Marshall Islands Raid

Chronology

• Enterprise departs Pearl Harbor — Jan 11, 1942
• Marines landed safely at Samoa — Jan 23–24, 1942
• Task Forces part ways toward Marshalls — Jan 29, 1942
• Enterprise refuels underway at night (first capital ship to do so) — Jan 28, 1942
• Marshall Islands Raid — Feb 1, 1942
• Enterprise returns to Pearl Harbor — Feb 5, 1942

“It was one of those plans which are called ‘brilliant’ if they succeed and ‘foolhardy’ if they fail.” — Vice Admiral William F. Halsey

For a moment, imagine being gifted with extraordinary vision, standing in the center of Tokyo, Japan, on January 1, 1942, and being lifted well above the surface of the earth. Gazing to the southeast, towards the central Pacific, one might first pick out the smudge of Marcus Island, not quite a thousand miles distant, a Japanese possession since 1898. Peering further into the distance, still directly southeast, a string of coral atolls appears some 3000 miles away. These are the Marshall Islands, which Japan seized from Germany in 1914 (Japan aligned itself with the Allies in World War I), and which were formally mandated to Japan’s control by the Treaty of Versailles, signed in June 1919.

Beyond the Marshalls are the Gilbert Islands — which Japan seized two days after Pearl Harbor — and, still further southeast, the Ellice Islands. South and east of the Ellice Islands lie Fiji and Samoa, which in turn straddle the critical shipping lanes between the United States and Australia. It was these shipping lanes, and the obvious possibility of Japan severing them, that occupied the minds of American military planners from Washington, DC to Hawaii during the first weeks of the war.

On 30 December 1941, Admiral Ernest J. King was appointed Commander In Chief, US Fleet; Admiral Chester Nimitz became Commander in Chief, Pacific Fleet, the next day. King immediately directed Nimitz to protect US shipping between the United States and Australia, as far south as Samoa. To that end, 5000 Marines had been embarked on transports at San Diego, to be escorted to Samoa by Enterprise’s sistership Yorktown CV-5, recently arrived from the Atlantic.

1 February 1942: an Enterprise Dauntless dive bomber prepares for launch during the Marshall Islands raid.

On January 2, Nimitz’s staff recommended strikes against the Gilberts and Marshall Islands, but Vice Admiral William S. Pye — former commander of the Battle Fleet — raised the possibility of Japan expecting Samoa to be reinforced. Pye suggested, and Nimitz concurred, that a second carrier cover the Marine’s arrival in Samoa. Once the Marines were safely ashore, the two carriers would head towards the Gilberts to fend off any Japanese advance, or to strike at bases there should no opposition be met. A third carrier would strike Wake Island, while the fourth (including Yorktown, four U.S. carriers were available in the Pacific) guarded Hawaii. Though Nimitz himself approved of the plan, several members of his staff vocally opposed it: the battleships had already been lost, and they were not about to lose the carriers in a raid the Japanese could be anticipating. Nimitz needed support.

Support arrived the following day, January 7, when Enterprise — flagship of Vice Admiral William F. Halsey — returned to Pearl Harbor from an uneventful patrol. Halsey immediately approved of Pye’s plan, and was first astounded and then outraged by the opposition against it. In the words of a biographer, Halsey “cleared the air”, going so far as to volunteer to lead the operation. As perhaps no other man in Oahu at the time better appreciated the offensive power of the carrier, Halsey’s opinion won the day, not to mention Nimitz’s gratitude. On January 9, Nimitz gave Halsey his orders. Halsey, Enterprise, and Task Force 8 would escort the Yorktown group to Samoa. The sisterships would then raid Japanese bases in the Gilberts and Marshalls. Lexington CV-2, under Vice Admiral Wilson Brown, would strike Wake Island, while Saratoga CV-3 would watch over Hawaii.

Enterprise provisioned all day and into the night on January 10 — “Are loading for bear” noted one Enterprise Air Group pilot — and stood out of Pearl Harbor at noon, Sunday, January 11. As Halsey’s flagship, she was screened by cruisers Northampton CA-26 (Rear Admiral Raymond Spruance’s flagship), Salt Lake City CA-25, and Chester CA-27, and six destroyers, including Balch DD-363 and Blue DD-387.

The first days steaming southwest were marred by mishaps and bad news. Saratoga was torpedoed by an enemy sub the first evening Enterprise was underway, and damaged badly enough to have to return to the West Coast for repair. A pilot broke radio silence on the thirteenth, putting the whole mission at risk; a man was washed overboard from destroyer Blue and lost the next day. On the sixteenth, one man was killed accidentally on Salt Lake City, a Dauntless crashed on landing, killing ACMM George F. Lawhon, and a Torpedo Six Devastator vanished altogether. (Its crew — Harold Dixon, Tony Pastula and Gene Aldrich — miraculously survived 34 days at sea, eventually washing ashore on Pukapuka island, 750 miles from where they’d ditched the plane.)

Despite the shaky start, Enterprise and Task Force 8 arrived off Samoa on schedule, and took up station 100 miles north of the islands. For five days, she steamed east to west and back again, her planes searching northwest for any sign of the Japanese, and south for Yorktown and the transports, which arrived on January 23. The 5000 Marines were all safely ashore the next day, and on January 25, the two carrier task forces set course to the northwest, toward the Marshall Islands, 1600 miles away.

In Enterprise, Halsey and his Chief of Staff, CDR Miles Browning, had developed a plan for the raid. The Yorktown force — commanded by Rear Admiral Frank Jack Fletcher — would target Makin, in the Gilbert Islands, and Jaluit and Mili in the southern Marshalls. Halsey and Enterprise, accompanied by Spruance’s cruisers, set their sights on Wotje and Taroa (in the Maloelap atoll) in the northern Marshalls. As the Marshalls were suspected of being well-defended, this seemed like a long enough list of targets. New intelligence received January 27, courtesy the submarine Dolphin SS-169, indicated they were not so heavily fortified as once thought, and reported significant enemy air and shipping activity at Kwajalein Atoll, 150 miles due west of Wotje. Browning — a brilliant and aggressive tactician at a time when the Navy desperately needed such men — convinced Halsey to add Kwajalein to his target list.

Doing so entailed considerable risk. In order to bring Kwajalein within range of her bombers, Enterprise would have to operate dangerously close to enemy bases on Wotje and Taroa. Now, though, it was apparent that not striking Kwajalein would be just as dangerous. No matter what, Enterprise would be in range of enemy land-based bombers from the atoll. It was imperative that enemy airfields on Kwajalein and the other islands be struck, and struck hard, before they had opportunity to launch possibly killing blows against the vulnerable carrier.

For two more days, the two task forces cruised northwest together, the most notable event being Enterprise refueling underway the night of January 28. Under the best conditions — in daylight — refueling underway is a dangerous, exacting task. On this day, the oiler Platte did not finish refueling the other ships in TF 8 until after sunset. Enterprise eased alongside Platte at 1600 that night and steamed at her side for the next five-and-a-half hours, the first capital ship in history to refuel underway at night. In another two years, this capability — refined and repeated until it was a matter of course — would enable US Navy warships to operate far from friendly anchorages for a month or more at a time, but on this night minds were on more immediate concerns.

On January 29, Yorktown, Enterprise, and their respective task forces parted ways, and early the next morning swept across the International Date Line into January 31. With less than 24 hours remaining before their first offensive mission of the war, the men of Enterprise and her Air Group prepared. Fighting Six installed homemade armor — literally made of boilerplate — behind the seat of each Wildcat, a vital if weighty addition their Japanese counterparts would never consider. Halsey ordered each ship rigged for towing and for being towed, not wanting to waste a minute should any ship need help escaping after the raid. Navigators and airmen poured over aged maps, picking out reefs and targets. At 1830, Task Force 8 began its final run-in to the launching point, the ocean waves hissing past hulls at 30 knots, each of Enterprise’s four 13-ton propellers revolving 275 times a minute.

The night passed uneventfully until, at 0220, the officer of the watch reported sand blowing in his face. Halsey ordered the ship’s position checked: its course based on old maps of questionable accuracy, the ship could have been moments from running aground. The officer then thought to taste a few grains of the “sand”. Finding they were suspiciously sweet, he soon traced their source to a sailor on watch, stirring sugar into his coffee. Forty minutes later, at 0300, the ship’s crew was awakened, and the Big E — still underway — prepared to launch her first strikes of the war.

Enterprise’s flight deck bustles with activity during the Marshall Islands raid.

The first missions were timed to reach their targets throughout the northern Marshall Islands simultaneously, just before 0700: the same time that Spruance’s cruiser force was to commence bombardment of Wotje and Taroa. At 0430, Enterprise turned into the wind. Thirteen minutes later, six F4F Wildcats roared into the black night for Combat Air Patrol, followed immediately by 36 Scouting Six and Bombing Six SBDs led by Enterprise Air Group commander CDR Howard L. Young. Just after 0500, a second strike of nine TBD Devastators from Torpedo Six, and an SBD delayed by engine trouble, rumbled down the Big E’s flight deck. These 46 planes formed up in the dark — no easy task — and headed for Kwajalein Atoll, 155 miles away. At 0610, still nearly an hour before sunrise, twelve Fighting Six Wildcats were launched for Wotje and Taroa. One Wildcat pilot, ENS David W. Criswell, apparently became disoriented in the dark. His plane stalled shortly after takeoff and plunged into the sea: Criswell was never found. Considering the limited training given pilots in night operations before the war, it’s remarkable there weren’t further mishaps.

On this first strike, each Devastator torpedo plane was armed with three 500 lb instantaneous-fused bombs — rather than the usual torpedo — while the Dauntlesses each lugged a single 500 lb bomb as well as two 200 lb bombs. The Wildcats carried two 100 lb bombs each.

As the planes droned through the pre-dawn darkness, Spruance’s cruisers closed range with Wotje and Taroa: Northampton and Salt Lake City would take Wotje, while Chester and several destroyers sidled up to Taroa.

Shortly before 0700, Gene Lindsey’s torpedo planes broke off from the main body of Dauntlesses and headed for Kwajalein anchorage, some 44 miles south of Roi at the northern end of the atoll. “Brigham” Young’s SBDs, meanwhile, grappled with darkness, low-lying fog, and decades-old maps, trying to identify Roi itself. At 0705, seven minutes after the strikes were scheduled to begin, and — more importantly — after the defenders on the ground had been alerted to their approach, they succeeded.

In a steep, gliding run, LCDR Halstead L. Hopping led his division of six SBDs through increasing anti-aircraft fire, releasing his bombs over the enemy’s airfield, where even as the attack began, fighters were scrambling into the air. As the lead plane, Hopping’s SBD drew much of the defenders’ fire and plunged into the sea after releasing its bomb: Hopping and his gunner, RM 1/c Harold Thomas, were lost. Scouting Six continued the attack, with Earl Gallaher and C. E. Dickinson each leading six SBDs into the fray. The bombers pummeled the airfield — destroying an ammunition dump, two hangars, and a radio station — and swung back around to strafe the base and parked planes on the ground. Enemy fighters and anti-aircraft fire claimed three more SBDs, but Enterprise’s airmen put on a spirited defense and claimed three “Claudes” in exchange.

With Roi in a shambles, seven marauding VS-6 SBDs — their big 500 lb bombs still slung under their bellies — made off for Kwajalein anchorage, where more substantial targets had been reported by Torpedo Six commander Gene Lindsey. Discovering several merchant ships, submarines, and the cruiser Katori in the anchorage, Lindsey had immediately called for more planes. Over Roi, Young picked up and repeated Lindsey’s alert — “Targets suitable for heavy bombs at Kwajalein anchorage” — before detaching Bombing Six with the seven accompanying Scouting Six planes. Young’s broadcast was heard aboard Enterprise, where the remaining nine VT-6 Devastators were armed with torpedoes and readied for launch.

Lindsey’s Devastators had surprised the anchorage, damaging several of the ships there while encountering only poorly-directed defensive fire. Bombing Six, led by LCDR William R. Hollingsworth, and the remaining planes of VS-6, followed up with a dive-bombing attack from 14,000 feet. On their departure, the transport Bordeaux Maru and subchaser Shonan Maru appeared to be sinking, a half dozen other ships were damaged, and 90 men including the area commander lay dead.

In close coordination with the strikes against Roi and Kwajalein, Fighting Six had swept over Taroa and Wotje — the latter occasionally in sight of Enterprise — just before 0700. At Wotje, VF-6 commander LT C. Wade McClusky had led six planes in two high-speed bombing runs over the slumbering island, targeting the airfield (still under construction), before returning once more to strafe buildings and suspected gun placements.

A quad-1.1” anti-aircraft gun mount on Enterprise, in early 1942. These guns were replaced by 40mm Bofors by October.

However, it fell to LT James S. Gray and his flight of five Wildcats to stir up the Marshall’s real hotspot: Taroa. Shortly before 0700, Gray and his wingman, LT(jg) Wilmer Rawie, mistakenly bombed the unoccupied island of Tjan, which Gray had misidentified as Taroa. Somewhat chagrined, Gray roared away to the southeast, stringing out the other Wildcats in a long, thin line, as they scrambled to keep up. Fifteen miles from Tjan, they found their target.

Expecting to find a lightly-defended seaplane base, as intelligence reports had suggested, Gray and his flight were thrilled and alarmed to behold a fully operational airfield, two new mile-long runways and an ample complement of warplanes. Barely 100 miles southeast of the Big E, Taroa was a genuine threat, and its defenders were wide awake.

Streaking in from 8,000 feet, the Wildcats targeted the island’s small navy yard and airfield with their remaining 100 lb bombs, then swung back around to deliberately strafe the neat rows of planes parked on the airfield, including an estimated 30–40 twin-engine bombers. With no incendiary shells, the fighters were able to set only one parked plane on fire, but rendered many others inoperable, an accomplishment that would prove of vital importance later in the day.

Recovering from his first pass over the island, Rawie identified a pair of enemy planes — Type 96 “Claude” fixed-gear fighters — about a mile ahead. Undetected, Rawie approached from below and crippled one fighter with a long burst of .50-caliber shells, before hurtling past the second plane and abruptly reversing course to approach it head-on. Neither airman gave way until the last possible moment, and even then the Wildcat’s belly clipped the Claude’s wing, barely perturbing the Wildcat but forcing the enemy plane to stagger in retreat.

Taking remarkable risks, Taroa’s ground crews and airmen scrambled six more fighters into the air despite Fighting Six’s repeated strafing runs. As these fighters came to grips with Gray’s Wildcats, a flaw which had plagued the F4F’s guns for months came into play. One by one, the .50-caliber guns jammed: all four of Rawie’s guns jammed on his second pass over the airfield, ENS Ralph Rich’s failed him as well, and both pilots soon turned for home, along with two other VF-6 airmen in similar straits. Unintentionally, they left LT Gray behind, who soon found himself the center of attention for Taroa’s angry fighters. Outmatched by the more maneuverable Japanese planes, Gray struggled to break free, turning into and firing his one operating gun at each Claude as it streaked by. By 0720, Gray was finally in the clear and on his way home, his plane sporting over thirty holes and numerous dents in the seat armor installed just a day earlier.

With Fighting Six’s retirement from Wotje and Taroa, Spruance’s bombardment force — which had been observing the aerial action over the atolls — went to work. Off Wotje, Northampton and Salt Lake City sent their first salvos hurtling towards the island at 0715, before turning their attention to several slow-moving merchant ships slipping out of the anchorage. Off Taroa, the cruiser Chester and two destroyers picked up where the Wildcats had left off, targeting the airfield and planes on the ground. Like Gray’s fighters, Chester received a warm welcome from Taroa’s airmen, suffering some casualties from a small bomb which struck her deck aft, and getting a real scare from a formation of eight planes which made a level bombing run on the cruiser at 0830. The latter attack scored no hits, but was enough to convince Chester and her escorts to back away from the swarming enemy base.

Aboard Enterprise, Halsey and his staff interrogated the returning pilots, beginning with Rawie who returned at about 0800, and quickly singled out Taroa as deserving of additional strikes. By this time, LCDR Lance Massey was well on his way to Kwajalein with nine torpedo-laden Devastators, to follow up on the earlier attacks on shipping there. With most of VF-6 now needed for Combat Air Patrol, Bombing and Scouting Six were called on to continue the attack.

As she did twenty-one other times during the raid, Enterprise turned into the easterly wind at about 0930 to launch planes. This strike was led by Bombing Six’s commander, LCDR Hollingsworth, who had just returned from the Roi strike. The nine SBDs — two from VS-6, the rest from Hollingsworth’s VB-6 — arrived over Taroa to find most of the enemy’s fighters on the ground, being refueled and rearmed. Attacking from out of the sun, the heavily laden bombers devastated two hangars, as many as nine planes on the ground, and a number of smaller buildings. Five Claudes engaged the SBDs but without success, and all nine in Hollingsworth’s flight returned safely to the Big E.

At 1030, a third strike against the beleaguered atoll rumbled down Enterprise’s flight deck. Led by Bombing Six’s Richard Best, the SBDs finished the job Hollingsworth’s had started, wrecking a radio tower, fuel tanks, and airfield installations. Taroa’s fighters lashed out, engaging two of Best’s SBDs in sustained aerial combat, and finally cornering the last SBD in formation, flown by ENS John Doherty. The Dauntlesses could claim two Claudes, but Doherty and his gunner AOM 3/c Will Hunt failed to return. Taroa, it was believed, was in ruins.

With the return of Best’s strike, and a second strike against Wotje led by Air Group Commander Young, the Big E began retiring from the Marshalls, or, as it was colorfully referred to in some quarters, “hauling ass with Halsey”. Having operated for nearly ten hours in a narrow rectangle of ocean in range of several enemy airfields, sometimes even in sight of Wotje itself, Halsey had stretched his luck as far as he dared, which was far indeed. Enterprise left the area much as she had arrived, racing north at 30 knots.

This Scouting Six dive bomber had its tail clipped by a crashing enemy bomber, even as AMM 2/c Bruno Gaido manned its rear gun in the carrier’s defense.

Since well before dawn, the Big E’s company had been at battle stations, awaiting the Japanese response, which to this point had been practically nil. In mid-morning, radar had indicated a bogey northwest of the Task Force, but fighters sent to investigate returned empty-handed. On several occasions, friendly planes returning from strikes had caused some alarm, but all were correctly identified before any mishaps could occur. A little past 1330, there was again confusion when a bogey appeared on Enterprise’s radar, closing range rapidly. This time, however, the planes were not friendly: from Taroa’s battered airfield, five big twin-engined Type 96 “Nell” bombers bore down on the island’s tormentor.

Four VF-6 Wildcats made contact with the bombers 15 miles from the Big E, but jammed guns and cloud cover allowed the Nells to elude the CAP. Approaching in a shallow dive, the bombers burst from the clouds 3500 yards off Enterprise’s starboard bow, hurtling towards their target at 250 knots. Every five inch gun that could be brought to bear opened fire, but the gunners’ inexperience, the stress of battle and the high speed of the approaching planes led to the shells trailing their target, where they were of more danger to the CAP than to the enemy. Captain George Murray ordered hard left rudder quickly followed by hard right; the ship responded with reassuring nimbleness and neatly “stepped aside” from the approaching bombers. As the 1.1” gun mounts began their deafening fire, the five planes let fall a loose “stick” of three 60 kg bombs each. Most fell harmlessly to port, the concussions pounding the ship’s hull and lifting her in the water. One bomb exploded close enough to sever a gasoline line, starting a small fire and mortally wounding BM 2/c George Smith.

Recovering from their dive a scant 1500 feet above the Big E’s flight deck, four of the five bombers sped away, but the fifth plane — piloted by the flight leader LT Kazuo Nakai — turned sharply to the left and circled back towards the carrier as if to land. Despite the combined fire of every gun that could bear, the plane kept coming on, clearly intending to crash into the ship. At the last moment, Enterprise veered hard to the right, and the plane — whether due to mechanical damage or an incapacitated pilot — failed to match her turn. Hurtling mere feet over the aft flight deck, the bomber’s right wing clipped the tail of a parked Scouting Six Dauntless (whose rear gun had been manned by AMM 2/c Bruno Gaido), and snapped off, drenching the island and flight deck forward with gasoline, before coming to rest in a port catwalk. The Nell, Nakai, and his crew plunged into the sea off Enterprise’s port quarter and were quickly left behind.

A little scuffed up from the attack, Enterprise and her escorts returned to their course and made away from Taroa at high speed, under the protection of a wary CAP. A little more than an hour after the bombers’ appearance, two Wildcats played cat-and-mouse with an enemy seaplane, eventually forcing it down. Additional contacts kept the CAP busy through the afternoon, including two bombers which made a level-bombing run at 1600. With some spotting assistance from Fighting Six commander McClusky, the ship’s gunners damaged one of the planes. Like their predecessors, the two Nells could manage only near misses. As they retired, McClusky and his men sent the undamaged bomber down in flames; the other bomber evaded the CAP and got away, still trailing smoke from a damaged engine.

As dusk drew near, the wary CAP also became the weary CAP. By sunset at 1835, all fourteen Fighting Six Grummans were on patrol, the fifth mission of the day for some of the pilots. By 1902, the last of the CAP had landed, aided by a full moon which illuminated the ships’ wakes as well. To throw any enemy snoopers off, Halsey briefly set the Task Force on a northwest course — away from home — and gratefully found shelter under a damp cold front. Under the cover of what would become known as “Enterprise weather”, the Big E turned northeast and headed for home.

The Consequences

Enterprise and Task Force 8 returned to Pearl Harbor on February 5, receiving a far different welcome than they’d been given in the wake of the December 7 attack. Daring and, more importantly, successful, the raid was the Navy’s first significant victory in the Pacific War. Enterprise, her men, and the ships accompanying her were hailed as heroes upon their return, saluted by cheers from men on ships in the anchorage and personnel on shore.

Particularly after the war, it became evident that the damage inflicted during the raid fell short of initial estimates, not to mention newspaper reports which trumpeted the raid as a Japanese Pearl Harbor. Nonetheless, Enterprise’s Air Group packed a punch. At Kwajalein, one transport and two smaller vessels were sunk, and another eight ships damaged, roughly half the number originally reported sunk. Nine planes were destroyed on the ground at Taroa and Roi, and three Claudes shot down over the atolls, at the cost of one VF-6 Wildcat and five SBDs. Numerous installations were destroyed throughout the northern Marshalls.

The real significance of the raid was not found on the balance sheet of damage inflicted and suffered, but in the lessons learned. Halsey’s action report repeatedly notes the poor performance of the ship’s anti-aircraft batteries, stating:

“The inability of the 5” AA battery to knock down the formation of enemy twin-engine bombers … is a matter of grave concern. … AA Gunnery Practices [should] be scheduled when opportunity offers, with ship steaming at not less than 25 knots. If adequate safeguards can be introduced, ship should be required to make radical changes of course.”

In their first encounter with their Japanese counterparts, the Air Group came away less than impressed, noting the Japanese fighters seemed easily discouraged when faced with two or three SBDs working together defensively. Both the Air Group and the ship’s company gained valuable combat experience, making them much better prepared for the carrier-vs-carrier brawls that would mark the late spring and fall of 1942. And though hardly enough to stall the Japanese offensive, the raid served notice to both sides that the striking arm of the U.S. Navy was not lying broken on Pearl Harbor’s muddy bottom.