Islands of Destiny: The Solomons Campaign and the Eclipse of the Rising Sun (52 page)

Bypassed, the 12,000-strong garrison at Kolombangara still needed recovery. To facilitate this, Kusaka decided to set up a barge station at Horaniu at the northeast end of Vella Lavella. Since the Allies on that island had stopped to form a perimeter and build an airfield, this remained possible. A small force loaded on barges at Rabaul. They were covered by a destroyer sortie. Rear Admiral Ijuin Matsuji of Destroyer Squadron 3 led the operation. Tall and gangly for a Japanese, with an optimistic disposition and wide-open eyes, the baron was a navigator of excellent reputation. Formerly master of the battleship
Kongo
, Ijuin had advocated reliance on barges. Intent on showing this would work, the baron gave his captains a free hand in making preparations. Only four destroyers could be used, but Admiral Ijuin picked the best tin cans at Rabaul, including Hara Tameichi’s
Shigure
, and the
Hamakaze
, equipped with radar. Ijuin’s force sailed before dawn on August 17.

American search planes discovered the baron’s ships in The Slot. Admiral Wilkinson detached a destroyer division from the Vella Lavella invasion flotilla’s screen and sent it after Ijuin in a high-speed chase. AIRSOLS also contributed a night attack by two flights of TBF Avengers. The torpedo
planes failed to score, but they delayed Ijuin while Captain Thomas J. Ryan’s destroyers came up on him. A surface engagement took place around midnight. The Americans were silhouetted by a bright moon behind them. The fight was inconclusive. One Japanese destroyer, slightly damaged by near misses, suffered a few casualties; another sustained even lighter damage. Two of Captain Ryan’s tin cans had their prows battered by Japanese torpedoes. The barges sought refuge in a cove and continued to Horaniu the next night. Frustrations at home had reached such a point that when the emperor learned of the battle he erupted at Admiral Nagano, accusing the Navy’s destroyers of running away and leaving the Army troops to their fate. In its essentials, however, the mission had worked.

For weeks the barge chain continued regrouping Japanese forces. Tokyo Express runs supplemented them on certain key evacuations. More Army troops were dispatched by convoy to the Outer South Seas. The Japanese reinforced Rabaul with nearly a full infantry division. This place became a fortress in more than name. General Sugiyama conferred with Hirohito on the plans. Their September 11 conversation shows the depths to which the Empire had fallen. In a talk replete with references to the historic Emperor Meiji, Hirohito expressed himself openly. He would not “tolerate” another episode where the generals came back to report their soldiers had “fought bravely, then died of starvation.” Supplying Rabaul lay at the heart of the matter. Why defend the place at all? Sugiyama observed, “Rabaul is vital to the Navy and they have asked us to hold it somehow.” General and emperor explored the implications of the initiative while Hirohito also harped on New Guinea, another of his sore points. But everything came back to the fortress. “If we lose Rabaul,” Sugiyama admitted, “we will lose all mobility.”

So the redeployment proceeded. The 3,400 Japanese at Rekata Bay returned aboard destroyers. Barges safely removed Japanese coastwatcher posts on Santa Isabel and Gizo. Troop strength at Vila and Choiseul was thinned out. At least one more Tokyo Express ran to the big island. Tip Merrill’s cruisers made nightly forays up The Slot from September 12 in an effort to interrupt the barge traffic. One October night, Merrill thought he had nabbed a convoy and lit the sky with star shells to help his tin cans shoot—but results proved illusory. One officer concluded that the destroyers’ five-inch guns could not track fast enough to follow barge maneuvers
at close range, while the fuses on 40mm cannon shells were so sensitive they detonated prematurely. More than fifty PT boats patrolled constantly and slugged it out with the barges, but often got as good as they gave. On one occasion they claimed sinking twenty bargeloads of the enemy. The eye-opener came when the PT force started modifying boats, removing torpedoes and rearming them as gunboats.

For Allied sailors and airmen it seemed Japanese determination made them unstoppable. Day after day they went back to the same targets, blowing them to hell, but the enemy always came back—in numbers and with guns. Frustration eroded morale to a degree. One day at Espíritu the men were given a boost by the visiting first lady of the United States, Eleanor Roosevelt. Rear Admiral Aaron S. “Tip” Merrill’s cruiser force happened to be there, revictualing. Sailors on liberty attended the rally, and others saw Roosevelt as she toured the base. James Fahey of the
Montpelier
noted that Mrs. Roosevelt was the first woman he had seen in nearly ten months. Lieutenant Commander Richard Milhous Nixon—another future president of the United States—saw Mrs. Roosevelt’s jeep convoy as it moved between stops that September day. Nixon was a staff officer with the rear area forces. He too recalled the morale boost, and decades later remembered the first lady’s visit as one of the most memorable moments of his war service.

The completion of the Vella Lavella airfield on September 24 strengthened Halsey’s vise but did not stop the Japanese withdrawal. A couple nights later an I-boat narrowly missed light cruiser
Columbia
when she illuminated herself by opening up at a beach fire the Japanese had set. The major pullout from Kolombangara began on September 27. Wrapped up early the next month, only sixty-six men of the garrison were lost in the withdrawal. Admiral Halsey would claim that over a three-month period SOPAC forces sank 598 barges and seriously damaged another 670. These figures are hard to square with evident Japanese success.

Kusaka achieved his goals despite SOPAC intelligence, Halsey’s knowledge that the movements were under way, and the strenuous Allied efforts to blockade Kolombangara by sea and air. The SOPAC leader claimed three or four thousand Japanese gunned down or drowned in the barges alone, but only about 1,000 of the 15,000 troops on Kolombangara and the surrounding posts ended up in Halsey’s trap. The rest escaped. Captain
Yamashiro Katsumori of
PT-109
fame led the final Express mission to the island on the night of October 2–3. Had Japanese offensives been conducted as meticulously as their evacuations, the Allied Powers in the South Pacific might truly have been driven onto the ropes. Kusaka’s bombers raided Guadalcanal, the Russells, Munda, Vella Lavella, and once even as far as Espíritu Santo, but accomplished no more than harassment.

In Tokyo a broad strategic review adopted a fresh approach. Japan would defend a restricted inner perimeter and adopt hugely expanded war production goals. But the Navy and Army differed on details yet again—and neither held fast to the plan’s logic. Admiral Nagano plumped for the inner perimeter but, in accordance with Combined Fleet commander Koga’s battle zone concept, held that opportunities for decisive action must be sought outside the perimeter. General Sugiyama favored holding on to what Japan already had, to gain time to build up the new defenses. Both supported more than doubling the existing rate of aircraft manufacture despite the fact that raw materials imports were already significantly below 1942 levels—and promised to diminish further as more merchant ships were requisitioned for war service. Even assuming the expanded production, Admiral Nagano refused to assure success. These issues were aired at an imperial conference with Hirohito on September 30. The IGHQ directive that followed sanctioned the new strategy without comment on its lack of realism. Rabaul lay hundreds of miles beyond the approved perimeter.

The last round would be fought over removal of the very barge station that Kusaka had placed at Horaniu, where there were now 600 men. On October 6, the Southeast Area Fleet sent Baron Ijuin with a strong destroyer group to escort a pair of transport units, one of tin cans, the other barges. An aerial scout spotted the Japanese en route, and Captain Frank R. Walker took six destroyers to meet them. This time Ijuin had “air” of his own. A floatplane saw the U.S. warships, and when Walker ducked into a squall to elude the enemy, his forces became separated. But any advantage the baron gained was canceled when the aerial scout reported U.S. strength at four cruisers and three destroyers. Ijuin maneuvered with caution in the belief that a greatly superior fleet aimed at him. Ijuin’s own force had been divided when he detached Captain Hara with two destroyers as a close escort for the convoy. The subsequent action was another nasty scrap that began in confusion and ended with indecision.

In the initial phase, Admiral Ijuin was diverted just before rejoining Captain Hara, leaving him four destroyers against Walker’s three. Ijuin sped to the southeast, closing, and in a position to cross the Americans’ T. Moving too fast and executing a complex maneuver, the Japanese ended on Captain Walker’s port side in torpedo water once the Americans launched on them. Ijuin turned, putting his own force in the trap he had hoped to spring on the enemy. Destroyer
Yugumo
, last in line, drew the American fire, quickly pounded by five hits. She failed to conform to Ijuin’s maneuvers, advancing on the Americans instead, shooting and launching torpedoes. Walker’s ships reduced Commander Osako Azuma’s vessel to a sinking wreck. Walker had the advantage then, three tin cans against Captain Hara’s ships
Shigure
and
Samidare
, while Ijuin was temporarily out of the picture. Then Imperial Navy torpedoes began to impact, and one took off the bow of destroyer
Chevalier.
The following ship,
O’Bannon
, collided with her, damaging her own bow. Returning to the action, Ijuin and Hara now had five destroyers against Walker’s
Selfridge
and the damaged
O’Bannon.
Then a torpedo hit Walker’s own ship, clipping off her bow, but the baron was headed away. Before Ijuin could turn back and resume the fight, Captain Harold O. Larson reached the scene with three fresh destroyers. Had the battle continued, the Americans would have been outnumbered, but with the advantage of radar-controlled artillery.

Because of the erroneous scout report, Ijuin thought there were cruisers out there he could not account for. He decided to break off. The
Chevalier
sank later that night, leaving the score one destroyer sunk on each side, plus two American vessels damaged. But by now Halsey’s command could absorb those losses without breaking stride, while the single ship
Yugumo
represented more than 15 percent of Eighth Fleet strength. A couple dozen
Yugumo
sailors managed to reach a Japanese island base. Another seventy-eight became American prisoners after rescue by PT boats, fresh subjects for intelligence interrogation. Admirals Kusaka and Samejima could not afford many victories like this Battle of Vella Lavella.

Kusaka marked the success by presenting a ceremonial sword to Captain Hara, plus daggers to each of his destroyer skippers. There were no citations for Baron Ijuin or anyone in his unit. The presentations occurred at a banquet in Hara’s honor at the Rabaul officers’ club. Several geisha added a touch of glamour. Kusaka and Samejima hosted the event with all the top
brass, including the other barons, Tomioka and Ijuin, the latter chagrined. Kusaka made a little speech and offered a toast to Hara and his colleagues. But the occasion turned into a disaster. Hara drank too much, and tried to exchange his sword for drinks for his crews. Ijuin promised to buy the sake for the men and led Hara away. The true embarrassment came from a fleet staff officer who had lost many friends on the
Yugumo.
He piped up, referring to the admiral’s comments, “You have just noted the brief life expectancy of a destroyer. Must we put up with such a situation? Are we going to celebrate next October 26 as the anniversary of the last battle in history in which our carriers took part?”

The officer acknowledged the efforts of the Eleventh Air Fleet but complained of the prosaic Tokyo Express sorties, with all the danger borne by the destroyers—no wonder their life expectancy averaged less than two months—and came back to the big ships: “Why do destroyers have to shoulder the entire burden without the support of our carriers, battleships, and cruisers?” He lashed out, in effect, at Tomioka: “And what is Imperial Headquarters doing in Tokyo? Announcements blare every day that we are bleeding the enemy white in the Solomons. It is we who are being bled white.”

Before he left, Captain Hara witnessed the end of this scene, with Admiral Kusaka in silent misery. Baron Samejima managed a flat reply: “I understand that Commander in Chief Koga is preparing for a decisive naval action in which all our big ships will be deployed.”

The decision would come soon, and William F. Halsey and Chester W. Nimitz were setting the stage at that very moment. The South Pacific commander would invade Bougainville, on Rabaul’s very doorstep. His strength was now such that he could hurl a multidivision force, the I Marine Amphibious Corps, into the fray. Its landing would be planned by Major General Alexander A. Vandegrift, in a brief reappearance as a field commander. Nimitz was going to attack in the Central Pacific, at a place called Tarawa. The Central Pacific action would have an indirect effect on events in the South Pacific. The combination of their efforts created Japan’s last great crisis in the Solomons.

SOPAC’s maneuver began in a low key, with diversionary attacks. A New
Zealand brigade landed in the Treasury Islands in the first autonomous action by troops from that nation. Meanwhile Americans—men of the 2nd Marine Parachute Battalion—would hit Choiseul, the Solomon island next down from Bougainville. This last operation illustrates the flexibility that Allied forces could now apply. In finalizing the Bougainville invasion plan, some attention to Choiseul seemed necessary. Admiral Wilkinson and General Vandegrift had an interest in a PT boat base there, and some idea an airfield could be built. But Bougainville remained the center ring. The brass ordered up scouts. A five-man patrol spent a week on Choiseul, including time with local coastwatchers Charles J. Waddell and C. W. Seton. The battle maps had changed so much that by now they were the only ones still behind Japanese lines. The scouts transferred from a PT to a native canoe to get ashore, and used canoes on their longer treks. In late September, two more patrols inserted from Navy seaplanes. The scouts found about a thousand Japanese, mostly at the northern end. The coastwatchers believed forces several times that size had abandoned the southern tip of Choiseul to regroup, apparently awaiting barge transport. Based on this information, on October 12 the brass ordered Marine paratroops to make a diversionary landing. With luck the Japanese would be fooled, distracted from the Bougainville target as well as the New Zealanders whose operation, though secondary, was intended to actually seize the Treasuries. If nothing happened, SOPAC might reinforce the initial incursion and actually develop a Choiseul base.