_Marines from the 4th Defense Battalion embark in_ Tangier _(AV-8) at
Pearl Harbor, 15 December 1941, bound for Wake. Barely visible beyond
the first Marine at the head of the gangway is a sobering reminder of
the events of eight days before: the mainmast of the sunken_ Arizona
_(BB-39). Tank farm spared by the Japanese on that day lies at right
background._]
To help Kinney and Hamilton and their small but dedicated band of
civilians, Aviation Machinist’s Mate Hesson, who had been wounded on
the 14th, violated doctor’s orders and returned to duty. He resumed
work on the planes, carrying on as effectively as ever in spite of his
injures. Putnam later recalled Hesson’s service as being “the very
foundation of the entire aerial defense of Wake Island.”
At Pearl Harbor, in the lengthening shadows of 15 December (16 December
on Wake), the relief expedition made ready to sail. The _Tangier_,
the oiler _Neches_ (AO-5) and four destroyers sailed at 1730 on the
15th (On Wake, 1400 on 16 December.). The _Saratoga_ and the remainder
of the escort--delayed by the time it took to fuel the carrier--were
to sail the following day. “The twilight sortie,” First Lieutenant
Robert D. Heinl, Jr., as commander of Battery F, 3-Inch Antiaircraft
Group, wrote of the _Tangier_’s sailing, “dramatized the adventure.”
The ships steamed past somber reminders of 7 December--the beached
battleship _Nevada_ and a Douglas SBD Dauntless from the _Enterprise_
that had been shot down by “friendly fire” off Fort Kamehameha. “The
waters beyond sight of Oahu,” First Lieutenant Heinl noted, “seemed
very lonely waters indeed.... Columbus’ men, sailing westward in hourly
apprehension of toppling off the edge of a square earth, could not have
felt the seas to be more inscrutable and less friendly.”
Wake’s dogged defense caused Vice Admiral Shigeyoshi Inoue, Commander,
_South Seas Force_ (_Fourth Fleet_), to seek help. Admiral Isoroku
Yamamoto, the Commander in Chief of the _Combined Fleet_, responded
by assigning a force under the command of Rear Admiral Hiroaki Abe,
Commander, _8th Cruiser Division_, consisting of carriers _Hiryu_
and _Soryu_ and escorting ships, to reinforce Inoue. At 1630 on 16
December, the two carriers (with 118 aircraft), screened by the heavy
cruisers _Tone_ and _Chikuma_ and the destroyers _Tanikaze_ and
_Urakaze_, detached from their _Pearl Harbor Striking Force_, and
headed toward Wake.
As Abe’s ships steamed toward Wake, U.S. Navy radio intelligence
operators intercepted Japanese radio transmissions. The messages, when
decoded, caused the intelligence analysts to suspect that connections
existed among the Japanese _Fourth Fleet_ operations “CruDiv 8” (the
_Tone_ and the _Chikuma_), “Cardiv 2” (the _Soryu_ and the _Hiryu_),
and “Airon 24” (_24th Flotilla_). Aerial reconnaissance flights from
the Marshalls followed.
The following afternoon Rear Admiral Bloch sent a message that must
have seemed a trifle unrealistic to Cunningham, who was primarily
concerned with defending the atoll and keeping his men alive. The
message stated that it was “highly desirable” that the dredging of the
channel across Wilkes continue and inquired about the feasibility
“under present conditions” of finishing the work with equipment at
hand. It requested an estimated date of completion.
On 17 December, something occurred at Pearl Harbor which harbored ill
portents for the Wake Island relief operation. Admiral Kimmel was
relieved of command. In a perfunctory ceremony at the Submarine Base,
Kimmel relinquished command to Vice Admiral William S. Pye, who would
serve as the acting commander until Admiral Chester W. Nimitz arrived
to assume command. Pye inherited an operation about which he would soon
harbor many reservations. The next day (18 December), CinCPac’s radio
intelligence men noted again that ... “Cardiv and Crudiv 8 continued to
be associated with the Fourth Fleet in communications.”
While the acting CinCPac digested that latest disquieting intelligence
and sent it along to Fletcher and Brown, Wake’s defenders endured
another air raid. On the 19th, 27 Nells came in from the northwest
at 1135, and dropped bombs on the remainder of the PanAm facility on
Peale and on Camp 1 on Wake. Battery D fired 70 rounds at the attacking
planes, and both Godbold and Marine Gunner McKinstry reported seeing
one plane leaving the sky over the atoll, trailing a plume of smoke
behind it. An aviator, they said, drifted down in his parachute some
distance from land. Wake’s gunners had actually done far better than
they had thought. Of 27 planes engaged, 12 had been hit by antiaircraft
fire.
Cunningham responded to Bloch’s message of the previous day that up to
that point he had been concerned only with defending the island and
preserving lives. He addressed the completion of the channel by listing
the difficulties associated with the task. He pointed out that blackout
conditions militated working at night, and that Japanese air raids,
which came without warning, reduced the amount of work which could be
accomplished during the day. But working during the day was hazardous,
he said, because noisy equipment prevented workmen from being alerted
to the incoming planes in time for them to take cover. Furthermore,
the amount of contractor’s equipment was being continually reduced by
the bombings. Additionally, continuing the projects would require the
immediate replenishment of diesel oil and dynamite. With morale of the
civilian workmen generally low, Cunningham could not predict, under
the prevailing conditions, when the construction projects would be
completed. He further declared that “relief from raids would improve
[the] outlook.” After recording, in a second message the damage
inflicted by the Japanese on the base on Peale, the atoll commander
noted that, since the outbreak of war, the efforts involved in
assisting in the defense and salvage operations had fully occupied all
of the contractors’ men. Cunningham continued by noting the additional
numbers of dead or missing civilians since his earlier dispatch on
the subject, and described the civilians’ morale as “extremely low.”
He reiterated his request to consider evacuating the civilians, since
the large number of them who were not contributing to the defensive
efforts required sustenance, which drew on the stores required by those
actively engaged in the defensive operations.
In the meantime, Vice Admiral Pye had passed on to Brown information
pointing toward Japan’s establishment of an air base in the Gilberts
and the existence of a submarine force at Jaluit. Most disturbing
of all was the news that CinCPac’s intelligence people knew of “no
definite location of [the] force which attacked Oahu.” For all anyone
knew, the Japanese carriers whose planes had bombed Pearl Harbor could
be lurking almost anywhere!
Considering the newly established enemy air bases that he would have
to pass en route to Jaluit, Brown could see that Japanese air searches
from those places might spot Task Force 11 before it reached its
objective. He began fueling his ships on the 18th--the same day that
Rear Admiral William F. Halsey, Jr.’s Task Force 8 sailed from Pearl
to support Task Forces 11 and 14--and informed the task force of its
objective. Brown completed the fueling operations on the 19th. That
done, he detached his oiler, the _Neosho_ (AO-23), to stand out of
danger, and contemplated what lay ahead.
Fletcher’s Task Force 14, meanwhile, pressed westward. At noon on the
19th, the _Saratoga_ and her consorts were 1,020 miles east of Wake.
D-Day had been set for the 24th.
[Sidebar (page 17)]
Admiral Frank Jack Fletcher, the commander of Task Force 14, is the
subject of much historical “Monday morning quarterbacking.” All
these commentators have the benefit of something neither Pye, the
overall commander, nor Fletcher, on the scene, had--hindsight. As
“Soc” McMorris (Admiral Kimmel’s war plans officer) put it, “We had
no more idea’n a billygoat,” about what Japanese forces lay off Wake.
The welter of message traffic linking CruDivs, CarDivs, and BatDivs
with land-based air painted a formidable picture of what might be
encountered by a _single_ U.S. Navy carrier task force. While the
Navy pilots may have been well trained, _Saratoga_’s embarked fighter
squadron was understrength, having only 13 operational Wildcats.
[Illustration]
Nor could the Marines of VMF-221 (bound for Wake) have been counted
on as an effective adjunct to _Saratoga_’s squadron, since they had
not operated from a carrier. An even more compelling argument for how
VMF-221 would have performed in the emergency is that Major General
Ross Rowell, commanding the 2d Marine Aircraft Wing, knowing of 221’s
manpower and operational deficiencies, lamented having to send “[Major
Verne] McCaul’s half-baked outfit into that mess.” Rowell knew that
maintaining the temperamental Brewster F2A-3 Buffalo fighters at a
stateside air base with all the conveniences had been a chore--let
alone having to operate the F2A-3 at an advance base (especially
one that had been so badly cut-up as Wake had been) or at sea on a
carrier (where the F2A’s performance--especially with landing gear
failures--was nearly infamous).
And, too, the three carriers committed to the relief expedition were
all there were in the Pacific. There were no reserves. Even though the
Japanese harbored no ideas of conquest of Hawaii at that time--they
were through with Oahu for the time being--Pye and his advisors had
no way of knowing that. What intelligence existed pointed toward a
potential disaster for an island where the issue was, as Cunningham
correctly perceived, very much in doubt!
When asked in 1970 if the relief expedition’s arrival would have made
any difference in the outcome at Wake, retired Brigadier General
Devereux answered: “I rather doubt that that particular task force,
with its size and composition, could have been very effective.... I
think it was wise ... to pull back.”
]
‘_All Hands Have Behaved Splendidly_’
Shortly before 1600 on 20 December, scrutinized by Wake Island’s only
serviceable F4F, a Consolidated PBY Catalina flying boat bearing mail
landed in the lagoon. It arrived in the midst of a rain squall, but the
defenders welcomed the precipitation because it worsened the flying
weather and inhibited the Japanese bombing efforts. Commander Keene’s
sailors moored the Catalina and fueled it for the next morning’s flight.
As “Barney” Barninger observed, the flying boat’s arrival “set the
island on end with scuttlebutt.” Most men surmised that the civilians
would be evacuated. The scuttlebutt was partially correct. From the
secret orders carried on board the PBY, Cunningham learned that he was
to prepare all but 350 civilians (those to be selected “by specific
trades to continue the more important of the projects,” one of which
was the completion of the ship channel between Wake and Wilkes) for
evacuation. He was also notified that fire control, radar, and other
equipment was being sent, along with reinforcements of both men and
machinery.
That day, Commander Cunningham recounted the events which had occurred
to date in a report to Rear Admiral Bloch. Although many air raids
had occurred, he reported, that most had resulted in few casualties
and little damage to installations. He attributed Wake’s escape from
more serious damage to the effectiveness of the Marines’ antiaircraft
fire--fire delivered despite the lack of fire control equipment. A
former fighter pilot, he also lavished unstinting praise on VMF-211’s
aviators, who had “never failed to push home attacks against heavy
fire.” That none of the planes had been shot down, he marvelled, “is a
miracle.”
The representative of the Bureau of the Budget, Herman P. Hevenor,
who had arrived on Wake via the _Clipper_ on 7 December to check the
progress of construction on the atoll and review the expenditures,
wrote to the Bureau telling them of the siege to that point and
praising those who led the defense. “The Commanding Officer
[Cunningham] and his staff, including the Marine Officers, have done
a big job and an efficient one. Their stand against the Japs has been
marvelous and they deserve everything our Government can give them....”
Major Putnam dashed off a report of VMF-211’s operations to Lieutenant
Colonel Claude A. Larkin, commanding officer of Marine Aircraft Group
(MAG) 21. After recounting the losses of both planes and men suffered
by his squadron, and the damage he felt his men had inflicted upon the
enemy, Putnam wrote that a large share of the squadron’s records had
been destroyed on the first day, and since then, “parts and assemblies
have been traded back and forth so that no airplane can be identified.
Engines have been traded from plane to plane, have been junked,
stripped, rebuilt, and all but created.” Practically all of 211’s gear
had been destroyed. Quartermaster property lay scattered about, wholly
unaccounted for.
Nevertheless, he praised his men. “All hands have behaved splendidly
and held up in a manner of which the Marine Corps may well tell.”
He singled out the “indefatigable labor, the ingenuity, skill, and
technical knowledge of Lieutenant Kinney and Technical Sergeant
Hamilton,” since “it is solely due to their efforts that the squadron
is still operating.”[A]
[A] In a marginal note to this report by Putnam upon his return
from a POW camp in Japan, in October 1945, he added AMM1c
Hesson’s name to those of Kinney and Hamilton.
The next morning the PBY crew and their only passenger, Major Walter
L. J. Bayler, who had completed his temporary duty at Wake, clambered
on board the Catalina. The PBY taxied into the lagoon and took off for
Midway.
As the PBY departed, a Japanese task force steamed toward Wake Island,
intent upon attacking on the 22d. The arrival and departure of that
PBY, however, influenced the Japanese plans. On 20 December, Rear
Admiral Abe received a report (based upon the radio messages the PBY
sent as it approached Wake) that planes from Patrol Squadron 23 had
advanced to Wake from Midway the previous day. Consequently, the
commander of the _South Seas Force_, hoping to catch and destroy those
planes, pressed Abe to advance the attack one day. The _Wake Island
Reinforcement Force_ increased its speed to 30 knots.
In the meantime, on the morning of 21 December, Rear Admiral Kajioka
set out from the Marshalls for a second attempt at Wake. The attacking
naval forces included the same ships that had participated in the
first attack, the destroyers _Asanagi_ and _Yunagi_ (which replaced
the _Hayate_ and the _Kisaragi_, which had been sunk during the
initial attack), and some reinforcements, four heavy cruisers (_Kako_,
_Aoba_, _Furutaka_ and _Kinugasa_) that had recently taken part in the
occupation of Guam, and the seaplane carrier _Kiyokawa Maru_. Instead
of 225 troops in each converted destroyer, 250 (some of whom had taken
part in the seizure of Guam) had been embarked. Landing exercises had
been conducted at Kwajalein.
At 0700 on the 21st, beneath cloudy skies, _Hiryu_ and _Soryu_ turned
into the northeasterly wind and began launching planes. The aircraft
arrived over Wake at about 0900 to find a 200-meter ceiling and, seeing
no U.S. patrol planes, circled at 50 to 200 meters and began attacking
shore installations. Antiaircraft fire hardly seemed to hinder them
as they “worked things over a bit” and gave embattled defenders
their first taste of dive-bombing. _Soryu_’s and _Hiryu_’s aviators,
having experienced the flak over Pearl Harbor, reported “very slight”
resistance from antiaircraft fire. “The enemy,” Rear Admiral Abe
reflected, “seemed to lose their fighting spirits.”
The blow had fallen without warning. It caught Second Lieutenant
Kliewer eating breakfast with the crews of the two .50-caliber machine
guns at the west end of the field. He admired them for the way in which
they stuck to their guns amidst the bombing and strafing, continuing to
fire “when other guns on the island [had been] silenced.”
The raid had caught Major Putnam returning from Camp 2 in a truck. He
attempted to reach the only flyable F4F, but strafing Zeroes twice
forced him away. Only after the Mitsubishis and Aichis left the
vicinity, at about 1020, was he able to take off and attempt to follow
them to their ships. Although he was not successful in that endeavor,
his attempt typified the “highest order of courage and resolution” that
he displayed throughout the siege. As Putnam searched for the Japanese
fleet, Cunningham radioed word of the morning’s raid to CinCPac and
the Commandant of the 14th Naval District.
Later that day, 33 Nells paid Wake a visit. The antiaircraft fire,
however, apparently forced them to bomb from a higher altitude than
before (18,000 feet _vice_ 13,000). Although Dan Godbold claimed
to have seen one plane dropping from the skies over Wake, trailing
smoke, all G3M2s returned safely to Roi. Their bombs, however, had
fallen thickly about the battery, scoring a bullseye on the director
emplacement, killing Platoon Sergeant Johnalson E. Wright, wounding
three other men, and knocking unconscious the range officer, Second
Lieutenant Robert W. Greeley. The M-4 director, although destroyed by
the bomb, deflected the full force of the explosion from Greeley and
saved his life.
Wright, the firing battery officer, had been known for his cheerfulness
and boundless vitality. Although during previous raids he had been told
to take cover, he had remained at his post, calmly giving orders and
disregarding the bombs. His seemingly tireless efforts to improve the
efficiency of the battery earned him a Bronze Star posthumously.
At Peacock Point, a bomb had fallen near the shelter belonging to
Barninger’s no. 2 gun crew, causing the entrance to be blocked and
blowing the sides in. Fortunately, no one was hurt. “The bomb hitting
the shelter,” Barninger wrote later, “was the only one close to the
guns.” He and his men spent the rest of the day repairing the damaged
shelter. Most of the Marines, though, began feeling that foxholes were
better. “Although we didn’t lose a man,” Barninger commented, “it was a
close thing and with the heavy caliber bombs the shelter is too light.
For that reason we are all back in the foxholes.”
On the previous day, Major Devereux had ordered Marine Gunner McKinstry
to keep the two guns of Battery F firing to divert the enemy’s
attention from the only complete battery on the island, Battery E. On
the 22d, McKinstry’s gunners put on a fine performance, despite having
neither director nor heightfinder to help them. Firing by the expedient
of “lead ’em a mile,” the two guns of Battery F kept the enemy guessing
as to which group of guns was the greater threat.
[Illustration: