The Battle of Surigao Strait*

 

There were no replacement torpedoes on hand for the destroyers, which were also down to about 20 per cent of their allowance in 5- inch shell.

All available motor torpedo boats were stationed at intervals along the southern entrance to Surigao Strait, and as far west as Camiguin Island in the Mindanao Sea, to report the approaching enemy and if possible to reduce his strength. Next would come classic torpedo attacks, first by the right flank destroyers (Captain McManes), to be followed shortly by those of the left flank (Captain Smoot), while Commander Hubbard’s Division “Xray” screened Battle Line. This plan was augmented through the enterprise of Captain Coward.

The conferences concluded, Admiral Oldendorf at 1725 October 24 notified Admirals Kinkaid and Wilkinson of his intentions by dispatch. He was all set to give the Japanese everything he had.

All battleship and cruiser planes that could not be stowed in ships’ hangars were put on the beach that afternoon to avoid battle damage and fires, such as had proved disastrous in the Battle of Savo Island. Air power did not participate in the Battle of Surigao Strait until the pursuit phase after break of day.

Destroyer Squadron 54, seven almost new 2,100-tonners commanded by Captain J. G. Coward, had been acting as Surigao Strait antisubmarine picket patrol since A-day. On the afternoon of October 24, four were patrolling the narrows between Leyte and Hibuson Island, a fifth covered the channel between Hibuson and Desolation Point, Dinagat, and two patrolled a north-south line between Desolation Point and Homonhon Island. Admiral Oldendorf did not include Desron 54 in his battle plan because they were under Admiral Wilkinson’s command; but that did not faze Captain Coward, a veteran of the Battle of Guadalcanal. At 1950 October 24 he sent “Oley” this message: “In case of surface contact to the southward I plan to make an immediate torpedo attack and then retire to clear you. With your approval I will submit plan shortly.” Fifteen minutes later, Oldendorf radioed his approval. At 2008, Captain Coward sent the Admiral his basic plan, details to follow shortly. Coward did not merely volunteer; he announced that he was going in.

The night of October 24-25 was tense for everyone, including the remaining ships of the amphibious forces. Every sailor in San Pedro Bay was conscious of his dependence on Admiral Oldendorf’s ships. Although the rest of Seventh Fleet could not support “Oley” directly, they lent him plenty of hope and an assortment of prayers.

The PT Boats Attack

Forty-five motor torpedo boats under Commander S. S. Bowling, Commander Motor Torpedo Boat Squadrons Seventh Fleet, made the 1,100-mile run from Mios Woendi to Leyte Gulf via Kossol Roads, accompanied by tenders Wachapreague, Oyster Bay, and Willoughby, arriving between October 21 and 23. Liloan Harbor, on the west side of Panaon Strait, sheltered from all winds but accessible, was selected as base for the first tender and the southernmost patrols, while the northern patrols operated from the other two tenders in San Pedro Bay.

On the afternoon of October 24, all “Peter Tares” in Leyte Gulf began streaking southward, making so much noise and fuss that everyone’s attention was attracted; “Something must be cooking down the Strait” was the current reaction. At noon, Admiral Kinkaid had passed the word to Commander Bowling to collect all available boats and patrol Surigao Strait intensively after dark.

This was just what the PT sailors had been wanting to do for two years. The boats were designed for fast, hit-and-run torpedo attacks on enemy ships, but they had had little or no torpedo experience since the struggle for Guadalcanal and the action in Blackett Strait on August 2, 1943. In the Southwest Pacific, as in the South Pacific, they had been usefully employed as patrol craft and fast gunboats, but torpedo training had been neglected. The only “fish” that most of them had fired since 1943 was in a practice before departing Mios Woendi.

Lieutenant Commander R. A. Leeson, commanding the battle patrols, disposed his 39 available PTs in thirteen sections of three boats each. All were on station before dark.

For want of night-flying, radar-equipped patrol planes, these PTs were the “eyes of the fleet.” Their orders were to report all contacts, surface or air, visual or radar, and attack independently. The four northernmost patrols were instructed to get clear and stay clear “if and when Captain Coward’s and Admiral OldendorPs forces moved into their patrol areas.”

The boats lay-to on station, so as to leave no wake and to have best conditions for radar and radio operation. The sea in the Strait was smooth and glassy—-just what they wanted. The atmosphere was fairly clear until a quartering moon set shortly after midnight. Then the sky became partly overcast and the night went pitchblack. The northeast wind was light—about five knots, rising to ten when rain squalls swept down the Strait. But there were not many of them; it was a fairly dry night for the eastern Philippines.

On such a night as this the Pacific Fleet had swapped punches with the enemy in Iron Bottom Bay, up the Slot, and off Empress Augusta Bay. But it had never before been so well prepared, with a flock of PTs to intercept, three destroyer squadrons to deliver torpedo attacks, and a Battle Line to cap the enemy’s column.

Since the Japanese South Force was really two independent groups which had no tactical connection, we may follow each one in turn.

The first group, Vice Admiral Nishimura’s Force “C” of No. 1 Striking Force, was the one with the two battleships. Its mission was to arrive off Tacloban in Leyte Gulf just before dawn (which, as the Japanese reckoned dawn was at 0430, the first glimmer of light), at the same time as Kurita’s Center Force. This timing was essential to the success of Admiral Toyoda’s Sho-1 battle plan, which called for a pincer movement on the American amphibious forces in Leyte Gulf. Whether Nishimura imagined he could get through Surigao Strait without a fight, we do not know; but any hope he may have had of joining Kurita in a merry massacre of amphibious craft and transports, which he believed to be present in great abundance,² must have vanished around 1830 October 24 when he received Admiral Kurita’s signal of 1600 to the effect that Center Force had been delayed by the air battle of the Sibuyan Sea. Nishimura, nevertheless, maintained course and speed, and felt confirmed in this decision around 1900 by Toyoda’s order: “All forces will dash to the attack.”

Commander Mishino, skipper of Shigure (the only one of Nishimura’s ships that escaped destruction), later observed that the Admiral was “the sort of fellow who would prefer to fight a night battle,”³ because the Japanese Navy excelled in night work early in the war. Admiral Nishimura probably reflected that his best chance of penetrating the Gulf lay under cover of darkness, since he had no air support or combat air patrol.

At 2013 he sent off a message to Toyoda and Kurita that he expected “to penetrate to a point off Dulag” at 0400 next morning—a minor change from the Tacloban target at 0430. At about 2200 he received Kurita’s message of 2145, to the effect that Center Force was due off Suluan Island at 0600 and would penetrate Leyte Gulf about 1100. This confirmed what he already learned, that he need expect no help from Kurita within the Gulf. Already Nishimura had sent Mogami and three destroyers ahead of the two battleships and Shigure, to reconnoiter. The Mogami group maintained a NE course, while the flag group stood over toward Bohol.

At 2236 Ensign Peter Gadd’s PT-131 of Section 1, operating off Bohol, picked up the flag group on radar, and the three boats closed to the attack at 24 knots. At 2250 they sighted Nishimura, distant three miles. Two minutes later, destroyer Shigure sighted them.

That moment marks the end of peaceful cruising for Nishimura, and the opening of the Battle of Surigao Strait—which neither the Admiral nor any of his ships, except the destroyer that made this sighting, survived.

Admiral Nishimura ordered an emergency turn to starboard, toward the PTs, at 2254. Two minutes later, when the boats were trying to put their contact reports through, they were illuminated, taken under gunfire by Shigure, and straddled with 4.7-inch shell as they zigzagged violently and made smoke. Deploying, they sought to close range for a torpedo attack, but were unable to do so. PT- 152, in the beam of Shigure's searchlight, received a hit which blew up her 37-mm. gun, killed one man, and wounded three of her crew of 15. A shell passed right through PT- 130 while she was making smoke to cover PT-152. Although it did not explode, the concussion knocked out all her radio apparatus. As soon as the action broke off, PT- 130 made best speed to close the nearby Section 2, in order to get off her contact report. It was relayed from PT-127 to Wachapreague at ten minutes after midnight and reached Admiral Oldendorf at 0026 October 25.

That was the first definite information received by him of the enemy since around 1000 the previous morning. It confirmed the wisdom of his dispositions, and required no change in his battle plan.

In the meantime the Mogami group had passed FT Section No. 2, off Camiguin Island, undetected. Both groups kept coming at 18 knots, and at 2330 Nishimura radioed Kurita and Shima: “Advancing as scheduled while destroying enemy torpedo boats.” His force was next sighted at 2350, southwest of Limasawa Island, by Lieutenant (jg) Dwight Owen’s Section No. 3. PT-151 and PT-146 fired one torpedo each at Mogami at 0015 but apparently were rattled by her searchlight and missed. All three boats of this section retired, zigzagging and smoking and pursued by shellfire from destroyer Tamagumo, but escaped without a hit, despite failure of the port engine of PT-151 for three minutes. Owing to mechanical failures, and possibly to enemy jamming, no contact report from this section got off until 0330.

It was the same story right up the Strait. Each succeeding motor torpedo boat section along the enemy’s course observed gun flashes of the previous fight; made contact itself; attempted to get off its report (and sometimes did); went in for attack; fired torpedoes which missed; became brightly illuminated by enemy searchlights; came under brisk but inaccurate gunfire, and retired under a smoke screen.

Nishimura was well pleased with the way his ships had dealt with these nuisances. At 0100 he advised both Kurita, who was already out of San Bernardino Strait, and Shima, who was then 35 to 40 miles astern, that he would pass Panaon Island at 0130 and “penetrate into Leyte Gulf. Several torpedo boats sighted but enemy situation otherwise unknown.”

In the meantime the two halves of Nishimura’s Group “C” had reunited. The rendezvous point, set for 0030, about ten miles SW of Limasawa Island, was effected ten minutes later. At 0100 the reunited Force “C” assumed approach formation. Destroyers Michishio and Asagumo were the van, followed at a distance of four kilometers by Yamashiro with Shigure and Tamagumo on either flank, and at one-kilometer intervals astern of them steamed Fuso and Mogami.

At the narrows between Panaon and Sumilon Islands, Lieutenant Commander Robert Leeson’s motor torpedo boat Section No. 6 closed to attack. His flagship, PT-134, fired at Nishimura’s force at 0205, just as it was changing to a due north course off Caniguin Point, and was driven off by gunfire. Lieutenant John M. McElfresh’s section, already moving south from its patrol sector (No. 9), saw what was going on, closed, and fired four torpedoes at the Japanese destroyers at 0207. None of them hit. In quick succession came searchlight illumination, gunfire, return fire, launching of two more torpedoes by PT- 490 and a shell hit on the same boat. PT-493, whose torpedo hung in the rack, covered the retirement of FT-490 with smoke and in so doing sustained three 4.7-inch hits which carried away the charthouse, punched a large hole in the bottom, killed two men and wounded five. “All hands in the cockpit were blown aft, but resumed station,” reported the skipper, Lieutenant (jg) R. W. Brown, USNR. Petty Officer A. W. Brunelle, described by a shipmate as “a slight, sissified-looking boy whom no one expected to be of any use in combat,” saved the boat by stuffing his life jacket into the hole; that checked the inflow of water enough to keep the engines running until they could beach her on Panaon Island. Lieutenant Brown and the rest of his crew waded ashore and established their own beachhead; PT-491 found them there shortly after sunrise, maintaining a perimeter defense with BARS and machine guns. PT-493 slid off the rocks at high tide and sank in deep water.

Following this brief and somewhat bloody brawl, Lieutenant Commander Tappaan’s Sumilon Island patrol (Section No. 8) which had seen the enemy ships silhouetted by their own star shell, attacked from the southeast, firing six torpedoes. The Japanese promptly illuminated and fired on these three boats, which retired without damage, and without making any hits.

PT-327 of Lieutenant C. T. Gleason’s cross-strait patrol (Section No. 11) sighted Nishimura’s force at 0225, when it was about ten miles away. She reported the contact to Captain Coward, who promptly replied that PTs had better clear out as he was coming down the Strait.

So far as Nishimura was concerned, the motor torpedo boat phase of the Batde of Surigao Strait ended at 0213 October 25, when he drove off the last attack by Tappaan’s section. Including later actions in the Strait on October 25, thirty of the 39 PTs on patrol had got into some sort of fight. Altogether, they fired 34 torpedoes, all but two of which ran “hot, straight and normal,” but obtained only the hit on Abukuma of Admiral Shima’s Second Striking Force. They neither stopped nor confused the enemy, and were chased away by his gunfire.

Nevertheless, they performed an indispensable service through their contact reports which, in addition to the fireworks that they produced from the enemy, alerted Admiral Oldendorfs forces. Under the battle conditions in which the MTBs operated, their reporting was good; anything approaching it in Guadalcanal days would have saved the Navy several ships and hundreds of lives. The “Peter Tare” boys showed determination in closing for attack, and cool courage in their snakelike retirement under fire. And they proved to be surprisingly tough. Of the 30 boats which came under enemy gunfire, 10 were hit but only one was expended, and the total casualties were 3 killed and 20 wounded.

But Nishimura kept coming, and Shima was not far behind.

Coward’s Destroyers Attack

Nishimura seems to have had no inkling of the overwhelming force into whose grip he was advancing. Following the MTB attacks, which ended about 0213 off Sumilon Island, his first serious encounter was with Captain Coward’s destroyer Squadron 54.

When the moon set at 0006 October 25, Captain Coward’s seven destroyers were patrolling their stations on the line Hingatungan Point-Hubuson-Desolation Point-Homonhon, anxiously awaiting word from the PT boats. Except when an occasional lightning flash revealed the high shores of the Strait, visibility was not more than two or three miles over open water. The sea was glassy, the temperature about 80°F., and only the wind made by the destroyers’ speed brought relief to men topside. Those below decks sweated; for these destroyers, like almost all United States ships at that time, were not air-conditioned. The skippers were worried about their fuel which, owing to their activity during the past few days, was down to 45 per cent capacity.

A few minutes later, at 0026, the first contact report on Nishimura from the PTs reached Admiral Oldendorf, and at 0038 he received a second contact report on Shima and knew that he had to deal with two enemy columns, widely spaced. At 0107 word was received from PT-523 (relayed from PT-134) of star shell seen 10 miles west of Panaon Island—Nishimura’s two groups making rendezvous. And at 0200, Oldendorf heard directly from PT-134 that she had seen a ship proceeding up Surigao Strait with the blunt southern end of Panaon Island abeam. These reports were passed promptly to Captain Coward: the enemy was now about 30 miles south of his patrol line.

Captain Coward planned an “anvil” attack by two groups: the western composed of McDermul and Monssen⁴ with Commander Richard H. Phillips of Desdiv 108 as O.T.C., and the eastern composed of Remey, McGowan and Melvin with himself in command. The remaining two destroyers of his squadron were left on picket patrol between Desolation Point and Homonhon Island, an entrance to the Gulf that had to be covered in case another enemy force attempted to approach that way. The captain announced that attack speed would be 30 knots and that individual target plan with intermediate speed setting would be used in firing torpedoes.⁵ After launching the attack, Coward proposed to retire close under the land in order to keep out of the way of friendly forces, with which he was determined not to mix. And he also ordered his squadron to “use ‘fish’ only.” It is the natural inclination to shoot off everything you have when face-to-face with the enemy, but Coward knew that shooting would merely disclose his position and that his 5-inch shell would not stop a battleship. He intended to use his destroyers in the classic manner, to launch an offensive torpedo attack before heavy ships came within gunfire range. The Naval War College in Newport had been preaching this doctrine for years, but it had seldom been practiced in World War II and had never quite “clicked.”

A deliberate and well-anticipated night attack is far more exacting on the nerves than a surprise engagement. All hands were served coffee and sandwiches after midnight, and all took turns “calking off.” At 0206 Captain Coward ordered his five destroyers to General Quarters. Remey, McGowan and Melvin on the eastern side, McDermut and Monssen on the western side, formed two columns.

McGowan and Melvin got the word “follow me” from Coward at 0230, and started south at 20 knots. Commander Phillips already had his western group headed south on course 170°. Shortly after they got going, a typical before-the-battle speech was given by the skipper of Monssen over the public-address system: “To all hands. This is the Captain. We are going into battle. I know each of you will do his duty. I promise you that I will do my duty to you and for our country. Good luck to you, and may God be with us.”

At 0240 McGowan reported “Skunk 184°, 18 miles.” That was the enemy. By 0245 the “skunk” had resolved itself on the radar screen into a column steering due north, distant fifteen miles.

Admiral Nishimura had almost completed a change from approach to battle formation, when his column would be headed by the four destroyers, followed by flagship Tamashiro and, at one-kilometer intervals, by Fuso and Mogami. The last half-hour of his cruise, since chasing off McElfresh’s three motor torpedo boats, had been uneventful. There was no sound but the swishing of water alongside and the drafts from the engines within. Perhaps the Admiral and his men hoped to enter the Gulf with no further trouble. If so, they learned better at 0256 when the cat-eyed lookouts in Shigure reported three ships (Coward’s division) distant 8 kilometers—4.3 miles. Tamashiro snapped open the shutters on her biggest searchlight and swept ahead, but her enemy was too far away to be caught in the beam. Coward ordered 25 knots bent on, which meant closing the enemy at 45 knots, and at 0250 began turning his column left to course 150° in order to obtain a good target angle.

Commander Phillips in McDermut with Monssen, steaming close abroad Leyte for protection from radar detection, got the enemy on his screens at 0254. He planned, when the right moment came, to turn his column towards the enemy and reach a torpedo firing point 50 degrees on his bow, distant 7,500 yards. Coward, on the other hand, was steaming in midstrait, almost head-on.⁶ He planned to turn his column in three successive movements to 120° before firing torpedoes. At 0257 he so ordered: “I will take first target, you and Melvin take second; Comdesdiv 108 (Phillips) take small one and also No. 3.” About this time, a few minutes before six bells, visibility slightly improved. Lookouts on Melvin at 0258 sighted Nishimura’s ships.

Range was then 12,800 yards. Coward immediately ordered funnel smoke, turned column left to 120°, gave the order “Fire when ready” and bent on 30 knots. At half a minute after three o’clock, Remey, McGowan and Melvin commenced launching torpedoes. Their ranges to the target were then estimated to be from 8,200 to 9,300 yards. A large, bright searchlight illuminated Remey, making her crew feel “like animals in a cage.” In about 75 seconds 27 torpedoes left these three destroyers. With eight minutes to wait before the results could be known, Coward swung hard to port and retired on base course 21°, each destroyer making smoke and zigzagging independently. When they were still making the turn, they came under fire by Yamashiro and the enemy destroyers. By 0305, salvos of 5-inch shell were falling all around Coward’s ships. The searchlight was no longer seen, but enemy star shell was being exploded liberally overhead. With a 35-knot speed, the United States destroyers quickly drew out of gunfire range and sustained not one hit, not even a near miss.

Admiral Nishimura should have guessed that his enemy had fired torpedoes but he took no evasive action. Between 0308 and 0309, two to five explosions—not gunfire— were seen in the direction of the target from Coward’s rapidly retiring destroyers. Shortly thereafter, the largest ship in the enemy van was seen to slow down and sheer out to starboard. This was Fuso, hit by a torpedo from Melvin. Nishimura did not observe this, and apparently nobody cared to tell him the unpleasant news, as he continued sending orders to the stricken battleship as if she were still in column.

Now let us shift our attention to Commander Phillips’s division, to McDermut and Monssen. At 0256 they picked up the enemy by radar, distant 29,700 yards. At 0302 they were still steaming due south, about 3,500 yards off the Leyte shore, when Phillips received word that Coward’s division had fired torpedoes and was retiring. Phillips maintained course, paralleling the enemy’s in the opposite direction, until 0308 when he swung 50 degrees towards the target to course 130° in order to bring his destroyers to the planned firing point. At that moment the enemy opened fire on Monssen. Six salvos landed short or over in the next three minutes. Commander Bergin promptly brought his ship left, in order to be on McDermut’’s port quarter when firing torpedoes, thus to avoid the possibility of being blanketed or delayed at the firing point. This maneuver also closed range toward the enemy. At 0309 McDermut and Monssen swung back to course 180°, Monssen north of McDermut; and a minute later Commander Phillips ordered torpedoes to be fired when ready. The word was hardly out of his mouth when McDermut began launching, and Monssen followed at 0311. This time, Nishimura did take evasive action, two simultaneous right-angled turns, which had the effect of bringing his screen right into the track of Phillips’s torpedoes. At 0320 Monssen and McDermut observed a most welcome sight, the flashes of explosions. After the war was over, he ascertained that McDermut hit no fewer than three destroyers—Yamagumo, Michishio and Asagumo—of which the first immediately blew up and sank, the second was placed in a sinking condition, and the third had her bow blown off, but was able to retire. Monssen made a torpedo hit on battleship Yamashiro but failed to stop her.

The two destroyers had already swung sharp right (westerly) to retire. McDermut now sighted two PTs between her and the shore and promptly turned north, warning the boats twice not to fire, which they were overheard requesting permission to do. At that moment a bright green light appeared in the direction of Leyte, probably a parachute flare dropped by a plane, whether friendly or enemy we cannot tell; the Japanese, who also observed it, were equally puzzled. A searchlight beam found Monssen, and shells began to drop so close aboard her and McDermut as to splash water over their after guns. Both destroyers made smoke to the best of their ability, and took a quick zig toward the enemy, masking the green light to the great joy of all hands, and also getting out of the searchlight beam.

Captain Coward was certain that he had scored on at least three ships with the 47 torpedoes fired from his two divisions. Actually he scored on five and sank three, including Fuso which went down later. “Brilliantly conceived and well executed,” was Admiral Oldendorf’s opinion of this torpedo attack.

Admiral Nishimura now knew he was in for it. At 0330, after passing disabled Michishio and Asagumo, he sent off his last radio message, to Admirals Kurita and Shima:

“Urgent Battle Report No. 2. Enemy torpedo boats and destroyers present on both sides of northern entrance to Surigao Strait. Two of our destroyers torpedoed and drifting. Yamashiro sustained one torpedo hit but no impediment to battle cruising.”

Right and Left Flank Destroyers Attack

Only ten minutes after the Japanese absorbed a spread of torpedoes from Monssen and McDermut, they were subjected to a similar attack from Desron 24, the right flank destroyers under Captain McManes.

At 0254, as Coward and Phillips were getting set to launch torpedoes, Rear Admiral Berkey, commanding the right flank, directed McManes by voice radio: “When released, attack in two groups. . . . Until then, stay close to land.” And, at 0302, “Proceed to attack, follow down west shore line, follow other groups in and return northward, make smoke.”

Five of McManes’s destroyers were 2,100-tonners and Hutchins, wearing the Captain’s pennant, was the first of her class to have a Combat Information Center below decks. It worked beautifully, providing not only information to the squadron and group commanders, but full gunnery and torpedo information to the ship. McManes directed the battle from C.I.C. instead of, as tradition required, from the bridge; an excellent decision, since thus he was not disconcerted by his own ship’s gunfire.

Squadron 24 steamed south in two sections: the first consisting of Hutchins, Daly and Bache; the second of H.M.A.S. Arunta⁷ followed by Kitten and Beale. This section, whose O.T.C. was Commander D. C. Buchanan RAN, heard from Captain McManes at 0317; “Boil up! Make smoke! Let me know when you have fired.” Two minutes later destroyer Yamagumo, hit by a torpedo from McDermut, exploded and illuminated the scene beautifully for Commander Buchanan’s attack.

At 0323 Arunta fired four torpedoes at Shigure, leading the enemy column, from a point about three miles northeast of the spot whence Phillips had launched 15 minutes earlier. The range was 6,500 yards, but all four missed. Kitten at 0325 launched five torpedoes at Yamashiro, range 8,700 yards; one of them hit and slowed her temporarily to 5 knots but did not stop her. A quarter of a minute later Beale launched five torpedoes, range 6,800 yards. Every one missed.

McManes’s own section bent on 25 knots, continued south to a point off" Amagusan Point, reversed course to north and fired 15 torpedoes at Nishimura’s force between 0329 and 0336, at ranges between 8,200 to 10,700 yards. Immediately after launching, two torpedo wakes were seen to cross Daly's bows; we do not know which Japanese ship was responsible. Bache also opened with gunfire on the enemy, who replied with inaccurate salvos. After steaming in a complete loop, McManes at 0344 commenced a wide turn to the east and north in order to close range. In Nishimura’s column Yamashiro had now built up speed to 15 knots and was steering 340°, about N by W; Mogami was making 20 knots due north, and Shigure, 26 knots. All three of McManes’s destroyers opened gunfire at 0340 on two damaged Japanese destroyers, presumably Michishio and Asagumo, which were trying to retire.

In a brisk destroyer action, the time it takes for torpedoes to make their run seems interminable. Hutchins, Daly and Bache, since launching theirs, had been under fire for twelve minutes, had executed one 180° turn and were about to make another when, at 0344, three large explosions were heard and round balls of orange flame were seen. These may have been the result of Fuso blowing up,⁸ but were probably flashes from Yamashiro's guns.

The picture of the enemy on McManes’s radarscopes was now decidedly ragged, and very different from the neat formation Coward had viewed some 50 minutes earlier. Yamashiro was pressing imperturbably north, Shigure and Mogami had sheered out on her starboard quarter; the others, all crippled, were drifting or trying to retire southward. McManes was just preparing to press his attack on the cripples when Admiral Berkey at 0349 ordered him to knock off and retire, lest he foul the range of the battleships and cruisers; but Hutchins did manage to launch five more torpedoes a minute later at Asagumo. She had just started a turn, which caused the torpedoes to miss her well ahead; but meanwhile Michishio had drifted into the course of the spread. Hutchins's torpedoes hit that unfortunate destroyer squarely, at about 1358, and she blew up and sank immediately.

In the meantime, Hutchins, Daly and Bache were firing with their main batteries at heavy cruiser Mogami, which was turning south to retire.

In retiring, McManes overtook Tamashiro, which was exchanging major-caliber gunfire with Admiral Weyler’s Battle Line. The doomed Japanese battleship took Hutchins, Daly and Bache under fire with her secondary battery. Commander Visser of Daly reported that one of her salvos was so accurate in deflection that its tracer gave him the sensation of a center-fielder on a baseball diamond waiting for a fly ball to land right in his glove. Fortunately, the salvo was an over—and Visser did not jump for the ball. Hutchins, too, was near-missed. She ceased fire at 0400, observing that the light cruisers were “more than adequate.” Daly carried on until 0405½. Rear Admiral Berkey, who had followed McManes’s movement with “gratification and comfort,” was now taking over the fight on the American right flank.

Admiral Oldendorf still had another destroyer squadron to throw at Nishimura before opening gunfire. This was Captain Smoot’s Destroyer Squadron 56, which had the duty of screening the left flank cruisers. At 0335, before McManes’s final torpedo attack, Smoot got the word: “Launch attack—get the big boys!”

The squadron deployed, Captain Smoot’s Section 1 (Albert W. Grant, Richard P. Leary, and Newcomb) and Captain Conley’s Section 2 (Bryant, Halford, Robinson) passing east, and Commander Boulware’s Section 3 (Bennion, Leutze, Heywood L. Edwards) west of the left- flank cruisers. The exact areas from which each section should attack had been predetermined. They steamed southward, speed 25 knots, approaching the enemy column on both bows. At 0345 Captain Conley, having reached his allotted firing area and observing a glow on the southern horizon which he believed to be enemy gun flashes, signaled: “This has to be quick. Stand by your fish.” The Japanese observed him and opened fire at 0351, but the splashes fell so short and wide that counterfire was withheld lest gun flashes give away his position. Conley’s three destroyers fired five torpedoes each between 0354 and 0359, ranges 8,380 to 9,000 yards. All missed. The section then retired close to Hibuson Island.

Commander Boulware’s Section 3 fired torpedoes between 0357 and 0359—range 7,800 to 8,000 yards—at Shigure and Tamashiro. The former escaped by a radical turn from 010° to 185°. She possibly, and the battleship certainly, took Edwards, Bennion and Leutze under gunfire at the moment of launching torpedoes and the shell splashes chased them as they turned toward Leyte and retired under smoke. No hits were scored by either side.

Captain Smoot’s own Section 1 ran into trouble. His plan was to attack the enemy from dead ahead, right in the center of the Strait. At 0400, as he was evaluating the target on his radar screen and making sure it was not Coward, Yamashiro slowed down and turned from a northerly to a westerly course. Smoot’s destroyers turned right to parallel the battleship, and at 0404 commenced launching torpedoes (Leary three, Newcomb and Grant five each) from a range of 6,200 yards. Of Newcomb's torpedoes, it is believed that at least one scored. Two large explosions were observed on Yamashiro at 0411½, the exact moment when her “fish” should have found their mark; and a Japanese warrant officer who survived reported that the battleship took four torpedo hits, of which we have accounted for only two in the earlier destroyer attacks.

Since the main gunfire action had now been going on for almost fifteen minutes, an assortment of projectiles arched over Newcomb, Leary and Grant from both contending forces. Captain Smoot was not too busy to observe the gorgeous pyrotechnic display. As the enemy gave him considerable attention, he ordered retirement northward immediately after firing torpedoes. Newcomb and Leary made their getaway successfully, shells from both sides falling all around them; but the rear destroyer, Albert W. Grant, was hit at 0407, just as she started to turn. Realizing that she was to be the goat, she launched all remaining torpedoes toward the enemy and made best possible speed. But she absorbed 18 more hits—eleven of them 6-inch from a “friendly” light cruiser and the others 4.7 from the enemy—and by 0420 lay dead in the water. Thirty-four officers and enlisted men were killed or missing and 94 were wounded, the skipper (Commander Nisewaner) himself going below to pull wounded men from the oil-soaked, burning engine- room.

Captain Smoot ordered Newcomb to lash herself alongside Grant and haul her clear. She was saved, and repaired in time to take part in the Okinawa operation.

The torpedo attacks in this battle were one of the best of the entire Pacific war, and that of Phillips’s division may well be considered the most successful. It would be difficult to make a comparison of these destroyer commanders with Arleigh Burke and Moosbrugger; but they were certainly in the same class. Coward and McManes have been criticized for launching torpedoes at long range with poor target angles, instead of closing to the most effective firing points. But in so narrow a strait they had to be careful to avoid running aground or firing on friendly forces, and their collective efforts accounted for about 75 per cent of the fire power in Nishimura’s force. Not one of their ships sustained a casualty, or even a scratch. Captain Smoot pressed his attack admirably close, which is the main reason why his squadron was the only one to suffer.

The Major Gunfire Phase

While these torpedo attacks were being delivered, Battle Line and the two cruiser groups were waiting for the enemy to come within range. Shortly after 0230 General Quarters was sounded. Flares from torpedo hits were visible from 0320 on.

At 0330 all three task groups were near the western side of the Strait, steaming east. Nearest Leyte was the right flank, Admiral Berkey’s two light cruisers and H.M.A.S. Shropshire. About six miles east of his formation were the three heavy and two light cruisers of Admiral Oldendorfs left flank. West Virginia, leading Battle Line, lay about four miles north of Louisville and five miles or more northeast of Phoenix.

This situation was an answer to the prayers of a War College strategist or gunnery tactician. The enemy column, now reduced to one battleship, one heavy cruiser and one destroyer, was steaming into a trap. It was a very short vertical to a very broad T, but Oldendorf was about to cap it, as Togo had done to Rozhdestvensky in 1905 at the Battle of Tsushima Strait, and as thousands of naval officers had since hoped to accomplish.

At 0323, radar screens registered the enemy disposition. Ten minutes later—the range then being 33,000 yards—Admiral Weyler made signal to Battle Line to open fire at 26,000 yards, believing that if he waited longer his ships would lose their initial advantage of having five salvos of armor-piercing ammunition immediately available. Admiral Oldendorf ordered all cruisers to open fire at 0351 when Louisville’s range to the nearest target was 15,600 yards. They promptly complied, and at 0353 Battle Line joined in, range 22,800 yards. Five of these six battleships had been hit or sunk in the Pearl Harbor attack of December 7, 1941. They had been getting their revenge only by installments—this was the Tennessee's eleventh operation since Pearl—but the payoff was only a few minutes away.

Yamashiro slowed to 12 knots at 0352 but continued on course 20° for seven minutes, firing at visible targets, for she had no fire control radar. Nishimura was steaming boldly into a terrific concentration of gunfire, supported only by heavy cruiser Mogami astern and destroyer Shigure on his starboard quarter. His last message was to Fuso at 0352, asking her to make top speed. There was no reply from that sinking battleship, and as “all hell broke loose” just then, Nishimura never informed Shima what was happening; Commander Second Striking Force had to find that out for himself.

West Virginia, Tennessee, and ' California, equipped with the newest Mark 8 fire control radar, had a firing solution in main battery plot and were ready to shoot long before the enemy came within range. These three were responsible for most of the battle line action. West Virginia opened fire at 0353, and got off 93 rounds of 16-inch AP before checking. Tennessee and California, starting at 0355, shot 69 and 63 rounds of 14-inch AP respectively, fired in six-gun salvos so as to conserve their limited supply. The other three battleships, equipped with Mark-3 fire control radar, had difficulty finding a target. Maryland picked it up by ranging on West Virginia's splashes and got off 48 rounds of 16-inch in six salvos, starting at one minute before 0400. Mississippi fired a single salvo and Pennsylvania never managed to locate a target and took no part in the action.⁹

The speed of Battle Line had been increased to 15 knots at 0329, which brought it so far east at the moment of opening fire that almost immediately a change of course was necessary to close range and get a better turret train angle for main batteries. So, at 0355, Battle Line executed ships right from 90° to 120°. At that moment Tamashiro bore 192°, 20,990 yards from Mississippi. Heavy Cruiser Mogami, about 3,000 yards further, appeared to be reversing course. And at 0402, at Admiral Oldendorf’s suggestion, Battle Line turned due west, completing the turn at 0406. Two minutes later Mississippi got on the big target and fired a full salvo, range 19,790 yards. Admiral Oldendorf had just ordered Cease Fire, but she had not yet got the word. Thus, Mississippi had the honor of firing the last major-caliber salvo of the battle; and, as it turned out, sounding the knell of the old battle line tactics which had been foremost in naval warfare since the seventeenth century.¹⁰

While Japanese sailors worked frantically to make temporary repairs, every size of projectile from 6-inch through 16-inch came pouring into their two unfortunate ships; for the heavy and light cruisers on both flanks were also shooting. The enemy gamely returned fire, Mogami for a few minutes and Yamashiro longer. The Japanese battleship directed her main battery fire at the enemy cruisers, while her secondary battery, as we have seen, fired at the retiring torpedo squadrons; but neither one nor the other had any effect. She and Mogami scored hits only on Grant, and a near-miss on destroyer Claxton, the only major-caliber splash observed from Battle Line, which Claxton was then screening. “If we had been the leading battleship, it would have resulted in an extremely well placed hit,” remarked that destroyer’s skipper. Even Japanese pyrotechnics failed; star shell came down so far short of the United States ships that it failed to illuminate them.

On the left flank, Denver commenced firing at 0351 at a range of 15,800 yards; within a minute Minneapolis, Columbia and Portland followed. These cruisers contributed materially to the weight of gunfire on Yamashiro. At 0358 Portland shifted fire to Mogami, then trying to retire, and Denver attempted to stop the lively and elusive destroyer Shigure, but probably hit friendly Albert W. Grant instead. Louisville also tossed salvos at the unfortunate Grant, and fortunately missed. In return, these cruisers received most of such attention as the enemy was in a position to give. Denver, Columbia, and Minneapolis were straddled by 8-inch or larger splashes. The left flank cruisers, after shooting the fantastic total of 3,100 rounds,¹¹ obeyed Oldendorf’s order to check fire at 0409, reversed course to port, and commenced a westerly run.

In the meantime “Count” Berkey’s two right flank light cruisers, Phoenix and Boise, were adding to the assortment of hardware falling on hapless Yamashiro, their opening range being 16,600 yards. Phoenix fired 15- gun salvos at quarter-minute intervals; Boise went to continuous rapid fire at 0353, but was ordered by Berkey to “fire slow and deliberate” to save bullets. Flashless powder was used, and the easterly night breeze on the cruisers’ bows was just strong enough to clear smoke between salvos and render optical spotting and visual observation possible. Large, bright flashes of explosions were seen on Yamashiro's decks and the cruisers believed that they were responsible. Their Australian companion, Shropshire, was having trouble with fire control radar and did not commence firing her 8-inch guns until 0356, and then did so slowly and deliberately. One minute later the two United States cruisers checked fire when the formation turned right to begin a westerly run. Shropshire continued shooting during the turn, and, as enemy salvos fell near her, commenced rapid fire; the other two resumed firing at 0400.¹²

At that moment, when eight bells marked the end of the eventful midwatch and the beginning of the morning watch, several things happened. Yamashiro, which had been zigzagging in a northerly direction during the last ten minutes, firing doggedly and absorbing numerous hits, straightened out on a west-by-south course. She was burning so brightly that even her 5-inch mounts stood out against flames which seemed to arise from her entire length. Heavy cruiser Mogami had already turned south to retire; Nishimura’s only surviving destroyer, Shigure, which had sheered out eastward, turned at 0356 when she was within sight of Hibuson Island. She received but one hit, an 8-inch AP which failed to explode, but a multitude of near-misses knocked out her gyro compass and radio. For want of radar she was unable to locate her enemy and missed a golden opportunity to launch torpedoes at formations which were in the act of reversing course.

Weyler’s Battle Line, having reached a point on its easterly run where Hibuson Island would soon mask gunfire, reversed course at 0401 by simultaneous turns, and continued to fire as it steered west.¹³ Right flank cruisers followed suit; left flank kept on westward. Since this maneuver closed the battleships’ range, the volume of fire became even greater and more accurate.

“The devastating accuracy of this gunfire,” reported Captain Smoot, who was in a good position to observe, “was the most beautiful sight I have ever witnessed. The arched line of tracers in the darkness looked like a continual stream of lighted railroad cars going over a hill. No target could be observed at first; then shortly there would be fires and explosions, and another ship would be accounted for.”

This show did not long continue. At 0409 Admiral Oldendorf on receiving word that Grant and her sisters were being hit by “Friendlies,” ordered all ships to cease fire, in order to give the destroyers time to retire. Admiral Nishimura and the officers and crew of Yamashiro must have regarded this ceasefire as God’s gift to the Emperor. In spite of the punishment their battleship had been taking, she increased speed to 15 knots, turned 90 degrees left, and began to retire southward. But she had less than ten minutes to live. At 0419 she capsized and sank, taking down Admiral Nishimura and all but a few members of the crew, who when recovered were too dazed or defiant to contribute any details about the end of their gallant ship.

Heavy cruiser Mogami, whose capacity for absorbing punishment exceeded even that of Yamashiro, turned left at 0353 when the shooting began, launched torpedoes at 0401, and at the same time was taken under gunfire from Captain McManes’s destroyers to the southwestward. She caught fire at 0356, turned south to retire, increased speed and made smoke, but received many more hits. At 0402 a salvo, probably from cruiser Portland, exploded on the bridge, killing the C.O., the Exec, and all other officers present; other hits were scored in engine and firerooms and she slowed almost to a stop.

At 0413, during the unearthly silence that followed the check-fire, destroyer Richard P. Leary reported torpedoes overtaking and passing her close aboard. These had been fired by Mogami just before she retired. As Leary was then headed north and only 11,000 yards from Battle Line, whose experience counseled a healthy respect for Japanese “fish,” Admiral Weyler ordered Mississippi, Maryland, and West Virginia to turn due north, away from the enemy, at 0148. Admiral Chandler conducted the other battleships westward. The northward turn took most of Battle Line out of the fight. When Admiral Oldendorf ordered all ships to resume fire at 0419, no target was left on their radar screens; Mogami was too far distant and Yamashiro had gone down. Nor were the cruisers able to find targets. The ten minutes’ grace accorded by the American check-fire allowed Shigure and Mogami to escape.

Even so, by twenty minutes after four on October 25, with only another twenty minutes to go before the first glimmerings of dawn appeared over Dinagat Island, Nishimura’s force, which had counted on being off Dulag by that time, was done for. Of the two battleships only the burning stern of Fuso was still afloat, three destroyers were sunk or stopped by torpedoes in midstrait, a badly damaged heavy cruiser and a damaged destroyer were retiring. And there was no consolation for the vanquished in having damaged the victors; for of Admiral Oldendorf’s force only destroyer Grant had been hit, and that mostly by her own side.

Admiral Shima’s Second Striking Force had not yet been heard from.

Shima Fires and Falls Back

In the last chapter we left Vice Admiral Shima’s Second Striking Force in the Mindanao Sea, making 22 knots to enter Leyte Gulf behind Vice Admiral Nishimura’s Force “C.” He had two heavy cruisers, Nachi and Ashigara, each carrying ten 8-inch guns and eight torpedo tubes, and each capable of making 36 knots. He had Abukuma, a three-piper light cruiser completed in 1935, flagship of Destroyer Squadron 1. She had the “Indian sign” on her as one of the ships that took part in the attack on Pearl Harbor; both she and Nachi had been in Admiral Hosogaya’s force which “Soc” McMorris had defeated in the Battle of the Komandorskis.

At midnight Shima received a message from Nishimura that he was being attacked by motor torpedo boats. At that time Second Striking Force was west of Camiguin Island and about 40 miles astern of Nishimura. Two destroyers abreast—-two kilometers apart—- led the column, consisting of the three cruisers and two more destroyers. At 0100 they observed gunfire flashes ahead, and over the radio heard Nishimura ordering his ships to avoid torpedoes and take evasive action. The next two hours were uneventful. At about 0315, when passing through a rain squall, they were fired at by PT-134 off Binit Point, Panaon, and missed. By 0320, when the squall had passed, Admiral Shima, observing that his left wing destroyer was close aboard Panaon Island, ordered a simultaneous turn to starboard and increased speed to 26 knots. Captain Coward had already delivered his torpedo attack on Nishimura and was retiring. At 0325, when the disposition was on an easterly course to clear Binit Point, light cruiser Abukuma was hit by a torpedo on her port side. The explosion killed about 30 men and slowed the cruiser to ten knots. She fell out of the formation, which continued northward, turning to course 20° at 0330. It was PT-137 commanded by Lieutenant (jg) I. M. Kovar, USNR that got Abukuma. He was actually shooting at a destroyer steaming south to take station at the rear of Shima’s disposition. The torpedo missed the destroyer, but hit the light cruiser.

As Shima’s column, now consisting of the two heavy cruisers and four destroyers, came due north and turned up 28 knots, it sighted broad on the starboard bow what appeared to be two big ships on fire. Passing west of them, at 0410, Shima decided that they were Fuso and Tamashiro, which was not very encouraging. Actually they were the two halves of Fuso.

At 0420, Shima still thought he was hastening to the support of Nishimura, who had just gone down with his ship. Heavy cruiser Ashigara was astern of Nachi; the four destroyers were ranging ahead northwesterly on course 330°, and all six ships were ready to fire torpedoes as soon as they found a target. Shima observed on his radar screen what he supposed to be two enemy ships bearing 25°, distant 13,000 yards, but which must have been the two Hibuson Islands, at twice that distance. At 0424 he ordered both cruisers to attack this target with torpedoes. They turned right to course 90° and fired eight torpedoes each at the island. This was Second Striking Force’s only contribution to the battle. The island was not damaged.

Shima now made a quick estimate of the situation. He did not know what had happened to Nishimura, but guessed the worst, and the heavy smoke made by American destroyers curtained his view northward. He decided to retire “temporarily” and await development of events. His four destroyers, which had now penetrated farther north than the cruisers without seeing anything to shoot at, were recalled about 0425. At the same time he sent a radio dispath to Vice Admiral Mikawa and to all SHO forces. “This force has concluded its attack and is retiring from the battle area to plan subsequent action.” Shima had unusual discretion for a Japanese admiral.

Presently burning Mogami was encountered. Believing her to be dead in the water, Captain Kanooka of Nachi turned to course 110° to clear, but Mogami was actually moving slowly south and the two heavy cruisers collided at 0430. Nachi's stern was badly damaged, there was some flooding and her speed was reduced to 18 knots. Mogami, miraculously, managed to turn up enough speed to fall in with Shima’s column, now heading south at Nachi's best speed. And Shima ordered Shigure to join. She had some difficulty in so doing as her steering engine was out of order. She ran afoul of Lieutenant Gleason’s MTB section at 0455, attacked, and made one slight hit on PT-321.

Thus, by five in the morning on October 25, with an hour and a half to go before sunrise, the Japanese Southern Force was broken up and in retreat. Battleships Fuso and Yamashiro had been sunk in the middle of the Strait; destroyers Yamagumo and Michishio had gone the same way, and of Nishimura’s force only lucky Mogami, swift Shigure and crippled Asagumo had so far escaped. But Shima’s two heavy cruisers and four destroyers, which had not been brought under American gunfire or torpedo attack, retired safely. There were plenty of pickings left for the pursuit phase of the battle.

Pursuit and Mop-up

This pursuit phase of the battle commenced at 0433 when Admiral Hayler reported to Admiral Oldendorf that his radar screen showed three enemy ships (Nachi, Ashigara, Mogami) retiring southward, distance 14 miles, and Oldendorf ordered Destroyer Division “Xray” to attack with torpedoes. “Oley” had already headed down the middle of the Strait in Louisville, followed in column by the other left flank cruisers and screened by Captain Smoot’s destroyers. He ordered right flank cruisers to start south along the Leyte shore, and at 0440 sent a message to Admiral Kinkaid: “Enemy cruisers and destroyers are retiring. Strongly recommend an air attack.”

Division “Xray” had been formed in order to screen Battle Line; it was under the tactical command of Claxton's skipper, Commander M. H. Hubbard. Admiral Oldendorf took no risk in stripping Battle Line of its screen, because no Japanese submarines had ever penetrated Leyte Gulf: but it is too bad that he did not give the order earlier. It took the “Xray” boys, for one reason or another, almost half an hour to form up and get going. Hubbard then bent on 25 knots but never got within range of the escaping ships. At 0535, when he caught up with the left flank cruisers, he was ordered to join their screen.

Twenty minutes later, Claxton in midchannel off Bugho Point sighted about 150 Japanese in the water and was ordered by Admiral Oldendorf to recover a few. The motor whaleboat was lowered but recovery was difficult without co-operation from the swimmers; there appeared to be an officer afloat who ordered them to stay clear. Finally three were picked up and, from one of these, a warrant officer who spoke English, was obtained the welcome information that his own ship, Yamashiro, had gone down.¹⁴

Day was now breaking. In the gray half- light one could just see the high, verdure-clad shores of Dinagat and Leyte. Visayan patriots had been gazing seaward all night, wondering what the flashes meant, but trusting they were ships of the hated “Hapon” Navy going down. Small groups of Japanese survivors began swimming ashore, to find a reception committee ready with sharp knives and bolos. On board the United States ships, everyone who could be spared topside came up for a breath of cool morning air, a look- around, and a discussion as to whether any of “them bastards” were still afloat. It was good that morning in Surigao Strait to be alive and with a deck under your feet. Up in San Pedro Bay, thousands of sailors in the amphibious forces had been up all night, watching the gun flashes reflected on the clouds, but too far off to hear even the distant mutter of gunfire. Now they began to receive a few reassuring words over the radio. Although it was not yet certain that the Southern Force was disposed of, the news from that quarter sounded well, and as all hands were piped to breakfast they mentally belayed the Southern Force.

By 0520 Admiral OldendorPs left flank cruisers had reached a point in the Strait about eight miles west of Eschonchada Point, where Nachi and Mogami had collided an hour earlier. To the southward one could see two Japanese ships on fire and a third that showed no sign of damage. Oldendorf ordered his column to turn right, to course 250°. Then —having checked and ascertained that the force to the southward was enemy—Louisville, Portland and Denver engaged Mogami. She received several direct hits. Although from Louisville she appeared to be “burning like a city block,” the last of her nine lives was not yet expended. Left flank cruisers at 0537 turned north, probably because “Oley” was unwilling to place them in Japanese torpedo water.

At about 0600 PT-491 of Lieutenant McElfresh’s cross-strait patrol sighted a heavy cruiser accompanied by several small vessels, four miles off Panaon Island, steaming south at six knots. She was identified as Mogami. The PT, commanded by Lieutenant (jg) H. A. Thronson, USNR, trailed her while trying to make his contact report over a jammed circuit. While so engaged he came under flinch fire from the cruiser for as much as 20 minutes, shells exploding as little as 25 yards away, drenching the boat and causing her to “leap right into the air.” When Mogami was about three miles off Caniguin Point, PT-491 fired two torpedoes at her and retired under heavy fire. Both missed.

Admiral Shima’s force was retiring so fast as to keep out of radar range of Oldendorf and Berkey, and Berkey was pulled out of the chase at 0540 to screen Battle Line. But Shima ran afoul of other motor torpedo boats. Lieutenant Mislicky’s patrol No. 5 picked him up southwest of Binit Point, Panaon Island, at about 0620. PT-150 fired a torpedo at Nachi which she dodged, and gunfire was exchanged. PT-194 received a hit which seriously wounded the section commander and two other men. A column of “six large ships,” which must have been Shima’s, was encountered by PT-190 at 0630. Two enemy destroyers peeled off and opened fire on the boat—which retired under smoke toward Sogod Bay. The enemy column stood toward the Mindanao shore at cruising speed of 16 knots in order to avoid more motor torpedo boats, and apparently was successful. It would have made good its escape but for air attacks later that morning.

At 0645, PT-137 of Section 6, patrolling about one mile southwest of Binit Point, sighted Mogami burning aft and heading south at twelve to fourteen knots. The heavy cruiser, still full of fight, opened up with secondary batteries, and a screening destroyer chased the PT away. Lieutenant Preston’s Section 10 sighted Mogami “proceeding SSW at high speed” around 0650. She was certainly hard to stop.

It was now 20 minutes after sunrise. At 0643 Oldendorf, who turned south again at 0617, directed Rear Admiral Bob Hayler to take his two light cruisers and three destroyers southward a second time “to polish off enemy cripples.” All five opened fire at 0707 on destroyer Asagumo, whose bow had been knocked off in Captain Coward’s attack two hours earlier. She was still swapping shots with destroyers Cony and Sigourney of Division “Xray” when Denver and Columbia showed up and opened gunfire. This gallant Japanese destroyer returned fire from her after turret when her forward part was awash, and her last salvo was fired as the stern went under. Asagumo sank at 0721, about midway between Tungo Point, Dinagat, and Caligangan Point, Panaon.

Two minutes later, Admiral Oldendorf recalled Hayler’s light forces, and at 0732 he received the electrifying report that battle had been joined off Samar between Kurita’s Center Force and Sprague’s escort carriers. So, before any staff officer had a chance to sleep off the fatigue of a night action, he had to be drafting plans for a second battle.

At 1018 October 25, Commander Nishino, skipper of the lucky destroyer Shigure, sent this radio dispatch to his Commander in Chief, Admiral Toyoda, and to Vice Admiral Kurita: '‘All ships except Shigure went down under gunfire and torpedo attack.”

Admiral Kurita received this message while he was debating whether or not to press on into Leyte Gulf, after being worked over by Seventh Fleet escort carrier planes off Samar. It was one of the factors that determined his retirement.

Captain Whitehead, Commander Support Aircraft Seventh Fleet, attempted on the morning of October 25 to direct bombers of V Army Air Force to the fleeing enemy ships. He was unable to raise them or their base, and no Army planes participated in the battle on October 25. It was Naval Air that took over from Oldendorf’s ships after daylight, pursuing relentlessly and effectively. Rear Admiral Thomas L. Sprague’s escort carriers launched a strike of torpedo-bombers and fighters for the chase at 0545. Three hours later some of these planes, which had not been recalled to hit Kurita’s Center Force, found Shima’s with injured Mogami tagging along. That cruiser’s luck ran out when attacked by 17 CVE bombers in the Mindanao Sea, west of the Surigao Peninsula, shortly after 0910. They left her dead in the water. Destroyer Akebono took off the crew and at 1230 dispatched her with a torpedo. The attacking planes had to come down at Tacloban, where they heard what a tough spot their escort carrier units were in, refueled, and dashed off to get into the battle off Samar.

Abukuma, hit by a motor torpedo boat in the early morning, was still able to steam at 9 knots, not enough to keep up. Shima sent Rear Admiral Kimura’s flagship, destroyer Kasumi, to escort her to safety. They put in at Dapitan, a harbor protected by the northwest point of Mindanao, sortied on the morning of the 27th, and at 1006 were attacked by 44 B-24s and B-25s of V and XIII Army Air Forces based on Noemfoor and Biak. The bombers made several direct hits and started fires which reached the torpedo room. The consequent explosion blew a large hole in Abukuma and she went down southwest of Negros, at 1242. Thus, belatedly but successfully, the Army Air Force got into the pursuit phase of the battle.

Shima’s Second Striking Force, now consisting of two undamaged heavy cruisers and three destroyers, underwent another attack by carrier planes at 1500 October 26 in the Mindanao Sea, but escaped with only light damage to destroyer Shiranuhi. Ashigara made good her escape to Bacuit Bay, Palawan, where she was sighted from the air on November 4. Nachi proceeded to Manila Bay, where she was sunk by Helldivers and Avengers from Lexington on November 5, 1944. Her hull, well searched by divers from USS Chanticleer and evaluated by Naval Intelligence after the liberation of Manila, yielded valuable documents on this and earlier battles.

Vice Admiral Sakonju’s Transport Unit, light cruisers Kinu and Kitagami, destroyer Uranami, and four destroyer-transports, never engaged United States ships. Some 2,000 troops that they embarked at Cagayan in Mindanao were landed at Ormoc on the back side of Leyte early on October 26. That morning, Admiral L. T. Sprague’s escort carriers, despite the struggle they had been through the day before, furnished 20 fighters and 23 bombers to continue the chase. One group happened upon the Transport Unit and tracked it into the Visayan Sea, where Kinu and Uranami were sunk after repeated bombing and strafing, around noon October 26. On their return flight the carrier aircraft saw a ship which they supposed to be Mogami, not knowing that she had already been sunk, and worked over her until it was time to leave. Captain Whitehead put this contact report on the general warning net at 1246; Admiral Mitscher picked it up and ordered some of his planes to get on the scent. They caught up with the ship, which turned out to be seaplane tender Akitsushima, unescorted; they bombed her and saw her go down.

Destroyer Shigure, sole survivor of Nishimura’s Force “C,” made Brunei Bay safely on October 27. Shima’s four destroyers got through with no great damage. Thus, by November 5, of the Southern Force that had entered Surigao Strait only heavy cruiser Ashigara and five destroyers were afloat.

In no battle of the entire war did the United States Navy make so nearly a complete sweep as in that of Surigao Strait, at so little cost; but in no other battle except the one off Cape Engano that same day did it enjoy such overwhelming strength, both on the surface at night and in the air next morning. Other than this, the immediate factors that made for victory were the tactical dispositions and battle plan worked out by Admiral Oldendorf and his staff, the early contact reports sent in by the motor torpedo boats, and the skillful torpedo attacks by destroyer squadrons, which left little for the gunfire ships to do. Japanese casualties in the night battle, never computed, must have run into the thousands. The American casualties were very few—39 men killed and 114 wounded, most of them in Albert W. Grant, and possibly a few pursuing aviators.

It is difficult to see what consolation the enemy could have derived from this battle. His torpedo technique fell short of 1943 standards, his gunfire was ineffective; even his seamanship, as judged by the collision of Nachi with Mogarni, was faulty. The most intelligent act of any Japanese commander in the entire battle was Admiral Shima’s retirement.

Farewell to the Battle Line

The Battle of Surigao Strait marks the end of an era. It was the last naval battle in which air power played no part. It was the last engagement of a battle line. Here an old sailor may indulge in a little sentiment.

Battle Line, as a tactical device for naval combat, dates from the reign of James I— when Sir Walter Raleigh ordered the Royal Navy to abandon attempts to board, as the main objective, in favor of “the whole fleet” following “the admiral, vice-admiral, or other leading ship within musket shot of the enemy. Which you shall either batter in pieces, or . . . drive them foul one of another to their utter confusion.”

Battle Line was first successfully employed in 1655 by James, Duke of York, against the Dutch Admiral Opdum in the Battle of Lowestoft. Standard tactics throughout the days of sail, it was used in all great sea battles, such as Beachy Head, Ushant, the Capes of the Chesapeake, the Battle of the Saints, Cape St. Vincent and Trafalgar. With ever- increasing range, it served equally well in the era of steam and high-powered ordnance, because it enabled ships of a battle line (whence “battleship” is derived) to render mutual support; and, if properly deployed against an irresolute enemy, or one with an imperfect line, to defeat him piecemeal. Dewey’s victory at Manila Bay, Sampson’s off Santiago, Togo’s at Tsushima and the Battle of Jutland were classic line-of-battle actions in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. The knell of the battle line was sounded by the development of air power, which made it impossible to maintain line under air attack; and besides the night actions off Guadalcanal and Empress Augusta Bay, and that of Surigao Strait, there was only one line action in World War II in which air power played no part—Rear Admiral McMorris’s Komandorski fight on March 26, 1943. Rear Admiral Willis A. Lee should have been the one to fire its last broadside, but he was denied the opportunity. Thus, when Mississippi discharged her twelve 14-inch guns at Yamashiro, at a range of 19,790 yards, at 0408 October 25, 1944, she was not only giving that battleship the coup de grace, but firing a funeral salute to a finished era of naval warfare.

One can imagine the ghosts of all great admirals from Raleigh to Jellicoe standing at attention as Battle Line went into oblivion, along with the Greek phalanx, the Spanish wall of pikemen, the English longbow, and the row-galley tactics of Salamis and Lepanto.