FIRST BLOOD: A WAR CORRESPONDENT TELLS OF THE MARSHALLS RAID

1, February, Sunday.  At Sea.  Mostly clear with occasional overcast.  A beautiful day to die in.
     At this writing we don't know where one of our cruisers is.  She took a walloping from high-level bombers at Kwajalein atoll and got a direct hit on her well deck.  The carrier is slightly damaged.  She just threw one of her planes overboard after a strafing that made the afternoon one of anxiety and prayer.  We have only one plane left in commission out of four.  (We lost one in a landing accident this morning.  The other two were shot up on deck by our own ack-ack in action.)  We are now theoretically on our way back to Pearl Harbor but I alas have no faith in these offhand pronouncement  by our guides and guardians.  More than once today we looked at the bottom.  We get to Pearl Harbor when we get there . . . when and if.
     Here is a chronology of a day of battle--as weird a day as I have ever experienced in war.
     Commander Chappell woke me at about half-past four.  I had slept through the noise of the alarm clock and he said that he didn't want me to sleep through a battle.  I went down to the wardroom and ate a hearty breakfast of ham and eggs (simulated).  After that in a leisurely fashion I gathered up my life belt, gas mask, field glasses, ear plugs, paper and fountain pen.  And I clambered up through the dark to the searchlight platform just above sky control on the foremast.  There with Bob Landry I watched the moon fight it out with a pale sun and eventually lose.

     06:00 Moon full--yellow.  For a moment a band of cloud slips over it like the belt of Saturn.  But it remains brilliant, too brilliant.  Aft, the planes begin to gurgle and roar.

     06:15 Guns of after turrets are swung skyward.  The planes get off one after another in quick and noisy sequence.  They are gray blots against a gray sky with a ghastly blue halo of burning gases accompanying them.

     06:40  The sun is struggling up through low-lying clouds.  Eight seaplanes go off toward the west in ragged formation.  Land is taking shape hazily like a narrow streamer of smoke on the starboard horizon.

     06:45  Lookout sings out smoke coming from island dead ahead.  The blackish cloud, round and rolling, is clearly visible in spite of hue of the dawn's early light.

     06:59  We swing farther in toward land and turn loose forward guns in bombardment.  We hear no commands.  We see no unusual preparations but this is an historic moment.  This is the first time in this war (save for some ack-ack at Pearl Harbor)  that the Pacific fleet has fired on an enemy.  Then island is a typical atoll hardly visible save for the breakers along its coral reefs.  Planes are on our starboard, low.  Some anxiety until they are identified as our own.  The carrier planes have gone home and for better or worse this show from now on is ours.

     07:05  Lookout: "Ship dead ahead, Sir!" And there it is!  About halfway between us and the horizon . . . . A little thing like an ocean going tug, which has come blithely out of the dawn to run squarely across the bows of a destroyer.  A bit of irony.  We increase speed to eighteen knots and turn silghtly to starboard.  The destroyer keeps on after the unfortunate tub--and start firing.  The sea around the Jap is tufted with white splashes.  There are yellow-white glares from the Jap's deck-several of them--which from where I sit indicate that he has four guns and is using them.

     07:10  The Jap turns parallel to our course.  So does the destroyer.  They exchange shots without result--several salvos knock down, drag out, toe-to-toe.

     07:11  A destroyer is spotted on the horizon.  The guns swivel and we lie back to blast.  But it is one of our own coming back from a sub-hunt.  There is some more to-do about a wandering plane that turns out to be an SBD returning to the carrier somewhere over the horizon.

     07:12  A.A. flashed from the island.  The ________, our associate cruiser, is throwing out salvos that burst with green color.  The coral beach is festooned with smoke plumes.  THe destroyer continues to fire.  So does the Jap.  This is an inspiring duel but it's beginning to look like a bad piece of gunnery.

     07:16  Our eight-inch batteries go off and wreathe the ship and surrounding sea with a yellow acrid haze.  We keep firing at half-minute intervals--following the lead of the _______.  I was thrown flat on my face at the first blast and so far have been unable to get up any farther than my knees.
     The light is getting better and we have a chance to view the fantasy of eight-inch guns painstakingly blowing a mangy, palm-dandruffed atoll to pieces.  The great battle between the destroyer and the seagoing barge proceeds with noise and smoke and no end of dangerous-looking waterspouts.  But the issue remains in doubt.  I'm beginning to bet on the little guy.

     07:26  The Jap is still up. . . . Seems likely to stay up indefinitely.  We shift our fire. . . .
     This atoll like so many of its kind in the Pacific is really a string of small islands about a lagoon, remnants possibly of coral erections on the rim of a volcanic crater.  The entrance to the lagoon of Wotje is to the left of us as we look at the island but straight ahead of us the land dips abruptly into the sea, presenting an opening about a quarter of a mile wide through which we can see a large part of the lagoon.
     And now, like something in a worn and hazy movie, an 8,000-ton freighter has steamed out from behind the island on the north of the opening and into plain view.  There will be no better protection for her in back of the south island than she had when she started but in theory a moving target is harder to hit than a stationary one. . . . Our shells are smashing into the lagoon alongside her--two over, two short--a vicious bracket.  Ack-ack begins to smash all around us.  This is odd inasmuch as no planed are near us but there's no reason to suppose that a five-inch ack-ack shell won't bother us if it crashes into the bridge of sky control or, for that matter, almost anywhere else above the decks.

     07:27  Somebody sights a submarine moving out of the lagoon toward toe south passage.  While we are assimilating that one the warning is passed to be on the alert for bombers inasmuch as near-by bases must now be aware of our attack.  Everything seems to be happening at once--or on the verge of it.

     07:28  Comes a terrific mixture of splashes about the Jap ship.  You might take the bursts for bomb explosions but there are no planes above.  Probably the destroyer crews are putting out something special in the way of quick fire. . . . We have completed our first run across the face of the island.  We turn about with the other cruiser.  The ship in the lagoon is still moving through a mist of spray and smoke.  She appears to have been hit.  The destroyer goes on with its interesting and interminable work.

     07:32  The guns turn loose all at once with a brain-jolting slap and your diaphragm caves in.  THe yellow smoke bolts out the target for a moment.  That clears.  The hiss of compressed air cleaning out the gun tubes comes as an obbligato.  This is an ideal day for battle.  But it has a stiff wind which we are now heading into.  It's enough to blow your eyeballs out.

     07:33  The struggle between the destroyer and the Jap spitkit comes to a quick end.  THe destroyer makes a hit on the starboard side and disables two guns.  Apparently the Jap commander has one gun left on the port side.  He is listing badly but he swings slowly around as more clunks rain on him and churn up the sea.  He fires one last erratic shot with his remaining gun.  He sinks.
     "Well," says the navigator, "if the Japs want to put up a monument to that little guy, I'll contribute."

     07:40  Firing is fairly regular on the atoll now but doesn't show many results.  We can see it now--as the day advances--two more ships just over the reef in the lagoon.  The one we were shooting at first is behind the south island, up or down I can't say.  One of the pair now visible seems to be turning around.  The other begins to move southward across the open space.  Apparently the crews of both ships were taken by surprise and they've been until now getting the engines atarted.  There is something of Pearl Harbor in this in more ways than one.

     07:41  Destroyer milling about scene of kill is far away on our horizon now.  It has large bone in its teeth and seems to be on the way to rejoin us.

     07:45  The sun hits Wotje's low profile and shows color of its straggly palms and moth-eaten verdure.  It is like all other south-sea atolls--a top of delicate green, an outcrop of grayish coral and yellowish beach.  Over the front of it spin shreds of black smoke.

    07:55  Sky control announces two submarines coming out of the harbor.  The ship which first began to move from the trap beyond the open reef now swings south to get protection of the south island.  One salvo seems to bracket it---to "straddle" it as they say in the Navy.  It leans over to starboard and seems about to capsize.  But it recovers and steams on with green and blue plumes of bursting shell in its wake.

     08:15  We are beginning to notice artillery resistance other than the five-inch ack-ack that has been sprinkling us liberally.  Perhaps they've been working unobserved in the dim light of the morning but at the moment we are in no doubt about their being here.  A couple of them are tossing six-inch shells out here with no hint of economy.  The sea between us and the island is tufted with them.  And now and then, in the fashion of another and better war, they throw a bit of time-fuse shell at us for adjustment.  Some of this probably was mixed up with the ack-ack.  If so it wouldn't have been discoverable.
     Our five-inch batteries have turned loose to strafe the beach.  They are probably the noisiest contrivance ever invented by man.  Their effort mixed with the sickening roar of the main battery produces a din that nears the limit of human endurance.  Lots of odd things come out of the five-inch tubes along with the shell, including odd bits of ashes, and red fire balls.

     08:16  The barrage on the ship remaining in sight in the lagoon has been steady--and terrible.  Now comes a bracket so close that most of the superstructure is hidden by an upheaval of water like Old Faithful.  The ship starts down by the head, shivers, leans over to starboard. . . . In a matter of seconds she is gone.

     08:20  Firing ceases.  Brass shell cases of the five-inch batteries are dumped overboard.  In the lull you have time to note numerous fires along Wotje beach.  We seem to be withdrawing.  Our destroyer is far on the western horizon.

     08:25  I guessed wrong.  The clamor is on again worse than before.  Almost immediately we see results.  There is a burst of red flame and s tremendous black cloud rolls skyward.  Oil, would be my guess, and a big tank of it.  Lieutenant Jim Brewer in fire control announces that twelve torpedo  planes and seven bombers have taken of from a Jap island--apparently one where our preliminary attack wasn't strong enough to hold them.  The fore burns mostly black with darting spears of red in it.  Another ship comes across the open space in the lagoon streaking for protection back of the north island.  08:30  Our fire has shifted to the north end of the atoll.  It's not so spectacular now as the bursts go over the crest but we've been told that three of four naval auxiliaries are in there.  Shells from the shore batteries are falling nearer--the last batch about 200 yards off the bracketed.
     Our turrets are working faster but not on the land battery.  Maybe we don't recognize it socially.  Continuous concussion caves in your stomach.  Five-inch guns firing into the sunlight throw off large golden rings so burning vapor that chokes you when it comes back.  Cotton in your ears is small comfort now.

     08:41  Another string of geysers ahead of us.  The Jap battery is in no hurry but, boy! it's working well.  The range is now perfect.  Deflection which has to change as we move is not badly calculated.  Over on the island four white plumes are rising--wooden buildings maybe.

     08:35  A group of four shells tosses white water to starboard.  We're closer to scraping our stern.  From our platform we can see a widening circle of green--like an excrescence in a swamp--spread out over the deep blue water.  Our fantail cuts off the view of one side of the patch--which shows how close the shell came. . . .Apparently the bridge is going to do something about this.  We can hear the telephone men relaying an order already sent over the the engine room telegraph--left rudder.  We swing about as on a pivot.  The top rolls over until we are looking down into blue water.  You'd think the whole thing would keep going right on over into the drink.  But we come up with a jerk at right angles to our original course and right side up.  Four shells, all in a pattern, fall astern and to port.  So we've come out of the bracket.

     08:50  Our guns fire from the stern.  There is a crash from the flight deck.  A muzzle burst in Gun No. 8 of the five-inch battery.  The tube miraculously held together although it is bulged to a bottle shape, and nobody was hurt.
     Shells began to pile up on the end of the island where the land battery is flashing at us.  We are doing a sort of cumbersome adagio dance, the sort of movement you might expect of an elephant in bayonet drill. . . . Our wake, a broad path of light blue with fringes of white on a stretch of calm cobalt, is a glittering corkscrew. . . . "The rolling English drunkard made the rolling English road. . . ."

     08:52  Geysers around the cruiser ahead of us. . . . Apparently a second battery has been working on her.  She shifts.  A second salvo falls short of her.  The Jap firing is accurate enough but the guns seem to be working at the limit of their range--there are few overs.

     08:53  We let loose a fine salvo at a ship in the lagoon which seems already headed for the beach.  I shall make a note of it, to paste in my hat for study if I ever have to go to a gunnery school again, or to consult when anybody says anything about the law of averages. . . . Five guns fired--the two forward turrets; two shells went over, two the right, smashed into the coral right at water level, hit a subterranean oil storage and started the biggest fire ever seen in the south Pacific.  I pause for a reply. . . . The ship goes on toward the beach.

     08:53 Another black fire starts from the previous column of smoke and north of it.  Almost immediately two smaller blazes spring up to the north of that.
     The air is filled with beautiful little white birds that come out from the land to look at us and go away again.  In the sunlight they look like butterflies or flying fish.
     It is a pleasure to report that we are now maneuvering well out of range of the shore batteries whose efforts continue to pockmark the ocean between here and the shore.

     08:54 A third fire of first magnitude but with more red in its black plumes has burst out well toward the north end of the north island--far to the right of the other principal blazes.  The smoke column is now hundreds of feet high and spreading out in a cloud toward the south over the atoll.

     08:55  We plaster the land batteries with everything we've got--a smash that makes the ship lean back and slide sideways in the water--and turn about.  The northernmost fire and the one we touched off in error in the middle of the island seem to have combined in one fine blaze.  It is now erupting gray and black smoke with high bursts of red in it where hot gases belatedly ignite.

     08:57  A lookout announces:  "Plane approaching--bearing two-five-oh."  Lieutenant Brewer, on the platform below this one, repeats it into the telephone. . . .
     "Our plane!"  bawls the lookout and Brewer repeats that.  Then he puts down the telephone and signals for an orderly to inform the Marine battery--the pompom ack-ack outfit.  "Our plane!" he calls.  "Tell it to the Marines."
     The island fire has all the characteristics of oil except for the gray mixture which may indicate explosives, I hope.

     09:00  We draw away.  We are now about ten miles off Wotje.  Bursts are leaping up on the south end of the island.  The destroyer is still in there firing incessantly.  It probably went in close to finish off the ships inside the lagoon.  We are headed mostly south. . . . A string of signals breaks out on our halyard, another string on the ______.  It's my guess that the first phase of the show is over.

     09:05  Here's a startling mystery.  There was an odd noise--like a burst alongside amidships.  A detail went to look into the matter but there's no answer to it unless the five -inch battery has had another muzzle burst.

     09:10  The far-away atoll now seems to have no height.  It is a long white-green streak on the horizon with flame running over it and smoke plumes like a couple of black waterspouts balanced on it.  There are occasionally three distinct columns of smoke two black, one gray--all about three hundred feet high.

     09:30  "Periscope dead astern!"  Thus the lookout.  Speed and twist!  Speed and twist!  The destroyers leap like flying fish.  Thud go the depth charges.

     09:35  "Periscope off port beam."  Speed and twist!  Speed and twist!  The periscope couldn't be a half filled five inch shell casing, could it?  Who can say?  Speed and twist!

     09:40  All planes returning.  You can see the rendezvous far astern.  Our destroyers seems to have finished its job and is coming up like a fox terrier with its tail in the air.

     10:00  Planes overhead but only seven.  Eight took off.  We slow down to pick up planes.  Four go to the other cruiser.  So it's one of ours that's gone.  Which?

     10:10  The missing plane comes streaking in from the west.  Cheers.

     10:16  Last of the trio that came back first is taken aboard.  So we learn that the late-comer is Davis who apparently is still flirting with a jinx.  He circles about, heads down into the slick on the starboard side.

     10:20  He's down . . . heads in.  The signalman isn't very deft and Davis gets the signal to cut off too late.  He slides too far and his engine conks.  Before he can start again a wave throws him against the side of the ship.  A wing crumples.

     10:23  The plane is astern with Davis and his radio-man sitting on the wings of it.  The floats are submerged.

     10:24  So begins a ponderous maneuver to launch a powerboat.  The key to the winch is missing.  Find it.  There's no plug for the bottom of the boat.  Whittle one.  Why doesn't someone start the which? Why not?

     10:25  The ship is moving about the plane in a narrowing circle.  The cockpits are underwater now. The aviators have inflated their rubber boat and are preparing to get into it.

     10:29  A destroyer goes by.  The boat crew is still hopelessly fiddling with the gear.  The destroyer seems to be awaiting a signal before going in to pick the lads up.  In the meantime their situation is getting critical.  There goes . . .

     10:30  General Quarters with bells and bugle!  Eight planes reported about fifteen minutes away and heading toward us.  The can is left to do what can be done about picking up Davis.

     10:42  Plane off port bow flying erratically.

     10:43  Plane identified as a bird. . . . The captain says that the report of the approaching Japanese planes came from the carrier--which we ought to be picking up presently--and that fighter planes are being sent off to deal with the situation.  All seems well and yet this would be the time to feel uncomfortable if we intended to.

     10:44  Lookout sings out:  "Plane approaching bearing two-two-oh!"  We zigzag.  The plane, if any, takes off somewhere.  We see nothing of it.

     10:45  THe captain has received a report that the cruiser which left to attack another atoll was severely bombed for nearly an hour.  She got one hit on the well deck which killed about eight men.  She is now steaming back to the rendezvous at a speed which would indicate that she is not seriously damaged.  She apparently stepped into something.  The island she attacked was supposed to be without air defense.  It had plenty.

     10:55  "Two planes off port beam!"  Invisible to me.  After a while I could make one of them out.  It seemed to be headed in the direction of Wotje whose smoke plumes are still visible above the horizon.

     10:56  Lieutenant Brewer calls into telephone:  "Find out how many or how few are going in or coming out."

     10:58.  He gets his answer--three fighters over the island.  Very likely ours.  The air of uneasiness is getting noticeable.  Obviously we know that the Japs are on the prowl but with our planes up it's difficult to tell where they're prowling.

     11:04  Ship on horizon.  She's identified as our carrier.  All this identification business is done by the lookouts.  I can't see anything on the horizon at all except a wisp of smoke from Wotje.

     11:15  Near-by planes identified as friendly.  The carrier now looms up over the rim of the sea as we zigzag toward her.  She looks as big as the Queen Mary.

     11:20  The atoll is now completely out of sight but the smoke of the oil fires is still thickly visible sixty miles above the horizon.  Two more warships are coming into sight near the carrier--also quantities of planes.
     Report to the bridge from the carrier:  Eight Jap planes managed to get off during the attack on Kwajalein--heavy bombers.  They followed our bombers back to the carrier.  Carrier fighters got four of them.

     11:25  The carrier swings northeast.  So do we.  We are still at general quarters.

     11:58  Secure from General quarters.  A tired, dirty mob troops down the iron ladders.  Details start out to clean up the ship, to put electric-light globes back in their sockets and to take mirrors and other flat glassware off the floor, and to turn on the water.  The first lieutenant;s detail goes around, inspecting damage which is considerable as a result of detonation.

     12:20  Buffet luncheon:  Beans, cold meat, pickles, stewed peaches. . . . Very acceptable.

     13:15  I go to bed feeling as if I could sleep for a week.

     13:45  Bugle and bawl of Donald Duck to general quarters.  "Planes approaching!"

     13:50  This time there's no fooling about it.  Five planes--big bombers--come slanting out of the overcast which is thick above 2,000 feet and start in a long glide straight for the carrier.  This is the first time I have ever seen dive bombing attempted by two-engine planes the size of a Douglas transport.  All the ack-ack in the group lets loose.
     At less than 2,000 feet they straighten out and drop their clunks.  It's a fine job of bombing.  Water rises to a height of 200 feet and covers the carrier for her entire length.  It seems impossible that any of her should be left.
     But the water comes down and the mist disperses and we see that the carrier has spun about.  The bombs fell precisely where she was when the planes came out of the cloud.  But by the time they hit she was somewhere else.  The planes come back for another glide. Where our fighters are I'll never tell.  Maybe I'll never know.

     14:00  Four more bombs--half-ton clunks--drop astern and to the starboard of the carrier as we come about parallel.  Another plane streaks out of the clouds on a long glide.  Our ack-ack blasts.  The plane seems almost to stop in midair as it bursts into flames.  Then it continues on toward the deck of the carrier.
     We'll never know if the pilot was alive or dead when the plane came to it's finish.  In either case he probably had no time to know that his attempt failed.  The big bomber hit the end of the flight deck, all right, it's momentum virtually spent.  It crashed one plane and slid over into the sea.
     The marine gunner who accomplished most of this miracle looks startled:  "He was there and now he's gone,"  he said.  Which is true.  There's no trace of him or his crew--not even a spot of oil.

     14:10  This is the fastest I've ever traveled except in a speedboat somewhere on a calm lake.  We are sticking our nose into it and flinging spray up over the bridge.  Our wake looks like a waving green stair carpet with white fringe and no particular pattern on a blue floor.

     14:30  The radio continues to report planes--obviously Japanese--in various quarters at no great distance.  Obviously this will keep going on all day.  The price you pay for raiding bases is that you get strafed by landplanes which are difficult competition.

     15:00  The other cruiser lets off a blast--about four salvos of ack-ack for no reason that we can see.

     15:10  Now and then the cans on the horizon do some shooting.

     15:20  Black bursts low on horizon--a torpedo attack.  The trouble is that we don't mention battles in this war so long as they don't affect anybody but yourself.  Your own worries are particularly your own.

     15:30  Radio announces two or three planes fifty miles away and inbound.  The sun is getting low, making observation to the west more and more difficult.  The sky is covered with spotty clouds.

     15:45  The atmosphere aboardship reminds me of the Valiant in a similar situation.  There is no sound save the throb of the blowers and the vibration of the hard-driven engines.  THere is little motion as the gun crews man their guns and the fire-control details stand with heads bent and their hands clapped over their headphones.  Somewhere out there are the Japs.  They have made one attack and have missed and have lost face.  They will have to make another attempt.

     15:59  And here they come.  The lookout sings:  "Two planes approaching bearing two-four-oh.  They seem to be heavy bombers."  There is a clamorous conference among the observers: a moment's excitement and then calm again. . . . .After all the air has been pretty well filled with Grummans.

     16:00  The first lookout calls:  "They're just coming out of a patch of cloud.  There they are.  Both of them.  They certainly are heavy bombers.  Most certainly!"  Then another lookout and another:  "Enemy aircraft approaching bearing two-five-oh."  "Enemy aircraft approaching at 6,000 feet."
     Then sky control:  "Commence firing."
     Once more bedlam.  I was on my knees under the ship's bell on the searchlight platform when the riot started.  I had trouble getting to my feet with the shock and plunge of the ship.  I smashed my head against the bell and battered my bones on the rails and skinned my knees.
     Two bombers came over at 5,000 feet, sailing as usual toward the carrier.  Their shooting was pretty good.

     16:02  Four bombs drop near the carrier.  One bursts almost dead ahead and no great distance off.  The water piles up on the carrier deck but apparently there's no damage.

     16:04  It is plain from the position of the bursts that our five-inch ack-ack isn't bothering the raiders much.  Their altitude is beyond the range of machine guns and minor ack-acks.  But as in other combats of the sort I've seen, they continue to fire anyway.

     16:05  Two of our fighters come from somewhere and begin to climb.  We cease firing save for a few odd shots from the other cruiser and a destroyer.  The fighters get altitude with amazing speed and take off after the bombers to the southwest.
     It is difficult to get yourself adjusted to the silence that comes now.  It has been a weird afternoon--everything you could ask for except a cavalry charge.

     16:10  We sit down again to wait.  So long as the Japs have bombers to fly we shan't be safe for the rest of the afternoon--and even sundown won't bring a complete respite.  We'll have a full moon in a reasonably clear sky.  It's obvious, however, that if the Japs are going to attack they'll most likely do it before six o'clock.  They were taught the rule that your bombing is better by day.

     17:00  The carrier's planes begin to come back and land.

     17:10  The bridge has received a message that the carriers planes shot down one of the bombers.

     17:20  I start down the ladders form my perch and run into one of the gunnery officers.  He says a message has just been received that a torpedo plane had been intercepted about five miles dead astern and is now in a dogfight with our planes. . .  . What a day! . . .

--Robert J. Casey
From:  The United States Navy in World War II
Compiled and edited by: S. E. Smith
Part I: Chapter 7:  First Blood:  A War Correspondent Tells of the Marshalls Raid