The small carrier was also getting her bow into the wind. Across the deck, pilots raced for their aircraft. Even as more shells came in, first one plane, then another and another, managed to claw their way into the morning air and head toward the enemy vessels.
The Jeep carrier was accompanied only by a couple of destroyers. They were hopelessly outclassed and outgunned by the big enemy ships headed their way.
In an almost suicidal attack, one of the destroyers raced toward the Japanese, every gun firing. Oatmire had borrowed some binoculars and watched, amazed, as the destroyer made a direct hit on the nearest Japanese vessel. He whooped, expecting to see the enemy ship go up dramatically in flames.
To his astonishment, the shell from the US ship exploded but bounced off, doing no more harm than a firecracker makes against a sidewalk. The Japanese ships were just too heavily armored for the destroyer’s smaller gun to penetrate.
“Look at those brave bastards go,” O’Connell muttered in amazement.
Oatmire was reminded of a mouse trying to fight a bunch of cats. “Who are they?”
“That’s the Johnston.”
The destroyer had gotten right in among the Japanese fleet, firing in all directions, hitting them with everything from its five-inch gun to antiaircraft weapons. The feisty ship even hurled depth charges whenever it came close enough to an enemy vessel.
Other destroyers followed the example of USS Johnston, but held back from getting right in among the Japanese fleet. The attack had slowed the enemy onslaught, enabling Kalinin Bay and the other escort carriers nearby to get their planes into the sky. These were not nearly the numbers of aircraft — or the savage dive bombers — that USS Enterprise and the rest of the Third Fleet carriers could have launched. However, the Third Fleet was much too far away to help them now.
Even a small number of planes was more than the Japanese possessed. Theirs was strictly a naval force. The aircraft attacked furiously, as if their lives depended on it — which they did.
Flak filled the sky, creating a rainbow effect of colorful bursts. The explosions made sharp popping sounds that jabbed at his eardrums between the firing of Kalinin Bay’s 40 mm cannons and 20 mm machine guns. It could have passed for a Fourth of July display if the intent hadn’t been so destructive. Japanese ships were each assigned a separate color as a more effective way to track their own antiaircraft fire in a joint action. It was a simple but ingenious method to manage each individual ship’s fire during the heat of combat.
Somehow the US planes managed to avoid the flak, although one or two planes were hit. One moment they were racing across the blue sky, and the next moment they were cartwheeling in flames. Oatmire shuddered at the sight.
The smoke from the burning planes smudged the sky, and the sound of explosions echoed across the ocean. The crew on the USS Kalinin Bay stayed at their battle stations, their hearts pounding with fear and adrenaline. They had been caught by surprise, and they had to fight with every fiber of their being if they hoped to survive.
Oatmire continued to watch the naval battle unfold through the binoculars. For a few amazing minutes, it had almost seemed as if the Johnston and her intrepid crew might turn the tide of battle all by itself. But flames were now coming from the intrepid destroyers, showing that it had been hit not once, but probably multiple times.
The larger ships were not ignoring USS Johnston. Instead, she had been surrounded by several Japanese destroyers. They were ganging up on the American vessel, pouring fire into the wounded ship.
They were killing her.
Oatmire groaned and swore helplessly. He couldn’t imagine what it must be like to be one of the crew on that ship, being hit from all directions. The destroyer began to list to one side, its deck covered in smoke and flame. Then the stern dipped under the waves and the ship went under.
There must have been survivors, because one of the Japanese destroyers hung around to strafe the waves with machine-gun fire, ensuring that no one from USS Johnston would live.
This went beyond warfare. This was murder and revenge, all rolled into one.
Sons of bitches, Oatmire thought.
He pulled the binoculars away from his eyes. The slaughter was more than he could bear to watch.
But the sacrifice of USS Johnston and her crew had made a difference. Given the gift of time, the escort carriers’ planes were hitting the Japanese hard. It was a reminder that naval warfare now depended more than ever on aircraft. Without air cover, the Japanese were taking a merciless beating.
Slowly, the Japanese ships began to turn and retreat. They had lost the momentum of attack. Little did they know that if they had only pressed forward and really brought the Yamato and Musashi into play, they might have utterly annihilated the Seventh Fleet and done untold damage to the landing operation on Leyte.
After the war, the Japanese admiral would reveal that he had thought he must have run into the Third Fleet after all, rather than the beleaguered Seventh Fleet. Their furious defense had convinced the Japanese that they had encountered a much larger force.
It was another week before Oatmire made the return trip to USS Nashville. He hadn’t been meant to stay that long, but in the excitement over the Japanese presence, nobody had worried much about inconveniencing an army captain.
Once he had cleaned up and put on a fresh uniform, he found himself reporting to General MacArthur himself. It was a little unusual in that normally his written report would be “passed up the food chain.” In this case, the general wanted to hear it straight from the horse’s mouth.
MacArthur seemed to have forgotten his concerns about what the navy boys “were up to.” Instead, he wanted details about the sea battle that Oatmire had witnessed. The general asked a few questions but mostly appeared rapt as Oatmire described the actions of the destroyer in almost single-handedly taking on the Japanese fleet.
The rest of the story, which General MacArthur already knew, was that Yamato and Musashi had not made it far from the Battle off Samar that Oatmire had witnessed. First, the Musashi had been targeted and sunk by repeated bombings from US aircraft.
Then had come a reckoning for Yamato. Although the ship had taken an incredible amount of punishment, she was no match for the relentless air attacks that she faced. Eventually, the ship that was the pride and joy of the Imperial Navy also slipped beneath the waves.
All told, the Japanese had lost several ships. Oatmire had been privy to some of the reports coming in. Estimates were that the Japanese had lost more than twelve thousand sailors and aircrew across the smaller fights that made up the sea battle of Leyte Gulf.
Allied forces — the Australian navy had also played a role — had not gone unscathed, but had also lost ships and as many as two thousand sailors and aircrew. If things had gone differently in the Battle off Samar, the outcome might have been far, far worse for the efforts to take back the Philippines.
Because the general wanted more than reports, but an actual eyewitness account, he asked Oatmire a few additional questions, then signaled that the meeting was coming to a close.
“Any other thoughts you want to share, Captain?”
Oatmire considered, then said, “Yes, sir. I just want to say, thank God for the United States Navy!”