Part II
The first essential of a successful amphibious operation is to deprive the enemy of control of the surrounding air. At Guadalcanal this meant the destruction of planes on the enemy's airfield. But the enemy had more planes in the area than we did, and so some other means had to be used. In consequence, it was planned to use battleships in a heavy night bombardment of the field to destroy the enemy planes. A new bombardment shell had just arrived from the homeland- designated Type Zero, these had a firecracker- like shrapnel burst- and there were enough for battleships Kongo and Haruna to have 500 rounds each for their 36-cm. guns. These two big ships were scheduled to make the bombardment on the night of October 13. Vice Admiral Takeo Kurita (Combatdiv 3) commanded the force which consisted of light cruiser Isuzu and three ships of Desdiv 31 as screen, a rear guard of four Desdiv 15 ships, and the two battleships with my Desron 2 as direct escort.
The 25-knot advance toward Guadalcanal brought us to a point west of Savo Island shortly before midnight, encountering neither planes nor ships of the enemy on the way. Speed was dropped to eighteen knots, and the sixteen big guns of the two battleships open fire simultaneously at a range of 16,000 meters. The ensuing scene baffled description as the fires and explosions from the 36-cm. shell hits on the airfield set off enemy planes, fuel dumps, and ammunition storage places. The scene was topped off by flare bombs from our observation planes flying over the field, the whole spectacle making the Ryogoku fireworks display seem like mere child's play. The night's pitch dark was transformed by fire into the brightness of day. Spontaneous cries and shouts of excitement ran throughout our ships.
The attack seemed to take the enemy by complete surprise, and his radio could be heard sending emergency messages such as, "Intensive bombardment by enemy ships. Damage tremendous." Enemy shore batteries at Tulagi and Lunga Point turned searchlights seaward, probing frantically and fruitlessly for our ships. Star shell and gunfire also fell short of our location. Isuzu returned some fire against a coastal battery on Tulagi, but the main show was the battleships' bombardment which continued for an hour and a half after which all ships withdrew safely and on schedule to the east of Savo Island. At about this time several motor torpedo boats of the enemy came out to pursue our rear guard ships, but destroyer Naganami drove them away. We anticipated attacks by enemy planes the next morning, but not a single plane appeared even to threaten us, testimony indeed to the effectiveness of the night's bombardment.
On the night of October 14, Eighth Fleet cruisers Chokai and Kinugasa unleashed a similar bombardment with their 20-cm. guns while six transports carrying General Maruyama's 2nd Division arrived off Guadalcanal to unload passengers and cargo in escort of Desron 4. The unloading was still going on early next morning when enemy carrier planes from a task force to the south descended upon us. A few troops and weapons had been landed during the night, but three loaded transports bad to be run aground when they were bombed and set afire. The other three transports got away, but this attempt to land a completely equipped army force ended in failure.
Myoko and Maya of Crudiv 5 bombarded the airfield with their 20-cm. guns during the night of October 15. Desron 2 again served as escort, divided between van and rear. We parted from the main force shortly after noon and headed for Guadalcanal at high speed. We arrived east of Savo Island at 2100, reduced speed to twenty knots, and commenced firing. Cruiser guns were not nearly so effective as the battleships', and only a few fires broke out at the airfield. Each cruiser fired some 400 shells during the one-hour bombardment, and two destroyers sent about 300 shells into the coastal battery, but there was no return fire. Their work done, all ships withdrew to the north.
Our aerial reconnaissance on the 16th spotted bomber planes being dispatched to Guadalcanal from carriers sixty miles southeast of the island, and a powerful enemy force which included four battleships was sighted to the south of San Cristobal Island. It seemed certain that the enemy must have a strong carrier force near the Solomons, but we could not find it. We conjectured that the enemy was planning to decoy our carriers toward his battleship force and himself conduct carrier-based raids from the southeast.
Our main force spent the 17th and 18th in refueling just north of the equator, and then headed southerly with the hope and object of engaging enemy carriers since ·General Maruyama's troops on Guadalcanal were scheduled to launch a general attack on the night of the 22nd. Hampered by the jungle, however, the advance of our land forces was unduly delayed, and the general attack had to be postponed to the 24th. Meanwhile, submarine I-175 had torpedoed and destroyed an enemy warship southeast of Guadalcanal.
It was our opinion that ii we could recapture the airfield, the enemy would be forced to withdraw from Guadalcanal. In accordance with this notion a plan was mapped out whereby the Eighth Fleet would advance to a point 150 miles northwest of Guadalcanal and the Second Fleet take position a like distance to the northeast while Desron 4 (Rear Admiral Tamotsu Takama) rushed directly toward the island. Upon receipt of a message during the night of the 24th that our troops had occupied the field (it later proved to have been incorrect) Desron 4 advanced toward its destination as planned. Next morning the squadron was attacked by enemy planes. Light cruiser Yura was damaged so badly that she had to be sunk, and flagship Akizuki was also damaged. The general attack launched by Maruyama's division had, in reality, failed. (This was the third time that a general attack had not succeeded.) Here, again, was a pitiful example of a lack of cooperation between the Army and the Navy.
On October 26, the Second and Third Fleets sent planes to the south on dawn reconnaissance. At 0530 a plane from cruiser Tone, flying the easternmost search leg, sighted an enemy force 200 miles north of Santa Cruz. This force was promptly reported as consisting of three carriers, two battleships, five cruisers, and twelve destroyers. Our carrier force, cruising some 200 miles to the northwest, dispatched two groups of attack planes which struck Enterprise and Hornet, damaging both. The latter was abandoned by her crew and finally sunk early the next morning by torpedoes from destroyers Makigumo and Akigztmo. Our pilots claimed a third carrier set afire and the sinking of a battleship, two cruisers, and a destroyer, as well as the shooting down of a number of enemy planes.
American planes also made successful attacks this day scoring bomb hits on carriers Shokaku and Zuiho, setting them afire, and rendering their flight decks unusable. Both ships were forced to withdraw without recovering their strike aircraft. A few of these planes were recovered by Zuikaku and Junyo, but most of them were forced down at sea. Cruiser Chikuma was jumped by about twenty planes which scored many near misses and enough direct hits to send her limping northward. The rest of our ships under Admiral Kondo sped toward the location where our carrier planes had scored such successes through their offensive initiative, seeking to engage the enemy fleet. They found only the burning carrier which was dispatched by two of our destroyers. The rest of the enemy ships fled southeastward at high speed, pursued unsuccessfully by Desron 2. Search operations were continued through the 27th, but there was no further sign of the enemy. Admiral Yamamoto then recalled the fleet to Truk, and all ships reached there safely by the end of October.
As commander of one of the naval forces involved in Guadalcanal operations I wish to present my own view of the general situation prevailing at the end of October, 1942. Failure of the Ichiki and Kawaguchi Detachments had led to the mounting of a full-scale amphibious operation, to be conducted jointly by the Army and Navy, in which high-speed transports carried Maruyama's 2nd Division whose goal was to recapture the airfields at Guadalcanal. This effort was supported by all surface and air strength available in the Solomons, but it ended in failure. Many reasons may be cited for the failure, but primarily it is attributable to the enemy's aerial superiority Our prelanding bombardments by surface hips had destroyed many planes on the ground. These losses were quickly replenished, however, thanks to the fantastic mass-production techniques of the United States. An auxiliary airfield was prepared in an amazingly short time, and the enemy's air strength could then be greatly increased. Enemy carriers kept station near Guadalcanal while our nearest plane bases were at Truk and Rabaul. Our movements were watched so closely that the enemy could unleash intercepting operation at a moment's notice. Although we sank or damaged his carriers in the Santa Cruz battle and elsewhere, the enemy was able to repair or replace his ships with speed which astonished us. Thus did the United States not only maintain its aerial strength in the Pacific despite our successful assaults against it, but also managed to exceed by leaps and bounds our strenuous efforts to achieve superiority in the air.
Because surface ships are no match against strong aerial assault, it seemed to me imperative that Guadalcanal reinforcement operations be suspended while Rabaul was built up as a rear base and an advanced base was established in the vicinity of Buin. In this way we could have built up fighting forces which might have been able to deal effectively with the enemy. To our regret, however, the Supreme Command stuck persistently to reinforcing Guadalcanal and never modified this goal until the time came when the island had to be abandoned. We could not but doubt that this judgment was right. The success or failure of a military operation often hinges on whether the people at the fighting front have been consulted. If our views had been considered with an open mind, the way could have been paved for unity and coordination at all levels of command which might have brought us success. But this was not done. Needless to say, although a war cannot be won without risk, there is a limit to adventure and recklessness. Men who direct military operations must keep this always under consideration.
While my Desron 2 was engaged with the fleet in the South Pacific, Desrons 3 and 4 continued to escort reinforcement convoys to Guadalcanal. Both of these squadrons sustained heavy losses as a result of aerial bombardments and surface engagements. Many of their ships had been sunk, most of the rest damaged, and the few that escaped actual injury were in no condition for further operational assignments.
Still the Supreme Command clung to the idea of seizing the Guadalcanal airfields, and Seventeenth Army formulated a plan to achieve this end. After being reinforced by the 38th Division, it would make a frontal attack against enemy positions. It was decided to transport these troops in high-speed Army vessels, although really serviceable ones were very scarce at this time, and Desron 2 was assigned as escort.
Immediately upon our return to Truk on October 30, maintenance and replenishment of ships were undertaken with all possible speed. Accordingly my ships were able to sortie November 3. With light cruiser Isuzu as flagship, my squadron consisted of eight destroyers of Divisions 15, 24, and 31. We were accompanied by Crudiv 7 (Suzuya, Maya) and two ships of Desdiv 10. Unlike some previous assignments, this mission would be successful, I believed, because the force was adequate and my subordinates were all experienced.
Two days out of Truk we arrived at Shortland, where I called on Vice Admiral Mikawa whose Eighth Fleet flagship Chokai had entered the anchorage just ahead of us. He informed me that Desron 2 would replace Squadrons 3 and 4 in reinforcement operations and that I would command the entire force.
The Shortland Islands were very important at this time as they constituted a vital point in the reinforcement of Guadalcanal, hence there was always considerable activity in the anchorage. Yet there were surprisingly few land-based fighters to fly cover for direct air defense and patrol over this territory. The only airstrip - 700 meters long and 25 wide - was located on the coast near Buin at the southern tip of Bougainville. There were some seaplanes based in the mouth of a bay on the eastern end of Bougainville. They patrolled the anchorage entrance and provided the only direct cover for vessels shuttling to Guadalcanal.
Soon after we had anchored, Admiral Mikawa directed that Desron 2 plus two ships of Desdiv 10 would escort a convoy of six Army transports to Guadalcanal on ovember 7. I laid out details for the operation and summoned my ship captains for a briefing. Next day, however, the original plan was altered so that, instead of transports, destroyers were to be used to lift the troops. Furthermore, it was announced that on the 13th the main body of the 38th Division would be carried in eleven high-speed Army ships escorted by Desron 2. Indirect cover would be provided by Eighth Fleet and the Second Fleet main body operating to the east and west of the Solomons respectively.
I had planned to take direct command of the destroyers leaving on the 7th, with my flag in Hayaslzio, but was specifically ordered to remain in Shortland. Therefore, I appointed Captain Torajiro Sato (Comdesdiv 15) to lead the eleven destroyers carrying the advance unit of 1,300 troops and directed him to take the northern route to Guadalcanal.
The ships departed on schedule on the morning of the 7th. In mid-afternoon they were attacked by about thirty ship-based bombers. Six escorting fighters which were providing air cover put up such a brave defense (in which all were destroyed) and the destroyers maneuvered so skillfully that they escaped without damage. The force arrived at Tassafaronga, west of Lunga Point, shortly after midnight and landed the troops without incident. We welcomed the safe return of the destroyers to Shortland in mid-morning of the 8th.
That same day Army transports arrived carrying the main body of the 38th Division. Two days later 600 of these troops under Lieutenant General Tadayoshi Sano were embarked in destroyers Makinami, Suzukaze, and three ships of Desdiv 10, and headed south by the central route. Some twenty enemy planes attacked in mid-afternoon with bombs and torpedoes, but the ships were not damaged. Near the debarkation point a nighttime attack by four torpedo boats was repulsed and the division commander and his troops were landed safely. The ships were back at Shortland on the 11th.
Our reconnaissance planes sighted an enemy carrier task force bearing 130° distant 180 miles from Tulagi on the 11th. That night several enemy planes raided Shortland and bombed shipping in the harbor but did no damage. It was evident that the enemy was aware of our plan and was making an all-out effort to disrupt it by concentrating his sea and air forces around Guadalcanal. Consequently, we had good reason to expect that the landing of the 38th Division main body at Guadalcanal would be extremely difficult.
Enemy planes raided Shortland again at dawn on the 12th and tried to bomb the transports, but no damage was sustained. At 1800 the eleven Army transports moved southward the anchorage, escorted by twelve destroyers. In flagship Hayashio I led the formation and wondered how many of our ships would survive this operation.
That night Hiei and Kirishima, of Vice Admiral Hiroaki Abe's Batdiv 11, escorted by Desrons 4 and 10 approached Guadalcanal to shell the airfield, as Batdiv 3 had done previously. But this time the enemy was aware of our plan and had made preparations to disrupt it. Contact was made with an enemy cruiser and destroyer force just as Abe's ships passed to the south of Savo Island on a SE course, preparatory to making their bombardment. Flagship Hiei got off only two salvoes in the ensuing battle before being hit by shells from an enemy cruiser, with the result that both her steering rooms and her fire- control system were put out of service, and she cruised in circles quite out of control. Destroyers Akatsuki and Yudachi were sunk, Amatsukaze and Ikazuchi damaged. Suffering these heavy losses, the force was compelled to give up its intended shelling. In this night battle our ships claimed two heavy cruisers and several destroyers sunk, and the fray was thought to be a draw.
Dawn of the 13th saw the start of a series of intensive attacks against Hiei by enemy planes. As a result of successive direct hits, fires broke out in all sections of the battleship. When fire-fighting proved useless, the order was given to abandon ship, and the crew was transferred to destroyers. Despite an order from Combined Fleet directing Kirishima to take Hiei in tow, this effort was not made, and instead, the flaming battleship was intentionally sunk. With surviving destroyers, Kirishima cleared out of the arena and joined the main force of the Second Fleet in waters north of Guadalcanal.
My escort force and our charges had turned back to Shortland around midnight on the 12th after receiving a Combined Fleet order that our debarkation had been postponed until the 14th. We returned shortly after noon on the 13th and one hour later were on our way again toward Guadalcanal. I had a premonition that an ill fate was in store for us.
While we headed southward Maya and Suzuya of Crudiv 7 prepared the way by shelling the Guadalcanal airfield. The transports in my convoy sailed in a four- column formation at eleven knots. My flagship led the escorting destroyers which were spread out in front and to either side. We were subjected to attack at dawn of the 14th by two B-17s and four carrier-based bombers, but they did no damage, and three of the latter were shot down by fighters which were serving as our combat air patrol. An hour later two more carrier bombers came at the convoy, but they were both shot down.
At this time we also sighted a large formation of enemy planes to the southwest. I ordered all destroyers to make smoke and each column of transports to take separate evasive action. Instead of attacking my ships, however, these planes struck some fifty miles to the west at warships of the Eighth Fleet which were providing our indirect cover. Kinugasa was sunk, Isuzu damaged heavily, Chokai and Maya lightly, with the result that Eighth Fleet had to give up its indirect cover mission and return to Shortland.
Later in the morning we were attacked by a total of 41 planes. There were eight each of B-17s, torpedo bombers, and fighters, and the rest carrier-based bombers. Under cover of a smoke screen the transports tried to withdraw on zigzag courses, but enemy torpedoes sank Canberra Maru and Nagara Maru while Sado Maru (carrying the Army commander) was crippled by bombs. When the enemy planes had withdrawn, survivors from the transports were picked up, and Sado Maru headed back toward Shortland escorted by destroyers Amagiri and Mochizuki.
Less than two hours later we were again under air attack, this time by eight B-17s and two dozen carrier bombers. Brisbane Maru was hit, set afire, and sunk. Her survivors were picked up by destroyer Kawakaze.
The next attack was on us within an hour when eight B-17s and five carrier bombers bombed and sank Shinanogawa Maru and Arizona Maru. Survivors were rescued by destroyers Naganami and Makinami.
A respite of half an hour was broken by three carrier bombers which attacked assiduously but without success. Any conjecture on our part that our troubles for the day were over proved illusory, however, when 21 planes struck half an hour before sunset. Four were B-17s, the rest carrier bombers. Nako Maru was their only victim, and she burned brightly from bomb hits. Destroyer Suzukaze managed to come alongside and take off survivors before this 7,000-ton transport's fires were quenched in the ocean depths. And before the sun could set, three more carrier bombers came to plague our force, but all their bombs missed.
In six attacks this day on my immediate force the enemy had sent more than 100 planes. These had sunk six transports with bombs and torpedoes, killing a total of about 400 men. Amazingly, some 5,000 men of the embarked troops and crews had been rescued by destroyers.
The toll on my force was extremely heavy. Steaming at high speed the destroyers had laid smoke screens almost continuously and delivered a tremendous volume of antiaircraft fire. Crews were near exhaustion. The remaining transports had spent most of the day in evasive action, zigzagging at high speed, and were now scattered in all directions.
In detail the picture is now vague, but the general effect is indelible in my mind of bombs wobbling down from high-flying B-17s, of carrier bombers roaring toward targets as though to plunge full into the water, releasing bombs and pulling out barely in time; each miss sending up towering columns of mist and spray; every hit raising clouds of smoke and fire as transports burst into flame and take the sickening list that spells their doom. Attackers depart, smoke screens lift and reveal the tragic scene of men jumping overboard from burning, sinking ships. Ships regrouped each time the enemy withdrew, but precious time was wasted and the advance delayed. But the four remaining transports, escorted by Hayaslzio and three ships of Desdiv 15, still steamed doggedly and boldly toward Guadalcanal.
These were a sorry remnant of the force that had sortied from Shortland. With seven transports sunk and as many destroyers withdrawn to rescue survivors, prospects looked poor for the operation. It was evident by evening, to make matters worse, that the transports could not possibly reach the unloading position at the appointed time. Even steaming at thirteen knots they could not arrive until almost sunup of the 15th.
By mid-afternoon of the 14th a friendly search plane had reported the presence of four enemy cruisers and four destroyers steaming northward at high speed in the waters east of Guadalcanal. There was no doubt that they were after our transports. It was estimated that on their present course our transports would meet these warships off Cape Esperance. Our Eighth Fleet, which was supposed to have provided indirect escort, had now withdrawn to the north and was unavailable. Furthermore, it was unknown if the Second Fleet main body would be in a position to counterattack. It was difficult, therefore, to decide whether to risk the transports against the enemy now or withdraw to await a more favorable opportunity. My indecision was resolved by a late afternoon dispatch from Commander in Chief Combined Fleet ordering that we continue directly toward Guadalcanal.
Unusually successful radio communications at this time provided information that Second Fleet was advancing at full speed to attack the reported enemy fleet. This meant that fleet flagship Atago, battleship Kirishima, two ships of Crudiv 4, and several destroyers would be supporting our effort. Thus it was with a feeling of relief that I gave the order to proceed with the operation. By sunset I was further heartened by the sight of several of my rescue destroyers, filled to capacity with army troops, catching up with my depleted force. Shortly before midnight, with visibility at seven kilometers, we were greatly encouraged to sight our Second Fleet main body dead ahead. With these stalwart guardians leading the way, we continued the advance.
Approaching from east of Savo Island our van destroyers were first to engage the enemy, opposing several heavy cruisers. Heavy gunfire ensued, and the entire vicinity was kindled by flare bombs. We could see individual ships set afire-friend and foe alike. Atago's searchlights soon played on enemy vessels which we were surprised to find were not cruisers, but Washington-class battleships! This then was the first battleship night action of the war!
Atago, T akao, and Kirishima loosed their guns in rapid succession, and the enemy opened return fire. I chose this moment to order a northward withdrawal of the transports, feeling that for them to continue into the battle area would only add to the confusion. At the same time I called for the three ships of Desdiv 15, under Captain Torajiro Sato, to advance and attack the enemy. As the three destroyers dashed forward a weather front closed in, reducing visibility to three kilometers. My earlier judgment was confirmed by the next radio message from Combined Fleet which now ordered a northward withdrawal of the transports. It was already in progress.
An hour past midnight this battle, which had started and ended in darkness, was over. It was believed that the enemy had lost two heavy cruisers and one destroyer sunk, one heavy cruiser and one destroyer seriously damaged. When my ships reached Guadalcanal a burning heavy cruiser of the enemy was observed. We were of the opinion that two enemy battleships were damaged by torpedoes from Desdiv 11 and Oyashio of Desdiv 15. We suffered the loss of battleship Kirishima (her crew was rescued by destroyers) and destroyer Ayanami but felt that this Third Battle of the Solomons (or Naval Battle of Guadalcanal) battle had ended in our favor.
From a vantage point to the rear I anxiously watched the progress of this heroic night battle. My mission was still to get the transports unloaded, their troops ashore. Of my command, only flagship Hayashio and the four transports remained. We headed at full speed for Tassafaronga. The plan had been for unloading to begin around midnight and be completed within two hours, allowing for safe withdrawal of the ships. Strenuous activities of the preceding day and night had so delayed our schedule, however, that unloading at the debarkation point could not possibly be commenced until after break of day. There was no question but that the usual method of landing the troops would subject the ships to fierce aerial attacks, as on the previous day. It would be more than tragic to lose so many men after coming thus far through the perils of enemy attacks. I resolved, accordingly, to effect the unloading by running the transports aground. The concept of running aground four of our best transports was, to say the least, unprecedented, and I realized full well that their loss would be regrettable. But I could see no other solution. This recommendation was made to the Commanders of the Eighth and Second Fleets and was met by flat rejection from the former. Commander Second Fleet was directly responsible for this operation, and his reply was, "Run aground and unload troops!"
This resolute approval was gratefully received. As we approached Tassafaronga by the early light of dawn I gave the fateful order which sent the four transports hard aground almost simultaneously. Assembling my destroyers, I ordered immediate withdrawal northward, and we passed through the waters to the east of Savo Island.
Daylight brought the expected aerial assaults on our grounded transports which were soon in flames from direct bomb hits. I learned later that all troops, light arms, ammunition, and part of the provisions were landed successfully.
The last large-scale effort to reinforce Guadalcanal had ended. My concern and trepidation about the entire venture had been proven well founded. As convoy commander I felt a heavy responsibility.
The superiority of Japan's pre-war Navy in night-battle tactics is, I believe, generally acknowledged. Long training and practice in this field paid off in early actions of the war such as the battles off Java and Surabaya when our ships scored heavily against enemy forces. But by the time of the battles of Cape Esperance and of Guadalcanal, the U. S. Navy was beginning to overcome our initial advantages, and these actions resulted in fairly equal losses to each side.
American progress in naval night actions is directly attributable to the installation of radar in warships, which was begun in early June of 1942-about the time of the Battle of Midway-in our opinion. At that time our radar program was still in the research stage and our warships were not generally radar-equipped until well into the following year. Radar permitted detection of targets in the dark of night and provided accurate control of gunfire. This worked an obvious and drastic change in nighttime operations. Flares were still used by both sides to illuminate targets, but radar equipped ships of the United States Navy were able to fight night battles without the use of searchlights. The slight advantage accruing to the United States through the use of radar in the naval battles of mid-1942 became increasingly pronounced as the war continued.
An absolute prerequisite of victory is to know the enemy situation. American Intelligence, radio communication (including radar and interception), and submarine search were far superior to Japan's efforts in these fields. Carelessness in our communications, and a corollary astuteness in that of the enemy, resulted in the untimely death of Admiral Isoroku Yamamoto, Commander in Chief Combined Fleet, and several members of his staff. The careful planning and execution of this accomplishment must stand as a tribute to the skill of the enemy.
Search operations in the front-line Solomons area was conducted mainly by planes. From Shortland to Guadalcanal there are three possible routes of surface transit running along the north or south, or through the center of these islands. Our ships moving to and from Guadalcanal had to follow one or another of these routes, hoping always to evade the enemy. But the enemy search net, without exception, always thwarted this hope, and his ships and attack planes were always alerted, fully prepared for interception. In these circumstances it is understandable that we were unable to achieve surprise attacks.
Even at Shortland our assembled vessels came to be attacked by big bombers such as the B-17s. Enemy planes attacked by day and by night, and when they were not attacking they were reconnoitering our situation. Our only counter to these attacks and searches was to keep our ships at Shortland on constant alert during the day and anchor them at various points along the coast during the night.
Guadalcanal Supply Operations
The end of the effort to reinforce Guadalcanal found more than 10,000 Japanese troops on the island, without any regular means of supply. None of the usual methods had been successful, and our losses in destroyers were proving prohibitive. Provisions and medical supplies were needed so desperately that daring expedients were called for to provide them. Supply by air would have been tried if we had been able to claim air superiority, but this we could not even claim.
The first novel method of supply to be tried was what may be called the drum method. Large metal cans or drums were sterilized and then filled with medical supplies or basic foodstuffs such as cereals, leaving air space enough to insure buoyancy. Loaded on destroyers, these drums were linked together with strong rope during the passage to Guadalcanal. On arrival all drums were pushed overboard simultaneously while the destroyer continued on its way. A power boat would pick up the buoyed end of the rope and bring it to the beach where troops would haul it and the drums ashore. By this means unloading time was cut to a minimum, and destroyers returned to base with practically no delay.
Transport was also attempted by submarines which would be loaded with supplies, brought to the landing point, and cruise there submerged during the day to avoid air attacks. Surfacing near the friendly base at night, the supplies would be carried ashore by motor boats. Submarine transport, however, was not new, as it had been conducted by Germany during World War I.
Yet both of these were makeshift measures and, even when successful, resulted in the provision of only a few tons- enough for a day or two- of supplies. Almost daily came radio messages reporting the critical situation on the island and requesting immediate supplies. It was indicated that by the end of November the entire food supply would be gone, and by the latter part of the month we learned that all staple supplies had been consumed. The men were now down to eating wild plants and animals. Everyone was on the verge of starvation, sick lists increased, and even the healthy were exhausted. Realizing these circumstances, every effort was directed to relieve the situation.
On November 27, two destroyers from each of Desdivs 15 and 24, which had been on transport duty to Buna, moved from Rabaul to Shortland loaded with drums of food and medical supplies. After conferences, preparations, and a trial run, the Fleet Commander issued orders for the first supply effort by the drum method to take place on November 30. Of eight destroyers that were to take part, six were to be loaded with 200 to 240 drums. To accomplish this, reserve torpedoes were removed from these six ships, leaving in each only eight torpedoes one for each tube--cutting their fighting effectiveness in half. No drums were loaded on board flagship Naganami nor destroyer leader Takanami, which carried the commander of Desdiv 31.
Preparations were completed on November 29 and I led the ships from Shortland that night. In an attempt to conceal our intentions from the enemy we sailed eastward during the next morning. Nevertheless, we were shadowed constantly by his alert search planes. Around noon we increased speed to 24 knots and shaped a southward course to Guadalcanal. Three hours later, in spite of heavy rain, speed was upped to thirty knots.
About this time we received word that a friendly reconnaissance plane had sighted "twelve enemy destroyers and nine transports." Immediate preparations were made for action. But our main mission was to deliver supplies and, with no reserve torpedoes, it would be impossible to win a decisive battle. Nevertheless I exhorted all ships under my command, "There is great possibility of an encounter with the enemy tonight. In such an event, utmost efforts will be made to destroy the enemy without regard for the unloading of supplies."
By sunset heavy rain began to fall, and it became very dark. This caused confusion in our formation and speed was temporarily reduced. But the rain did not last long and with its passing, visibility improved. An hour before midnight we passed westward of Savo Island and then swung southeastward in attack formation. Visibility was about seven kilometers.
Minutes later three enemy planes with lighted navigation lights were observed forward of our course circling at low altitude. Still we continued toward designated unloading points off Tassafaronga (Takanami and three ships of Desdiv 15) and Segilau (Naganami and three ships of Desdiv 24). Since no aerial flares had been observed, and in view of the enemy practice of dropping them upon sighting our ships at night, we concluded that these planes were yet unaware of us. The tense silence was broken by a sudden radio blast from lead ship Takanami, "Sighted what appear to be enemy ships, bearing 100 degrees." And this was followed immediately by, "Seven enemy destroyers sigh ted."
My destroyers had already broken formation, and those carrying supplies were on the point of tossing overboard the joined drums. But hearing these reports I abruptly ordered, "Stop unloading. Take battle stations." With this order each destroyer prepared for action and immediately increased speed, but with no time to assume battle formation, each bad to take independent action.
Within minutes flagship Naganami's lookouts sighted the enemy bearing 90°, distant 8 kilometers and, raising my binoculars, I could easily distinguish individual enemy ships. In a moment it was clear that we had been recognized for the circling search planes dropped dazzling flares. The moment these parachute flares burst into light, enemy ships opened fire on the nearest ship which was Takanami. The brilliance of the flares enabled the enemy to fire without even using his searchlights.
With all possible baste I issued a general order, "Close and Attack!" Our destroyers opened fire, but numerous illuminating shells and parachute flares suddenly set off by the enemy brightened our vicinity so that it was extremely difficult to make out the formation of the enemy fleet. Takanami scored a direct hit with her first salvo and after five more salvoes had set afire the second and third ships of the enemy formation, and made recognition of enemy ships easier for our other destroyers.
Concentrated enemy fire, however, inflicted many casualties in Takanami including her skipper, Commander Masami Ogura, and the ship was burning and crippled. Flagship Naganami now caught an enemy cruiser in her searchlight and opened fire. Because she was on an opposite course from her target, Naganami turned hard to starboard and came about to run abreast of the enemy ship. Continuing her salvo firing Naganami approached the cruiser and launched eight torpedoes at a range of four kilometers, all the while a target herself of a tremendous concentration of enemy gunfire. There were deafening explosions as shells fell all around my flagship, sending up columns of water. Naganami was showered by fragments from near misses but, miraculously, sustained no direct hits. I have always felt that our good luck was accountable to the high speed (45 knots) at which Naganami was traveling, and that enemy shells missed us because of deflection error.
Oyashio and Kuroshio of Desdiv 15 fired ten torpedoes at cruisers, and Kawakaze of Desdiv 24 fired eight after reversing course and coming abreast of the enemy line. Meanwhile, enemy torpedoes were not inactive. Two deadly tracks passed directly in front of Naganami. Suzukaze, the second ship of Desdiv 24, was so busy avoiding enemy torpedoes that she was unable to loose any of her own. Both sides exchanged gunfire as well as torpedoes, in the glare of parachute flares and illuminating shells, and there were countless explosions.
In the ensuing minutes, torpedoes from our destroyers were observed to hit a cruiser, setting it afire, and it was believed to sink immediately. We shouted with joy to see another enemy cruiser set afire and on the point of sinking as a result of our attack. It seemed that the enemy force was thrown into complete confusion. During a sudden cessation in firing by both sides we sighted what appeared to be two destroyers which had been set ablaze by Takanami's gunfire.
Kuroshio and Kagero, each still having four torpedoes, sent the last underwater-missile attack against the enemy. And Kagero, using searchlights for spotting her targets, got off several rounds of gunfire. Thus did more than thirty minutes of heavy naval night action come to an end as both fleets withdrew and the quiet of the night returned.
I was anxious to know what had happened to damaged Takanami. When repeated calls brought no response, and after checking the location of each of my other ships, I ordered Oyashio and Kuroshio back to find and help her. These ships, under Comdesdiv 15, Captain Torijiro Sato, found Takanami southeast of Cape Esperance, crippled and unnavigable, and started rescue work. Oyashio had lowered life boats and Kuroshio - was about to moor alongside .the stricken ship when an enemy group of two cruisers and three destroyers appeared at such close range that neither side dared fire. Our two destroyers were forced to withdraw, leaving many Takanami survivors who made their way in cutters and rafts to friendly shore positions on Guadalcanal.
When the battle was over, my scattered ships were ordered to assemble near the flagship. Since all torpedoes had been expended it was impossible to effect any further naval action. I decided to withdraw and return to Shortland by way of the central route, spelling an end to the night naval action of November 30, 1942, which is known in Japan as the Night Battle off Lunga, and in the United States as the Battle of Tassafaronga.
We did not know what losses the nited States Navy had sustained in this battle but judged, on the basis of destroyer reports that two cruisers and one destroyer had been sunk, and two destroyers heavily damaged. Our loss of Takanami, with a large number of men including the division commander, Captain Toshio Shimizu, and her skipper, Commander Masami Ogura, was a matter of deep regret. On the other hand it was amazing good fortune that all seven of my other destroyers had escaped damage in this close encounter against a numerically superior enemy, and it added to the glory of our squadron.
The problem of getting supplies to starving troops on Guadalcanal remained. Returning to Shortland by noon on December 1, I set to work at once on plans and preparations for another attempt to bring stores to that island. Three more ship were added to my command when Desdiv 4's Arashi and Nowaki arrived at Shortland next day, and Yugure of Desdiv 9 came in during the morning of the 3rd.
Preparations were completed by early afternoon of December 3, and I departed for Guadalcanal by the central route with ten destroyers. Makinami, Yugure, and flagship Naganami served as escorts to the other seven ships which were loaded with drums of supplies. When, soon after our departure, we were sighted by B-17s, speed was increased to thirty knots and the advance continued though we expected that a large-scale air attack would soon be upon us. By late afternoon there came a formation of fourteen bombers, seven torpedo bombers, and nine fighters. Twelve Shortland-based Zero seaplanes which were flying patrol for our force bravely challenged the enemy. On board the destroyers we watched with fascination to observe a total of five planes friendly and enemy-plunge flaming in to the sea. The thought occurred to me, why should our fast destroyers with well trained crews fall prey to air attack? Our antiaircraft fire was concentrated against carrier dive bombers and low-flying torpedo planes which came in at very close range as we avoided them by rapid and frequent turns to right and left. The only damage to us was caused by a near miss on Makinami, last destroyer in the formation, resulting in a few casualties, but this did not affect the squadron's advance.
Arriving southwest of Savo Island on schedule, we approached the coast near Tassafaronga and Segilau in formation to unload. This was accomplished soon after midnight when all seven supply-laden destroyers dumped drums overboard, hauled rope ends to the shore, hoisted boats back on board, and pulled away. They were unmolested by the enemy whose only action was with PT boats which were easily repelled by Naganami, Makinami, and Yugure. Knowing of our plan, it is strange that the enemy fleet did not oppose this transportation, but it was probably still recovering from damage sustained in our last night engagement.
Unloading completed, all destroyers assembled around flagship Naganami and started back to base. Of 1,500 drums unloaded that night it was most regrettable that only 310 were picked up by the following day. The loss of four-fifths of this precious material was intolerable when it had been transported at such great risk and cost, and when it was so badly needed by the starving troops on the island. I ordered an immediate investigation into the causes for the failure. It was attributed to the lack of shore personnel to haul in the lines, the physical exhaustion of the men who were available, and the fact that many of the ropes parted when drums got stuck on obstacles in the water. Furthermore, any drums that were not picked up by the next morning were sunk by machinegun fire from enemy fighter planes. Our troubles were still with us.
We returned to base on December 4 without further Joss and began preparations at once for a third supply effort. That evening Eighth Fleet flagship Chokai arrived at Shortland with the commander in chief on board. I called on Admiral Mikawa directly to report the battle situation and confer about future operations. I told him frankly that a continuation of these operations was hopeless and would only lead to further losses and complete demoralization and, since the situation was becoming steadily worse, strongly recommended that the starving troops be evacuated from Guadalcanal as soon as possible. It was my further suggestion that efforts be concentrated on building up a strong base in the vicinity of Shortland.
Next day my force was increased to thirteen ships with the arrival of Tanikaze and Urakaze of Desdiv 17 and Ariake of Desdiv 9 which were added to my command. Another welcome addition came with the arrival of newly-built Teruzuki on the 7th. She was 2,500 tons and capable of 39 knots, and my flag was shifted to her.
Early in the afternoon of that day ten destroyers were dispatched on a third drum transportation effort led by Captain Torajiro Sato, Comdesdiv 15. At nightfall an urgent radio message from Captain Sato reported that his force had been attacked by fourteen carrier-based bombers and fighters. The planes had been driven off but not before they had scored bomb hits on Nowaki making her unnavigable. She was on her way back to base under tow of Naganami and escorted by Yamakaze and Ariake. I started for the scene in my new flagship.
On the way I learned that the rest of the force which had continued toward Guadalcanal had fought off six torpedo boats west of Savo Island. It was prevented from conducting unloading operations, however, by the presence of enemy planes and more torpedo boats. Accordingly it was on its way back to base without having made delivery. Under the circumstances I was forced to agree with the decision. Another attempt had failed.
All destroyers returned to base on the 8th while endless plans and preparations went on for our next attempt. Eleven B-17s and six fighters raided the Shortland anchorage on the 10th and hit tankers Toa Maru and Fujisan Maru. The latter was set afire by a bomb hit in its after section. Minelayer Tsugaru came alongside and was able to extinguish the flames with the help of all firefighting units in the port. Both tankers escaped sinking.
In the afternoon of December 11, eleven destroyers departed for Guadalcanal on another transportation mission. Led by Teruzuki the force consisted of three ships of Desdiv 15, two each from Desdivs 17 and 24, plus Arashi, Ariake, and Yugure. We advanced without incident until sunset when we were suddenly attacked by 21 bombers and six fighters. Our escort planes had already withdrawn, but we succeeded in downing two of the enemy with antiaircraft fire. We also managed to dodge their repeated dive bombings and continued on our way without damage.
We rounded Savo Island shortly after midnight and sighted a group of torpedo boats immediately to the south. Kawakaze and Suzukaze, protecting our flanks, engaged this enemy and sank three of these small boats. While this was going on, seven of our transport destroyers approached Cape Esperance, dropped some 1,200 drums of supplies, and started their withdrawal. Patrolling the inner harbor at twelve knots, my flagship sighted a few torpedo boats nearby. We took course to maneuver around them and attacked but took an unexpected torpedo hit on the port side aft, causing a heavy explosion. The ship caught fire and became unnavigable almost at once. Leaking fuel was set ablaze, turning the sea into a mass of flames. When fire reached the after powder magazine there was a huge explosion, and the ship began to sink.
Directing operations of my force on the bridge when the torpedo struck, I was thrown to the deck unconscious by the initial explosion. I regained consciousness to find that Naganami had come alongside to take off survivors. With the help of my staff the flag was transferred to this ship. I received treatment for shoulder and hip injuries and was ordered to rest. Most of the crew was rescued by Naganami and Arashi, which had also come alongside, but both ships were forced to leave suddenly when torpedo boats came to make another attack. Lifeboats were dropped for the remaining survivors, most of whom managed to reach Guadalcanal.
The loss of my flagship, our newest and best destroyer, to such inferior enemy strength was a serious responsibility. I have often thought that it would have been easier for me to have been killed in that first explosion. Forced to remain in bed because of my injuries, I reported by radio the fact that the flag had been shifted to Naganami. I withheld any mention of my being hurt for fear of the demoralizing effect it might have on the force.
On November 12, I returned to Shortland and received the fleet order, "Guadalcanal reinforcements will be discontinued temporarily because of moonlit nights. The reinforcement unit will proceed to Rabaul and engage in transportation operations to Munda for the present."
I sent damaged Nowaki to Truk under tow from Maikaze, escorted by Arashi. With my remaining eight destroyers I arrived at Rabaul on the 14th. The pain from my wounds made it extremely difficult for me to move about, but I continued in command of the force.
The New Georgia Group in the Central Solomons consists principally of the islands of Vella Lavella, Kolombangara, New Georgia itself, and Vangunu stretching in that order from northwest to southeast. l\Iunda is located under the southwestern tip of New Georgia, the largest of these four islands, and it was there that the high command decided to establish a stronghold. On December 15, I sailed for Munda in flagship Naganami with six other destroyers (four of them carrying troops). The following evening our destination was reached, and troops began to debark. Frequent squalls made visibility so poor that several enemy planes which came searching for us had to fly extremely low to make their sightings. Spotting us, they came in to make persistent attacks. About the same time an enemy submarine crept up on us and fired four torpedoes which did no damage. Our patrol boats counterattacked the submarine with depth charges whose effect was unknown. These attacks made it clear that the enemy was aware of our transportation intentions to Munda, and thereafter his attacks in this vicinity became increasingly intense.
Our force returned safely to Rabaul on the 18th. In the next seven days our group of ten destroyers, minelayer Tsugaru, and a few transports completed five runs to New Georgia. One of these moves was carried out by six destroyers carrying Army personnel to construct a base at Wickham on the southwest coast of Vangunu.
On Christmas Day, during the last of these transportations to Munda, transport Nankai Maru took a torpedo from an American submarine. Destroyer Uzuki, in trying to retaliate against the submarine, collided with the transport and became unnavigable when two firerooms were flooded. I proceeded at once with four destroyers to the rescue of the damaged ships. The crew of Nankai Maru were taken on board our destroyers, and we returned to base with Uzuki in tow.
On Guadalcanal more than 15,000 officers and men of the Imperial Japanese Army and Navy were on the point of starvation. Such of their number and strength as had not been tapped by hunger were suffering from malaria, so that their fighting power was practically gone. An unfortunate situation had become desperate. All efforts to bring in adequate supplies had failed. To leave these men on the island any longer meant only to lose them to death and capture. As this inevitability became obvious to the Supreme Command, the decision was finally made for a general withdrawal, and orders to this effect were issued to the local headquarters of both services. Joint conferences were held at Rabaul in utmost secrecy. Plans were discussed and adopted, and methods for carrying out the plans were worked out in fine detail. The evacuation operation was scheduled for early January, 1943; the withdrawal point was to be Cape Esperance on the northwest tip of Guadalcanal. It was further decided that, instead of transport ships, every available destroyer of the reinforcement unit would be used to conduct the evacuation. Tardy as it was, my staff and I, fully realizing and understanding the forlorn situation, were glad that the operation was finally going to be carried out.
Full plans and preparations for the evacuation of Guadalcanal had just been completed when I received orders of transfer to the Naval General Staff, effective December 27. My successor, Rear Admiral Tomiji Koyanagi, Chief of Staff to the Second Fleet, arrived at Rabaul on December 29. We discussed in detail his new assignment, and I turned over the command. There were sad farewells to my staff and friends who had for so long shared, fought, and suffered the fates of war with me. In the late afternoon of that day, pained and weary, I boarded a plane and left Rabaul for the homeland.
A simple statement of the facts makes it clear that the Japanese attempt to reinforce Guadalcanal ended in failure. The causes of this failure, however, are probably as diverse as the people who may offer them. From my position as commander of the Reinforcement Force I submit that our efforts were unsuccessful because of the following factors:
Command complications. At one and the same time I was subject to orders from Combined Fleet, Eleventh Air Fleet, and Eighth Fleet. This was confusing at best; and, when their orders were conflicting and incompatible, it was embarrassing at least, and utterly confounding at its worst.
Force composition. In almost every instance the reinforcement of Guadalcanal was attempted by forces hastily thrown together, without specially trained crews, and without previous opportunity to practice or operate together. Various types of ships of widely varying capabilities were placed under my command one after the other, creating unimaginable difficulties and fore-ordaining the failure of their effort.
Inconsistent operation plans. There never was any consistent operation plan. Vessels, troops, and supplies were assembled piecemeal to suit the occasion of the moment without overall long-range plan or purpose. This was a frailty our Army and Navy should have recognized soon after the outbreak of the China Incident. It was a fatal Japanese weakness that continued through the attempts to reinforce Guadalcanal and even after.
Communication failures. Our communication system was seldom good, and during the fall and winter of 1942 it was almost consistently terrible. In wide theaters of operations and under difficult battle situations it is indispensable for a tactical commander to have perfect communication with his headquarters and with his subordinate units. The consequence of poor communications is failure.
Army-Navy coordination. This situation was generally unendurable. It did little good for the Army or the Navy to work out their own plans independently, no matter how well founded, if they were not coordinated. Time and time again in these operations their coordination left much to be desired.
Underestimation of the enemy. In belittling the fighting power of the enemy lay a basic cause of Japan's setback and defeat in every operation of the Pacific War. Enemy successes were deprecated and alibied in every instance. It was standard practice to inflate our own capabilities to the consequent underestimation of the enemy's. This was fine for the ego but poor for winning victories.
Inferiority in the air. Our ships, without strong air support, were employed in an attempt to recapture a tactical area where the enemy had aerial superiority. This recklessness resulted only in adding to our loss of ships and personnel.
The greatest pity was that every Japanese commander was aware of all these factors, yet no one seemed to do anything about any of them. Our first fruitless attempt to recapture Guadalcanal was made with a lightly equipped infantry regiment. The key points of the island had already been strongly fortified by United States Marines under cover of a strong naval force. The next Japanese general offensive was made with one lightly equipped brigade against the same points, and it also failed. Meanwhile the enemy had increased and strengthened his defenses by bringing up more sea and land fighting units. Japan's only response was to bring forward a full division in a direct landing operation. Ignoring the tremendous difference in air strength between ourselves and the enemy, this landing operation was attempted directly in front of the enemy-held airfield. As a result, officers and men were able to disembark, but there was no chance to unload our heavy guns and ammunition. We stumbled along from one error to another while the enemy grew wise, profited by his wisdom, and advanced until our efforts at Guadalcanal reached their unquestionable and inevitable end - in failure.
It was certainly regrettable that the Supreme Command did not profit or learn from repeated attempts to reinforce the island. In vain they expended valuable and scarce transports and the strength of at least one full division. I believe that Japan's operational and planning errors at Guadalcanal will stand forever as classic examples of how not to conduct a campaign.
Operations to reinforce Guadalcanal extended over a period of more than five months. They amounted to a losing war of attrition in which Japan suffered heavily in and around that island. The losses of our Navy alone amounted to two battleships, three cruisers, twelve destroyers, sixteen transports, well over one hundred planes, thousands of officers and men, and prodigious amounts of munitions and supplies. There is no question that Japan's doom was sealed with the closing of the struggle for Guadalcanal. Just as it betokened the military character and strength of her opponent, so it presaged Japan's weakness and lack of planning that would spell her defeat.