E, 350 miles southwest of Task Force 58 at that time. If a high speed run toward that position had been made, Task Force 58 could have launched an all-out attack in the morning. On the other hand, while a large body of ships had been discovered, there was still a possibility that a smaller body might have been making an end sweep. In view of the importance of protecting the landing forces, it was probable that the hard decision to hold Task Force 58 in its protecting position would have been made and the chance to intercept the enemy once more passed by.
But these were mere speculations and other news was at hand. Although search planes sent out during the air attack had learned nothing of the enemy’s whereabouts, attempts by other units had been more successful. The Cavalla, after trailing the enemy all night, caught up with a Shokaku class carrier just as she was recovering aircraft and launched a torpedo attack reported as resulting in serious damage. In addition, a Navy search plane from the Admiralties had sighted an enemy force shortly after noon. These gave the position of the enemy fleet before and during the air attack; planes now out would soon report its present location. It was extremely important that it be found before morning.
But the search planes disappointed Admiral Mitscher. Although they reached out 700 miles from Saipan, they were unsuccessful in spotting the Japanese Fleet during the night, and morning search from the carriers found only some enemy Jakes. Supposing that these planes indicated that enemy cruisers were in the area and that the cruisers might be protecting the carrier damaged by the Cavalla, Spruance proposed that the task force, which was then 315 miles west of Guam, head northwest. As soon as the search planes returned, the change of course was made.
At this time Spruance and Mitscher did not know that the attack by the Cavalla had sunk the Shokaku. Nor did they know that three hours earlier the Albacore had attacked the carrier Taiho with six torpedoes and that this too was successful, thus reducing the enemy force by two carriers.
At noon, a fighter attack group of 20 planes armed with 500 pound bombs was launched toward the supposed position of the enemy, but after reaching extreme range without sighting it, returned to the force. Since search planes launched at the same time had not been heard from, the probability of finding the enemy seemed remote. Then shortly after 1500 garbled reports began coming in—something had been sighted. After comparing notes with task group commanders, Mitscher determined that a part of the enemy fleet had been sighted in position 15-02 N, 135-25 E, on course due west at a speed of 20 knots. Later reports indicated that the enemy was disposed in two or three groups, all heading west, and that his mean position was approximately 250 miles from Task Force 58.
Mitscher, immediately ordering deck load strikes readied, informed Spruance at 1553 of his intention to attack. This was no easy decision. The range was long and a night recovery was certain; conditions under which it was reasonable to expect heavy losses in men and aircraft. Against this was the strong possibility that an attack would damage some enemy ships enough to slow them and enable the Task Force to reach a position by early morning from which those afloat could be sunk. Mitscher realized that he was basing his success on a long shot but felt that this was his only chance to come to grips before the whole enemy fleet slipped away.
The first strike of 216 planes—85 fighters, 77 dive bombers, and 54 torpedo planes— was launched at 1630, and a second deck load strike was prepared immediately. No sooner was the first strike well on its way than a correction of earlier reports showed the nearest enemy group to be 60 miles farther out than first reported. This meant that the strike would have to fly over 300 miles to make the attack, a distance which cut the safety factor to the bone.
This posed for Mitscher another difficult question. Should he call the strike back on the chance that he could overhaul the Japanese and launch another strike from a nearer point, or should he stick to his long shot in view of the fact that the Japanese must now be alerted by the presence of search planes on their trail. If the strike was carried out, the probability of high losses was even greater than before. If he chose to delay attack and turned eastward to bring his planes aboard, he would increase the distance between Task Force 58 and the Japanese Fleet and thus reduce his chance of catching it. Considering all possibilities, Admiral Mitscher held to his original decision, informed the pilots of the new enemy position, and held the second strike in reserve for morning.
Despite every effort to conserve fuel, some of the pilots had used more than half their supply when they reached their objective. The first planes arrived over the target at about 1820 where they were met by a heavy barrage of antiaircraft fire, begun as if on signal by a deep red burst over the center of the force at 14,000 feet. All ships, even those beyond range, opened fire immediately with all guns, including the main batteries. The result was a vast umbrella of bursts at about 10,000 feet of so many different colors that one pilot shouted, “Look, Fourth of July!” In addition to the heavy antiaircraft fire, the ships began a series of maneuvers so violent and uncoordinated that each captain seemed to have taken it upon himself to save his own ship regardless of what happened to the others. The general confusion made it extremely difficult for the pilots to make an even fairly accurate report of the composition of the force they were attacking, and the urgency resulting from the shortage of fuel left little time to evaluate the effectiveness of their attack. Because the enemy was deployed in three groups some distance apart, some pilots sighted only the group they attacked.
Fuel shortage made it impossible to rendezvous for a coordinated and concentrated attack by the whole force at once. As each air group or squadron arrived in the area it went in, selecting its target on the way. Individual air groups attacked in coordinated dive and torpedo bombing attacks covered by fighters. Carriers were the primary target, but because these were not always in a convenient position or in other instances were already under attack, the battleships and other vessels of the force received plenty of attention. Squadrons from Task Groups 58.1 and 58.3 attacked the northern enemy group in which most of the carriers were located. Planes from Task Group 58.2, with the exception of Wasp air group, concentrated on the western group which contained only one carrier. Wasp planes, sighting only the oiler group astern, attacked it. All were intercepted by enemy fighters, but the small number of these made it fairly simple for our fighters to give the necessary protection. Of the 35 enemy planes that came up to meet the attack, 22 were shot down. Altogether the Japanese Fleet was under continuous attack from 1820 to 1900, but each air group left the vicinity immediately after completing its attack and by sunset most of the action was over.
The next problem was getting back to the carriers. These had been making all speed westward since the afternoon launching to shorten the home leg as much as possible. Pilots made no attempt to rejoin their own squadrons or groups after the attack but headed for home, joining up with anyone nearby. Confusion came with darkness as planes became separated and others were forced into the water by lack of fuel. Homing signals of the Task Force were picked up about 70 miles out, and by 2030 some of the pilots were within visual range of the force. Immediately the carriers turned into the wind and at 22 knots prepared for the recovery.
To provide plenty of maneuvering space for the returning pilots, the Task Groups were spread with a 15 mile interval between them. To help the pilots find their way home, star shells were fired periodically and searchlights were trained straight up into the air. Truck lights on all carriers were turned on and altogether the force made itself a magnificent target for any enemy submarine lurking in the area.
With all the lights, most pilots found it rather simple to find the force, but all had difficulty locating their home carrier. As a result, they landed on the first one available and the air groups became thoroughly scrambled. Some, unable to distinguish one vessel from another, made landing approaches on battleships and cruisers. Lack of night landing experience, apparent on all sides, and fatigue from the long hazardous mission combined to make the number of deck crashes high, and while planes circled waiting for decks to be cleared, many ran out of gas and went into the water. While one carrier waved planes off because its decks were crowded, another pushed planes over the side to make room for more to land. The whole area was boiling with activity. Searchlights playing on the water located some downed airmen and blinking flashlights from below showed the location of others. Destroyers, whether on plane guard duty or not, moved about picking men out of the water in the midst of many maneuvering ships. Pilots and aircrewmen were being saved at all costs.
When recovery was completed at about 2300, it was time to add up the score, but the groups had become so mixed this was not easy. The Lexington, for example, reported taking on twelve aircraft belonging to other ships and later discovered fourteen of her own had landed aboard other carriers. But the score showed a very high loss. Of the 216 planes launched for the strike, only 116 had been taken aboard. One hundred planes had been lost, most of them through lack of fuel. One hundred pilots and 109 aircrewmen had gone down with them. But rescue operations by destroyers during the night and by seaplanes the next day reduced these losses to sixteen pilots and twenty-two aircrewmen.
At 2325, the Task Force turned about on the trail of the enemy fleet, leaving a destroyer division from each task group to continue the search for downed airmen. The confusion of recovery had disorganized the force enough to make operations difficult, and fuel shortage cut the speed of the force to fifteen knots. There was nothing to do but call Task Group 58.4 from its station northeast of Saipan to bring in the fleet oilers for rendezvous with the main force along the 15-30 North parallel. Recovery had taken three hours and had moved the force about 60 miles away from the enemy fleet. Assuming that the Japanese, going in the opposite direction, made equally good time, the distance between forces had opened considerably. Unless the enemy fleet had been badly crippled by the attack, its chances of getting away were good.
Reports of damage to the enemy were difficult to assess, but out of them Mitscher concluded that one carrier, one destroyer, and two oilers had been sunk, and two carriers, one battleship, three cruisers, four destroyers, and three oilers had been damaged. If this were accurate, the probability of picking up a few cripples was good, and if undamaged ships had been held back to protect them, the whole fleet might yet be caught. Facts learned after the action showed that the pilot reports were optimistic. Actually, the attack had sunk one carrier (Hitaka) and two oilers, and damaged four carriers, one battleship, one cruiser, and one oiler.
Shortly before the task force had turned for pursuit, search planes had gone out fro Saipan. One of these located and trailed the enemy, reporting it on course 320 at 15 knots. When the search plane was forced to retire at 0130 on the 21st, the final position of the enemy was 327 miles from Task Force 58 on bearing 285. A night search and attack mission scheduled for launching at 0200 was cancelled because of the range, but at 0227 two torpedo planes with bomb bay fuel tanks were launched to maintain the contact.
Early next morning, at 0550, a strike was launched and a second one prepared for launching, if developments were satisfactory. At 0657, reports came in from the two search planes, and as amplifying reports followed a few minutes later, it was clear that an enemy force disposed in four groups on course 320, speed 20 knots, had been found in position 17-30 N, 131-40 E. Its composition was reported as three small carriers, four battleships, eleven cruisers, eleven destroyers, and several unidentified ships. Other than a heavy oil slick visible for miles astern, there was no evidence of damage. The strike group in the meantime had proceeded on course 285 for 225 miles, and was now diverted to course 330 toward the reported position, but after holding this for another 45 miles without making contact, reached its extreme combat range and was forced to return. The enemy was believed to be about 70 miles beyond this point.
About mid-morning, Spruance in one last effort to catch the fleeing enemy, ordered a reorganization of Task Force 58. A high speed and heavy powered group was formed by combining Task Group 58.2 (except the Cabot and Monterey) with the battle line— Task Group 58.7. This group was ordered to put on all speed toward the position of the enemy while Mitscher, following with the rest of the carrier force, covered their advance by aerial search on either side. But shortage of fuel in the destroyers again hampered speed. The newly formed group made good only 11 knots from noon until 1516. At 1330, another air search was launched but, after reaching 325 miles, found nothing. At 1920, when Task Force 58 was 675 miles west of Saipan and 545 miles from Samar in the central Philippines, Spruance admitted that the enemy was out of reach and ordered retirement.
In the sense that the Japanese Fleet had escaped, the battle had been inconclusive, but they had not escaped without damage. Enemy losses in ships—three carriers and two oilers—amounted to over 100,000 tons, but this was nothing compared to the loss of practically an entire carrier air force which had been built up and trained at great effort. While six carriers were on their way home, they were of little use without pilots to operate from them. Later events showed quite clearly how effectively Japanese naval aviation had been destroyed. In the very next month the Japanese considered a plan to take the entire surface force back to the Marianas for one final battle but called it off for lack of air strength. Fleet opposition to our landings in the Palaus was impossible for the same reason. But more important still, the Japanese Fleet had failed to destroy, or even interrupt, our forces engaged in the capture of Saipan. A battle had been won which, with the possible exception of Midway, would have more influence on the final outcome than any other battle of the whole war. And, it had been accomplished without the loss of a single ship.
All of this was not known by the men of Task Force 58. Even if it were, it would probably have been small comfort to them. They could see nothing but a relatively unharmed enemy fleet disappearing over the horizon and with it an opportunity which might never come again. In what probably expressed the full measure of their chagrin, Admiral Mitscher summed up the situation:
The enemy had escaped. He had been badly hurt by one aggressive carrier air strike at the one time he was within range. His fleet was not sunk.