For the man who wants to become a Naval Aviator, we say, “Destroyers first!”
For the man who wants to be a Submariner, we say, “Destroyers first!”
For the man who wants to be a top-notch naval officer, who desires to learn “the mostest the fastest,” and who is not afraid to pay the price of hard work and relatively more responsibility—“Destroyers first!” Many junior officers do not fit into one of the above categories. Such advice is not for them. They may, for example, be of the school which believes in a couple of years in the “J. 0. Mess” of a capital ship as the proper introduction to, or foundation for, a sound career. We do not quarrel with them. But we do strongly recommend destroyer duty for those who find themselves classified above.
Let’s look at destroyers for a few minutes: how did they evolve, what have they done, why are they important? Then we can answer the question “Why destroyer duty first?” more meaningfully.
Development
“The original ‘Torpedo Boat Destroyer’ was built by the British in the early nineteen hundreds to counter the German torpedo boat. The torpedo boat destroyer was essentially what its name implied—a high speed ship mounting a gun battery capable of destroying a lightly armed torpedo boat. The German torpedo boat was fast; therefore, the “destroyer” had to have sufficient speed to intercept it before it could close a victim. To this torpedo-boat destroyer, the British added a torpedo battery as an afterthought. The resultant hybrid was the first destroyer as we now know this type. France, Italy and the United States eventually evolved similar types. The destroyers of each nation differed in some particulars even as the navies of these nations varied, but all were basically similar. All were light, high speed vessels of 700 to 1,000 tons, with light gun batteries and with an average of six torpedo tubes. As the complexity of war increased, these ships were called upon to carry more and more equipment. The success of the German submarine campaign during 1917-18 forced the Allies to add submarine detection apparatus and depth charges. Between wars the constantly increasing speed given to capital ships necessitated even more speed for the destroyer. The important role played by aircraft early in World War II dictated increased anti-aircraft protection. Double purpose guns replaced the former light battery designed primarily for surface targets. More ammunition was needed to serve these and other lighter automatic weapons added. Splinter protection and additional personnel to operate the complicated anti-aircraft fire-control apparatus and automatic weapons necessarily followed. Extreme cruising range became mandatory, particularly for the ships of the United States Navy. To cruise in the vast reaches of the Pacific Ocean, U. S. destroyers needed a tremendous fuel capacity. All these factors tended to crowd the small hull of a destroyer. More efficient propelling machinery in the form of high speed turbines coupled to lower speed propellers through reduction gears and ultra-high pressure boilers somewhat relieved the crowding. Nevertheless, for every piece of equipment increased in efficiency or reduced in size, two more brand new wrinkles were added, with the result that the modern destroyer became the most complicated machine of war ever built. It is small wonder, then, that designers were reluctant to allot more than a bare minimum of valuable space to living, messing and berthing facilities for the crew. Destroyer men are accustomed to cramped quarters; but they make the best of it.”1
Perhaps it is the very closeness of their association which makes for their strong ship feeling.
During World War II two types of destroyers evolved—the fleet destroyer and the escort destroyer. We will look at the DD first. The fleet destroyer was a vessel of 2,200 tons standard displacement, armed with six 5-inch dual-purpose guns and some twenty automatic anti-aircraft weapons, five torpedo tubes, carrying a heavy depth charge battery, and equipped with advanced electronic, fire-control, communication, and sound-detection equipment. She was a superb fleet weapon both on offense and on defense; and she was deadly against submarines and aircraft. She carried practically no armor, but her highly developed damage control equipment made her a far tougher fighter than the “tin-cans” of earlier days. She was employed in every theater of the recent war and on every conceivable task, ranging from scouting and patrolling to unsupported gun duels against Axis ships. She is probably best known for her invaluable contributions in the screens of our fast carrier task forces, and as close naval gun support for landing troops.
Postwar developments in AA and ASW fire control and ordnance to meet the increased threats from jet aircraft, guided missiles, and high speed submarines have been pretty much super-imposed on the World War II destroyer. But the new DDE is as different from a DE of ten years ago as a Cutlass fighter from the old Grumman Wildcat. And the electronics equipment alone of a modern DDR or DD is more costly than a complete “tin can” of 1939!
Destroyers are the sine qua non of any and every naval force. Nelson’s anguished cry, “I am distressed for frigates,” was echoed by many naval commanders of various types of task forces during World War II, when they repeatedly stated that they “never had enough destroyers.”
Let us look at these indispensable but expendable weapons in action: let us see what kinds of jobs they performed during World War II. Will their performance demonstrate that in these times there is still a place—yes, even a vital need—for the modern version of the frigate of old?
As a Striking Force
In the early days of the war the destroyer became outstanding as a striking force. During the Java campaign destroyers fought in Macassar Straits, and again in Badoeng Straits, and were finally called upon to make one last attack during the Battle of the Java Sea to allow the crippled Allied Force to retire. The following account of Destroyer Squadron 24’s night torpedo attack at Surigao Strait exemplifies the destroyer as a striking force. Before daylight on October 25, 1944, the Japanese attempted to pass through Surigao Strait in force. Admiral Oldendorf was waiting at the end of the strait with six old battleships to plug the exit—the cork in the bottle. PT boats operated along the sides of the strait, reporting the positions of the Japanese Forces periodically. While the Japanese were transiting the strait, Captain McManes’ attack group consisting of the destroyers Hutchins, Bache, and Daly, closed the main Japanese force at 25 knots and fired 15 torpedoes. Not. content with the destruction of their torpedo attack, the destroyers opened fire with their 5-inch batteries and continued to fire on the Japanese battle line. Their attack resulted in sinking an enemy battleship and two destroyers, and crippling one other. Then the destroyers were ordered to withdraw, and our battleships finished the remnants of the Japanese force.
As A Radar Picket
With the advent of radar, it was found that a destroyer when stationed a considerable distance from the main body of a task force could give valuable warnings of the enemy’s approach. In time such destroyers became known as Radar Picket Ships and were equipped with specialized types of radar. It is needless to say that these destroyers, in their isolated position, usually bore the brunt of an enemy attack. Such a ship was the U.S.S. Hugh W. Hadley, a modern type destroyer. On May 11, 1945 the Hadley was stationed north of Okinawa with a sister ship, the U.S.S. Evans. The Hadley was controlling a Combat Air Patrol of 12 Marine fighter planes. At about eight o’clock, the radar scopes on the Hadley indicated five large formations of planes coming down from the north. They were Japanese raiders, 156 strong. The Hadley directed the Marine fighters out to intercept the enemy, and in the initial assault about 45 of the enemy were accounted for—but the remainder of the force closed the Hadley and Evans. For the next hour and a half the two ships were under continuous attack by groups of 4 to 6 enemy planes at a time. They maneuvered at high speeds, zigzagging, and dodging the attackers, firing with every gun at the hornets’ nest above them. The Hadley accounted for 12 more planes and the Evans brought down 19. At 0900 the Evans was put out of action and the Hadley now bore the full brunt of the attack. The gallant Marine fighters, having expended all their ammunition, joined the melee to help drive off the swarm of Japanese planes. During the next 20 minutes the Hadley shot down another ten planes, and then she sustained hits by two kamikazes, one baka bomb, and another bomb. With gaping holes in her hull, flooded engineering spaces, exploding ammunition, she was engulfed in a raging fire. By the heroic efforts of the damage control parties, the fires were brought under control, the flooding was controlled, and the Hadley was saved. The Hadley had accomplished her mission: the vulnerable transports at Okinawa with their cargo of thousands of GI’s were saved from an assault by the overwhelming Japanese force.
Night Action
Night surface actions are both difficult and spectacular. A classic night destroyer action in the annals of any naval history should be indexed under the name Moosbrugger.
It was August, 1943. Commander Moosbrugger took six DD’s into Vella Gulf to meet a reported “Jap squadron.” As in many of the actions which took place during this phase of the war, the American ships had a tremendous initial advantage from their radar information. The Jap force was unaware of the presence of a hostile force until our first torpedoes hit. Three of the four Jap destroyers were hit by the first salvo of torpedoes. Commander Moosbrugger’s force sank the fourth destroyer first as she steamed into the circle of light from her blazing sister ships, then concentrated on the others. Three Japanese destroyers were sunk, one heavily damaged. Total elapsed time from first radar contact until the American DD’s departed from the scene of destruction of the Jap squadron was 47 minutes.
Three months later when Captain Arleigh Burke led five of his Little Beavers (DesRon 23) up the Slot in search for trouble, he found it in the form of six Japanese DD’s. In the ensuing action “31-knot Burke’s” destroyers sank two enemy ships by torpedo and three by gunfire—sustaining no casualties to themselves whatsoever.
As Carrier Screen
Certainly one of the most gallant deeds performed during this last war was the attack made by the Johnston, Hoel, and Heermann on October 25, 1944, on Admiral Kurita’s Central Force of the Japanese Fleet when it broke through San Bernardino Strait and came so very near to overwhelming our forces in Leyte Gulf.
The Battle of East Samar is remembered as the battle in which a very heavy Jap surface force stumbled upon our escort carriers. With their four battleships, eight cruisers, and eleven destroyers, the Japs closed in for the kill. The CVE’s were like sitting ducks. These sitting ducks had a screen of three destroyers and four destroyer escorts.
As the slow carriers headed away from the Japs at their full speed of about 17 knots, they were taken under fire by the Jap’s heavy guns. Our screen vessels were ordered to deliver a torpedo attack. The destroyers headed in first, laying smoke screens; and the destroyer escorts were right behind them.
The three destroyers each fired hundreds of rounds from their main batteries, engaging two cruisers at a time, as they raced into torpedo firing range. Their audacity, combined with good ship handling, seemed to aid them as they threaded their way in through towering shell splashes from major caliber guns.
The Japs turned to avoid their torpedoes —and in so doing lost 7½ miles. Johnston and Hoel went down fighting, but Heermann —as if by miracle—was still afloat when Admiral Kurita called it quits and withdrew.
To these three destroyers, Johnston, Hoel, and Heermann, the surviving carriers may well owe their good fortune.
The “DE”
During World War II another major innovation appeared in the destroyer type— the escort destroyer. This was a specialized class designed for the primary purpose of convoying shipping. Its development stemmed from the critical shortage of ocean escort ships in the Atlantic in the face of the Axis submarine campaign, where World War I history was repeating itself and the United Nations were perilously close to disaster. The escort destroyer was a 1,400 ton ship armed with two 5-inch dual purpose guns and some fifteen automatic anti-aircraft weapons, three torpedo tubes, a powerful depth charge battery, and otherwise equipped in a comparable manner to her big “fleet” sister. The escort destroyer, capable of long range deep sea cruising had a top speed of only about twenty-four knots. At her very best against submarines, she was able to give an excellent account of herself under air attack. She is not a first-line ship and was not designed to accompany the battle fleet into action. In the Atlantic she was teamed with the “escort” carrier—the so-called “jeep”—to break the back of the Axis submarine force. The U.S.S. England (DE 635) is a Destroyer Escort well representative of the type. In any account of Anti- Submarine Warfare accomplishments, the story of the England is without parallel. In the Western Pacific Ocean during 12 days in May, 1944, she sank six Japanese submarines. In every case the sub was below the surface, doing its utmost to escape. Other Destroyer Escorts were in company with the England and made attacks on the subs, but the England had the right combination. No one officer or man was responsible for this remarkable record; it was accomplished through teamwork on the part of all hands.
The U.S.S. Buckley was a member of a hunter killer team operating off the Cape Verde Islands in the Eastern Atlantic in May, 1944. One night a search plane from the CVE reported a surface contact. Buckley made a high speed approach, with ship darkened and sonar gear silent. By her stealth she caught the U-boat on the surface. Dodging a spread of torpedoes fired by the sub, the DE closed in and fought a running gun battle as she maneuvered to ram. Though hit several times, she outshot the sub and rammed her. To his dismay Captain Crutchfield watched his ship ride up on the U-boat instead of inflicting a fatal blow. The sub broke loose, swung around, and rammed the Buckley, punching a hole in the destroyer’s side. The Germans, seeing the American ship damaged and flooding, seized the initiative. They boarded the DE. Their reception committee was an enthusiastic crew of American sailors. At the words “Repel boarders!” the Buckley's crew went into action with small arms, empty shell cases, knives, and even coffee cups. In the intense hand to hand combat which took place on the destroyer’s forecastle, all the Nazi boarders were killed or captured.
Meanwhile one thoughtful gunner’s mate was lobbing hand grenades down the open conning tower hatch. The interior ablaze and the hull leaking badly, the sub sank with hatches open. Thirty-six Germans had been captured; and the rest went to Davy Jones. But the only casualties to the Buckley's crew were some sore knuckles and bruises from close contact with the enemy boarders. The ship was soon back in fighting trim, and later sank a second submarine.
Ability to Take It—And Keep Dishing It Out
During the 16 days previous to April 6, 1945, the U.S.S. Newcomb (DD 586) had operated in support of the amphibious landing at Okinawa unscathed. Newcomb was a real veteran of the Pacific—having fought anti-aircraft actions in eight different theaters and been the target of suicide attacks in three.
Heavy formations of Jap planes were reported coming down from the north toward Captain Roland Smoot’s small force covering minesweeping operations off Ie Shima on the afternoon of April 6. Our CAP was knocking them out of the air like flies, but still they came on. A wild melee of air combat and ships’ AA bursts filled the skies as the attackers commenced their final dives. U.S.S. Hyman, 3,000 yards away, received the first hit. The minesweepers with the two DD’s, being given attention by the Japs also, stayed close for mutual support.
Newcomb’s accurate fire and adroit maneuvering kept her whole for two hours as planes splashed around her. between 1800 and 1815 she was hit in rapid succession by four of five attacking suicide planes, with telling effect. But the destroyer’s firing never faltered. With the amidships section a mass of rubble, machinery spaces a twisted mess, smoke from the roaring inferno towering 1,000 feet above the ship, and wounded and burned shipmates about the decks, the gallant crew of the Newcomb continued to load and fire her guns by hand. She stayed in the fight until the Japanese aircraft were all expended.
Tugs were alongside even before the attack was over to aid in fire fighting. By their courageous action and heroic work the ship’s company succeeded in controlling the raging fires in just thirty minutes. Fifteen men had been killed in action—each man at his battle station; twenty-five were missing—all had been stationed in the ’midships structure which was blown overboard by a terrific bomb blast.
The devotion to duty, backed by discipline and training, which these destroyer men displayed saved their ship and added another colorful page to our naval history.
“Destroyer Men”
The destroyer—our Navy’s most versatile fighting machine and most flexible weapon— is an amazing mechanical marvel; but no mechanism is better than the team which operates it. Destroyer men are a never ending source of surprise to the average naval officer; their morale and ship spirit are unsurpassed despite the hardships which they must accept as everyday fare.2 I cite as an example this letter from one destroyer sailor about another.
16 March 1944
BUREAU OF PERSONNEL
Navy Department Washington, D. C.
Sir:
I am a survivor. I am a survivor from a destroyer sunk in old “Iron Bottom Bay” in the South Pacific. I am glad to be alive. I don’t want anything except to go on living and maybe, when I get well again, to go backdown there and finish what we started. But in the meantime, I have a story to tell. Not about me—but about a ship— a grand little ship and her skipper. That ship lived. It lived and breathed, and had a soul, just the same as any human being. Its spirit goes on living, and will go on living forever and ever, and the soul and spirit is that of her skipper. The ship has since been lost, but the skipper of whom I speak had gone. He’d left us just three short weeks before, and when he left, there were two hundred men and officers on topside to see him off and not a word was spoken—the most eloquent tribute to the grandest shipmate a fellow ever had.
“You see, this skipper gave birth to this ship. He was a tall gaunt westerner with a soft-spoken voice, and a smile that made you feel like one of his best friends. But his eyes flashed hell-fire and brimstone if you let him down.
“He gave his soul to that ship. She absorbed his quiet dignity, his strength of character, and when she was attacked she fought with his hell- fire and brimstone. With him on board the ship was a living body and soul. Without him she was an empty shell.
“When he went over the side for the last time on that unhappy day last October it was as though he took some vital part of each of us with him—as if the living soul that made her the grand little craft she was, had curled up and died and left her spirit withered and her body tired.
“He’d had her through a year and a half of hell on earth. He’d fought the German U-boat in the North Atlantic; he’d pushed her through days and weeks of the cruel winter gales that howl down through the Denmark straits.
“He’d kept our interest and loyalty up through months of the worst kind of operations—far from home—when food was scarce—when there was no mail—where liberty meant walking through snow and mud, maybe once a month, to sit for an hour or two in a cold Nissen hut. Still, we had our ship—our snug little ship, and we had our skipper.
“Then came Pearl Harbor, and they needed a good ship to help lick the Nips, and so we went west. There we hit the works. Big and little—- above the clouds,—in the air—on the surface and under the sea.
“Out to Tokyo with Jimmy Doolittle, the fringe of the Coral Sea action, then Midway, then through the entire Solomons campaign, shooting, hunting, fighting, screening, fueling, working our hearts out, and glad to do it, because, up there on the bridge, getting thinner and thinner, and grayer and grayer was our grand old man, guiding our destiny, cheering us on, keeping our hearts busting with pride in the way he fought her, the way he handled her, the way she answered his every whim. And through it all, through all the battles, never a man was hurt.
“Oh, there’d been some close ones, all right, but God! the way he’d charge in, parry like lightning and dash out, using her like she was designed to be used, a quivering high speed lance. And there, up on her director, were the beautiful painted tokens of his fighting and organizing skill. Pictures of two enemy subs—one Nazi (for which he never got credit except from us. We knew), one Jap sub, which was recognized by the task force commander. Then there were nine Jap flags, representing all the Hell and havoc we gave the Nips on Tulagi, Tanambogo, Gavutu, Makimbo and Guadalcanal in the Solomons.
“One hundred and eleven thousand miles of ocean he’d pushed her through, two shiploads of ammunition, three major battles, many, many minor engagements, literally hundreds of beautiful maneuvers making landings, fueling at sea, messenger service, passing mail and personnel and supplies underway, all in about seventeen months of high strung exciting adventure. That, my friend, is service, and perhaps it wouldn’t be so remarkable if you hadn’t lived aboard the sweet little ship that gave herself to that service, and with the men that made her tick.
“Teamwork, organization, skill, and above all, pride—unspeakable, unbounded pride and joy throbbed in her very vitals. You don’t have that without a leader—a Hell for leather, God-fearing leader. My friend, we had the original.
“So then he left us. He was a sick man. His body was sick but his spirit and soul never let him or us down for one second. So, he had to go, and his eyes were red and so were ours as we helped him over the side into the little boat that took him away. And the last picture we had of him was his tall, straight body, stooped a little in pain, standing there in the cockpit of the gig, smiling through his tears with that warm smile that said you were his personal friend.
“I’m just a small cog in this big machine. But for going on two years I served in the grandest ship and worked for the greatest skipper this Navy ever had—And I think you ought to know about it.
A Survivor”
Why Destroyer Duty?
Based on the physical ship itself and the destroyer actions and spirit which this paper has described, answers to the question at hand are indicated as follows:
1) Because of the complex and compact design and equipment,
2) Because of the versatile fighting ability and manifold tasks assigned,
3) Because of the great spirit and teamwork among destroyer men in general and in a ship’s company in particular,—for these reasons destroyers are the finest sea-going school for young naval officers.
You learn by doing. Even in routine peacetime cruising, destroyers go through a multitude of varied evolutions such as: fueling at sea, orienting screens, dockings, air interceptions, coordinated ASW attacks, shore bombardment problems, torpedo attacks, and rescue operations.
It is the daily living as a part of the team which carries out this great variety of duties at sea which make destroyer duty so valuable. There the junior officer can learn (more than anywhere else) about tactics, communications, gunnery, ASW, CIC, navigation, engineering, and seamanship—and how these skills are combined for effective naval action.
Conclusion
To the young man who yearns for wings of gold: Be patient. Become a qualified OOD in a destroyer first. You will be of immeasurably greater value to your organization and the Navy in later years. A Naval Aviator must be more than a pilot: if you want to be a good one, you will put your undergraduate training directly to work at sea first. Your schooling will be more meaningful in later years if it is put into practice right away. We have yet to meet a single Naval Aviator who disagrees with this idea.
To the prospective Submariner: Be smart. You must first qualify as an OOD anyway. Ships larger than destroyers usually require more time for such qualification and still do not give you the same all-around background. Smaller ships lack the facilities of a man of war found in a DD. Experience in ASW from the surface viewpoint will prove valuable when you are the undersea target.
To the ambitious and brave young men who seek experience in and knowledge of their chosen profession at the expense of heavy responsibility, little liberty, long hours, and uncomfortable living—in short, those who are eager to prepare themselves for command at sea—orders to a destroyer are your ticket to your hearts’ desire. You’ll get salt in your sox, and seamanship and tactics in your bones—and you’ll get a real kick out of it, too.
1. “The Destroyer Navy—The Real Silent Service,” by LCDR William P. Mack, U. S. Navy. Vol. No. 69, No. 11, U. S. Naval Institute Proceedings.