California (BB 44) - Naval Cruise Book

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u, -Q82 'wi' 1-Q -4. 'N 'G-.tv lfsgx in . w., .wil .,,, vas, 'K 955' quarter: red tracers arched into darkening sky, 5 inch burst probed the black. Just as suddenly it ceased the night grew blacker. Reports con- tinued of planes on all bearings. The lookouts saw tive twin-engined bombers going aft. Fir- ing blazed out again and then quit. A contact was made on the port beam and the transports fired dead ahead. A cruiser commenced laying a smoke screen around the formation. The dark- ness deepened and the topside gun crews tried to push it away as if it were a shroud. Planes were sighted on the starboard bow and then lost in the smoke. A 20mm traced a red pencil dash across the sky. Aircraft droned overhead. The suspense was heart-freezing. A trigger- happy ship fired and frightened eyes groped for the target. Now a long creepy silence with every muscle tense, suddenly a growl and lash of gun fire and silence again. It was like fight- ing rattlesnakes in a closet. In the middle of the tension came the re- port of a submarine in the gulf. We held our breath. Hardly anyone spoke. Was this it? Manned and ready at our battle stations, we waited. Suddenly a crash behind me! My heart leaped to my throat. 'fWhat the hell was that?M Someone laughed. I tumed on him. HWhat's so funny, mate? He pointed to a steel helmet which had fallen from the bridge three decks above. Then I smiled too Calbeit rtrefullyj at the incongruity of the incident-with the en- emy all about us, I almost got my head smashed by a quartermaster's carelessness. At 2300 we finally secured, exhausted af- ter being at our battle stations eighteen hours for the third successive day. As we left Sky Forward Canti-aircraft control platformj, Lt. Tony Gasperino of Butte, Montana, said, Now all that has to happen is for us to run aground and get a gopher contact. We've had every other kind of a report. A-Plus One-Day COct. 215: The General Alarm hurled us out of our bunks at 0430. 'fFlash Redf - enemy planes in the gulf, Con- trol Yellowv fire on all aircraft, none of ours in the vicinity. Men were at their stations, power motors on, nervous fingers tickling the firing keys. Unidentified planes contacted astern. Occasionally machine gun tracers lashed like a fiery tongue in the sky. Gradually the stars dimmed as the glow of the east filtered across the heavens. Considerable ack-ack fire broke out among the transports, since that area was cov- ered with a dense smoke screen, the shell flashes looked like flames licking out of a tall building. Suddenly, on the portside, a torpedo plane streaked toward the ship. The 40s and 20s opened with a staccato snarl. The plane came barreling through the barrage, tracers lashing at it like forked lightning, it banked to the left as hundreds of projectiles poured into the fuselage. It crashed in flames off our port bow. Oh the thrill! the lust! the blood surging fury! Kill! Kill! Kill! Good God, what savages we are! How strong the instinct to kill. Having scented blood with what barbaric joy do we rend our victim apart. Civilized man -the bunk. The brute is in all of us and in times like that it comes out with bared fangs. Shakespeare and academic culture vanish like water on a hot griddle. We are beasts! beasts! beasts! The sooner we realize it the better, the quicker we recognize that civilization is a veneer and man's action can often best be explained by his pri- mordial instincts, the more accurately will we solve our problems. Mind you, it was not bestial to shoot down the Japanese attacking us. That was self-pres- ervation and understandable even in cultural man. But to get such joy out of it, to hear the bloodthirsty shouts go through the ship as the plane hit the water, that was the true savagery and not a jot different from our Caveman an- cestors racing toward their prey with brutish growls. All the rest of A-Plus-One-Day we con- tinued to bombard the beach and at night we fired star shell to illuminate and harass the en- emy. American troops and material poured ashore in tremendous quantities. The Army started to advance inland and captured one air field. In the afternoon we could hear the rumble of artillery, indicating the soldiers were really beginning to roll. Actually, however, it was amazing how little information we did get conceming devel- opments on the beach. There we were, a few thousand yards off the shores of the Philippine Islands, an important cog in the entire opera- tion, yet dependent for our news on radio broadcasts from Australia and San Francisco. Incredible! At dusk we again went to General Quar- ters as Flash Red was reported. The night dropped softly about us, a platinum ring moon cast a ghostly glow over the sea. We waited and groped in the same tense fashion. Once we heard a plane roar overhead, the transports sporadically spurted beads of tracers across the sky. Generally, however, it was quiet and spooky. As I leaned against a director shield, Poe's lines seemed so appropriate: Deep into the darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, dreaming, Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dare to dream before, And the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token And the only word there spoken was the whispered word Lenoref' The next day was Sunday, the 22nd. As usual the Japanese came again. However, they could not seem to marshal enough bombers for full scale attack, doubtlessly because of the terrific pasting our fast carrier groups were giv- ing their airfields all over the Philippines. They came in five and ten plane raids, mainly it ap- peared for reconnaissance purposes, though they always managed to unload a few calling cards. That morning I saw a Japanese Val dive through a blanket barrage of AA fire, drop its bombs and whish off to the west. It missed badly as do most of the Japanese planes on dive attacks. They are better on torpedo runs but fellows who know say their accuracy even here has fallen off considerably since the beginning of the war. Our airmen also have noticed that the Japanese are easier to shoot down and at- tribute it to their badly trained, inexperienced pilots. Apparently, in the air, if no other place in the war, the personal equation is still an im- portant factor. The rest of the moming Leyte Gulf was as peaceful as a summer resort out of season. The large ships rocked lazily in the stream, under-way with no way on. Smaller landing crafts and messenger boats occasion- ally sped by like gnats on a pond. The island looked green and fertile in the distance and there was little indication of the fighting de- veloping there. Off to the starboard a cruiser or battleship infrequently lobbed a salvo onto the beach. We could see the flashes for a half a minute before we heard the muffled roar. Large groups of our planes winged to and fro across the sky on bombing missions deep into the in- terior. Church call sounded melodiously over the bay and every ship hoisted the white and blue pennant. It was Sunday morning, even here in the midst of the war one could feel the Sab- bath quiet settling on the earth. In the evening we went to General Quar- ters as naturally as the commuters take the 5: 10 home. Almost as soon as we were manned and ready, a tremendous barrage of tracers illumi- nated off our port beam. The metaphor a cur- tain of fire is hackneyed, but that is exactly what it looked like, a brilliant red-beaded tap- estry in the sky. The shooting swung around to our port bow and then Gunner's Mate Carl Izzi of Worchester, Massachusetts, saw what ap- peared like a buming plane heading toward the ship. I gave the command to commence firing and we added our tracers to the spectacular display of the night. The aircraft seemed to hit the water off our starboard bow, bounced up again and finally sunk as the light went out. Later, down in the wardroom, I learned what had really happened. The plane had dropped its bombs on a cruiser Cmissedj, then it strung out a light on a tow line and went zooming across the formation, drawing thou- sands of rounds of AA fire. Over the tip of the island, off our starboard bow, it dropped the light and flew laughingly home. One of the communicators Cwith his tongue in his cheek reported the Japanese to have radioed, Prune Barge, Yoo Hoo, Prune Barge, do you want me to make another run?', On the 23rd the Japanese reappeared in the dawning, as regularly as the milk man. There was much ack-ack but no hits. Some- times it seems as impossible for a plane to pass through such a barrage as it is to dodge rain drops in a storm, but they do. I suppose there is a lot of spacein the sky. However, a point must here be noted. Though the Japanese get away is no indication that the anti-aircraft fir- ing was in vain. The mission of a ship in a raid is to prevent itself from being hit. AA shoot- ing is designed more to break up the attack and to scare the aircraft into dropping their bombs early and inaccurately than to bring them down. Occasionally we do bag a plane and that is a matter of great pride. But the fact that the ship is still undamaged despite the numerous attacks is also a tribute to our accuracy and effective- ness.

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drenching spray. Powerful thirty foot waves slugged at the ship, crashing over the forecastle and streaming out the hawse-pipes in cascad- ing rivulets. The steady whine of the gale shrieked like a tormented soul as this huge vessel crushed against its imponderable body. Yet for all the violence of the storm, the tem- perature was mild and to me, from the north, that seemed strange. The battleships weathered the seas rather effortlessly but the destroyers plunged in and out of the waves like drowning dogs, one mo- ment perched on the peak of a swell, the next skidding into the trough. After taking a beat- ing all moming, their division commander had to radio, For God's sake slow downg our men aren't getting paid for submarine duty. During the aftemoon of the 17th a num- ber of Japanese planes hovered fifty or sixty miles from our formation, sometimes closing to about fifteen. These were Hsnoopersi' shad- owing us like vultures across the sea. We had been discoveredg now any kind of surprise at- tack was possible for snooping, is the Japanese's overture to action. The next day we were to enter Leyte Gulf and commence the invasion bombardment. On the morrow we realized an operation would start that nobody could foretell its outcome. It seemed amazing to me that evening as I sat in the quiet of my stateroom writing what I hoped would not be a last letter home that in twelve hours this ship could be a rubbles and I could be dead. I knew then that nobody can project his life two minutes into the future, that during our existence on this earth nothing is absolutely predictable before it happens, that events are only inevitable after they happen. However, as often occurs to hypochon- driacal people, despite the apprehension with which I awoke on the moming of the 18th, there was not the fearful Armageddon I expected. Instead it was an exhausting futile day. We were at our battle stations fifteen hours through a blistering hot sun and a dark treacherous night. Enemy planes and surface crafts were reported every ten minutes at all bearing and rangesg we would alert our gun crews and stand-by, but nothing happened. Most of the contacts turned out friendlyg a few were absurd like this one: Unidentified plane approaching forma- tion. No, it's a ship. Wait it's showing recogni- tion signals. Hold on, it's not a plane, it's not a ship, it is landf, We laid off Leyte Gulf most of the day because of a saturation of mines in the chan- nel between Dinagat and Homonhom. CThese islands, incidentally, had been captured by the Anny Rangers the day before in a brilliant sur- prise landing.J In the morning a twenty per- cent sweep had revealed thirty-seven of them. Nevertheless, at dusk we started through Surigao Strait. It was a tense, ticklish trip like tight-rope walking over a pit full of cobras. We encountered several minesg one of them, cut by our paravanes, exploded less than a hun- dred yards from the ship. After three long, sus- penseful hours all the ships at last arrived safely inside the gulf. That evening we heard the report of Task Force 38's battle with the Japanese Fleet off Formosa. The results seemed fantastic but were undoubtedly true: 30 Japanese ships were sunk, over 300 planes shot down at an insignificant loss to us. Previously, Tokyo Rose, the famous female commentator who made the Baron Munchausen sound like a disciple of Diogenes, had claimed the Japanese had destroyed 10 of our carriers, 5 battleships and l,l00 planes. Admiral Halsey's communique in reply to the Japanese assertion was, Our sunken ships and downed planes have been salvaged and are re- tiring toward the enemyf, This brings to mind his famous dispatch last September after hit- ting the first tremendous blows at the Philip- pines, f'We socked them so hard the Japanese just stood around and hissedg when we get through with them, they won't even have a place to hiss onf, On A minus One Day COctober 193 the war ships of the Seventh Fleet commenced the bombardment of Leyte. All morning, aftemoon and evening the great guns pounded in the most sustained firing I had ever seen. Selected Japa- nese installations were the targets, but by dark the whole island seemed wreathed in smoke. That morning a strange-shaped out-rigger canoe paddled alongside one of our patrol crafts. In it were some American and Filipino guerrillas who had been on the island for years. They said the Japanese, of which there were 25,000 on Leyte, had fled to the mountains, that there were no aircraft on the island, and that the guerrillas were well organized and waiting for the landing with every confidence of success. However, the under-water demoli- tion teams, that brave group of men who remove obstructions from the invasion boat lanes, had no easy time of it: one killed and sixteen wounded by machine gun fire from the beach. In the afternoon four Japanese dive bomb- ers attacked a U.S. mine-sweep. Our air patrol shot down one and also sank a number of Japa- nese PT boats in the estuaries of the gulf. Thus though A minus One Day had been rather uneventful, we tumbled into our bunks completely beat out. The pounding concussion of the big guns for twelve hours made our heads feel like the targets of a H3-throws-for-a-dime side-show. A-Day: October 20, 1944: We went to General Quarters at 0400. It was a beautiful starlit morning and for the first time I identi- fied Canopus, the second brightest star in the heavens. As the rising sun spread its striped pink rays across the sky, reports came in of Japanese planes in the vicinity. The first we saw of them was on our port beamg we tracked them across our bow and just as two of them released their bombs on a cruiser Cand missedj, we opened fire with our 5',. The shooting was erratic even though the planes were on a steady course and they got away. As the dawn's light sifted through the mist of Leyte Gulf, we could see the tremendous fleet of transports and amphibious crafts of all descriptions forming for the invasion. The larger ships were loading men and material into the ducks, buffaloes and alligators, and all of these curiously practical boats, when filled, commenced circling around and around their mother ship in a fantastic war dance. At 0630 the bombardment of the landing beaches began. Every war ship in the gulf belched its flaming steel onto the sullen shores of Leyte lsland. Booming, authoritative 14 , walloping cruiser 6 and 8 , the sharper crack- ing 5 blended into a deafening Marsation symphony. As How-Hour approached the tempo quickened, louder and faster. By 0930 it had intensified to a world-shaking holocaust, flooding the gulf with canyons of sound. The ships looked ablaze as they spat their fiery venom at the beach which now rolled and rumbled under this tremendous barrage. We topside were mauled by the typhoon of con- cussion. Over-head an air strike of more than 500 planes added their bombs of destruction. Un- der this terrific detonation, their wakes like rip- pling silver bands beneath the heavy clouds of gun smoke, the landing crafts formed their line of departure and streamed toward the beach. The invasion was on! This was the most cru- cial, exciting moment. The boats were 500 yards off-shore, loaded to the gunwales with scared, dry-mouthed men, perfect targets for hidden Japanese batteries. Would they get through? The line advanced through the breakwa- ter. The bombarding, which had reached a cre- scendo, suddenly ceased. The leading boat scraped the bottomg the troops dashed down the ramp, raced across the beach into the first available cover. More and more men piled ashore, shooting their Mark One's at any sus- picious foliage. Am-tracks wallowed onto land like awkward rhinoceroses and rumbled for- ward. Unloaded boats wiggled off the beach and churned back to the LST,s for more men. An organization was set up, a beachmaster started directing traffic and the flow of sup- pliesg the shore fire control party made radio contact with the ships and began designating targets. In less than ten minutes hundreds of Yanks had swarrned ashore to regain their cap- tured possession. Only slight resistance op- posed the landing. I saw a few mortar shells fall among the LCI's but the batteries were quickly silenced. Twenty minutes after the first boat touched the sands of the Philippine Islands an American flag was flying from a coconut tree. It gave us all a thrill. Shortly afterward. we learned from a radio report that a Filipino girl had met the soldiers on the beaches and told them the Japanese had fled to the moun- tains. All day long men and supplies landed as the Army widened its beach-head but seemed in no hurry to push forward. Leyte was too large to be conquered by the usual slashing Marine attacks. The soldiers would first get all their equipment and troops ashore and then start methodically occupying the island in ac- cordance with normal infantry tactics. Late in the afternoon of A-Day enemy planes were reported approaching the area. As dusk settled over the gulf. the reports increased: Unidentified planes bearing 090. 30 miles: planes at 095, 25 miles: aircraft at ll0. l5 miles, closing. Enemy formations splitting up. keep a sharp look-out in all sectors. Suddenly anti-aircraft fire opened up on the starboard

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I In a way AA firing is an extremely excit- ing game. The Japanese pilot has the ball and is trying to drop it on the ship. Our purpose is to prevent him by either tuming him away or shooting him down. Anything goes and each side endeavors to outsmart the other. The Japa- nese have many tricks of which that light on the towline was only oneg others dive out of a cloud or down from the sun, releasing flares on one bearing to attract attention and attack- ing from another direction, and many more which cannot yet be told. We have to keep thinking to stay ahead of themg we must an- ticipate their maneuvers and act to block their attack. For example during the day we keep our guns trained into the sung we divide the ship's guns into sectors with a control officer in charge so all our fire will not be concen- trated on one bearing, we maneuver violently through the water when planes are attackingg finally, our various caliber AA guns provide a defense in depth which makes a fiery gauntlet to run. As a result far far more planes are shot down than ever get through to score a hit. However, despite the percentages, the stakes are high-death and defeat to the loserg destruction of the enemy and in the end vic- tory for the winner. The competition is stiff: the steadier eye, the more vigilant lookout and the sharper spur-of-the-moment thinking spells success. It is a red-blooded man's sport-the most fascinating in the world. During the rest of the 23rd the Calyfarnia continued to bombard the island. However, we on the ship never saw the splashes as they were falling deep inland. In the aftemoon General MacArthur made a speech. There was a band and much fanfare. He spoke from the steps of a marble court house and in a grandiose manner declared, I have decreed all Japanese law in the Philip- pines Islands abolished. I have liberated the Filipinos, our little brown brothers. While he orated, sweating soldiers a mile away cut through the jungle, charged up the hills, died in the swamps. Not the bemedalled commander, beloved of the throne Marching cock-horse to parade when the bugle is blown, But the lads who carry the koppie and can- not be known. Though the Japanese returned in the evening, there was little shooting. However, some sudden flashes on the beach had us puzzled until Seaman Robert Benson from Baltimore, cracked, Hell, do you know what that is, it's the photographers still taking Dug- Out Doug's picture. In the moming of the 24th the Japanese attacked three times with more planes and with greater ferocity than in any of the previous raids. This time they scored hits on a Liberty ship and an LCI. This living in danger and under constant pressure of attack bred a certain detached atti- tude toward life. It was as if we could not quite believe the real us was being involved. I kept getting the feeling I was watching myself do- ing things as if I were another person. Maybe it was because I was so damned tired the con- sciousness of self was atrophied. At any rate, I know that even now as I write this, I have to dig hard to remember. What I supposed were the most vivid impressions are dusky shadows in my mind. During the actions the essential me seemed to be someplace else, a guy named Joe took over. I imagine that is why fellows back from the front can tell so little of what actually happened to them, they simply were not there-really. Ever since we arrived in Leyte Gulf, ru- mors had been current that elements of the imperial Navy were in the vicinity. For a week Task Force 38 had been playing hide and seek with them among the innumerable Philippine Island straits. Therefore, nobody was surprised when in the aftemoon of the 24th a message was received from Vice Admiral Kinkaid that engagement with surface units of the Japa- nese Fleet is imminent tonight. Chancing to be on watch when the word was passed, I overheard the director crew dis- cussing the prospects of battle. Ralph Park, Slc, a serious lad from Tacoma, Washington, was saying, I don't want no part of it. I had enough on the Helena. Man, if I ever see a Japanese 16 salvo again, it wonlt have to hit to kill meg I'll die just watching it. Have you ever heard shells whizzing overhead in the night. Oh God that's a spooky sound, like ghosts wailing in a cemetery. Well, I don't knowfl remarked Jim Lewis, a young gunner's mate from Los Angeles, If every one else is scared, I guess I'll be too. But if I can be kept busy loading the guns, I don't think I'd mind. In a way I'd kinda like to see a night battlef' Coxswain Roscoe Swain, from Columbus, Ohio, chimed in, Hell, I'm not afraid of any- thing the Japanese can do. Welre four times as strong as them. Besides, to tell the truth, I just can't imagine myself dead. The conversation drifted away to another subject and shortly afterwards the watch was relieved. During the rest of the day rumors intensi- fied as to the impending surface engagement. After the Japanese lamp-lightersl' made their noctumal visit, the pre-war battleships, the Calyfornia, West Wrginia, Tennessee, Pennsyl- vania and Maryland, formed the traditional battle line. It was a maneuver these ships had been practicing for twenty years but had never put to use in actual combat. It was a revival of old glory, of things pastg there was even a feel- ing of nostalgia in watching these OBB's go through their paces like an over-aged football team at an alumni reunion. After all, the fat new BB's and carriers were now the scourge of the ocean, and though these more ancient vessels were still valuable for support of am- phibious operations, no one expected them to engage the Japanese fleet. As a matter of fact even as we swung into the battle-line, reports were received that Task Force 38 had already met phases of the enemy navy, bombed one battle-wagon, rocketed and strafed two heavy cruisers. In light of this information most of us went to sleep with little hope or dread Cas the case might bel of any action during the night. At 0230 October 25, 1944, the General Alarm sounded: All Hands Man Your Battle Stations. I didn't merely wake up, I shot like a projectile out of my bunk for those are the most blood-curdling, leg-galvanizin g words in the English language. While yanking on my clothes, I exclaimed to my roommate, Holy Christ, George, this is it. Lt. Cottrell of Hol- lywood, California, scoffed at my melodramat- ics, f'Don,t be a Humphrey Bogart, he said, It's probably only a Japanese reconnaissance plane. Nevertheless, we both dressed rapidly and burst out of the room. S'Good luckj, George, I shouted after him. He waved his hand and disappeared around a bulkhead. The passageways were flooded with hur- rying, nervous men. Though the dread of the unknown hung over them, for the next sound might be an enemy shell ripping through the superstructure, there was no unnecessary shouting or pushing. Fear is the most commu- nicable emotiong the slightest taint of it in a crowd will cause a panic. Yet the best evidence I know of the discipline and self-control of the American sailors is the orderly, dignified way they hasten to their battle stations. Kaleido- scopic glimpse of stern, set faces show plenty of fright, but no panic. However, even this clutching fear lasts only until the men get to their guns, then the familiarity with their jobs and the knowledge that they can fight back brings confidence, and they are ready to face the unknown with the one thing it understands, a salvo of hot lead. I have mentioned fear so often because in action fright and the lust for the kill are the only two emotions. They are so overpowering that one remembers little of the actual events of the battleg nonparticipants can describe that. A sailor can only tell you how scared he was. When I arrived at Sky Forward, it was excitedly fidgety over the news that the Japa- nese Fleet was coming through Stuigao Strait. A squadron of PT boats, stationed in the chan- nel had given the warning and made a torpedo attack. Though beaten off with fairly heavy losses, they had heroically done their job: they were the Paul Reveres of the Battle of Leyte Gulf. The night was very dark. Fortunately, we did not have long to wait. Suddenly the gulf was illuminated by a shower of starshells. The Japanese were coming out of the Straits shoot- ing their pyrotechnics in an effort to locate our position. Actually, they only succeeded in giv- ing themselves away like a midnight express shrieking through the valley. Every man tightened at his station. This was it. For a moment there was an awful por- tentous silence like feeling a snake crawl across your leg. Then a ship on our right flank fired. We could see the winking flash long. long be- fore we heard the cracking report. Tension on the California was electric: every nerve. muscle, eyeball strained to the limits of its plasma. The years of training and discipline were paying off g it took the self control of men of steel to restrain shooting until within range. Another ship opened up. It was much closer to us for we caught some of the concussion. Red tracers arched in the sky like lazy fly balls. Unexpectedly. there was a vicious explo-