Marshalls—The Classic
Even while the fight for Tarawa was in process, lights burned bright in CinCPac headquarters as the Central Pacific counter offensive started to roll: target—the Marshalls. No atoll group was shrouded with more secrecy than the Marshalls, for the Japanese had posted and enforced their Keep Off signs during the period between wars. In spite of the lack of intelligence available, the final plan struck boldly at the western chain. Thus the eastern chain was bypassed in one bold stroke on the conviction that preliminary operations against the Japanese air strength in the Marshalls would neutralize this threat, while the weakened Jap surface and subsurface threat could be held at arm’s length by the growing strength of the fast carriers and submarines.
The Kwajalein atoll chosen as the target was an obtuse triangle, with its forty miles inclined in a northwest-southeast direction; at the ends of the base were the objectives consisting of the twin islands of Roi-Namur at the northern extremity and crescent shaped Kwajalein at the southern end. Characteristic of the atolls, they were limited in size; Roi-Namur to about a half mile square and Kwajalein to about two and one half by one half mile.
By mid December, as Admiral Hoover’s landbased photographic sorties began to fill in the details of the defenses, it gradually became apparent that the defense of the twin objectives were neither as numerous nor as formidable as those of Tarawa. Roi-Namur had four coast defense guns of significant caliber, four large reinforced concrete block houses and almost twenty pillboxes housed anti-boat and machine guns. There were about thirty anti-aircraft guns. These weapons, together with organic equipment manned by the 3,000 of the Japanese garrison completed the picture. Kwajalein to the south had about the same density of weapons with over 5,000 in its garrison.
The lessons of Tarawa were fresh in the minds of the operational commanders, nor were these lessons hearsay, for the team of Spruance, Turner, and Holland Smith continued unbroken. They were determined to reduce the casualties suffered by the landing force at Tarawa. Destruction of the Jap defenses, as opposed to neutralization, was the goal of fire power. To this end preliminary operations not only by air but also by gunfire ships was laid on and the risk of Japanese counter-attack was confidently accepted.
In mid-December the curtain went up on the opening act of the reduction of the Marshalls defenses. Land based bombers commenced their operations to reduce the Japanese air strength and were supplemented from time to time by fast carrier strikes. In late January the second act began with stepped- up tempo when Admiral Spruance moved in as director. On the 29th and 30th fast carrier groups concentrated their bombs and projectiles on the two objectives, featuring for the first time the use of the high-and-mighty fast BBs in the bombardment role. Six of these went after Roi-Namur and Kwajalein with over 2,000 sixteen-inch and nearly 10,000 five-inch shells. On the 31st Admiral Conolly made face with the Marines and gained his famous nickname, “Close in Conolly,” by chivvying the old BBs in to 2,000 yards of the target, in this fashion reviving the old pointer fire technique which proved so destructive against Japanese concrete defenses.
The final act opened on February 1 as the Marines of the 4th Division and infantrymen of the 7th headed for their objectives. Well integrated gunfire from the bombardment group, air strikes, artillery of the landing force (emplaced during preliminary operations) and the new rocket ships in the form LCIGs, which preceded the leading wave of boats, covered the landing. Airplane observers kept the ships and aircraft informed of the progress of the tractors toward the beach and the fires continued until the last minute, precluding a repetition of the premature lifting of the fires as at Tarawa. Roi-Namur was in our possession in a day and a half, and Kwajalein in three.
The effectiveness of the new concept of fire support was highlighted by the casualty figures. The combined Japanese strength of somewhere between eight and nine thousand was able to kill fewer than 300 Marines and soldiers in action.
Thus the Marshalls was the classic operation—utilizing the Pacific Fleet’s new found superiority to isolate the selected objective completely while the targets were literally pounded to pulp before the amphibious assault, leaving landing forces to dispose of the relatively groggy and partially decimated foe. It would never be done so well again.
The Marianas—Lessons Are Relearned
It was a bright sunny day, that morning of June 14th, 1944, as eight assault rifle battalions of Marines from the 2d and 4th Division, veterans of Tarawa and Roi-Namur, moved toward the Saipan beaches in their tractors. This was the biggest yet in the Central Pacific—nearly 8,000 men in assault.
The briefings held aboard the APA’s during the long haul from Pearl Harbor had told them how Admiral Mitcher’s carriers would strike the Marianas first, to be followed by the fast battleships of Task Force 58 on Dog minus two and then the old reliables, the old battleships, would move in for a day of destruction preceding the landing. They knew too from a study of the maps and terrain models that this was to be quite a different objective from Tarawa and the Marshalls. Instead of tiny coral atolls measuring only a few square miles, Saipan was thirteen miles long and about five wide. Instead of being flat as a billiard table, it had a mountain named Tapachou with tough rugged approaches—-just the type of terrain that the Japanese flair for defensive positions would make very tough to take. They knew that the Jap was reinforcing the Marianas as fast as his shipping shortage and the American submarines would permit—so that upwards of 20,000 Japanese would be in the receiving line.
The veterans of Tarawa were told how the gunfire and air had creamed the Japs in the Marshalls, but they had heard promises before Tarawa. In any case it helped to see the big boys like the Tennessee and California lying right in the boat lanes a little over a mile off shore throwing their big shells into the beaches; it was a good feeling to have the LCI gunboats running interference up ahead firing their forties. True, the Japs had been doing a little firing back against the gunnery ships, but no one had been hit. Maybe this would be all right.
The answer was not long in coming. As the tractors reached the coral reefline and their tracks bit in to climb the lip, the water was torn with exploding projectiles, interspersed with vicious spurts from the flat trajectories of machine guns. Water cascaded into the air, hiding the leading wave from anxious onlookers to seaward. Reports differ as to the number of LVT’s lost, but there was no difference of opinion as to the accuracy, density, and continuity of the fire. As each succeeding wave of tractors ground on toward the reef line, it seemed that fire picked it up and escorted it to the beach. Shelling of the beach picked off Marines that had disembarked from the tractors.
The tactical plan disintegrated rapidly; instead of the tractors waddling on to the high ground some 1,000 yards inland, most of them halted unable to proceed further. Small cannon and machine gunfire from Agingan Point on the right flank enfiladed the beach and made the advance by the 4th Division slow and hazardous. In the meantime the artillery and mortar fire continued to rain on the narrow beachhead. Casualties mounted.
About two miles inland a long valley running generally parallel to the landing beaches was the scene of the feverish Japanese activity. Here about 55 pieces of assorted Japanese artillery, including 105 mm., were being loaded and fired as fast as human effort could achieve. Smaller valleys closer to the beach concealed mortars which were adding their explosives to those of the cannon. But the landing force was unaware of their location; not a scrap of intelligence had indicated the presence of these weapons. No ground observer had reached a position to observe these cannon—the landing force was blind. Urgent appeals for the location and silencing of the mortars and artillery went out over all radio channels, command, air, and naval gunfire.
In spite of the urgency there was considerable delay before aerial observers located the tell-tale flashes and were able to direct gunfire and air strikes onto the target. Actually these weapons were not completely eliminated until the night of Dog plus two days; and the Saipan beaches gained the dubious distinction of being the bloodiest in the Central Pacific War—over 4,000 were killed and wounded on D day. Nor were the casualties limited to the riflemen. The shore fire control parties suffered too, losing almost 50% of their spotter and liaison personnel as well as having communication equipment knocked out. As a result, direct support by assigned ships was limited until key personnel and equipment could be replaced.
Twenty-three days later those Marines fortunate enough to have survived wonderingly watched Japanese soldiers and civilians as they jumped to their death from Marpi Point, the northernmost point of Saipan. Resistance on Saipan was over.
In the light of the lessons of Tarawa which had been applied with such crushing effectiveness in the Marshalls, it seems strange that the planners for Saipan undertook the seizure of this objective with so inadequate a preparation. They were not strange to the business, for the team of Spruance, Turner, and Smith remained intact. Even the assault divisions were veterans of Tarawa and Roi-Namur. Nevertheless, this island objective of relatively large mass and garrisoned with over five times more Japanese than had defended previous Central Pacific objectives received only two days of pre D-day bombardment. Nor did the failure end there. The fast battleships were entrusted with the bombardment role on Dog minus two which they proceeded to execute from long ranges. There air spotters and top spotters were inexperienced in locating targets on a large mass, and the results were far from happy. When the experienced bombardment group of old BBs took up the chore on D —1, there was much shooting to do against the significant coastal battery threat. Little time could be devoted to searching for such targets as artillery and mortars.
In spite of the inadequacy of the preliminary work, the significant casualties were not inflicted by the direct fire weapons emplaced on the beaches, as at Tarawa. The preliminary fires on D-day had simply driven out the Japanese beach defenders as evidenced by the testimony of the intelligence officer of the defense force. When asked about the original intention of defending Saipan from prepared beach defenses, Major Yoshida, the intelligence officer of the Japanese defenses, said that “the naval shelling was just too much for the Japanese to take. Their prepared positions became untenable and they had to retreat in an eastern direction [away from the beaches].”
The major flaw lay in the failure to beat down enemy artillery and mortars during the ship-to-shore movement and after H-hour, but, to give the planners their due, remember that they lacked adequate intelligence for the habitual cloud cover over the Marianas inhibited the gathering of intelligence through air photos. Further, pre D- day operations failed to uncover these weapons, much less destroy them. In any case, the operation brought home the necessity of scheduling fires on likely artillery and mortar positions even when there was no evidence to prove their location. This lesson was not overlooked in the subsequent operations against Iwo Jima and Okinawa.
The original plan for the seizure of the Marianas included an assault on Guam two days after the Saipan assault, using the III Amphibious Corps under the command of General Geiger. Marine units from the South Pacific including the 3rd Marine Division previously employed in Bougainville and the newly organized 1st Marine Provisional Brigade under General Shepherd made up the III Corps. The attack on Guam had been delayed because of the precarious situation on Saipan and the subsequent committal of the 27th Infantry Division to that island. This deprived the III Corps of a reserve to meet unforeseen contingencies and the landing was delayed until the 77th Infantry Division could be brought out from Pearl Harbor.
The Marines of the III Corps would have had no complaint of cramped quarters on APA’s had they known that their old friend “Close in” Conolly was opening the holes up front. Admiral Conolly had gone forward from Eniwetok to Guam to take charge of the preliminary operations. The result was the most sustained systematic and well- directed bombardment seen in the Central Pacific up to that point. For a period of thirteen days, battleships and cruisers assisted by destroyers and gunboats attacked every known target that could block the way of the III Corps. Damage assessment utilizing aerial photos was systematically followed. As new targets were discovered, they were added to the active target list and attacked until destroyed. Altogether over 6,000 rounds of 14- and 16-inch ammunition, almost 4,000 rounds of 8-inch, as well as over 12,000 rounds of five- and six-inch were poured into the Japanese defenses. The same standard of excellence continued with the D- day bombardment. Fires were delivered not only on the landing beaches but also in those areas where mortars and artillery might be located.
The success of this bombardment as compared with that delivered at Saipan makes a striking contrast. Although Guam was defended by about the same number of Japanese and although the terrain was as varied and difficult for the attack, the Japanese never achieved the effectiveness of their brothers-in-arms of Saipan. The bombardment had literally driven the Japanese off the landing beaches, forced them into the hills in disorganized fragments to the extent that after the first week they offered little coordinated resistance.
Considering the fact that Guam and Saipan were defended by almost equal strength, both in troops and defenses, and that the terrain was at least equally difficult, and further that the landing force was substantially equal in each case, the relatively light casualties (7,300 for Guam as compared with over 16,000 for Saipan) must be contributed to the unprecedented scope and effectiveness of the naval gunfire support.
General Geiger put it better in his official report as follows:
“As a result of the pre-Dog day bombardment most of the enemy installations had been destroyed; his forces had been disorganized and his will to resist had been greatly weakened. The success of this operation with comparatively few losses is largely attributed to this preparation.”
The pre-war doctrine of naval gunfire support visualized the employment of the ship’s gun for only a few hours, just long enough for the attacking troops to establish their own weapons ashore. But the Marianas campaign marked the passage of this last vestige of the pre-war concept of support. Gunboats, destroyers, cruisers, and old battleships continued to pour supporting fires by day and night long after D day.
This change in doctrine, like all changes in gunfire, was an evolutionary one, brought about by the marked superiority of our own naval forces and the increased size of the objectives encountered, combined with the relatively larger and more adequately armed defense forces. In essence, two fleets were available: one built around the fast carrier to isolate and cover the operation from Japanese air and surface forays, the other a bombardment fleet built around the old battleships, with additional cruiser, destroyer, and gunboat types rounding out the formation.
Experience gained in ammunition replenishment at the objective now made it possible for ships to refill their magazines at the scene of action, making continued support feasible.
The objectives were no longer tiny atolls limited to a few square miles of flat sand, with a few coconut trees the only vegetation. The Marianas were relatively large with varied terrain and heavy tropical growth—conditions favoring the defense. But even these islands were not so large as to prevent the long range naval gun from reaching everywhere inland to the flanks and rear of the enemy. On the basis of real estate, the defenders were no longer limited to a small military formation. Division size units were now encountered, complete with supporting arms of all types, including tanks. Finally, the Japanese code of the Bushido prevented them from taking advantage of an untenable situation by surrender, as the Germans and Italians had done. Instead death was Pyrrhic victory, and our side could win only after virtual extermination. All of these factors combined to establish a favorable climate for the continued use of the naval gun.
The use of ships in close support had been previously proven for short periods. The month long campaigns for Saipan and Guam gave the destroyer-shore fire control party combination a real chance to demonstrate its worth. Conventional five-inch guns united with the organic weapons of the Marines in supporting attacks and bearing off counterattacks. The white phosphorus projectile was brought into the picture when its potentialities for flushing Japs out of their trenches were realized. Its burning particles rapidly lost velocity and curved into trenches and fox holes, where conventional high explosive fragments could not reach. Hasty evacuation was the result, giving the small arms of the Marines a chance. The 40mm quads also had their opportunity, often over open sights.
But the most spectacular and popular support of all was the five-inch star shell which illuminated the No Man’s Land with an intense light. The troops loved this support to the point where it was almost impossible to meet their requests. Serious Banzai attacks were broken up by a combination of star shells from five-inch guns with artillery, mortars, and small arms of the defense. This effectiveness is best illustrated by a counterattack occurring on the night of D plus one, at a time when our forces on Saipan were far from secure. About thirty Japanese tanks, fortified with a battalion of infantry, sortied from Garapan toward the front lines of the 6th Marine Regiment. The noise of the tanks alerted shore fire control parties and calls for continuous illumination went out over the radio circuits to the supporting destroyers. In a matter of minutes the approaching tanks and riflemen were caught as though by daylight. In a short time the tanks were burning and the Japanese either cut down or withdrawing—without gaining an inch of ground. Truly the destroyer sailors and Marines were a potent combination.
Nor was the support limited to the destroyer. The big ships did the downfield blocking with an assist from the 40mm and rockets of the gunboats. Old battleships like California, Pennsylvania, New Mexico, once the backbone of the battleline, went about the systematic destruction of blockhouses, worked over pillboxes, and blew away camouflage with their high capacity projectiles, revealing cleverly hidden defenses, which in turn were reduced to rubble. Key defensive positions selected by the Japanese for use in delaying positions were heavily bombarded, often routing the tenacious Japanese before our troops were forced to come to grips with them, thus saving many lives.
On Guam heavy cruisers used air spot and their big guns to make the defenses on Mount Tenjo, a natural citadel, untenable for a significant Japanese force. When the Marines of the 9th Regiment scaled the steep approaches, they received no fire, only a few dead and wounded remained as silent witnesses to the effectiveness of the naval guns. Later in the campaign Mount Saint Rosa, in northern Guam, was selected by the Japanese commander as the rallying point and final defensive position to which all remaining Japanese were to repair. Having learned this plan from a POW, General Geiger called on the Bombardment Group to work it over. After five days of heavy attack the Japanese gave it up with hardly a fight. This was the last straw—the Japanese had had enough. The remaining soldiers simply melted into the jungles and caves from which they waged on intermittent heckling campaign until death from bullets, dysentery, or starvation or eventual Japanese surrender ended their resistance.
The Japanese on the receiving end testified to this continued contribution of the naval gun through the medium of prisoners (although few were taken), diaries, and radio reports to Tokyo. One of General Saito’s staff officers somehow found time to write, “I am groggy from intense bombardment and naval shelling—our forces have been continually caught in a concentration of naval gunfire and the dead and wounded continue to increase.” Dispatches to Tokyo echoed these sentiments: “The enemy assaulted various strong points with incessant night and day naval gunfire; the enemy is under cover of the warships near the coast; as soon as night attack units go forward the enemy points out targets by using the larger star shells which practically turn night into day—-the enemy naval gunfire using mainly a shell with attached instantaneous fuse, has great destructive power. The call fire on land from ships is extremely quick and accurate.”
The increased participation of the naval gun in the complete campaign for the Marianas brought problems to light requiring serious study if the new fire support partner was to be fully and effectively utilized. Since the gunnery material had proved itself, these problems were essentially those of training and indoctrination of all elements involved, gunnery people, air spotters, shore fire control parties, and landing force staffs.
The rugged mountainous terrain and larger objective areas made the problem of identification of targets far more difficult for ship and air spotters. No longer did blockhouses, pillboxes, and weapons stand out from the flat platform of the atolls like sore thumbs; now they were artfully emplaced to take full advantage of the natural camouflage and protection offered by the rugged vegetation covered terrain. The failure to detect the Japanese artillery on Saipan in a valley only a few thousand yards inland from the landing beaches, not only during preliminary operations but also in the early hours of D day, highlighted this problem of target identification.
This same broken terrain also complicated the problem of spotting the fall of shot to the target once detected. Many an air and top spotter experienced difficulty in adjusting fire when the targets were on ridges or reverse slopes, where a small range change produced a shift in the point of impact far in excess of the change given. The spotter had simply encountered a target on a ridge and his small change sent the salvo over the ridge and far away, frustrating and time consuming as well as wasteful of ammunition. Effect of terrain on the fall of shot had to be department. It began at noon and continued until midnight. It ranged from direct fire with forties to indirect fire against a reverse slope target, with a five minute check fire period arbitrarily introduced just to make sure that the set and drift of the current had been figured and applied. Incidentally the fire support area selected had almost five knots of current and if it wasn’t figured and entered in the range keeper the salvo delivered after the five minute check fire would be off— Swabo for the exercise. It included a break- off of a shore bombardment problem for an air and suicide boat attack, along with a host of other exercises patterned on some operational experience. CruDesPac took quite a hard-boiled attitude toward an unsatisfactory performance over this course—and no destroyer went into the forward area without demonstrating proficiency at Kahoolawee.
The shore end of the bombardment range was not fancy, but it was effective. The dug- out housing the observation personnel required to conduct and spot the practice received direct hits from five- to eight-inch shells at one time or another. Fortunately the eight-inch was a dud, but it gave the boys quite a thrill. There was always the possibility that another one might be coming that wasn’t a dud. the personnel at the OP were headed by a Marine Major named Fields, principally known by his romantic radio call “Mudpie.” Mudpie probably saw and spotted more naval gunfire rounds than any other man. He had to be good since the requirements for call fire required hits on the third salvo, and so Mudpie knew the range and the ships had few complaints about Mudpie’s spotting ability.
The organization behind Kahoolawee was a striking demonstration of the teamwork of the Navy and Marines in the Central Pacific. The Marine side of the team was the direct descendent of Holland Smith’s naval gunfire setup in the Atlantic. On arrival in Pearl at the head of the newly constituted V Amphibious Corps, General Smith vigorously pressed for the acquisition of a suitable bombardment range. Admiral Reggie Kaufmann of CruDesPac, who had worked closely with Marines in gunfire support during the Culebra days, backed the project. The acquisition of Kahoolawee resulted. recognized and training was required. Hand in hand with training in target identification was the necessity of indoctrination in the tactics and techniques of the Japanese. This was necessary in order that air spotters could discard unlikely terrain in their search for targets dictated by the pattern of the defense and could recognize a worth-while target when they saw it.
Shore fire control parties shared in this need for increased knowledge. Lack of knowledge of the ship’s gunnery installation and the capabilities and limitations of the ship’s batteries needlessly complicated the ship’s problems in rendering support and reduced effectiveness.
Finally the continued full participation of the naval gun and the airplane, together with the organic artillery and mortars of the landing force, raised problems of coordination. A beginning was made in this area during the Marianas but much remained to be worked out before needless duplication of effort could be eliminated and before all the support could be utilized in the most effective manner.
In any case, the naval gun had become a full partner in the landing force effort, beginning with preliminary operations and continuing by night and by day until the objective was secured. Doubting Thomas’s in the Navy and in the Landing Forces were now convinced that here was an arm that paid its way.
Kahoolawee—School for Bombardment
The island of Kahoolawee in the Hawaiian Group has never received much publicity, for this island shares none of the lushness of the rest of the islands. Instead this barren island lying southeast of Pearl attracted little attention other than from those engaged in raising goats—that is, until late September, 1943.
On that date, the Pennsylvania let go with the first of literally hundreds of thousands of rounds aimed at targets on that bleak island. Before the Japanese ended it all, over six hundred ship’s practices had been fired. An infinite number of gunnery and plotting room officers had gone over instructions and drills with their people, for the course was a tough and rugged workout for the ship’s gunnery department. It began at noon and continued until midnight. It ranged from direct fire with forties to indirect fire against a reverse slope target, with a five minute check fire period arbitrarily introduced just to make sure that the set and drift of the current had been figured and applied. Incidentally the fire support area selected had almost five knots of current and if it wasn't figured and entered in the range keeper the salvo delivered after the five minute check fire would be off— Swabo for the exercise. It included a breakoff of a shore bombardment problem for an air and suicide boat att4k, along with a host of other exercises patterned on some operational experience. CruDesPac took quite a hard-boiled attitude toward an unsatisfactory performance over this course—and no destroyer went into the forward area without demonstrating proficiency at Kahoolawee.
The shore end of the bombardment range was not fancy, but it was effective. The dugout housing the observation personnel required to conduct and spot the practice received direct hits from five- to eight-inch shells at one time or another. Fortunately the eight-inch was a dud, but it gave the boys quite a thrill. There was always the possibility that another one might be coming that wasn't a dud. T4e personnel at the OP were headed by a Marine Major named Fields, principally known by his romantic radio call "Mudpie." Mudpie probably saw and spotted more naval gunfire rounds than any other man. He had to be good since the requirements for call fire required hits on the third salvo, and so Mudpie knew the range and the ships had few complaints about Mudpie's spotting ability.
The organization behind Kahoolawee was a striking demonstration of the teamwork of the Navy and Marines in the Central Pacific. The Marine side of the team was the direct descendent of Holland Smith's naval gunfire setup in the Atlantic. On arrival in Pearl at the head of the newly constituted V Amphibious Corps, General Smith vigorously pressed for the acquisition of a suitable bombardment range. Admiral Reggie Kaufmann of CruDesPac, who had worked closely with Marines in gunfire support during the Culebra days, backed the project. The acquisition of Kahoolawee resulted.
This began the happy relationship which contributed no small part to the effectiveness of gunfire support in the Pacific. Since General Smith operated a training establishment, as well as a tactical formation, his naval gunfire personnel (including Mudpie) participated in both training and tactical operations. Tactical lessons resulting from landing force requirements and Japanese defensive techniques could be rapidly integrated into shore bombardment exercises prepared by CruDesPac in collaboration with General Smith’s naval gunfire section. Thus the lessons of the Marianas were reflected in the Kahoolawee exercises in a matter of few weeks after the end of a campaign.
Immediate steps were taken to remedy deficiencies revealed in the Marianas. Efforts to improve the target identification and spotting ability of float plane pilots of BB’s and cruisers had to be limited to replacement pilots awaiting assignment at Pearl. However, theoretical instruction together with spotting exercises at Kahoolawee were instituted. Fortunately, a new aircraft formation appeared in the Central Pacific about that time in the form .of VOF-1, organized for the specific purpose of spotting naval gunfire. It was fresh from the Allied landings in southern France. This squadron, flying in Grumman Wildcats was to make a name for itself in the remaining amphibious operations of the war, at Luzon, Iwo, and Okinawa. The pilots were eager, competent, and versatile and became rapidly adept at seeking out Japanese. targets, going down on the deck when necessary to literally take a look under Japanese camouflage. Their availability multiplied the effectiveness of gunfire support many-fold and their contribution was significant.
The shore fire control party organization came in for its share of training after the Marianas. This little organization was no longer provisional, for the adoption of the Joint Assault Signal Company in late 1943 had changed all that. This company contained all the elements necessary to act as a link between the troops and the ship, including shore fire control parties for the assignment to rifle battalions, regimental naval gunfire teams for assignment to rifle regiments, and a division team. Each of the shore fire control parties were headed by an ensign or junior grade lieutenant, while the regimental and division teams were headed by a full lieutenant. Communications consisted of TBX portable equipment, and jeep mounted TCS equipment. Marine officers filled the spotting billets.
The naval gunfire teams which had been badly chewed up in the Marianas were pulled to ' Pearl, to their great delight. Liberty in the Marianas left much to be desired. The gaps were plugged with replacements provided from Holland Smith’s pool of spotters and liaison officers. Arrangements were made for all naval officers to attend the destroyer gunnery course in order to improve their knowledge of ship’s capabilities, while spotters attended a modified version of the same instruction. Practical familiarity with ship’s gunnery problems in shore bombardments was ensured by having the liaison officers and spotters ride ships firing at Kahoolawee. Intensive instruction in planning fire support was undertaken, including exercises involving air and artillery staff officers. Thus, by the time the Iwo and Okinawa operations rolled around, the lessons of the Marianas had been thoroughly digested. All hands in the gunfire business were ready.
Gunnery Payoff at Iwo
The atmosphere of Admiral Blandy’s cabin on the Estes was tense, that night of February 17, 1945—Dog minus two for Iwo. The Admiral himself was presiding over a conference of his principal staff officers—the subject, what must be done to ensure the landing of the Marines of the V Corps over the beaches of Iwo Jima? Already the amphibious fleet had sortied from Saipan for the target. There was only one day left.
The two days of preliminary bombardment were disappointing. The photo interpreters peering earnestly through their glasses at the stereo pairs could account for the elimination of relatively few beach targets—only three of twenty blockhouses were smashed and only a fraction of the hundred pillboxes had been definitely destroyed. And added to this worry was a new and entirely unexpected threat to the landing.
Early that same afternoon, as the UDT’s were conducting their reconnaissance of the preferred beaches, the twelve gunboats backing up the UDT’s were taken under fire; in a matter of minutes the majority had been hit; even the sick bay of the Estes had many of the wounded from these little ships.
This new threat proved to be thirteen guns in concrete casements; ranging from 120 mm. up to 5.6-inch, all sited on a bluff commanding the right flank of the beaches at point blank range. The intelligence study had said “four possible anti-tank guns.” Of course this was unknown, but there were shell fragments on display in Admiral Blandy’s cabin and they could have come from an eight- inch gun!
The conference soon reached its conclusion, a momentous one now if D day was to be met and the Marines were to get ashore. Never mind the artillery, mortars, and antiaircraft still undestroyed; never mind the inland blockhouses and pillboxes that would bar the way later—Decision—Clear the beach defenses and the coast guns commanding the beaches; Tennessee, Nevada, New York, California and Chester would go in at point blank range at first light and go to work.
The gunnery tasks of the Nevada and Tennessee were typical. In Nevada’s zone were numerous blockhouses and pillboxes. The blockhouses themselves had five feet of reinforced concrete which in itself was no problem to heavy calibers, but the Japanese engineers had dug these forts into the sand and, still not satisfied, they had graded twenty feet or more of sand on the seaward side of the walls—a practical step, since the embrasures and firing ports were located to deliver flanking fire along the beach. To the gunnery people on the Nevada, all that could be seen was an ever so slight mound, which could be identified as a blockhouse only because the photo interpreter had a big black arrow pointing to the mound on a low oblique marked “blockhouse.” The gunnery problem, then, was to strip away twenty feet of. sand, expose the concrete, and blow it to rubble.
The gunnery people did not choose to attack this tiny target with main battery salvos, a dramatic but inconclusive method. Rather, they went back to an antiquated method—Pointer Fire. They laid the director on the target, pointers were matched, and the target identified, aided by telephone chitchat between director and pointer just to make sure. An offset aiming point was used out of the line of fire since the character of the target would change with each hit; sights were set for the offset—-the cross hairs swung and steadied—Fire.
If the pointer was steady on, a range and deflection change were applied and another 2,000 pound, high capacity projectile was on its way. Some projectiles ricocheted off, others exploded, blowing the protective sand away from the front of the blockhouse until the concrete face was exposed; one more round and scratch one blockhouse; time— about 15 minutes, average number of rounds —nine. The 40 mm. people got in some practice, too; for, at some period during the destructive process, the Japanese inside the blockhouse saw that the jig was up. They would burst like quail from cover and the quads cut them down. In this simple but effective manner, Nevada cleared the way for a regiment of Marines, who went in standing up, reached their objectives first, with minor losses.
Tennessee lay too on the extreme left flank of the beach, firing across Nevada’s and New York’s line of fire. Her gunnery chore was to blow away the camouflage which hid the troublesome bluff batteries on the right flank of the beaches; and blow them to Kingdom Come she did. By nightfall her 16-inch guns had literally cut many of the concrete casemates from the rocky bluff formation, so that they learned crazily, threatening to slide down to the base of the bluff. Some of the casemate fronts were blown off, exposing the weapons to full view. None of these thirteen guns fired a round of D-day.
New York’s gunnery problems were identical with those of Nevada, while California from the extreme right finished off for all time a four gun coast defense battery nestled into the base of Surabachi.
Thirteen hours later as darkness fell and the big ships retired, the photo interpreters deep in the Estes gave their verdict of the day’s work; seventeen coast defense guns out, sixteen of twenty blockhouses and about half of the hundred odd pillboxes in the landing beach area had been blasted. The heavy ships had opened holes in the line and the Marines would get ashore tomorrow; gunnery had paid off.
D-day was like a spring day as four assault regiments of the 4th and 5th Division headed for the Iwo beaches. There were no illusions this time. All hands knew that the bulk of the artillery, mortars, and rocket launchers, as well as many inland blockhouses and pillboxes, had not been scratched by the preliminary operations. It would be tough.
The clumsy armored amphibians led the way, passing through the line of fire support ships 2,500 yards out. Santa Fe marked the left of the boat lanes, California bulked large in the center, while Vicksburg kept station on the right. Captain Chanler’s Destroyer Squadron filled the gaps between the big boys. This was the position of honor; the shore bombardment records of many a Desron had been combed to select the best. These ships would have to justify the trust, for their firing was more closely integrated with the ship-to-shore movement and the subsequent advance of the Marines ashore than any previous amphibious assault. In addition to plastering the landing area 35 minutes prior to the landing, these ships would place their five-inch shells just 400 yards in front of the Marines after the landing, lifting ahead on a prearranged time schedule. 1,200 foot second powder was to be used in order to give adequate clearance for the overhead fires. The use of this lower velocity powder imposed an additional burden on the range keeper operators, since it would be necessary to introduce gun elevation by hand, using tabular values corresponding to the generated range. A mental lapse might place six gun salvos in our own troops. The Marines had been warned that the Japs would try to create the illusion of naval gunfire falling short by firing their own artillery and mortars as they had done before. Our fire could be identified by six guns—more or less had to be Japs.
It was expected that smoke and dust covered by the prearranged fires. It was recognized that these parties would have little observation inland from the beaches due to the high terraces immediately in rear of the beaches. To overcome this lack of observation the naval gunfire liaison officers, with their radio teams, remained off shore in LVT’s where they could command the entire slope; the spotter with his radio team landed with the assault and continued inland until he gained the necessary observation. In addition, the VOF spotter complemented the liaison officer afloat from his aerial spotting station. Between the two, effective target of opportunity fire was called down.
Nor were the rear areas containing the 130 odd artillery mortars and rocket launchers neglected. Heavy ships, including the old Arkie and Texas had returned halfway around the world from the Normandy beaches to be in on this one with their old 5-51’s of another naval day. The new rocket ships with their five-inch spin-stabilized jobs helped out. But the Jap curved fire weapons were just too numerous and too well dug in to be quieted for long. By about H plus 1 hour, bursting shells on the beaches marked the commencement of a heavy fire which took days to finally eliminate.
But this fact remains. By the night of D day the strongest defended objective in amphibious history had been forced. The fact that the D day casualties were lighter than those sustained for the next seven days bears witness to the effectiveness of the pre-D day and D day gunfire.
Well might Kuribayashi pay his tribute to the high standard of amphibious gunnery of the American Navy with the words,
“Power of the American warship makes every landing operation possible to whatever beachhead they like.”