To the public and to military circles alike radar was the most interesting and the most discussed discovery of World War II, with the exception, at the end of the War, of the Atomic Bomb. The story of the scientific development of radar has been told, but there is another story of much interest connected with it that should be pieced together and related, and that is the development of the use of radar in the United States Fleet.
There were times when admirals and seamen despaired of its usefulness in fleet operations. Some captains wanted to throw their early sets overboard. The invective stimulated by early failures was pointed in the general direction of the Reserves operating the gear, who, with this stimulus, soon learned to distinguish between false echoes and real targets. Confidence in radar’s adaptability to naval warfare was not completely justified and fully vindicated for a long time, but, during the Battle for the Marianas, when the heavy Japanese air attacks were repulsed by the use of radar for fighter interception purposes, it paid off in a big way.
One phase of radar use in the Fleet that was brought into action against the enemy on the spur of the moment was the employment of aircraft against night torpedo plane attacks. This is a classic example of the ingenious employment of materiel to counteract highly developed enemy tactics encountered for the first time. The incidents that are related hereafter come from a memory vivid in many particulars. After eight years, some details do escape me, but the basic theme is quite accurate.
The time was November, 1943, and the place was off Makin Island, in the Gilberts. The assault forces had landed, but the Japs had brought up reinforcements in the form of torpedo planes in the Marshalls and were beginning to give us trouble with night torpedo attacks. Independence had been hit and retired from action, and it made us uneasy when the Japs descended on us and all we could do was maneuver and shoot at them in the dark.
We were astonished and perhaps doubtful of the outcome when we heard that our Task Group Commander, our Air Group and Torpedo Squadron Commanders, and our Combat Information Center Officer had evolved a plan to use aircraft to meet the next night attack. We in Enterprise had heard of the use of night fighters in England, but their use in the Fleet was not an expected imminent development. We had no night fighting aircraft, and none of our pilots had ever played that game of “blind man’s buff” for keeps. But something had to be done, for sooner or later another ship was bound to take a “fish,” the way the Japs were coming at us.
How could ordinary day fighters be employed at night? It had never been done before, to our knowledge, but we did have ordinary search radar in our torpedo planes, which could detect aircraft under certain conditions. We also had aviators who were willing to fly wing in F6Fs on the TBF, hoping that the fighter director could put them on the tails of Japs, so that they could then take over the job, using the TBF’s radar to guide them in for the kill. So, the next time the Japs came, with a leader dropping flares around us, they took off, pinning their hopes and their lives on the Fighter Director Officer and their ability to fly.
There we were hunched around the plotting table in CIC, working out the interception, plotting in the two groups of approaching Japs and the small group of “friendlies” going out to meet them. Now, this work was ticklish business for people specially trained at night interception, and so one can imagine how the Fighter Director must have felt, having devoted about twenty- four hours’ thought to this novel procedure. You must swing the interceptors in behind and slightly below the enemy, but not too far behind, or it will turn into a tail-chase with the fighter never catching up. It must be just right, the first time.
The Fighter Director coolly vectored the interceptors out and turned them beautifully in, just astern of the Japs, in perfect position, and we must have displayed our pleasure when they called that they could see the Japs’ exhausts. They eased on into the enemy planes, and in less time than it takes to tell it, they had splashed two “Betties,” which burst into flame and burned brightly on their way down.
When Commander O’Hare, one of the interceptor pilots, reported tracers coming through his wing, it was our last word from that intrepid flier.
The boys from Nippon saw their brothers go down in flames, and discretion overcame valor. After milling around for a few minutes, they went home proclaiming via radio that they had executed their mission and sunk the United States Fleet. Search for O’Hare was unsuccessful and when our planes finally headed back for the “Big E,” we learned for the first time that one of our pilots had never checked out in night carrier landings. The other pilot, after telling just how it was done, came in for a barrier crash, while the neophyte made a perfect landing!
All of the CIC people pricked up their ears when they heard what had been done, and after retiring to Pearl, we began working in earnest with the “Bat Teams” (one TBF and two F6Fs), as we called them. But back in the States, they had taken lessons from the British and had been working at night fighter technique with carrier fighters fitted out for that purpose. Just before we set out for the Marshall Islands, VF(N) 101 arrived aboard with its F4Us. Essex got a group of F6Fs, as did also Yorktown and Lexington.
We had no time for working out with the night fighters before getting into enemy waters, and it was not until after our raid on Truk, February 17-18, 1944, that we got a chance to use them.
We had given the Japs on Truk a pretty good going over that first day, and after dark the Jap planes that were flyable came out looking for us. We were operating with Yorktown, and she launched a night fighter that was placed under our control. The Japs were singles, and none came close enough to go after until we detected one to the northeast, range about 35 miles. The plane was crossing north of us, headed due west, and although we put the VF(N) on its tail, its radar would not function. We jockeyed the fighter back and forth for some time without getting a “contact” or a “tally-ho.”
We had Task Group 58.2 (Intrepid, Essex, et at.) on our screen, some 25-30 miles to the northwest, and saw that the Jap was headed toward it. So, when the Jap and the fighter reached a point some 20 miles from that group, the Night Intercept Officer gave the fighter instructions to break off, and this command was executed by the fighter. But the Jap flew right on into the middle of the task group and put a torpedo into the stern of Intrepid. A day or so later, we received a critical dispatch to the effect that our fighter had chased the Jap in, preventing Task Group 58.2 from opening fire. Due to the exigencies of the campaign, the matter did not come up again, and we had no opportunity to show just what did happen.
But when Intrepid was repaired, and returned to the Fleet, we interviewed the CIC people who were aboard, who confirmed the breaking off of the fighter.
Although we winged one Jap on the Truk raid, the torpedoing of Intrepid put a damper on the use of night fighters for some time. In April, down at Hollandia, we got a night fighter into the air, who made a pass at one Jap, and three of his guns jammed. We in CIC requested that another fighter be launched, but this was not done, so that when we picked up a nice group of Japs headed for the beach, we put our original pilot on their tails. When he got up close behind them, he was delighted to see their running lights on—nine of them-—Betties. He gave a burst with his one gun, and one Betty slid off to port, out of sight. Then that gun jammed, and that was that.
From this time on, the Japs used flame dampers on their exhausts, didn’t burn their attractive running lights, and often employed evasive tactics on their night missions.
We were using our night fighters for just about everything except night fighting-— rescue CAP, bringing in lost planes, and so on, all of which they did excellently, but not too cheerfully. They had come out to fight!
The great Marianas Turkey Shoot was over, and we were, at night, southwest of Saipan, when the Japs started coming up from the South. They would come in singles, bomb our troops on Saipan, and go home.
On this particular night, we picked up a single at about seventy-five miles, bearing about 190°, and a night fighter was kicked off the catapault. The Jap was headed right for us. Of course, after the Intrepid incident, Admiral Mitscher got out some night fighter doctrine to prevent night fighters from chasing bogies into a task group. It was good doctrine, and, having used it already, it didn’t hurt our feelings a bit. Well, here came this Jap, with our fighter right on his tail, headed directly toward us, but flying at 9000 feet. The night fighter couldn’t get “contact,” and we were sweating it out with the pilot, hoping that his gear would start clicking before they got too close to the group. We were told to be sure to break the fighter off at fifteen miles, and that was where the fighter and the bogie were when the word of caution came.
We informed our admiral that the Jap was flying at 9000 feet, and that our fighter was right with him. The admiral said very well, stay with it. Contact!
Of course, the task group knew that we had this night fighter up chasing the Jap, and everybody off watch was on deck, hoping to see some excitement (they stayed out on deck to see the show in those lush days). They were not disappointed, for when the two planes got almost overhead, the tracers began to fly, and the Jap to burn, and they said it was a sight to behold. (We CIC people never got to see those things, you know!)
That Jap hadn’t hit the water good when we had another on our screen, and there was a repeat performance, and about thirty minutes later, we got a third. Admiral Mitscher saw it all, and Admiral Spruance did, too, I suppose, for he was along with us in Indianapolis. At any rate, this bit of action did the job for the night fighters, and it wasn’t long before there were so many in the sky at night you couldn’t keep track of them.