Reluctant Warriors (28 page)

“Sir,” Satsuma said to his Admiral, “we have hit
Grand Rapids
several times as she
cleared the destroyer's survivors, Komada says. Best of all, he thinks the bridge
has been hit and destroyed.”

“Ah, Captain.” The admiral smiled, nodding. “Finally, let us hope that we have killed
this American admiral and the Devil Ship is finished! Charge down on her to make
sure. Be vigilant that their last destroyer cannot torpedo us. But, Satsuma, do not
slow. We are late for our appointment, as the Americans say. We mustn't tarry here
but go on to the beachhead at Lae before their air fleet arrives. There we will do
the Emperor's bidding as long as we have strength in our limbs.”

Rodgers went on for several miles, neither cruiser scoring any hits. At 1128, he
ordered the ship to turn across the Japanese line of march. With smoke billowing
out of
Grand Rapids
, the range about seven miles, it was not immediately clear to
the Japanese that she had turned broadside and the three remaining turrets were firing
against them.

The range came down very quickly, and
Grand Rapids
made good on the enemy's confusion.
“Guns” was on target again. From 1142 to 1154, he made four hits on
Zukaku
. The crew
saw one in particular, visible without binoculars, hit in the aft of the ship, creating
a tremendous fire. Luckily, there was too little time for the Japanese to put their
torpedoes to use.

At 1210, the Japanese had had enough and retired to the northeast in the direction
of Rabaul, which
Zukaku
made in twelve hours. The five-hour Battle for Huon Gulf
was over.

Aboard
Zukaku
, Osukawa sat in a lump. He mumbled to himself.

“So, the American admiral was not killed. He has beaten me after all. Twice the power,
surprise, newer and faster ships. The Americans have devil ships, first
Salt Lake
City
and now
Grand Rapids
. I have failed the Emperor. Captain Satsuma,” he said,
slightly louder, “can we make port?”

“Yes, Admiral, the fire near the torpedo tubes is under control. All of the fires
are under control, but we must seek shelter in a harbor as soon as possible. What
signal shall I make to our destroyers?”

The old officer did not respond. A long silence ensued.

Finally, in a far-off voice, he said, “Choshi, did I ever tell you of the cherry
blossoms at Kinan along the Yoshino river near my home when I was a boy?”

Without giving Satsuma time to answer, he went on. “Our greatest joy as children
was to go to nearby Tosa Bay and watch the whales come in shore. Or to watch the
American steamers go in and out of Osaka. I dreamt for many years of riding one of
those steamers to see the incredible wonders of the United States. It had a fascination
for me, Satsuma, which only the mind could hold. Only later did I realize they would
be our enemies.”

He looked down at the deck with no expression on his face.

“Now I will be relieved. And humbled before the Emperor. I should like to return
to see the cherry blossoms one more time. I wonder if that would be allowed.”

There was a moment of great rejoicing aboard the American ships, but officers and
men alike knew that their cruiser was in very bad shape. They tried desperately to
save the ship. They brought the fires under control, but they couldn't halt the flooding.
Men left their gun stations and manned bucket brigades for the next six hours.

Captain Rogers set course for Milne Bay. When that became out of the question, the
hope was to beach the ship on the coast near Buna, some thirty miles away. But the
ship continued to sink, nose first.

At 1814, with Buna still twenty miles off, Rodgers ordered “Abandon Ship.” The long
process of getting the men over the side began. Many wept openly at leaving their
home, a ship that had performed so heroically this hot day in the tropics. With their
wounds, many had to be lowered to the boats in agony. Luckily there were enough boats,
and
Winslow
was able to get very close in the nearly calm sea.

The captain toured the ship, saw that the men were getting out in an orderly fashion,
and then went back to sit on the bridge in his chair. Almost forty minutes went by
before Admiral Wells turned to his protégé.

“Kip, I'm going to go. You made me proud today. Thanks for letting me
go out on a
good note. But I can't stay with her—I have a date with my Polly! You going to come?”

Rodgers looked up admiringly at the person who, for all practical purposes, was his
father. “I'd like to sit here a while, sir.”

Wells raised his eyebrows. “I understand. This has to be your choice, but I wish
you would come with me.”

Rodgers looked up with the same love in his eyes but said nothing.

The old man slowly walked off, went over the side, and got into a boat.

It was now relatively quiet on the bridge, just as it had been almost fifteen hours
before when he'd first come on the bridge. Rodgers bowed his head and prayed again:
Heavenly Father, You have graciously granted us victory today. I pray that the men
who perished did not do so in terror. Assure the family of each that their loss was
not meaningless, and comfort them now, and in the years to come. Now, take my soul
to Purgatory, that I may atone for my sins of killing so many this day.

The great warship slowly settled by the bow. As the waves began to lap over the foredeck,
rivulets began their inexorable process of claiming the deck. There was only an occasional
terrible grinding sound as the ship quietly died. The fires were out, but smoke continued
to billow out from several areas.

Sam Cashion hurried down the passageway from the aft part of the ship. He had watched
over the evacuation of his own people in the fire control area and had been to the
engine room to make sure that everyone who could get out was out. Now, he saw no
one. He was determined to get to the bridge before the cruiser sank, because he knew
who he would find there.

As he expected, when he mounted the steps, he saw the captain in his chair with the
usual placid expression on his face and cigarette between his fingers. He looked
completely relaxed, almost as though he were getting ready to take a nap on the porch.

“Did the admiral get out?” Cashion asked.

“Yes.”

“Sir, come with me.”

“I'll be along,” Rodgers said, not looking up and not moving. “You go ahead.”

“You hurt, sir? Your leg?”

“No. I'm just going to sit here a while.”

“Sir, she might founder at any moment.”

“I know.”

“Come with me.” Cashion stepped toward Rodgers.

Rodgers looked into Cashion's eyes. “Leave me here with her.”

Cashion went still. He paused, without saying anything, for more than a minute. The
ship creaked and groaned ominously, telling those who would listen that she was tired
out and would have to give up soon.

Finally, he said, “Come with me.”

Rodgers made no movement.

Cashion spoke with some agitation in his voice. “Look, sir, I pulled you out of the
drink once before. If she goes down with us here on the bridge, I don't think I could
do it again. She'll take us both down with her.”

Rodgers looked up at Cashion. “Sam, you and that little ensign won this battle for
us today. I hope he's okay. Thanks.”

He looked around the ship.

“This was her great moment. She even goes down with grace, doesn't she?”

Both nodded.

“I suppose better here than in the breaker's yard,” Rodgers said.

Cashion paused again. There were several more dire grinding sounds. He looked about,
half expecting a torrent of waters to begin rushing in.

“Sir, Springer's dead. Ransom's dead. That means either the Admiral or I will be
the one to go see your wife. I don't want to do that! Please don't make me do that!
You have won a great victory today. You defeated an enemy force twice our size and
saved those guys on the beach.”

He shook his head slowly.

“The boys put some good shots into that first ship. She's probably at the bottom
by now. Sir, come with me! She will slide any moment now.”

Rodgers looked up, his eyes blinking slowly. “Sam, I lost two ships in two years.”

Cashion shouted back. “I am not going to leave you here! I will
NOT!
”

That jarred Rodgers. He looked up into Cashion's eyes. He knew he could order the
man out, but knowing Cashion, he wouldn't go.

Rodgers wanted to remain on the bridge and go down with the vessel he loved so much.
Sitting there had been the most comfortable feeling of peace he had ever known. But
his code of honor, the ancient “Soldier's Elegy,” did not include selfishness. He
would not cause the death of another. He stood up, dropping his cigarette.

“All right,” he said quietly. He took a deep, slow breath. “Did they get the log?”

Cashion went to it and picked it up. “I'd hate to have to save this thing and you
too,” he said.

The two smiled together as they left the bridge, walked down the two flights of stairs
to the deck, and went to the rail.

As they looked forward, they could see “A” turret already half submerged and water
lapping gently at the base of the housing below the massive “B” turret not far away.
The ship had only a few moments left before she would begin her slide to the bottom
five hundred fathoms below. But Rodgers stopped, and for almost a full minute took
a long, slow look around.

Finally, with the anxious Cashion already over the side and climbing down a rope,
he smiled a smile of gratitude, nodded slowly several times, and went over.

A spontaneous and sustained cheer went up from the hundreds of exhausted men in the
boats and on
Winslow
.

Battle Off Noemfoor

Once more unto the breach dear friends, once more . . .

—Shakespeare,
Henry V

Weapons . . . when next we meet,
May serve to better us, and worse our foes
Or equal what between us made the odds, . . .

—Milton,
Paradise Lost, Book Six

B
y the late spring of 1944, General Douglas MacArthur, Commander Southwest Pacific,
had taken many locations in his advance up the east coast of New Guinea to the northern
edge of the island, called the “Vogelkop,” or “bird's head.” Unfortunately, only
two proved usable as bases for the heavy B-24 bombers: Nadzap, in the extreme south,
and Hollandia, halfway up the coast. A successful conclusion of the campaign would
require the acquisition of a third location that would yield the six-thousand-foot
runway capable of handling the big bombers for the next jump, to the Philippines.

The island of Biak off the “Vogelkop” was selected and was attacked May 29, 1944.
The island of Noemfoor, fifty miles to the west, was then selected for invasion in
order to secure Biak's flank. The Japanese reaction to Biak was swift. First they
attempted to bring in reinforcements, and then they brought major warships to bases
to the west of New Guinea. The Allied support of Biak and Noemfoor was staged from
Hollandia with its airfields and excellent harbor, Humbolt Bay.

Off the coast of northern New Guinea, June 25, 1944

Captain Theodore R. Rodgers, Jr., was a hard man for the crew to figure. Many a sailor
studied him closely or just plain stared at him to try to understand what he was
like. By this time in the war, he was a legendary figure in the United States. Many
of the younger men had idolized him long before they entered the Navy, having seen
his picture in
Life
or some other magazine next to Joe Foss, Marion Carl, or Eisenhower.
His accomplishments made him into a natural hero. The men knew of his decisive action
at Pearl Harbor, how he had brought crucial supplies to the Marines at Guadalcanal,
and how he had beaten the Japanese at the Battle of Huon Gulf despite two-to-one
odds and saved an invasion force.

Though it was the furthest thing from his mind, the forty-one-year-old squadron commander
with graying temples looked every inch the hero the young men idolized. He was tall
and lean, and had become better looking with age. The physique that had made him
one of the great athletes in the history of Annapolis was still evident, his body
as yet oblivious to his heavy smoking. The crew knew that the “Old Man” still held
the record for winning twelve games in a row as a pitcher on the baseball team, and
that he had been such a star on the football field that more than one newspaper had
called him “the best tackle in the east.”

While young men naturally admire a famous athlete, they had come to like Rodgers
personally as well. He was fair in his dealings with them, always ready to take the
time to talk with them, and played no favorites. They knew that he was always cool
under fire, never rattled in any way. He never even raised his voice. Finally, they
were fascinated by the testament to his leadership abilities that followed him around:
that he had never relieved an officer or needed to.

As young men do, they failed to understand their leader. Rodgers thought of himself
as a rather average professional soldier and patriot. While he recognized that he
had achieved some measure of success, he was sure it was due to the excellence of
his subordinates. There was no place in his strict code of honor for individual laurels.
While many portrayed him as a great
dispenser of revenge against an implacable foe,
in this too they misjudged him. He had no hatred of the enemy as a people at all.
He opposed them simply because they were the enemy of the United States.

In this process of battling for his country, Rodgers thought very little of his own
life. He was prepared without any hesitation for it to be sacrificed for the good
of the nation. Only one thing in his life matched his duty to country: his duty to
his men. To him, his men essentially were the nation, and his respect for and dedication
to them knew no bounds. Neither was this contradiction—of doing the nation's bidding
versus not risking lives needlessly—apparent to his observers, though it caused him
much anguish.

It would have confused the younger men all the more had they known that nine months
before their hero had suffered through the loss of his great love, sunken heavy cruiser
Grand Rapids
. He still thought of her every day and would grieve for her in his own
quiet way, telling no one, until the day he died. But she was gone, and no trace
of anguish was evident on his face. He never mentioned her again, and those whom
he carried with him as he went up the chain of command knew better than to mention
her in his presence. Even to Sam Cashion, now a ship's captain, who had saved Rodgers'
life twice, and who several months before had married Rodgers' little sister, Faye,
Rodgers confided nothing of his loss. He appeared the same as always, joking and
smiling with the crew, and spending inordinate amounts of time in idle talk with
them.

Perhaps he had remained so strong because he had a new love to replace
Grand Rapids.
It was the destroyer
Reed
. Built as a destroyer leader before the war, she and her
nine sisters in two similar classes had been among the largest destroyers in the
world when built in the middle 1930s. While the Fletcher-class destroyers, now rolling
out of US shipyards in great numbers, were actually heavier tonnage-wise, the older
ships had as much gun power as any in the world. To the Fletcher-class ships' five
five-inch guns in five single turrets,
Reed
had eight such guns in four double turrets.

There were three Fletcher-class ships in Rodgers' squadron. Cashion was actually
the commander of
Reed
, but Rodgers had made his flag in her, forcing Cashion from
the captain's cabin to bunk with the other officers. She
was top-heavy like his old
love, and buxom, with “B” and “X” turrets high out of the water. She was as handsome
as any warship. The casual observer might have assumed her to be a light cruiser.
Over time, she proved too top-heavy, and some of her double turrets were replaced
with single mounts. But on this day, her ability to fire four guns forward, to the
two of the Fletcher-class ships', would prove very important for the United States.

Rodgers came onto the spacious starboard wing of the bridge at 0430, as was his custom.
His orders dangled from his right hand. He sat in the new captain's chair he had
had installed on the wing in order to allow Cashion room to command his ship and
stay out of the way of the traffic of the tiny bridge.

The door into the back of the bridge was open. Around the corner, in his cabin, a
favorite record spun on the Alabamian's phonograph: Ernest Tubb's first big country
hit, “Walking the Floor Over You.” Young Tubb's twangy voice, not yet developed into
the lustrous bass of later years, sounded in the background. It repeated again and
again, to the consternation of some bluejackets unimpressed with country music.

Rodgers had read the orders a number of times but looked at them once more as Tubb's
voice droned on:

FLEET ORDERS 62-869

AS PART OF OPERATION TABLETENNIS, YOU WILL STAND OUT FROM HUMBOLT BAY AT 0130 HOURS
24 JUNE 1944, WITH YOUR COMMAND TO CONDUCT OPERATIONS OF EIGHT DAYS' DURATION.

PROCEED TO A POINT SOUTH OF BIAK ISLAND VIA JAPAN STRAITS, MAKING RADIO CONTACT WITH
OUR FORCES AT BOSNIK AT 0330 HOURS 25 JUNE. USE THE CALL SIGN “METEOR.”

FROM BIAK:

1. PROCEED ALONG THE BIAK-NOEMFOOR AXIS

2. DOMINATE THE ISLAND OF NOEMFOOR UNTIL RELIEVED:

A. BOMBARDING THE LANDING BEACHES AS PRESCRIBED IN
FLEET ORDERS 62-864B
.

B. SUPPRESSING SHORE BATTERIES THAT COULD JEOPARDIZE THE LANDINGS.

C. BOMBARDING AIRFIELDS AT KAMRI AND KORNASOREN IN THE NORTH AND NAMBER IN THE SOUTH
AS PER OPPORTUNITY.

D. PREVENTING REINFORCEMENTS FROM REACHING THE ISLAND.

E. RESCUING ALL DOWNED US AVIATORS AS POSSIBLE. UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES ARE YOU TO
ENTER GEELVINK BAY TO THE SOUTH.

YOU ARE TO INTERPOSE YOUR COMMAND BETWEEN NOEMFOOR AND ANY ATTEMPTS AT RELIEF BY
THE ENEMY, ENGAGING AND DESTROYING ENEMY FORCES OF EQUAL OR INFERIOR STRENGTH.

YOU ARE TO RETREAT BEFORE SUPERIOR SURFACE FORCES, LINKING UP WITH THE INVASION CONVOY
IF PRACTICABLE.

Knowing that an action involving destroyers had just taken place two weeks before
off Biak, Rodgers had carefully readied his command. The usual accompaniment of shells
had been augmented from the Fletchers' 350 to nearly 450.
Reed
's supply had been
raised from three hundred to about five hundred, the great majority being AP, or
armor piercing, to be used against ships rather than targets such as airfields.

The port commander had strenuously remonstrated at the overloading. “I intend to
lodge an official complaint that this creates a safety hazard to your entire command,”
he'd said.

Unable to convince the man, Rodgers had simply ignored him. The loading had continued.
The crews found themselves stepping around shells stuffed in every nook and cranny,
and in some places just stacked on deck. Aside from ammunition, it was a command
that needed little else
to prepare it for battle. In the nine months since the loss
of
Grand Rapids
at the Battle of Huon Gulf, Rodgers' Destroyer Division 29, or Desdiv
29, had built an enviable record. While the central Pacific had Arleigh Burke and
his “Little Beavers,” the southwest Pacific had Rodgers and his “Maulers.”

Since their formation in December 1943, the “Maulers” had been in almost continuous
action against the Japanese. Suffering no serious damage, they had conducted twenty-one
coastal bombardments and, several antisubmarine sweeps, and labored through nine
major air attacks, including the one that sailors liked to call “The Battle of the
Lights.”

In February, they were halfway up the New Guinea coast and about thirty miles off
Wewak when they were beset by some of the same elite air units that had sunk the
old heavy cruiser
Chicago
off Rennell Island in the Solomon Islands the year before.

The Japanese had illuminated
Chicago
with pyrotechnic flares, a skill American aviators
never learned. Few of the attackers had been fired on or even seen. The cruiser had
taken two torpedo hits and gone down, producing one of the great Navy stories of
the war.

Once, years later at an inquest having nothing to do with
Chicago
, an old veteran
of the vessel was giving testimony. Part of his duty was to answer questions about
his career. The judge advocate asked: “When did you consider yourself detached from
Chicago
?” Without batting an eye, the old salt had asked for permission to light
a cigarette, then leaned back and replied: “When the Pacific Ocean reached my knees,
sir.”

At the “Battle of the Lights,” Rodgers and company had faced the same obstacles:
a powerful, unseen, and untouchable enemy with enough bombs and torpedoes to take
care of all four of his destroyers. Worse, unlike at Rennell Island, the action was
fought completely at night. No one saw even one of the attackers.

In the early morning hours, as many planes had begun to approach, Captain Rodgers
had stood before the radar screen, studying it carefully for ten minutes. Then, he
had gone to sit down in his chair without commenting on what he saw.

“It sure is a lovely night,” he had said to the keyed-up men on the bridge as they
sweated away.

Minutes later the Japanese had begun dropping surface flares, illuminating the entire
squadron. They'd started to put together their complicated attacks, so difficult
to organize at night. At the last minute, as the planes began to attack, Rodgers
had returned to the bridge and ordered his ships to disperse like a half starburst,
with each ship fanning out and away from the enemy in different directions. It had
ruined the coordination of the attack, and the enemy had not been able to reorganize
and try again. They had returned to their bases without using a single weapon.

In the short or long run, the “Maulers” proved to be quite an assemblage. Of course,
Sam Cashion and Rodgers, now related through marriage, proved to be a wonderful team.
But Annapolis classmates, now commanders, Spruel “C.T.” Trediger on
Bindle
and William
“Dude” Hennessey on
Paulley
took a back seat to no one. Inseparable for most of their
lives, they knew exactly what the other was thinking. The lanky and affable Trediger
and his wife Lauren were godparents of Hennessey's two daughters, as “Dude” and his
wife, Sharon, a former beauty queen from Colorado, were for the Trediger children.
Both had enough command ability to later become rear admirals.

Perhaps Commander L.L. “Pete” Bernhard of
Kaulk
had the most potential of anyone
in the command outside of the commander himself. Tragically, he would be killed,
along with his entire family, in an automobile accident outside of Cleveland, Ohio,
on February 21, 1947. Many others in the force would have distinguished careers after
the war, in the military and out. There would be a rear admiral, a chief of the Bureau
of Ordnance, several CEOs of large companies, and both a US senator and congressman.
The force was experienced, well trained, and of the opinion that no task was beyond
its reach.