The USS New York went on to survive the war, and then incredibly to survive its role as a target ship in two atomic bomb tests off Bikini Atoll in 1946.
It was finally scuttled in 1948, but its namesake, the fifth ship to be christened USS New York, was commissioned in November 2009. Its hull was made with eight tons of steel recovered from the World Trade Center wreckage after the attacks of September 11—the same day, ninety years before, when the battleship New York’s keel was laid down.
On the night of May 2, 1945, eight B-24 Liberator bombers left their base in Guam and headed out on a night harassment raid targeting Japanese airfields.
While flying over the enemy-held Truk atoll — also known as the “Japanese Pearl Harbor” for its huge naval facilities — the crew of one B-24 was suddenly aware that two objects had sidled up to it in the night sky.
Flying at 11,000 feet, the same altitude as the B-24, these objects — one off the plane’s left wing, the other off its right — were not only highly luminous, they were shifting their colors from red to orange to white and then fading out, only to reappear as red and start the process all over again.
The objects were riding just out of range of the Liberator’s formidable collection of machine guns — ten in all — so the pilot began a series of evasive maneuvers to lose them. At one point, he dove as low as 3,000 feet, but to no avail. No matter what the pilot did, the objects mimicked his maneuvers perfectly and remained in place, pacing the big bomber. Even when the B-24 flew through a cloud, the mystery objects would lay on the speed and reappear ahead of the plane on the other side of the cloud formation.
After about an hour of this, one of the objects disappeared. But the second one remained close to the B-24 for the three-hour ride back to its base.
In this time, the night eventually turned to day, allowing the B-24 crew to get a good look at their strange companion. In the morning light, it appeared to be bright silver in color.
The bomber finally lost sight of the object as it was passing down through cloud cover, beginning its landing approach on Guam.
By the time the B-24 touched down, the object was gone.
Beginning on Easter Sunday, April 1, 1945, the Battle of Okinawa was the bloodiest fight of the entire Pacific campaign. More than 12,000 U.S. soldiers and marines were killed in the eighty-two-day battle; close to 100,000 Japanese also died in that time, plus a large number of Okinawan civilians.
Okinawa is so close to Japan — just a few hundred miles to the south — it was considered home territory for the Japanese, which is why their forces fought so hard to defend it.
Originally envisioned as a jumping-off point for the invasion of Japan itself, Okinawa did not have to play that role because shortly after the titanic battle for the island concluded, the United States dropped the atomic bombs on the Japanese cities of Hiroshima and Nagasaki and the Imperial government finally sued for peace.
Captain William Mandel was an artillery officer attached to the military government set up to preside over Okinawa after the fighting had ceased. His unit’s bivouac was located on a bluff, looking west onto the East China Sea.
One evening, Mandel was atop this bluff, gazing out on the water, when he spotted a lighted object coming up from the south, flying about 200 feet above the water’s surface. Because the bluff was about the same height, when the object passed by him Mandel was able to see it clearly and at eye level.
He described the object as being cigar shaped, about 30 to 40 feet long, with a diameter of 6 to 8 feet. The light that had first caught his attention was emanating from the tail of the object. He estimated the object’s speed to be between 200 and 300 miles per hour. It had no wings, nor could he see portholes or windows.
It passed by him, flying smoothly through the night, making no noise. He watched it follow the coastline of the embattled island until it finally vanished from sight.
What’s interesting about this sighting is the object’s “cigar shape.” Because it matched the same description as many foo fighters reported in the European theater, Captain Mandel might have had the best look of anyone at a CSO, possibly the most prolific unidentified aerial object of the war.
Just like the Tasmania sighting in the summer of 1942, an intriguing clue as to where foo fighters might come from was revealed toward the end of the war — of all places, off the coast of Alaska.
It was summer 1945. A U.S. Army transport ship, the USAT Delarof, was heading back to Seattle after dropping off ammunition and supplies to ports in Alaska.
Sailing off the Aleutian island of Adak in the late afternoon, the ship’s crew and passengers were startled to see a huge sphere rise out of the ocean about a mile away from them.
As more than a dozen people watched dumbstruck, the object went straight up for a few seconds then leveled off. Because it was positioned between the ship and the setting sun, the object’s real color could not be discerned. The witnesses estimated the sphere was between 150 and 200 feet in diameter, however. And even though there were strong winds at the time, the object didn’t seem affected by them, indicating it was self-propelled.
The sphere hovered for a short while — then it began to slowly circle the ship. The ship’s guns were manned by this time, but no orders were given to fire at the sphere because it was not showing any hostility.
After it went around the ship three times, the sphere took off toward the south-southwest. The witnesses later reported they saw three bright flashes of light go off in that direction shortly after the sphere disappeared.
The ship’s captain posted an extra watch for the trip home, in the event that the object returned. It didn’t.
But once back in Seattle, fourteen of the crew signed a statement summarizing the incident and testifying that the sighting had indeed taken place.
The Nansei Shoto archipelago is located off the southern coast of Japan.
It’s a strange part of the world, a patch of mostly water and a few volcanic islands, one being Okinawa. After sailing through it, though, many a sailor, including those in the U.S. Navy during and at the conclusion of World War II, became convinced this part of the Pacific was haunted by something, though no one was really sure what.
For instance, American submarines plying its waters would sometimes pick up sonar indications of ghostly ships that just weren’t there. These things caused much consternation for the navy’s silent service, especially operating so close to the Japanese Home Islands. A popular science magazine explained it this way: A submarine radar man would be monitoring his scope, his radar antenna riding just above the surface while the sub itself was riding just below. Suddenly the radar man would pick up an indication that something looking like a hostile vessel was heading for his submarine. If the radar man warned that a change in course was needed, the indication would turn exactly how the sub was turning.
The sub’s captain would inevitably go up periscope and take the chance of scanning the sea surface for the opposing warship. But then, just as suddenly, the indication would vanish from the radar screen.
Thus the name “ghosts.”
Many theories were put forth on what these things were — mirages, cold weather inversions, “air sandwiches,” which are a freakish condition caused when low-lying cold air traps radar signals. But no satisfactory explanation has ever been proven.