California (BB 44) - Naval Cruise Book

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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-

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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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at F se? r , 2 3 . .W e our faces raw: the us like a great dry box- Our turrets had fired. The Calgirr- nia was in the battle. By now the night was rent and gashed with blinding flashes and resounding detonations. All the ships in the gulf were hurling fiery tons of steel with each salvo. Projectiles weighing over two-thousand pounds looped in blazing arcs across the sky as steadily as machine gun bullets. Periodically, our turrets erupted like volcanoes around us, the gulf was an inferno of sound, the night was splintered with cease- less explosions. The Japanese took by far the worst of it. At first they energetically fired back, then the exchange of tracers looked like a cops and rob- bers gun fight. But in the end, their ships just bumed, exploded and sank. In Sky Forward nobody spoke. We stood agape at the altercations as between monsters. Once a shaky voice queried, '4Jeez, do ya think we'll get a star in our ribbon for this'?', Then the whine of an enemy salvo passed overhead, we ducked and shivered and terror sprouted from our eyes. That ghostly, death-presentment sound seared to the roots of our beings. In the next flash we saw what weak, frightened ani- mals we were. None of us could ever brag about his courage again, we had looked into each other's souls and we turned our heads away for fear reveals too much. The spell was broken when an enlisted man, having bumped into an officer, said, Ex- cuse me, sirf, In the middle of that awful hu- man destruction, those simple words of civil- ity sounded sweet and warm. They reminded us that for all the horror, there was still the friendly human spirit which somehow manages to survive. At last, for lack of targets the firing cased. Night came rolling back to reclaim its domain, the silence beat against our ears. A lone star glistened in the sky like that lad's kind words of courtesy. The seas moved once more and I heard again that restless murmur of the dis- tances beyond the horizon. Since the first shot had been fired, thir- teen minutes had elapsed. The action was for us a clear resounding victory. United States ships definitely sank two Japanese battleships, two heavy cruisers, two light cruisers and two or three destroyers. The whole engagement, under the command of Vice Admiral Oldendorf, was brilliantly conceived and executed. Our fleet performed that age- old naval maneuver of crossing the The Japanese came out of the straits in column. We passed at right angles to them so that only their leading ship could fire while we could bring the main batteries of our entire formation to bear. They never had a chance. We got on the target after the first salvo, with our superior fire control equipment we stayed on and kept hitting, hitting, hitting until there wasn't enough steel in the water to form a line of sight. It was complete and utter destruction, and the little Japanese on those ships went through and to hell. When the dawn came, our cruisers and destroyers investigated the area of the battle and found over two-hundred survivors in the water. At first the Japanese absolutely refused to take our lifelines. A few of them even tried to swim away. However, Vice Admiral Oldendorf had put out the order to take aboard as many as possible so our ships were patient. Even so some of the yellow men by their own choosing stayed in the sea and drowned. Their utter disregard for life, their complete willing- ness to sacrifice themselves for a holy cause even when the cause will not be furthered by their sacrifice is an attitude incomprehensible to the Occidental mind. It leaves us wonder- ing whether as we inevitably reoccupy all the Japanese territory, there will be any Japanese left in the world. An emphatic point must here be made. The battle described above was only one phase of the numerous engagements with the enemy fleet in the around the Philippine Island straits between the 23rd and the 25th. The magnifi- cent part played by Admiral Halseyls Task Force 38, by a squadron of jeep carriers, by our submarines and the Army Air Force has been barely mentioned. As a matter of fact, at this writing, the fighting and strategic maneu- vering is still going on. Some day history books will place this campaign among the most deci- sive of the war. Furthermore, there is a singular one-di- mensional aspect to this story. Contained herein is only what I saw and I felt. Left completely untold are the happenings on the bridge, the brain and nerve center of the ship, where Cap- tain H.P. Burnett expertly directed the Calqfor- nia through her first surface battle. He was ably assisted by Commander F.R. Bunker, Execu- tive Officer, Commander A.B. Mayfield, Navi- gator, Commander G.P. Garland, First Lieu- tenant and Lt. Commander J .P. Faries, Signal Officer. Likewise not a word has been said about the neat professional job performed by Commander R. Mandelkom, the Gunnery Of- ficer, and by his adjutants, in the directors, Lt. Stu Swacker of Glendale, California, and Lt. Charley Curtis of Boston, in main battery plot- ting room, Lt. Joe Perry of Maine, and Lt. Jim Lynch of Chicago, in the turrets, Lt. Sam Killingsworth of Washington, LTCJGJ Leo Mack of Milwaukee, Lt. Jack Grady of Chi- cago and LTCJGJ Frank Wilson of Chicago. Furthermore, where is the peens of praise for the anonymous sailors who perform instead of command, men like Bill Fuhriman of Logan, Utah, on the fire control platform with the gun- nery officer, recording and talker, Ken Edelen of Brooklyn, Iowa, who placed the powder of the loading tray, Joe Joyner of Atlanta, Geor- gia, who put the values into the intricate com- puter, Dan Scott of Ann Arbor, Michigan, who trained on the target and Bill Welch of Chey- enne, Wyoming, who closed the firing key which ignited the primer, which exploded the powder, which propelled the projectile, which sank the Japanese ship. To all the two-thousand officers and blue- jackets on the Caljornia as well as the crews of the other battleships, cruisers and destroy- ers whose names are censored but whose deeds are just as valiant, that night was one of the most memorial of their lives. As they return to their home towns and families, the tales of their participation in the engagement will grow longer and longer until the action becomes not merely the most bloody of this war but of any in history. However, when the Battle of Leyte Gulp Cas one sailor called ith is mentioned, one man must maintain an abashed silence. For Lt. Charley McVey of Olympia, Washington, who had trained for twenty-three years for such an occasion, the night before took an overdose of headache powder, and slept right through the entire action. The surface engagement might have been the climax but it was not the end of our expe- riences in Leyte Gulf. For the next eight days Cfrom October 25 to November lj we were under almost constant air attack. During that period we went to General Quarters forty-four times, during that period no one on the ship got more than three or four hours sleep in twenty-four. It was the most dogged, persis- tent rat-race any of us had ever known. No sooner would we secure from one air raid than we would be racing to our battle stations to repel another. The men became so tired they wouldn't even look at AA fire in any other sector but their own. The endless hours of searching for Japanese planes up and down the billowy mountains of clouds, in and out the brilliant sumises and sets, around and about the neighborly constellations were a stretch of light and darkness without demarcation. Time completely slid away from us. What I remem- ber is a series of disembodied experiences in an otherwise brain-numbed vacuum. One moming twenty Japanese Vals ap- peared off our starboard bow. As they maneu- vered for the attack, I saw a kid suck in his breath and his eyes grow as large as water- melons. We stood by our guns and waited for them to come into range. But they never did. Five of the Japanese made a dive-bombing run on a poor old destroyer which snaked through the water like a frightened eel. They never hit her either. The rest flew away to the seaward. Later the same day, we girded ourselves for another surface action as we steamed out of the straits to aid a CVE task force under attack by the Japanese. However, we never made contact for Task Force 38 beat us to the scene. Later we learned that the small carriers had had a rough time of it, though their planes wracked vengeance by torpedoing two Japa- nese battleships and stopping one cruiser dead in the water. That, incidentally, was the sec- ond force of the Imperial Navy which was waiting for us to come out of the Straits the night of the battle but our admirals never al- lowed us to be mouse-trapped. Once in the gray dawning, three Japanese dive bombers passed along the starboard length of the ship. Our 40s and 5 commenced firing on them, a few seconds later the middle one plunged into the water. It was an exhibi- tion of beautiful shooting by Lt. Gordon Tumer and his director crew. One moment the plane was sailing along on even keel, the next its nose dipped, its wings spiraled and with a high splash, it disappeared into the sea. I remember a tired look-out unable to keep