Читать книгу Mr. Roosevelt's Navy - Patrick Abazzia - Страница 15
Оглавление3. A Mirror to War: Fleet Problem XX
IN KEEPING WITH THE NEW TREND of strategic thought, Fleet Problem XX was to be a comparatively realistic exercise in hemispheric defense. Its basic assumptions were these: A Fascist-led revolt had taken place in a friendly South American nation, Green (Brazil). While the United States (Black) tried to rally support for the legitimate government of Green, the rebels, fearing American intervention, requested the protection of a powerful European Fascist nation, White (Germany). Anxious to secure a base in the Americas from which to menace the Panama Canal and extend its influence in Latin America, the White government decided to assist the revolt with military advisers, aircraft, and modern arms. The White fleet sortied, escorting a supply convoy to the New World. In response, Black transferred part of its split main fleet from the Pacific to the Atlantic to reinforce the Atlantic Squadron and intercept White’s force.
The Black fleet was commanded by Vice Admiral Adolphus Andrews, 59 years old, somewhat pompous, intelligent and flexible, but perhaps too long a staff officer. His force consisted of 6 battleships, 8 heavy cruisers, 6 light cruisers, 32 destroyers, and 15 auxiliaries, mostly aviation tenders. The backbone of his air power was the carrier Ranger with 54 light bombers and 18 fighters; for long-range scouting and strikes he had 102 shore-based patrol bombers; 62 land-based Marine scout bombers and fighters rounded out his air force.
The Black fleet steamed at sea off Puerto Rico, as Admiral Andrews did not have a large anchorage to accommodate his force and was reluctant to disperse ships in several harbors or in a close blockade of Green lest the separate elements be defeated in detail by the concentrated enemy force.a Andrews reasoned that the White fleet, not the convoy, was his proper objective, for even if the White supplies allowed the rebels to gain control of Green, the permanence of their rule must depend on the ability of White sea power to keep open the lines of communication to Germany. Andrews’ decision, while technically sound, was politically flawed, for it meant that the rebels would be given time to solidify their position in Green, blurring the distinction between internal revolution and external aggression, thus making it more difficult for the United States to justify intervention.
However, Admiral Andrews had scant choice. Lacking air bases in the southern Caribbean, he had to use ships, not planes, to scout for the enemy convoy. Hence, the radius and effectiveness of his search must be limited. He sent a scouting line of 7 cruisers, backed by the Ranger, out to seek the White convoy and hopefully direct the Ranger’s planes to it; but the Ranger could not be risked in too close support of the cruisers because of the uncertain whereabouts of the White fleet’s three aircraft carriers.
Lack of sea and air bases in the Caribbean limited Admiral Andrews to a defensive strategy. He kept his fleet off Puerto Rico, protected by his shore-based aviation. His plan was to engage the White fleet in a decisive, daylight surface battle when the enemy passed within range of his land-based air power.
The White fleet was commanded by Admiral Edward C. Kalbfus, an experienced, conventional battleship officer. He had a force of 6 battleships, more modern than those of his adversary, 6 heavy cruisers, 6 light cruisers, 31 destroyers, 13 submarines, and the auxiliary Utah, which simulated the White convoy. His air power consisted of the carriers Enterprise, Lexington, and Yorktown, with 72 light bombers, 54 torpedo planes, 36 torpedo-bombers, and 54 fighters.
Admiral Kalbfus’ intention was to escort the convoy to Green while keeping his main battle fleet well beyond a 600-mile circle out from the Black air bases on Puerto Rico and Haiti. The convoy and its escort were protected by one carrier in close support and by a second carrier astern; farther back were the battleships and main fleet; the third carrier screened the flank of the fleet. Kalbfus’ formation was designed to allow the battle line to protect the convoy from surface attack but keep the battleships safe from surprise air attack. Admiral Kalbfus’ plan was to protect the convoy’s passage to Green, then use his carrier aviation to erode Black air power before seeking to close for the decisive surface battle.
Thus, each admiral made air power the cornerstone of his strategy. Admiral Andrews intended to fight at sea only within range of his air support and Admiral Kalbfus intended to destroy his foe’s air power before confronting him at sea.
Fleet Problem XX commenced at 0600, 20 February 1939.
No contacts were made on the 20th.
The 21st was a gray day, and the wind blew sprinkling black squalls across a choppy, slate-colored sea. Despite the bad weather, Admiral Andrews’ scout cruisers managed to launch float planes, and several of the reconnaissance aircraft located the lead White ships and got off contact reports before being shot down by an angry swarm of chunky fighters from the Lexington. The Black cruisers sped eastward to try to regain contact with the enemy.
Meanwhile, throughout the morning, White planes from the Enterprise and Yorktown flew strike missions in search of the Ranger, the Black fleet’s only carrier, disdaining the cruiser targets scouting below. As Vice Admiral King, unhappy at the tight leash thus far held on his carriers by Admiral Kalbfus, gladly ordered his fliers: “Black carrier will be the primary objective for all attacks.” But King’s men could not find the Ranger, which was lurking to the west and north.
Soon three of the Black scout cruisers, the Northampton, Salt Lake City, and Pensacola, sighted the White convoy at long range. They were promptly taken under fire by three matching White heavy cruisers of the escort, the San Francisco, Quincy, and Tuscaloosa, and a running battle developed, with the Black ships firing at long range while dodging in and out of rain squalls. Then seventy-two Yorktown planes, returning in dark humor from the futile search for the Ranger, found the Northampton and Pensacola and bombed the twisting, firing cruisers, sinking both. The Salt Lake City, damaged in the gun battles, ran out of the dripping shelter of a squall in an attempt to circle the White cruisers and get in some distant shots at the convoy; but the San Francisco headed her off, and Salt Lake City was sunk by gunfire. The remainder of the scout cruisers also fared badly. Enterprise and Lexington planes sank the Philadelphia and Savannah and heavily damaged the Brooklyn and Nashville.
Admiral Andrews, learning of the massacre of his scouts, decided to send the Ranger after the White convoy, then reconsidered. He could not send one carrier against three. The Ranger was directed to come north, and the White convoy reached Green unharmed. The cost of overturning the Monroe Doctrine was three White heavy cruisers damaged and 39 carrier aircraft lost.
The ordeal of the picket cruisers showed that the airplane had deprived the modern cruiser of its traditional functions in naval warfare, scouting and quick thrusts against the enemy’s line of communications; more than the battleship, whose guns could still prove useful for shore bombardment and antiaircraft defense, the cruiser was obsolescent.
Despite his early successes, Admiral Kalbfus understood that in order to secure Green he must defeat the Black fleet and establish an advanced base in the Puerto Rico-Virgin Islands region from which to support future operations in the Western Hemisphere. But he knew that he could not achieve either objective until his forces destroyed Black shore-based aviation. Thus, on the 22nd, White submarines poked about the bays and inlets of the Puerto Rican coast, looking for the Black aircraft tenders. A landing party from the submarine Salmon discovered that with the Black fleet out at sea the tenders and patrol planes were vulnerable. The White force destroyermen then conceived of a series of hit-and-run raids designed to reduce Black air strength.
Four ships of Destroyer Division 3 running close offshore of the Leeward Islands were nearly overlooked by Black patrol bombers searching for larger ships in deeper waters; when they were sighted, lowering clouds and slow pilot reactions prevented successful attacks. At 0256 on the morning of the 23rd, Drayton and Flusser sneaked into Culebra harbor past the somnolent picket destroyer Hopkins. Inside, the two destroyers sank the small tenders Sandpiper and Lapwing with torpedoes and gunfire and shot up four of the moored PBYs. The Hopkins tried to intervene, but the four-stacker was no match for the modern ships and she went down in an unlucky thirteen minutes.
The two destroyers went on to San Juan, Flusser to attack, Drayton to cover her. Two Black guardships were patrolling outside the entrance to the harbor; the Flusser steamed boldly for the channel and tried to slide between the split defenders, but in the increasing daylight, one of the ships sighted her and winked out a challenge. Flusser cleverly flashed the same challenge to the second enemy ship, got the correct response in return, then flashed it out to her own inquisitor. But daylight meant planes. Soon, the Flusser was attacked by a patrol of Marine scout bombers and fighters and was damaged. In the harbor, she attacked a tender and an oiler, but hit neither. She then wandered into a minefield and was ruled sunk. Outside, the Drayton, wearing a false bow number, deceived one Black ship, but was attacked by the second picket ship, Elliot, damaged in a running fight, and finally finished off by the Marine dive bombers and stubby fighters.
Fleet Problem XX—the Lexington, Ranger, Yorktown, and Enterprise
The other two destroyers of DesDiv 3, Lamson and Mahan, found no tenders at St. Thomas, so went on to San Juan to see if the hunting was better there; it was, but the quarry was now alert and snarling as a result of the earlier attacks and the coming of daylight. Both destroyers were sunk off San Juan by the Marine planes and the two picket ships.
The destroyers had fought well, doing some damage and creating much confusion in the enemy camp; but all four were sunk, and they had wrecked but four of the patrol planes. Such dramatic sorties were too dangerous in the age of the airplane. Although some of the destroyermen insisted that the surprise factor would make hit-and-run tactics valuable in war, there could be no surprise in waters dominated by enemy planes.
On the morning of the 23rd, Admiral Kalbfus told Ernie King what his fliers were waiting to hear: it was up to them to take out the Black air force. So the Lexington and Enterprise and their plane-guard destroyers formed up in an independent task force with three heavy cruisers and seven destroyers and steamed toward “Indian country.”
To help the impending air strikes, two destroyers were detached from the carrier task force on the 24th to try another raid on the Black seaplanes and tenders. One of the raiders, the Cushing, entered San Juan harbor at 0220 on the 25th, and discovered six ships and thirty-six patrol bombers asleep. The Cushing found too much cold meat on her table, tried to devour everything, and in eating indiscriminately deprived herself of the choicest fare. She fired torpedoes at three of the ships and brought five others and the planes under fire in a wild half-hour of reckless fighting; then she bumped a dummy mine and sank. The Cushing had damaged several of the ships, but she did not get any of the vital patrol planes. The Preston searched St. Thomas and Culebra vainly, then investigated off San Juan, where she was caught unawares by the Elliot, torpedoed, then finished off by gunfire.
Meanwhile, several of the White submarines scouting off Puerto Rico were damaged in attacks by the now more vigilant Black PBYs, and one was sunk. But off San Juan, the Perch torpedoed and sank the Reuben James, which was listlessly patrolling the harbor entrance. Thereafter, Black destroyers were ordered to maintain speed and zigzag when on patrol.
Admiral King meanwhile decided to strike the Black patrol plane bases with aircraft off the Enterprise, while planes from the Lexington searched for the Black fleet’s lone carrier, the Ranger. But his plan necessitated shifting a Lexington scout bomber squadron to the Enterprise in exchange for the Enterprise fighter squadron; the plane trade would increase the power and scope of the Enterprise’s raid on the Black bases and strengthen the Lexington’s defenses against air strikes from the Ranger. Hence, King’s pilots were much surprised at being told when they were briefed for launching that some of them should take along their toothbrushes and pajamas! King’s interesting improvisation was a foreshadowing of the mixed carrier air groups sometimes used in the Pacific in World War II for greater flexibility.
But in the forenoon of the 24th, a Black PBY, one of defunct Sandpiper’s brood, located the White carrier task force as it approached Puerto Rico from the north. In the afternoon, patrol bombers from San Juan and Samana Bay made three uncoordinated attacks on Admiral King’s task force. The planes attacked out of the sun at too high altitudes, about 13,500 feet, and the bombing was poor, a total of 76 bombs being dropped to no avail; the White ships monitored the radio frequencies used by the planes and maneuvered accordingly to avoid the bombs.
Then two other squadrons of patrol bombers, having left their base at 1300, reached the scene and began to cruise in the bright sky about twenty-five miles from the ships, waiting until a fuzzy mass of clouds drifted between the planes and the ships. At nearly 1700, with the sun behind them and the clouds masking the vision of the ships, the PBYs swept in in a horizontal attack from 13,500 feet. The lead squadron was supposed to attack the Lexington and the trailing squadron the Enterprise, but the planes became confused in the assault and more struck at “Lady Lex” than at the “Big E.”
The 30 planes dropped 116 500-pound bombs; the fliers believed that about 41 percent would have hit the carriers in actual combat, which was, of course, wildly optimistic. The umpires ruled both carriers moderately damaged, and Admiral King detached the worse-hurt Lexington. Although antiaircraft fire shot down a dozen attacking bombers during the day, essentially the carriers lacked sufficient fighters to maintain an effective combat air patrol over the task force, and this was the major reason why the lumbering PBYs were able to inflict crucial damage. It would be necessary in future to increase the strength of carrier fighter contingents.
At 0630 on the 25th, just south of 20N, about one hundred and twenty miles north of San Juan, the Enterprise launched her white, shiny planes into the brightening tropical sky; the buzzing planes climbed into squadron clusters and swarmed south toward Culebra, Samana Bay, Rincon Bay, and San Juan.
En route to Samana Bay, six Devastators of Torpedo Squadron 6 sighted the Black fleet for the first time. Admiral King ordered the planes to quit their assigned mission and try to find the Ranger, which he hoped might be in the vicinity of the Black main body. But the Ranger was 100 miles north of the main Black fleet in a separate task force for greater mobility and concealment, waiting to learn where the Enterprise was.
Scouting Squadron 3 off the Enterprise attacked a large tender and tanker in San Juan harbor and strafed ships, moored planes, and the airfield. Scouting 6, finding nothing at Culebra or Rincon Bay, finished the job at San Juan, sinking the tender Wright and tanker Neches. Then the planes strafed the moored seaplanes. Bombing Squadron 6 struck at Samana Bay, sinking the tender Langley and tanker Kanawha with steep, whistling dives; then the dive bombers strafed three small tenders and destroyed five planes on the sparkling, blue-green water. Out at sea, Torpedo 6 continued to search for the Ranger.
But the Ranger hit first. One of her scout bombers found the Enterprise at 0710, and between 0845 and 1040, the “Big E” was attacked by large formations of green-tailed Ranger planes. After a long fight, the fighter-poor Enterprise went down.
At 0915, the Torpedo 6 planes discovered Black carrier bombers on a northerly course, obviously returning from a strike. The TBDs trailed the scout bombers and at last found the Ranger. But it was too late. The Enterprise would launch no more planes, and the Lexington was far away and crippled.
King’s carrier raid had cost the Black forces two large tenders, two tankers, and 14 patrol bombers. Damage to facilities made it difficult to repair the 47 remaining bombers, and quantities of gas and bombs had been destroyed, severely curtailing the offensive potential of the surviving planes.
On their way home, the Enterprise’s plane-guard destroyers, Conyngham and Reid, ran into two White heavy cruisers, but saved themselves with a desperate torpedo attack, and although heavily damaged, escaped. The cruisers had not been alert, then made the mistake of closing too near the badly outgunned destroyers instead of smashing them with long-range fire.
Hoping that the Enterprise had done her job, Admiral Kalbfus for the first time ordered his fleet into range of Black air power; he had decided to close for the decisive surface action. The White fleet moved west; Admiral Andrews’ fleet steamed eastward to meet it.
White fleet had better battleships and two carriers, one still undamaged; Andrews had the PBYs for distant reconnaissance, which meant that he might find his foe first and gain the initiative with strikes by the undiscovered Ranger. It had the look of an even fight.
On the afternoon of the 25th, a PBY sighted the White fleet northeast of Puerto Rico. At 1527, a patrol bomber damaged the San Francisco in a high-altitude attack. At 1605, three seaplanes tried to bomb the Lexington from 12,000 feet, but all were shot down by the combat air patrol and AA fire. A minute later, three more planes attacked the carrier while the fighters were busy with the first group of attackers, but the shrewd ploy was wasted because the bombing was inaccurate and no damage was done to “Lady Lex.”
On the morning of the 26th, the high-flying PBYs kept the White force under steady scrutiny, mostly watching, sometimes attacking separately and ineffectively. The combat air patrol shot down seven of the snoopers during their long vigil. In the afternoon, the last bombs were loaded onto 22 PBYs at San Juan for the seaplanes’ final strike; it was only possible because the tender Williamson had sped to Trinidad and returned with 21,000 gallons of aviation gasoline swishing in her belly.
Meanwhile, White submarines formed an advance patrol line for Admiral Kalbfus’ force. The submarine Seal found the Ranger, but her skipper unwisely delayed sending off a contact report for an hour and a quarter while he stalked the carrier. At 1030, the Seal fired three torpedoes in a submerged attack from 2,500 yards, inflicting minor damage. Destroyer Patterson located the submarine and sank her with depth charges. Then at 1235, while the Salmon was cruising on the surface, her lookouts sighted against the horizon the dark, oblong bulk of Ranger; the submarine submerged for an approach, but her underwater speed was too slow, and the Ranger pulled away. Salmon fired four torpedoes at long range, but all missed.
But then, before the White carrier planes could hunt down the Ranger, before the Black seaplanes could try a final strike at the Lexington and Yorktown, the Problem abruptly and anticlimactically ended. It had run on long, and only one day remained in which to stage the battleship action which traditionally concluded Fleet Problems. It was time to fight the Battle of Jutland.
The battle commenced at 0600 on the 27th, the two forces stationed 120 miles apart on an axis running southeast-northwest, off the north shore of the Greater Antilles; no attacks were permitted for four hours to prevent the planes from inflicting damage while the battle fleets closed. The two sides used similar formations: heavy cruisers and destroyers in the van, then the battleships, with light cruisers and destroyers bringing up the rear. Planes from each fleet tracked the other, but because the fliers had much to learn of the nuances of over-water navigation and ship identification, the copious reports were sometimes confused or contradictory. White submarines scouted to the southwest, trying to stay on the surface to add range to the search; sometimes approaching Black planes forced them to dive, but they usually found that they could sight the aircraft long before they themselves were sighted and so could submerge to safety in ample time.
When the submarines found the Black ships, they essayed submerged attacks. However, the high-speed warships were difficult targets, and the submarines were able to do very little damage. The Snapper made an utterly impractical attack, using sound bearings alone. The battle line was hardly aware that it had been attacked. The destroyers screening the heavy ships were ineffective in discovering the submarines due to the high-speed operations and deficient sonar training.
At 1100, the opposing battle fleets made visual contact at a range of twenty miles. At 1121, at a range of 30,000 yards, the White battleships commenced firing, aided by spotting aircraft; five minutes later, the Black battleships began to return the fire. In the meantime, many lesser duels flared. Overhead, 70 Black patrol bombers and 12 torpedo planes, escorted by 36 Marine fighters, swept in on the White ships; nine White fighters attacked the rear squadron of seaplanes, but their interception was too late and too weak. The patrol bombers struck from high altitude with 152 1,000-pound bombs; the slow, stubby torpedo planes slashed in in a low-level attack off the bow of the White van, but they were badly shot up by antiaircraft fire from three White heavy cruisers. Meanwhile, three other White heavy cruisers and a formation of destroyers attacked the light cruisers and destroyers at the rear of the Black column, causing considerable damage. Then six Black heavy cruisers seized the moment and attacked the three remaining heavy cruisers at the head of the White formation, sinking them all.
With the opening provided by the victory of the heavy cruisers, a Black destroyer squadron launched a torpedo attack against the White battle fleet from off the starboard beam. Admiral Kalbfus ordered his White battleships to make a right-about maneuver to avoid the torpedo attack; his lead battleship, the Tennessee, was hit by fire from the Black battleships and suddenly slowed to 8 knots. The five trailing White battleships then also reduced speed, so that it took them too long to complete the reversal of course and redeploy; for several minutes in the long turn, the three lead battleships masked the fire of the rear three. During this crucial interval, the White battleships suffered costly damage.
The exercise ended at 1236. The Black fleet could claim a victory. Its cruisers had kept heavy pressure on the White light forces, preventing them from attacking the Black battleships, while its own destroyers attacked the White battleships. Black losses were one battleship, four heavy cruisers, one light cruiser, and six destroyers. White losses were one battleship, three heavy cruisers, five light cruisers, and eleven destroyers. The White battleships were more heavily damaged than the Black.1
At the conclusion of the Fleet Problem, the Atlantic Squadron’s old battleships of Battle Division 5 and destroyers of Destroyer Squadron 10 were called upon to participate in Fleet Landing Exercise 5, to test the amphibious capability of Admiral Johnson’s command.
The warships fired gunfire support practices off eastern Vieques. The naval fire blasted deep craters on the island, and the din and rumble of the earth seemed demoralizing, but a very disappointing amount of substantive damage was done to the mock-up target defenses. Reconnaissance flights were flown over the island, and a Marine Reconnaissance and Intelligence team went ashore to reconnoiter, a luxury not usually available in combat operations because of the limited time ships might spend in waters patrolled by enemy planes and fear of compromising tactical surprise.
The landing exercises took place on 10 and 11 March. The assault troops, 1st Battalion, Fifth Marines, were as usual carried in the cramped old battleships Wyoming, Texas, and New York due to lack of transports. The Marines’ supplies and heavy equipment were carried in the venerable cargo ship Capella; to a force long bereft of auxiliaries, the vessel, recently refitted after nineteen years out of commission, seemed the “most useful vessel in the expedition.” The main assault landings were carried out despite rising seas and shoals off the beaches. Defending planes simulated strafing attacks on the naked boats, inflicting “appalling” losses. The Marines then quickly established a beachhead, as the troops of the defending battalion, thinly stretched over an impossible 25-mile frontage, pulled back in order to concentrate their dispersed forces.2
Thus ended Fleet Problem XX and Flex 5. The mock warfare campaign illuminated significant trends in naval strategy and tactics, although some lessons remained shadowy.
Generally, the Problem exemplified the psychological advantages of the offensive in warfare. White ships and planes for the most part fought daringly, cleverly, and vigorously; Black ships and planes, leashed in a necessary but seemingly sterile defensive role, were less alert, more careless and lethargic.
Concretely, the Problem illustrated that it would be difficult to fight a major naval foe in the Atlantic while much of the Fleet had to be based in the Pacific. The lack of adequate bases in the Caribbean was particularly ominous. Admiral Andrews commented:
. . . secure and well equipped bases at Port of Spain and beyond will be essential if our fleet be called upon to uphold the Monroe Doctrine by operations against an aggressive enemy in central or south Atlantic.
To project the fleet into such an area against a strong foe without the facilities for maintaining it there or without a secure line of communications would be contrary to any sound concept of strategy and so hazardous to our own control of vital sea areas that it is unlikely ever to be attempted unless suitable bases are provided.3
Sailors in the Pennsylvania line the rail to honor President Roosevelt after Fleet Problem XX
He warned,
A fleet on which the country may depend for its existence should never be placed in the position of operating in the face of an aggressive enemy without first having established a base in its lee. . . . In view of the present world conditions, the importance of the West Indian area to our national defense, and the maintenance of our national policies, and the lack of bases therein, it is high time that corrective measures be taken.4
Andrews believed that a base on the Gulf of Paria was indispensable, and the fliers thought Samana Bay could be made into an excellent base for patrol planes. The latter also felt that both San Juan and Trinidad had excellent potential as patrol-plane bases, although they believed Culebra’s Great Harbor was misnamed; it was too small to be a PBY base. Andrews’ recommendations included building up the inadequate existing American bases in the Caribbean and leasing bases in the area from foreign governments. His report was seen by the President, for whom the absence of bases in the Caribbean was a pressing matter.5
Significantly, while both Admiral Andrews and Admiral Kalbfus were orthodox, veteran officers, both had made air power the determinant of his strategy. Neither force had attempted to close for the decisive surface action that each desired until the enemy’s air forces had been decimated. The battleships had not fired a single round from their main batteries in all the six days of the Problem.
However, had the battle lasted another day, the planes would no longer have been able to function decisively. The remaining forty PBYs were down to their last bombs, and the Ranger had but 57 planes of all types left; the White carriers had only 86 planes still operational. The mutual air attacks scheduled for the 26th would have exhausted the offensive potential of the aircraft, and it would have been left to the battleships to determine the victor. The peacetime practices and exercises generally suggested the same trend: the efforts of the air forces ended in mutual extinction through attrition. Yet, as long as the planes remained formidable, no surface engagement was feasible. The trend was toward longer and longer postponement of the fleet action as aircraft performance improved until, finally, in World War II, the decisive surface action could not take place at all.
Technically, both sides handled their naval air power well, and the carrier commanders appeared to be thoroughly familiar with correct doctrines and tactics of carrier warfare: both fleets made the carrier, not the vaunted battleship, the target of their air strikes; and both tended to deploy the carrier as the core of an independent task force, for greater mobility and concealment, rather than to keep the flattop leashed to the battle line (although this deprived the carrier of the concentrated AA protection of a more central position). And Admiral King’s strike against concentrations of Black shore-based aviation was a sure harbinger of the fast carrier strikes of the Pacific War.
It should have been clear from the Problem that carriers needed more fighter planes aboard to protect them from enemy bombers and torpedo planes, but this lesson had to be learned again at high tuition early in the Pacific War. The Problem indicated that high-level, horizontal bombing was an ineffective technique against firing ships maneuvering on the open sea, but that dive bombers and torpedo planes were the mortal nemeses of modern warships.
The pivotal role of naval air power and carrier aviation in Fleet Problem XX strongly suggests that the peacetime Navy was far from indifferent to the uses of aircraft, as is too often alleged. Airplanes and carriers existed, and like it or not, officers had to take account of them and use them, or risk failure in a highly competitive profession; most did, and thus carrier task forces were used offensively and imaginatively in the training operations of the thirties and crews of all types of ships gained precious experience in working with carriers and a better understanding of the virtues and limitations of aircraft. Consequently, some of the early, crucial carrier battles of the Pacific War, such as Midway, were managed successfully by men who were not aviators. The efficient carrier operations of the early Pacific War were not mere frantic improvisations following upon the defeat of the battle fleet at Pearl Harbor; they were the merited legacy of the doctrines and techniques of carrier warfare generated by the training exercises of the thirtiesb
Throughout the exercise, the battleships had been tucked away in the positions of greatest security; hence, their antiaircraft potential was wasted. The airplane by ruling out long-range scouting by ships, was making the cruiser obsolete. The increasing size and augmented fighting power of destroyers was working toward the same end, as the minor action of the Conyngham and Reid against two heavy cruisers suggested. As the battles off the Solomons in the Pacific War showed, the cruiser was vulnerable to aircraft in daytime and not a match for destroyers at night or in confined waters.
Submarines lacked the speed to function effectively against major warships in the open sea; they were rarely able to achieve a favorable attack position. And as a result of training against large fleets of warships, submarine tactics grew too cautious, and since the submariners got no experience in attacking slow, vulnerable merchant convoys, they were largely untrained for their natural role in combat, a war on commerce; tactically, emphasis was on concealing the periscope and generally avoiding discovery rather than on attack tactics. Night surface tactics were unknown. These deficiencies, perhaps almost as much as the well-known inadequacies of torpedo performance, were responsible for the spotty record of the submarine service in the early period of the Pacific War, when the submariners struggled to create doctrine in a combat different from their training.
The destroyers were at their best in daring operations, such as the hit-and-run raids on the Black harbors, or the torpedo attack on the White battle line on the 27th. In more prosaic work, such as picket duty, they sometimes performed indifferently; the loss of the Reuben James was inexcusable. The antisubmarine escorts were ineffective not only because the high-speed operations with heavy warships both fouled the sonar gear with noise and made submarine attack less likely, but also because of the inexperience of the sonar men. As the Babbitt’s skipper observed, “Right now the sonic material is probably far in advance of the experience of the average listening personnel on destroyers.”6
Both the Problem and Flex 5 indicated the dire need for fleet auxiliaries. There being no tankers, destroyers had constantly to scurry to and from San Juan and St. Thomas, carrying oil to the ships at sea. The lack of cargo ships, transports, and specialized amphibious command vessels marred the Flex practices.
Flex 5 exposed other old weaknesses, such as the need for modern assault craft, tank lighters, and efficient ship-to-shore communications. It also illustrated the lack of killing power of current naval gunfire techniques. But what Admiral Johnson remembered best was the fighters strafing low over the vulnerable boats of the assault Marines. He wrote, “It is in fact doubtful if any beach landing, other than a night surprise, can succeed in the face of enemy air control.”7 Flex 5 reinforced the lessons of the Fleet Problem as to the need for bases in the Caribbean and the importance of aviation as the first defense against hostile landings on the southern approaches to the United States.
Thus, Fleet Problem XX, besides starting President Roosevelt down the long, winding road leading to the Destroyers-for-Bases transaction with Great Britain, symbolized the increasing significance of the Atlantic and Caribbean in American defense planning, and held a mirror to war to help thoughtful sailors better prepare their service for the uncertain future.
After remaining in the Caribbean for a time, the fleet settled into East Coast ports preparatory to concentrating for a majestic review in New York Harbor on 29 April 1939. The Pacific sailors looked forward to an imposing liberty in New York City.
Meanwhile, Admiral Johnson was writing a plea for more modern ships for the Atlantic Squadron, one soon to be heeded by the President:
Over and above the shore based aircraft which can be relied upon to turn back a hostile raid at the beaches, there is the larger problem of our naval power in the Atlantic. Even though we plan to guard against no more than a temporary raid, our Atlantic defenses must include naval ships numerous and fast enough to locate the raiders. A ready squadron sufficient to scout the passes into the Caribbean and sea areas adjacent thereto is the minimum force necessary to implement the oldest and most fundamental of our foreign policies, the defense of the Western Hemisphere under the Monroe Doctrine.8
But the State Department, worried about Japanese intentions in the Far East during the fleet’s sojourn in the Atlantic, prevailed upon the President to order the abrupt return of Battle Force and Scouting Force to the Pacific. The news “surprised officers and men alike.” On the 26th and 27th of April, most of the Pacific ships, except those refitting and resupplying, steamed grimly out to sea. The fleet review of the 29th was thus of much diminished grandeur. Nevertheless, the Texas, the old battleships of Battle Division 5 and the four-stackers of Destroyer Squadron 10 looked bright and trim as they proudly led the other ships past the Battery into the green swells of the Hudson.
Probably as a result of Fleet Problem XX and Admiral Johnson’s report, the President decided to retain a carrier, the Ranger, in the Atlantic, along with the heavy cruisers of Cruiser Division 7 (the San Francisco, Quincy, Vincennes, Tuscaloosa) and four modern destroyers, but to send the light cruisers of CruDiv 9 and CruDiv 8 to the Pacific; and two squadrons of patrol bombers from the Pacific were added to Patrol Wing 5 in the Atlantic. Thus, the Atlantic Squadron was substantially strengthened in the year of the outbreak of war in Europe.9
In ensuing days, the remainder of the Pacific ships steamed away, while the vessels of the Atlantic Squadron stayed behind to work at what seemed lesser tasks in safer waters. It was an old story to the Atlantic sailors. And it endured until they shaped a tradition of prideful legends out of the muted battles of their own rough, chill ocean.
a In order to avoid diplomatic complications, Trinidad served as the coast of Brazil.
b I suspect that a study of administrative history would support the operational evidence that the fliers were hardly a scorned and oppressed minority in the peacetime Navy, their visions ruthlessly dissipated by reactionary gunners in high places. Aside from the fact that the distinction between aviators and sailors with experience in or with aviation became increasingly blurred as many officers underwent flight training, or served in carrier crews, or served in ships operating with carriers, the Navy’s cumbersome, decentralized system of administration did not permit any one faction, even the Gun Club, completely to dominate the decision-making process. Amid the numerous independent fiefdoms of the Department, consensus was essential to get anything done. The decentralized machine of administration required much “grease”—personal pacts, compromises, horse trades—to function; as did the political system of the nation it existed to defend, it responded to internal pressures, lobbies, and interest groups. The fliers received recognition and appropriations commensurate with their ability to use political leverage inside the system; and since their ability was not inconsiderable, they did not have to resort to the unseemly publicity that marred the Army-Air Corps relationship. Such a system of administration by “genial conspiracy” rather than by executive fiat involved duplication of effort on the part of separate commands and bureaus, delay in reaching decisions, and then more delay in making certain that decisions attained were faithfully implemented by those who felt that the inevitable compromise had been achieved too much at their expense. Yet it also permitted factions to ride their own hobby horses and carry out projects of interest to no one else, to experiment, sometimes wastefully, sometimes creatively, without fear of interference from doubting superiors.
Today, of course, the system of naval administration under the Defense Department is more centralized, resulting in speedier decision-making, less friction in implementing decisions, and elimination of some waste and duplication of effort, but also in the power to bring both obstructionists and creative dissenters into the fold of orthodoxy. In the past, men like Admiral William S. Sims and his gunners, John H. Towers and his fliers, and Hyman G. Rickover and his submariners were able to prevail over the orthodoxies of their times. They triumphed mostly because they were right, but partly because the orthodox lacked the power to overwhelm them without producing administrative chaos. Today, administrators have such power, and while it is often beneficial to Navy and nation that they do, it will not prove so in the long run unless they remember that, the proverb to the contrary notwithstanding, often in unity there is weakness.
