The hidden story of the U.S. Navy’s first Black commissioned officer spans five decades, three continents, two world wars, two wives from different countries, and one hell of a journey for an Indiana farm boy. For mutual convenience, both he and the United States Navy pretended that he wasn’t Black. This story had almost been erased from history until the determined efforts of one of his extended relatives, Jeff Giltz of Hobart, Indiana, brought it to light.1
From before World War I until after World War II, leaders in the U. S. government and Navy would make decisions affecting the composition of enlisted ranks for more than a century and that still echo in officer demographics today. Memories of maelstroms past reverberate in today’s discussions regarding diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI), affirmative action in the military academies, meritocracy over so-called “DEI Hires,” who is and is not Black, and in renaming – or not – bases and ships that honor relics of America’s discriminatory and exclusionary past. Before Doris “Dorie” Miller received the Navy Cross for his actions on December 7th, 1941, and long before the Navy commissioned the Golden Thirteen in 1945, Lieutenant (junior grade) William Lloyd Garrison Payne was awarded the Navy Cross for the hazardous duty of commanding the submarine chaser USS SC-83 in 1918. While his Navy Cross citation is sparse, the hazards of hunting submarines from a 110-foot wooden ship were considerable. His personal and professional history, still emerging though it may be, reveals much about the nation and Navy he served and deserves to be revealed in full. Understanding the racial and political climate during which he received his commission is crucial to understanding the importance of his place in Navy history.
Fig. 1: USS SC 83 underway. Lieutenant (junior grade) Payne was awarded the Navy Cross for his service as commanding officer. (Photo credit: National WWI Museum collection 2012.98, via subchaser.org.)
Quietly Breaking Barriers
William Lloyd Garrison Payne was born on Christmas day in 1881 to a White Indiana woman and a Black man, and completed forty years of military service by 1940 – before volunteering for more service in World War II. Garrison Payne’s virtual anonymity, despite his groundbreaking status as the first Black naval officer and a Navy Cross recipient, stemmed from pervasive racial discrimination, manifested in political and public opposition (notably by white supremacist politicians like James K. Varner and John C. Stennis), and internal resistance within the Navy. His long anonymity exemplifies a failure to learn from the past.2
Fig. 02. Ensign Payne (seated), in command of USS SC-83. (Photo credit: subchasers.org.)
Garrison Payne, or W.G. Payne, served in or commanded several vessels and had multiple shore assignments during his five-decade career. His officer assignments include commanding the aforementioned USS SC-83 and serving aboard the minesweeper USS Teal (AD-23), the collier USS Neptune (AC-8), submarine chasers Eagle 19 and Eagle 31, which he may have also commanded, and troop ship USS Zeppelin. He had a lengthy record as a Chief Boatswain’s Mate (Chief Bos’n).
Fig. 03: 1917 North Carolina Service Card, thirty-three year-old Chief Boatswain’s Mate Garrison Payne was discharged from the Navy and immediately “Appointed Officer” (Commissioned) on 15 December 1917 while assigned to the USS Neptune (AC-8) at Naval Base, Plymouth, England. (Credit: Public record in the public domain.)
Garrison Payne took Rosa Manning, a widow with a young daughter, as his first wife in 1916. The 1910 North Carolina Census records indicate that she was the daughter of Sami and Annie Hall, both listed as Black in the census records. Later census records list Rosa Payne as White, and using her mother’s maiden name (Manning), as she did on their 1916 marriage license. His race was also indicated as White on the license, and his parents listed as Jackson Payne and Ruth Myers (Payne), his maternal grandparents.
Fig. 04: Garrison Payne and an unidentified woman, possibly his second wife Mary Margaret Payne, presumably taken in the latter 1920s, location unknown. Courtesy of Jeff Giltz.
In the photo above, Payne, wearing the rank of lieutenant, stands beside an unidentified Black woman, who may be his wife. He brought back Mary Margaret Duffy from duty in Plymouth, England on the USS Zeppelin, a troop transport, in 1919, listing her on ship documents as his wife. He used various first names and initials to apparently help obscure his identity.
Jeff Giltz of Hobart, Indiana is the great grandson of Gertrude “Gertie” Giltz, Garrison’s half-sister by the same mother, Mary Alice Payne. She was unmarried at the time of his birth in 1881. Her father, Jack Payne was the son of a Robert Henley Payne, who traveled first from Virginia to Kentucky, and then settled in Indiana, may have been mixed race. During the U.S. Census, census takers wrote down the race of household occupants as described by the head of the household. Many light-skinned Blacks thereby entered into White society by “turning White” during a census year. It is unknown when Garrison made his “transition” from Black or “Mulatto” to White.
None of Garrison’s half-siblings, who were born to his mother after she married Lemuel Ball, share his dark complexion. When she married, Garrison was sent to live nearby with his uncle, William C. Payne, whose wife was of mixed race. In the 1900 Census, Garrison is listed as a servant in his uncle’s household, not his nephew.
Taken together – Garrison Payne’s dark skin, the fact that the identity of his father was never publicly revealed and that he was born out of wedlock with no birth certificate issued, that he was named for a famous White Boston abolitionist and newspaper publisher,3 that his White mother gave him her last name instead of his father’s, that he was sent away after his mother married, and the oral history of his family – all point to the likelihood that Garrison Payne was Black.
In the turn of the century Navy, individuals were sometimes identified as “dark” or “dark complexion” with no racial category assigned. Payne self-identified as White on both of his known marriage licenses. According to Jeff Giltz, there are many references to Garrison Payne in online genealogy, military records and newspaper sites, but none appear on the Navy Historical and Heritage Command (NHHC) website. His military service likely began in 1900.
Rolling Back Racial Progress during Modernization
In his 1978 book Manning the Navy: The Development of a Modern Naval Enlisted Force, 1898-1940, former U.S. Naval Academy Associate Professor Frederick S. Harrod discusses several of the policies enacted during that period that helped shaped today’s Navy.4 He describes how the famously progressive Secretary of the Navy (1913-1919) Josephus Daniels, otherwise notorious for banning alcohol from ships, brought Jim Crow policies to a previously partially integrated Navy (enlisted ranks only) and banned the first term enlistment of Negro personnel in 1919, a ban that would last until 1933. No official announcement of the unofficial ban was made, but Prof. Harrod asserts that it was instituted by an internal Navy Memorandum from Commander Randall Jacobs, who later issued the Guide to Command of Negro Personnel, NAVPERS-15092, in 1945. President Woodrow Wilson and Daniels were both staunch segregationists and White supremacists. The Navy became more rather than less racially restrictive during the Progressive Era because of the lasting effects of both Secretary Daniels and President Wilson.
The number of Negro personnel dropped from a high of 5,668 in June of 1919 – 2.26% of the total enlisted force – to 411 in June of 1933, a total of 0.55% of the total force of 81,120 enlisted men. Most of the Black sailors were in the Stewards Branch, and most were low ranking with no authority over White sailors, despite their many years of service and experience. Those very few “old salts” outside that branch, like Payne, were difficult to assign, as the Navy did not want them supervising White sailors, despite their expertise and seniority.
Following his temporary promotion to the commissioned officer ranks – rising as far as lieutenant on 01 July 1919 – Garrison Payne was eventually reverted to Chief Bos’n, until he was given an honorific, or “tombstone”, promotion to the permanent grade of lieutenant in June of 1940, just before his retirement. Payne died on 14 October 1952 in a Naval Hospital in San Diego California, and was interred in nearby Fort Rosacrans National Cemetery on 20 October 1952, in Section P, Plot P 0 2765 – not in the Officer’s Sections A or B, despite being identified as a lieutenant on his headstone. Garrison Payne’s hometown newspaper’s death notice indicates that he was the grandson of Jack Payne, with no mention of his parents. A handwritten notation on his Internment Control Form indicates that he enlisted on 31 March 1943, making him a veteran of both world wars, as also reflected on his headstone. His service in World War II – as a volunteer 62-year-old retiree – deserves further investigation.
Fig. 05: Garrison Payne’s final resting place, in Section P, Plot P 0 2765 of Fort Rosacrans National Cemetery. Courtesy of U.S. Department of Veteran’s Affairs, Veteran’s Legacy Memorial.
The Navy reluctantly commissioned the Golden Thirteen in 1945 only because of political pressure from the White House and from civil rights organizations like the NAACP, led by Walter F. White, the light-skinned, blond-haired, blue-eyed Atlanta Georgia native who embraced his Black heritage. Unlike Walter White, though, Garrison Payne likely hid his mixed-race heritage to protect his life, his family, and his career. When he married Mary Margaret Duffy in 1937, at the age of 54, he travelled more than 170 miles from San Diego, California to Yuma, Arizona to do so. Why? His new wife, Mary Margaret Duffy, was 37, and an immigrant from Ireland. He had previously listed her as his wife when he transported her to America in 1919. Are there records of this marriage overseas? Would that interracial marriage have been recognized, given that interracial marriage would remain illegal in both states for years to come? On their marriage certificate, as with Payne’s first marriage certificate, both spouses are listed as White.
The Navy’s Circular Letter 48-46, dated 27 February 1946, officially lifted “all restrictions governing the types of assignments for which Negro naval personnel are eligible.” Despite that edict, and President Truman’s Executive Order desegregating the armed forces in 1948, it would be decades before the Navy’s officer ranks would include more than fifty Blacks.
The stories of several early Black chief petty officers are missing from the Navy’s Historical and Heritage Command’s website, though it does include the story of a contemporary of Payne’s, Chief Boatswain’s Mate John Henry “Dick” Turpin, a Black man. That Payne, a commissioned officer, is absent and unrecognized can be attributed to at least five possible reasons.
The first is that the Navy didn’t know of his existence, significance, or accomplishments. Table 5 in Professor Harrods’s book is titled “The Color of the Enlisted Forces, 1906 – 1940,” and is compiled from the Annual Reports of the Chief of Navigation for those years, with eleven different racial categories, including “other.” Where Garrison Payne fell in those figures during his enlisted service is uncertain, but he was present in the Navy for each of those year’s reports.
The second is that Payne had no direct survivors to tell his story, and no one may have asked him to tell it. He and his first wife Rosa likely divorced sometime after the death of their only child. It is unknown if his Irish-born wife Mary Margaret produced any children by Garrison.
The third reason could be that the Navy may have kept his story quiet for his own protection, and that of the Woodrow Wilson administration and the Indiana political leadership. Garrison Payne was commissioned by the same President Woodrow Wilson who screened the movie Birth of a Nation at the White House in 1915, re-segregated the federal government offices in Washington DC, refused to publicly condemn the racial violence and lynching during the “Red Summer” of 1919, and whose Secretary of the Navy, Josephus Daniels, was one of the masterminds behind the 1898 Wilmington Insurrection, which violently overthrew an elected integrated government in Wilmington, North Carolina. Acknowledging Payne as a decorated and successful Black naval officer would have been an embarrassment to Wilson, Daniels, and undercut their political and racist agendas.
Black veterans were specifically targeted after both world wars, by both civilians and military personnel, to reassert White supremacy. Payne was from Indiana, where the Ku Klux Klan was revived in 1915, and became a very powerful organization in the 1920’s. Such organizations may have sought out and harassed Payne and his family, had they known that this Black Indiana farm boy, born to a White mother, had not only received a commission in the U.S. Navy but had commanded White men in combat.
The fourth reason is that the Navy may have wanted to hide his racial identity. His record of accomplishment as a Navy Cross recipient and ship’s C.O. would have undermined the widespread belief that Black men could not perform successfully as leaders, much less decorated military officers. He was not commissioned as part of some social experiment or social engineering, but because the Navy needed experienced, reliable men to man a rapidly-expanding fleet and train inexperienced crews. Garrison Payne did just that, during years of dangerous duty at sea.
The fifth reason may be that Payne recognized the benefits of passing for White to his life and career, which may have compelled him to do so. He was raised in a largely white society, by white-appearing relatives. Had he not successfully “passed,” he likely would not have been commissioned.
Regardless of the reasons in the past, it is now time to herald the brave naval service of Garrison Payne. The Navy Historical and Heritage Command, the Smithsonian Institution, the Indiana Historical Society, the Hampton Roads Navy Museum, and others should work together to bring his amazing story out of the shadows.
Why Garrison Payne’s Story Matters
For years, many Black naval officers have searched in vain for stories of their heroic forebearers. Actions taken by politicians regarding nominations to military academies for much of the 20th century helped ensure that Black military officers remained a rarity, particularly those hailing from Southern states.5 The life story of Lieutenant Garrison Payne needs to be thoroughly documented and publicized because representation matters. On a personal note, knowing of his story while I was serving as one of the few Black officers in the Navy would have inspired me immensely. Garrison Payne served as likely the only Black officer in the Navy for his entire career. He showed what was possible. Heralding his trailblazing career can only positively impact the discussions about the future composition of the U.S. Navy’s officer corps as it inspires generations of sailors. Historians and researchers should continue the work of archival research to gain a fuller understanding of his story and significance. My hope is that veteran’s organizations and national institutions such as the Smithsonian Institution begin the effort to flesh out the story of Lieutenant Garrison Payne.
Reuben Keith Green, Lieutenant Commander, USN (ret) served 22 years in the Atlantic Fleet (1975-1997). After nine years in the enlisted ranks as a Mineman, Yeoman, and Equal Opportunity Program Specialist, he graduated from Officer Candidate School in 1984 and then served four consecutive sea tours. Both a steam and gas turbine qualified engineer officer of the watch (EOOW), he served as a Tactical Action Officer (TAO) in the Persian Gulf, and as executive officer in a Navy hydrofoil, USS Gemini (PHM-6). He holds a Master’s degree from Webster University in Human Resources Development, and is the author of Black Officer, White Navy – A Memoir, recently published by University Press of Kentucky.
Endnotes
1. Except as otherwise cited, research in this article is based on documents in the author’s possession and oral history interviews with Mr. Jeff Giltz.
2. War and Race: The Black Officer in the American Military. 1915-1941, 1981, Gerald W. Patton, Greenwood Press
3. All on Fire: William Lloyd Garrison and the Abolition of Slavery, 2008, Henry Mayer, W. W. Norton and Company
4. Manning the New Navy: The Development of a Modern Naval Enlisted Force, 1899-1940, 1978, Frederick S. Harrod, Greenwood Press.
5. The Tragedy of the Lost Generation, Proceedings, August 2024, VOL 150/8/1458, John P. Cordle, Reuben Keith Green, U.S. Naval Institute.
Featured Image: SC 83 underway, steaming under a bridge. (Photo via Subchaser.org)
On October 28, 1923, as USS O-5 was beginning its transit through the Panama Canal to participate in fleet exercises, it collided with the United Fruit Company’s Abangarez, sinking in less than a minute.¹ Most of the crew managed to escape, but one sailor made a fateful decision that saved the life of his shipmate. That sailor’s Medal of Honor Citation reads:
“For heroism and devotion to duty while serving on board the U.S. submarine O-5 at the time of the sinking of that vessel. On the morning of 28 October 1923, the O-5 collided with the steamship Abangarez and sank in less than a minute. When the collision occurred, Breault was in the torpedo room. Upon reaching the hatch, he saw that the boat was rapidly sinking. Instead of jumping overboard to save his own life, he returned to the torpedo room to the rescue of a shipmate who he knew was trapped in the boat, closing the torpedo room hatch on himself. Breault and Brown remained trapped in this compartment until rescued by the salvage party 31 hours later.”²
Eight submariners have been awarded the Medal of Honor while serving aboard submarines, but only one was an enlisted man. He happened to be the first as well: Torpedoman’s Mate First Class (TM1, he received the award as a TM2) Henry Breault.
After receiving his award, Breault continued to serve despite failing health, only ending his service when he passed on to Eternal Patrol due to congestive heart failure two days before the attack on Pearl Harbor – December 5, 1941. He rests in St. Mary’s Cemetery in Putnam, CT, but lives on as a submariner folk hero. There has never been a naval vessel named to honor Breault. Naming a Virginia-Class submarine after Breault would not only honor his extraordinary courage but serve as a lasting reminder of the values that continue to guide submariners today.
“Letter of Commendation,” from The National Archives (US), St. Louis, Persons of Exceptional Prominence, Series: Record Group 24 Records of the Bureau of Naval Personnel 1798 – 2007 Official Military Personnel Files, 1885 – 1998, Official Military Personnel File for Henry Breault 145766579.
The Rescue
The Canal community’s efforts to rescue USS O-5 are described by Julius Grigore Jr. in two articles published in the Military Engineer (1969) and Proceedings (1972). They stand as the comprehensive accounts of the collision and rescue, though some inaccuracies remain, such as the number of attempts to raise the vessel and reported date of Breault’s Medal of Honor award ceremony (Grigore reported April 4, 1924, likely the date Breault returned to Coco Solo).³
According to Grigore’s account, when reports of the collision and sinking arrived, divers mobilized to locate O-5 and determine if there were any survivors. Through knocks against the hull, Breault and Brown were able to signal their location in the torpedo room. While they were thankfully in shallow water, once they had made contact, their active role ended; they had to wait for 31 hours with no food or water and only a flashlight as the Panama Canal community made efforts to rescue them.
At that time, no formal procedure existed for rescue from a disabled submarine resting seven fathoms deep other than to escape via the torpedo tubes, an evolution which had only been attempted with divers in controlled environments close to the surface.4 Further, due to interlocks, one individual would have had to remain behind to open the torpedo tube. Assessing their options, Breault and Brown made the fateful decision that either both of them or neither of them would escape their refuge.
Commander, Submarine Base Coco Solo, Amon Bronson assumed command of the rescue operation and requested the heaviest lift capacity crane barges, Hercules and Ajax from the Panama Canal. Both crane barges were on the other end of the canal and in a twist of fate, unable to immediately respond due to a landslide at the Gaillard Cut that occurred at nearly the same time as the collision: the vessels needed to wait for the rubble to be cleared, and the first rescue attempt began 13 hours after the collision.
Upon his arrival, civilian diver Sheppard Shreaves would relieve USN divers and spend nearly 24 hours clearing debris and mud, and attaching the lifting hook to the disabled O-5. He would receive the Congressional Gold Lifesaving Medal and a gold watch gifted by submariners for his efforts. Three lift attempts failed, but on the fourth attempt, the O-5 was raised to the surface and Breault and Brown were able to exit via the torpedo room hatch.5
Submarine O-5, 1923. (Library of Congress photograph)
While Grigore asserts that Brown fainted from prostration upon rescue, it is more likely that it was actually Breault, who was inflicted with Caisson Disease, colloquially known as the bends. As a result, the primary account of the rescue did not belong to Breault, but to Brown. Brown “seemed no worse for wear” and he was in a lucid enough state to retell their story.6 Brown states that he was resting before his watch when he felt the crash from the Abangarez. Alerted by Breault, “We both went into the torpedo room, closing the door behind us. The boat sank in thirty seconds, settling in forty feet of water at an angle of 70 degrees to starboard.” Finding themselves trapped in a compartment with 12 inches of water, holding fast to a ladder with only a flashlight for illumination, Brown recalled that “the first hour was the hardest”:
“Breault and I separated to pound on each of the boat’s sides. In this way, the rescuers would know that were two of us. Breault played a kind of tune with his hammer, indicating to the diver that we were in good shape and cheerful. Neither of us knew Morse Code. We had no food or water, and only a flashlight. We were confident we could stay alive for forty-eight hours.”
The pair’s patience was rewarded once they heard the activity of the Panama Canal community working to affect their rescue.7 While being treated, Breault estimated that the compartment pressure was between 25 and 50 pounds but the medical professionals treating Breault disputed these numbers, deciding they were unlikely, but agreed that the two men had been subjected to high pressure in the compartment for an extended period.8
When asked why he stayed on-board instead of jumping for safety, Breault stated simply, ‘I wanted to stay and help, if I could.”9 Surprisingly, this appears to be the extent of what Breault shared after his rescue as no official statements were recorded in his Official Military Personnel File on the subject and only one letter was identified as being from him. The letter is available today thanks to its publication in the New York Times:
“Just a line to let you know that I am still alive. You have no doubt read about the sinking of the submarine. We were down there for hours and had no food. There was water in the lead tanks, but we did not dare to use it because it had been there for months and we were afraid of lead poisoning. I sure was a sick boy but am well now. I have been out helping to raise the submarine. She is all right except the central control room where she was struck. The craft will soon be in condition again. But some of the crew will never go down in a submarine again. Fortunately it did not bother me at all.”10
At the time, the story was well reported, but public sentiment and interest was best captured by Omaha’s Sunday Bee on November 4, 1923:
“Simple enough, when told in words, but tremendously important when calmly viewed. It is the real glory of the service, for it was not done in presence of the embattled foeman, but as a routine act when danger and death threatened in an unexpected form. Henry Breault’s name goes down with other heroes who have brought honor to themselves and pride to Americans.”11
October 29, 1923 – The USS O-5 is raised by the Panama Canal crane Ajax during salvage and rescue operations. Two men who were trapped in engine room are shown shortly after rescue. One is in the white T-shirt being helped off deck. The other is kneeling on deck holding a wire stay. They are Lawrence T. Brown, chief electrician’s mate, and Henry Breault, torpedoman second class. The Captain of the Panama Canal launch Rodman reaches out to pull Torpedoman Second Class Henry Breault on board as others rush to assist Chief Lawrence T. Brown. Breault and Brown of the submarine O-5 had been trapped for 31 hours. (Photo by Panama Canal Review via Wikimedia Commons)
Remembering Breault a Century Later
Barring reports following the event and Grigore’s research, Breault remained largely forgotten until the early 1990s, when several submariners uncovered research conducted by the Aspinock Historical Society in Putnam, CT, and the Submarine Force Library and Museum (SFLM) in Groton, CT. The SFLM did not have an exhibit for Breault in its Medal of Honor section, and he was included only after Curator Stephen Finnegan discovered Grigore’s two articles in the 1990s.12
Jim Christley built on this research and introduced it to the submarine force, leading to renewed interest by the USN that began to culminate by the turn of the millennium. A new pier was named for Breault in Pearl Harbor, HI, on June 18, 1999 and on May 19, 2001, a memorial was dedicated at Naval Station New London’s Wilkinson Hall in Groton, CT.13 Breault’s hometown of Putnam, CT also dedicated a footbridge in his memory on 11 November 2003, ensuring Breault would never be forgotten.14
Over time, these efforts have contributed to Breault’s growing status as submarine folk hero. On March 8, 2024, the centennial anniversary of Breault’s award, a Basic Enlisted Submarine School class named in Breault’s honor graduated on that same day, where he was remembered as 96 aspiring submariners moved on to their next commands, with guest speakers including representatives from CT’s federal legislature and RADM (ret.) Arnie Lotring, who gave a speech honoring Breault. On March 15, 2024, the Honorable Vermont State Representative Michael Morgan invited local submariners to read House Concurrent Resolution 167 on the Vermont House floor recognizing Breault and the submarine service.15 The final tribute to offer as his this centennial year passes, could only be to name a Virginia-Class submarine the USS Henry Breault.
Why the USS Henry Breault
Virginia-class submarines were intended to be named after states, a legacy carried on from the Ohio-class. Recently, deviations from this tradition have come under scrutiny as recent vessel names have transitioned from states to fish (Tang, Wahoo, Barb, and Silversides), cities (San Francisco and Miami), and even regions (Long Island). As a Congressional Research Report noted in 2024:
“Until 2020, Virginia (SSN-774) class attack submarines were named largely for states, but the most recent eight have been named for four earlier U.S. Navy attack submarines, a former Secretary of the Navy, an island, and two cities, suggesting that there is no longer a clear naming rule for the class”
As there is no longer a hard rule that guides the naming convention, it is an ideal time to ask, why not include a Medal of Honor recipient? John Warner, Hyman G. Rickover, and John H. Dalton either have Virginia-Class submarines named after them or will. Before that, Jimmy Carter, Mendel Rivers, Henry M. Jackson, the ’41 for Freedom’ and so many other dignitaries have been honored as submarine namesakes. Breault’s impact on the submariner community alone, notwithstanding his heroism, warrants his consideration – naming a boat in his honor will aid in recruitment and retention efforts, connect communities (old friends and new) to the submarine force, and remind sailors of their heritage.
USS Henry Breault will Support Recruitment and Retention
In an era where the USN is struggling with recruitment and retention, the publicity generated by naming a submarine after an enlisted Medal of Honor recipient would be significant. It would demonstrate that the USN understands the sacrifices that the enlisted corps has made and will to protect freedom and democracy around the world. The USN’s recruitment goal in FY24 was 40,600 new recruits, an increase from the previous fiscal year “despite two years of missing its aim for new sailors,” for a total of 40,978 new active-duty recruits enlisted.16 This is good news, but those recruits do not immediately address unfilled at-sea billets, which in May 2024 number nearly 18,000.17
Naming a submarine in honor of the only enlisted submariner to receive the Medal of Honor would emphasize the contributions of the enlisted corps of the submarine force and potentially inspire more men and women to enlist. The publicity generated would positively influence public perceptions of the role of enlisted submariners and similarly enhance the prestige of the undersea warfare community as the naming of a Ford-class aircraft carrier for Petty Officer Third-Class Doris Miller has achieved for the aviation and surface communities.
“NH 86982 Torpedoman Second Class Henry Breault, USN.” (Naval History and Heritage Command, Digitized Picture of Navy Times)
“Fish Don’t Vote”
Allegorically, Hyman G. Rickover once shared at a dinner party that submarines were named after locations rather than fish because “fish don’t vote.”18 This has often driven their naming to be connected to locations, but deviating from this tradition would in this case serve to amplify the vessel’s connection to many communities across the nation, as Breault has significant local ties in several states. He was born in Putnam, CT, but moved to White Plains, NY in his childhood. He enlisted from Vermont, offering an address in Grand Isle, VT. When he was active-duty, Breault spent time in San Diego, Los Angeles, and San Francisco in CA, and referred to Marysville, WA, as “home” in official paperwork. When he passed, he was stationed in Newport, RI, where he also attended recruit training and “A” school. Breault’s service emphasizes the contribution these states have made to the success of the submarine force and if connected, would allow several major regions in the US to benefit from the namesake. It would remind many that building submarines is a nation-wide effort that we must support and maintain.
The Essential Duty of the Submariner: Ship, Shipmate, Self
When I was active-duty, the first man that came to mind when I heard the line in the Sailor’s Creed, “I represent the fighting spirit of the Navy and those who have gone before me to defend freedom and democracy around the world.”, was Henry Breault. Breault received the Medal of Honor for attempting to save the ship and when he realized nothing more could be done, doing everything he could to save a shipmate. He saved the life of at least one of his shipmates (Lawrence Brown), and likely purchased time for another (Charles Butler) to escape. Breault’s willingness to “cast all personal safety aside” as described by his commanding officer, Harrison Avery, represents the expectation of every enlisted submariner today.19
The USN must take every opportunity it can to reconnect its sailors and the American public to its mission and values, and a USS Henry Breault would certainly become such an embodiment. Breault represents not only the fighting spirit of the navy, but the trust we place in our shipmates. Even during routine evolutions or transits, we could be called to perform unbelievable heroic tasks: because we trust all we serve alongside.
March 8, 1924 – Henry Breault receiving the Medal of Honor from President Calvin Coolidge. (Library of Congress photo)
Conclusion
USS Henry Breault has the potential to be a unifying force for the USN and the nation, as recognized by the nearly 1,600 people who signed the petition to name a submarine in his honor, and local leaders in numerous communities such as Putnam, CT have signaled their intent to support the submarine. History was made when the USS Doris Miller, was announced, named in honor of Doris, “Dorie” Miller, and in Breault, the submariner community finds an opportunity to name a submarine in honor of one of its own.
The USS Henry Breault would connect sailors to their heritage, recognize the efforts of several states to the submarine force, and aid in recruiting and retention efforts. In a time when sailors are so needed, let us remind them that we remember why.
Ryan C Walker served as a submariner in the USN from 2014-2019. After being honorably discharged, he worked in the defense industry while attending Southern New Hampshire University and University of Portsmouth, receiving in the former his BA in History and in the latter his MA in Naval History. Ryan is a PhD candidate at Portsmouth and has published several articles and chapters in edited collections on American submariners, American Naval-Capital towns, and British Private-Men-of-War. His first book, The Silent Service’s First Hero, was released this year and is a microhistorical investigation into the life and times of Henry Breault.
Endnotes
[1]. Julius Grigore, Jr., ‘The Luck of the Submarine O-5’, The Military Engineer, 61, No. 402
[2]. Congressional Medal of Honor, “Henry Breault,” https://www.cmohs.org/recipients/henry-breault.
[3]. Julius Grigore, Jr., ‘The Luck of the Submarine O-5’, The Military Engineer, 61, No. 402
(1969), 267-69; Julius Grigore, Jr., “The O-5 is Down!,” (February 1972), Proceedings, 98, https://www.usni.org/magazines/proceedings/1972/february/o-5-down.
[4]. ‘How to Escape from a Sunken Submarine’, Scientific American, 102, No. 23 (1910), 460.
[5]. Grigore, “The Luck of the Submarine,” 268-69; Grigore, “The O-5 is Down,” Website Reprint.
[6]. “They Stared at the Clock,” Newspaper Clipping, SFLM.
[7]. Grigore, “The Luck of the Submarine,” 268-69; Grigore, “The O-5 is Down,” Website Reprint.
[8]. Jones, “Medical History Sheet,” OMPF, 452.
[9]. “They Stared at the Clock for 15 Hours,” United Press Associations, October 31, 1923, Newspaper Clipping, SFLM.
[10]. “They Stared at the Clock,” Newspaper Clipping, SFLM.
[11]. The Sunday Bee, (Omaha), November 4, 1923, Page 8.
[12]. Interview with Stephen Finnegan and Wendy Gulley, September, 8 2021.
[13]. Robert A. Hamilton, “Memorial Honors Enlisted Hero,” The Day, (New London) 19 May 2001, Newspaper, Submarine Force Library and Museum, Submarine Archives, Biography Collection, Medal of Honor, Breault Collection.
[14]. James E. Ratte Jr, “Speech Given During TM1 Henry Breault Bridge Dedication, 11 November 2003,” Speech Transcript, Submarine Force Library and Museum, Submarine Archives, Biography Collection, Medal of Honor, Breault Collection.
[15]. Congressional Research Service, “Navy Ship Names: Background for Congress,” https://news.usni.org/2024/07/19/report-to-congress-on-u-s-navy-ship-names-23
[16]. Heather Mongilio, “Navy, Marines Exceed Fiscal Year 2024 Recruiting, Retention Goals,” USNI News, October 1, 2024, https://news.usni.org/2024/10/01/navy-marine-exceed-fiscal-year-2024-recruiting-retention-goals.
[17]. Jared Serbu, “Navy grapples with at-sea shortages as recruiting lags,” Federal News Network, May 20, 2024, https://federalnewsnetwork.com/navy/2024/05/navy-grapples-with-at-sea-shortages-as-recruiting-lags/.
[18]. John F. O’Connell, “FISH DON’T VOTE,” The Submarine Review (October 2023): Website Reprint, https://archive.navalsubleague.org/2003/fish-dont-vote
[19]. H. Avery, BREAULT, Henry, TM2c (210-83-03), Recommendation for Navy Cross, Coco Solo, 19 November 1923, RBNP, Official Military Personnel File for Henry Breault.
Featured Image: Henry Breault, March 8, 1924, Library of Congress Photograph, https://www.loc.gov/item/2016836978/
In October 1944, the navies of Imperial Japan and the United States met in the final major fleet-on-fleet combat engagement of WWII. The U.S. invasion of the Philippines prompted Imperial Japan to sortie its fleet in a desperate bid to protect vital territories and inflict a decisive blow against Allied forces.1 The ensuing battle featured separate yet mutually reinforcing clashes between multiple maneuvering naval formations. The battle ultimately resulted in a decisive defeat for the Imperial Japanese Navy, which ceased to be an effective fighting force for the remainder of the war.
The battle triggered an abundance of controversy regarding the decision-making of the senior American and Japanese commanders. In particular, Admiral Halsey’s decision to leave the critical San Bernadino Strait unguarded afforded Admiral Takeo Kurita a fortunate chance to strike at the exposed invasion forces at the Leyte Gulf beachhead. But Kurita’s powerful force of heavy surface warships encountered a modest force of several escort carriers and their light escorts, a unit called Taffy 3. Misidentifying these forces as larger capital ship units, Kurita believed he had come across a lucrative opportunity to attack multiple U.S. Navy fleet carriers at close range. In the course of conducting a fighting withdrawal under heavy fire, the force of escort carriers and destroyers was able to divert Kurita’s attention away from the Leyte beachhead for several critical hours, eventually causing Kurita to end his pursuit and abandon the beachhead bombardment objective altogether.
What if Kurita had pressed onward toward the beachhead and ignored the forces of Taffy 3? Could Kurita have reached the beachhead and had enough time to savage the critical logistics and transports of the invasion force? Taffy 3’s pleas for help prompted multiple major naval formations to reverse course and steam toward the battle. Many of them were never able to intercept Kurita, who had already withdrawn. But if Kurita had committed to a press toward the Leyte beachhead, it would have precipitated multiple new major engagements that could have affected the broader impact of the battle. A close examination of the critical factors of time and distance outlines the kinds of clashes and tactical interplays that would have been set in motion had Kurita pressed on.
The State of Play
The Battle of Leyte Gulf featured multiple interconnected yet geographically separate naval battles occurring within the vicinity of the Philippines. These battles were separated by hundreds of miles, which constrained U.S. options for sending forces to assist the beleaguered Taffy 3. Commensurately, these distances afforded Kurita an opportunity to potentially arrive at Leyte Gulf before being intercepted by intervening forces. The specific factors of time and distance, and how they come together to dictate options for maneuvering forces into engagements, reveals an alternate sequence of events.
The first major battle of Leyte Gulf occurred in the Sibuyan Sea on October 24, where Kurita’s force was spotted on its way heading east to the San Bernadino Strait, from where it could then push south toward the Leyte beachhead. Kurita’s force, dubbed the Center Force, was intensively engaged by five fleet carriers and one light carrier of the 3rd Fleet.2 The Center Force suffered heavy losses, including the notable sinking of the super battleship Musashi (sister ship to the Yamato). Kurita reversed course, causing Admiral Halsey to believe the Center Force was decisively beaten into full retreat.
October 24, 1944 – Japanese battleship Yamato (lower center) and other ships of the Center Force maneuver while under attack by U.S. Navy carrier-based aircraft in the Battle of the Sibuyan Sea. (U.S. Navy photo)
But later that day Kurita subsequently reversed course again and resumed his transit toward the San Bernadino Strait.3 Kurita’s Center Force transited the strait at roughly midnight on October 25.4
For a naval force traveling near the coast of the Philippines, the trip from the Strait to Leyte Gulf is roughly 260 miles (or about 225 nautical miles). Kurita’s chief of staff, Rear Admiral Tomiji Koyanagi, stated they expected to arrive at the Leyte beachhead at 1000.5 However, in post-war interrogations by U.S. personnel, Kurita indicated the night transit through the Strait occurred at a speed of 20 knots, and that the maximum speed of some of his forces at the Battle off Samar was roughly 25 knots.6 In the strait transit the force was steaming as a cohesive formation. During the pursuit in the Battle off Samar, Kurita authorized his heavy units to maneuver at will at whatever top speed their individual platforms could muster. Given the 225-nautical mile distance and a presumed 20-knot speed for formation steaming, Kurita would have more likely arrived at Leyte Gulf at around 1130.
Earlier that morning to the south of Leyte at Surigao Strait, a Japanese surface force steamed directly into an elegantly laid trap by Admiral Jesse Oldendorf. A combination of heavy surface gunfire, patrol boat attacks, and destroyer torpedo runs shattered the Japanese force at little cost to the Americans. By 0430, the Battle of Surigao Strait entered the pursuit and mop-up phase after a decisive American victory.7 Surigao Strait is roughly 60 nautical miles south of Leyte Gulf.
October 25, 1944 – The battleship USS West Virginia (BB-48) firing during the Battle of Surigao Strait. (U.S. Navy photo)
At the Battle off Cape Engaño to the north, U.S. forces fell for a ruse that gave Kurita his critical opportunity. The Imperial Japanese Navy had little in the way of carrier aircraft after suffering heavy attrition at the Battle of the Philippine Sea in June 1944.8 The remaining Japanese carriers were subsequently organized into a decoy force that was intended to pull the bulk of U.S. carrier striking forces away from the Philippines in a bid to open up an opportunity for Kurita to pass through the San Bernadino Strait. In this regard, the Japanese were successful, with Admiral Halsey fully committing Task Force 38 to attacking this Japanese decoy force, dubbed the Northern Force. TF 38, which operated under Halsey’s 3rd Fleet, contained almost all of the fleet carriers near the Philippines and was the Navy’s principal striking unit in the Pacific theater. Position reports put TF 38 at roughly 480 nautical miles from Leyte Gulf during the Battle off Cape Engaño.9
By the time Kurita encounters Taffy 3, the Center Force had transited about 60 percent of the distance toward Leyte Gulf, roughly 135 nautical miles, with 90 nautical miles to go. Kurita was sighted by Taffy 3 at around 0645.10 Here the timing becomes critical as to when various naval commanders first receive word of Taffy 3’s plight, and then either get orders to assist Taffy 3 or act on their own initiative to set course for the battle.
The four subsidiary battles of the Battle of Leyte Gulf, annotated with their relative distance to the gulf and how many hours to reach the gulf by steaming at 20 knots.11
Admiral Oldendorf first receives word of the Battle off Samar at roughly 0730.12 Only several minutes later and acting on his own initiative, Oldendorf reverses course and starts sending the bulk of his forces northward toward the gulf.13 At 0846, he subsequently receives orders to take his entire force northward to a point near Hibuson island, and at 0953 he receives orders to detach a large portion of his force to assist Taffy 3 and send the rest to Leyte Gulf.14
Admiral Halsey’s TF 38 launches the first deckload of carrier strike aircraft at the Japanese decoy carrier force at 0630, and does not receive a report on the effects of their strikes until 0850.15 Halsey does not receive word of Taffy 3’s plight until Admiral Kinkaid of 7th fleet sends an urgent dispatch at 0822: “ENEMY BATTLESHIPS AND CRUISERS REPORTED FIRING ON TASK UNIT 77.4.3…” Halsey receives another urgent call for help from Kinkaid only eight minutes later: “URGENTLY NEED FAST BATTLESHIPS LEYTE GULF AT once.”16 Halsey subsequently receives a late message at 0922 that had originally been sent by Kinkaid at 0725, which would have been Halsey’s first notice of Taffy 3’s plight. Halsey was unable to immediately assist. With air wings already in the air and fully committed to striking the Japanese carrier fleet, and with TF 38 hundreds of miles from Samar, there was little Halsey could do to immediately assist. As he would later recall about his reply to Kinkaid, “I gave him my position, to show him the impossibility of the fast battleships reaching him.”17
Yet Admiral Kinkaid was insistent, and Admiral Nimitz at Pacific Fleet headquarters decided to weigh in. Dispatches from both reached Halsey at about 1000, inquiring about the heavy surface task force attached to TF 38 – TF 34 – under Admiral Willis Lee.18 Halsey subsequently detached this force from TF 38, and at 1115, had it reverse course for Leyte Gulf.19
After almost three hours of pursuing the retiring escort carriers at high speed, Kurita’s force began to withdraw from the Battle off Samar at around 0930.20 By the time Oldendorf and TF34 had received their orders to assist Taffy 3, Kurita was already on his way out of the battle.
Click to expand. A depiction of the historical timeline of the Battle of Leyte Gulf. (Author graphic)
Critical Factors of the Alternative
The main decision that changes in the alternative scenario is Kurita pressing onward to Leyte rather than committing his force to a pursuit of Taffy 3 that pulls him away from his foremost objective. This decision is enabled by Kurita having better situational awareness than was the case at the historical battle. Namely, Kurita accurately classifies the flattops of Taffy 3 as escort carriers, rather than fleet carriers. The critical factor of accurate classification of the ships of Taffy 3 could have enabled Kurita to press onward, and not have his ships pulled into a pursuit against marginally important targets. In the alternative scenario, Kurita’s Center Force instead preserves the cohesiveness of its formation, its southernly course, and its ammunition in anticipation of a heavy bombardment of the Leyte beachhead.
There are several other factors that are held constant in examining this alternative. Importantly, speed is held constant. All of the heavy surface and fleet carrier forces are held to be transiting at 20 knots. This realistic rate represents an effective balance between high speed, maintaining formation cohesion, and an affordable fuel consumption rate. A 20-knot speed was the Center Force’s rate of advance through the Sibuyan Sea on the night of October 24, and it was the speed of TF 34 for much of its activity on October 25.21 Using this constant transit speed figure across all heavy surface and carrier forces is useful for making a reasonable estimate of how long it would have taken each formation to reach certain parts of the battlespace and intercept Kurita.
U.S. sighting reports are held to be the same as the historical event. If not for considerable command confusion, U.S. forces would have likely spotted Kurita sooner, reacted to his force faster, and perhaps even contained his Center Force at San Bernadino Strait, similar to how Oldendorf effectively launched a devastating strait ambush at Surigao. In this alternative, the overarching command confusion that delayed the U.S. response to the Center Force is maintained.
Kurita Intercepted: The Alternative Engagement
The sequence of events develops quite differently if Kurita holds fast to the objective of attacking the Leyte beachhead. Through bypassing Taffy 3 and pressing onward, Kurita precipitates new intense engagements that likely culminate in the annihilation of his force.
At about 0655, minutes after being sighted by planes from Taffy 3, Kurita’s Center Force opened fire on the exposed escort carriers. But now Kurita accurately classifies the warships and maintains his southernly course. At this point in the battle and at a transit speed of 20 knots, the Center Force is about 4.5 hours away from the beachhead.
Nearly three hours after the Center Force is first sighted, Oldendorf received his orders to intercept. At this point in the battle Oldendorf is already on a northward course and is about three hours from Leyte Gulf. Oldendorf is closer to the Gulf than Kurita, and likely has the benefit of steady sighting reports from Taffy aviation, which allows the 7th Fleet to maintain contact with the Center Force and provide accurate position and course reports. The combination of closer proximity to Kurita’s objective and constant aerial reconnaissance affords Oldendorf an opportunity to intercept the Center Force before it can bring its guns to bear on the Leyte beachhead. An examination of intersecting timelines strongly suggests that Oldendorf’s force would have intercepted Kurita at roughly 1030, about 20 nautical miles from where Kurita would have been able to start firing upon the beachhead.
A depiction of the alternative timeline of surface force movements and the likely interception point. Kurita is able to put the Leyte beachhead under fire as early as 1130 if Oldendorf does not intercept. Kurita’s 0700 starting position is based on historical position reports for the Battle off Samar. (Author graphic)
Oldendorf’s force depleted a considerable amount of ammunition during the Battle of Surigao Strait hours earlier, especially torpedoes and large-caliber armor-piercing shells.22 This issue was compounded by how the battleships had been originally loaded for bombardment missions, with nearly 80 percent of their large-caliber ammunition being high-explosive rounds, and the remainder being armor-piercing rounds. In advance of the Battle of Surigao Strait, the operational influence of this ammunition loadout resulted in Oldendorf’s command agreeing to only open fire once targets entered within 20,000-17,000 yards to offer a better chance of scoring hits.23 The fresher Center Force may have had a useful advantage in firing off multiple powerful salvos before Oldendorf could reply in kind, and may have been able to outlast Oldendorf in a prolonged gunfight. Due to his mission Kurita may have also had a bombardment-focused ammunition loadout, but precise figures appear unavailable.
The ammunition loadouts and expenditures of the TF 77.2 battleships after the Battle of Surigao Strait. Not shown are the loadouts and expenditures of the TF 77.2 cruisers and destroyers.24
Oldendorf’s orders from Admiral Kinkaid directed him to take one division of battleships, one division of heavy cruisers, and about half of his destroyers to assist Taffy 3.25 The remainder of the force would regroup inside Leyte Gulf. To intercept the Center Force Oldendorf formed a special detachment from TF 77.2, and created a force consisting of three battleships, four heavy cruisers, and twenty destroyers. The rest were to proceed to the gulf. By comparison, Kurita had the following warships in the Center Force by this time: four battleships, three heavy cruisers, two light cruisers, and 13 destroyers.26 Kurita therefore had a meaningful advantage in heavy surface gunnery. His greatest source of advantage in a surface action however came from the Japanese Type 93 “Long Lance” torpedo, which possessed double the range of the American Mark 15 torpedo.27 At 30,000 yards of range, the Type 93 had a similar firing distance as extreme-range battleship gunnery.
Oldendorf may have had a useful advantage in geography and the disposition of his forces. The timing of the interception would have likely allowed Oldendorf to engage Kurita’s force in the narrow strait between the Manicani and Homonhon Islands, the final maritime chokepoint Kurita would have had to transit before breaking into Leyte Gulf. Kurita’s westward transit through the strait and Oldendorf’s northward course would have more naturally allowed Oldendorf to configure the disposition of his forces to cross Kurita’s T, and bring the full weight of his firepower to bear. Kurita’s ability to respond would have been constrained by the tight geography of the strait, a six-nautical mile-long chokepoint. If Kurita manages to reconfigure his steaming formation into a battle line within the confines of the strait, a duel between parallel battle lines would have taken Kurita off course from the gulf and cost precious time.
A battle line in such tight quarters would have made for appealing targets for torpedo runs by destroyers, a major liability to both sides. Upon sighting one another, both forces would have likely loosed their light forces against one another to conduct torpedo runs before the surface gunnery would begin. It is here that Kurita would have likely wielded his greatest advantage in the specific context of this hypothetical battle – the Type 93 torpedo. By being able to fire torpedoes well before the Americans can, and by targeting Oldendorf’s battle line blocking the strait, Kurita’s destroyers are likely able to inflict heavy damage against Oldendorf’s heavy surface forces at best, or at least disrupt the battle line formation. Kurita’s advantage in long-range torpedo firepower therefore disrupts Oldendorf’s ostensible advantage in disposition of forces. By setting up a blocking formation at the mouth of the strait, Oldendorf may have actually set himself up to have his own T crossed by devastating torpedo runs.
Oldendorf may have sought a replay of the Battle of Surigao Strait and sent his faster destroyers ahead of the battle line to harass the oncoming Center Force before surface gunnery was joined. Such an action could have scored considerable damage and disrupted the formation of the Center Force. But Oldendorf’s battle line would have likely still been needed to definitively stop Kurita, and it would have been deprived of the cover of darkness that was so useful to Oldendorf’s ambush at Surigao Strait. In facing a substantially stronger force, Oldendorf needed to find ways to maximize his firepower, but forming a battle line formation at the mouth of the strait may have proven a major liability in daytime against major torpedo threats.
The battle line formation is fragile in the confines of a small strait featuring a pervasive torpedo threat. Because of this, Oldendorf’s interception of Kurita would have likely devolved into a gunnery melee. Similar to the multiple surface engagements off Guadalcanal, naval formations would have likely devolved into lone warships, or small groups of warships, firing and maneuvering at will in a bid to win their individual engagements.28 Both sides would have lacked cohesive formations for concentrating firepower and improving command-and-control. It is a challenge to discern net advantage between forces in such a melee, especially given how damage in naval battles can knock out critical ship components that have an outsized influence on a ship’s ability to fight and maintain speed. However, given Kurita’s advantage in heavy surface units and torpedo firepower, the Center Force would have likely prevailed against Oldendorf in such a melee.
How long could Oldendorf have delayed Kurita’s press toward Leyte? With the intercept occurring at roughly 1030, how long would it have taken Kurita’s units to inflict enough damage on Oldendorf’s force to allow for a renewed push toward Leyte? Taken together, the duration of the four major surface gunnery actions near Savo Island suggest that the action between Oldendorf and Kurita would have concluded in roughly two hours, with Kurita’s forces coming out in better shape.29 Therefore Oldendorf probably could have bought the allied forces roughly two hours of time with the destruction of his task force.
At this point it is 1230, and Kurita’s damaged but still effective fighting force is only an hour away from putting the beachhead under its guns. Upon reaching the beachhead at 1330, Kurita then has a relatively open-ended opportunity to expend his ammunition against the beachhead. Based on the rate of fire and ammunition loadout of the main battery of the Center Force’s Yamato battleship, the force would have expended most of its ammunition in a bombardment in roughly two hours of continuous firing.30 Kurita also would have likely opted to retain some ammunition in order to fight his way back out of the gulf and through the San Bernadino Strait. In this alternative scenario, Kurita reaches the beachhead and then completes his bombardment at around 1530.
At 1115, halfway through Kurita’s hypothetical battle with Oldendorf, Halsey dispatched TF 34 under Admiral Willis Lee on a course for the gulf. But this force was more than 400 nautical miles away and would have taken about a full day to reach the scene of action. Lee clearly would have been in no position to disrupt the bombardment had it occurred. In this sense, Admiral Halsey was correct in gauging the futility of Admiral Kinkaid’s requests for Lee’s TF 34 to intervene in a surface engagement taking place more than 400 miles away. Kinkaid’s perception that TF 34 was somehow within striking distance of the Battle off Samar is a major symptom of the command confusion that afflicted the discordant 7th and 3rd Fleets.
Multiple New Engagements and Intercepts
If Kurita’s force gets the better of Oldendorf’s force, then there is no heavy surface unit available to disrupt the bombardment of the Leyte beachhead. Therefore the remaining units available to interfere with Kurita’s bombardment and egress are mostly naval air forces. These include the forces comprising the three Taffy units, Taffy 1, 2, and 3, which mainly contained escort carriers and light surface units, as well as the distant forces of Admiral McCain’s fleet carrier task force, TF 38.1.
The airpower of these units stands out for its potential to have long sustained the fight against the Center Force regardless of whether it defeats U.S. surface forces. After being sighted by Taffy 3, Kurita would have likely been under persistent air attack throughout the entirety of his journey to and from the gulf. Given how Kurita was sighted not long after daybreak, he could have been under air attack for almost 11 hours on October 25. These attacks would have included torpedo and bomb threats that could have threatened to unravel the cohesion of the Center Force’s formation and force it onto courses that lengthened its journey toward the gulf. It is critical to ask how much cost, in terms of attrition and time, could have been inflicted by the hundreds of aircraft from these combined carrier forces.
Taffy 1 and 2 were located well away from the Battle off Samar, but were within range of providing some assistance to Taffy 3. These escort carrier forces were not well-equipped for fleet combat actions and were mainly loaded for anti-submarine warfare and shore support to the invasion forces.31 However, they still carried enough bombs and torpedoes to pose a serious threat to heavy surface forces, as evidenced by at least two IJN heavy cruisers that were put out of action within three hours at Samar by escort carrier aircraft.32 An additional heavy cruiser was put out of action by torpedo attacks from Taffy 3’s surface force, substantially cutting down the number of Japanese heavy cruisers Oldendorf would have had to face from six to three.
If Kurita pressed onward past Taffy 3, it would have kept his forces well within striking distance of the three Taffy units. As a combined force, the Taffy order of battle comprised 18 escort carriers, which would have been able to field about 450 aircraft, assuming their air groups were at full strength.33 This was certainly a considerable fighting force, even if its effectiveness was hampered by the limited availability of anti-ship weapons.
October 25, 1944 – As Japanese shells bracket the Taffy 3 escort carrier USS White Plains (CVE-66) in the background, aircraft take off from the USS Kitkun Bay (CVE-71). (U.S. Navy photo)
An important corollary to Kurita accurately classifying the Taffy 3 contacts as escort carriers is Kurita accurately understanding their mission and what this implied for their aircraft loadouts. By classifying the contacts as escort carriers, Kurita perceives their roles as chiefly being anti-submarine warfare and shore support, rather than fleet-on-fleet combat. While Kurita cannot rule out that the Taffy forces are fielding some measure of heavy anti-ship weaponry, he could ascertain that this is not their main mission and have little in the way of anti-ship ammunition. This understanding allows Kurita to moderate the influence the aerial attacks have on his operational behavior, particularly limiting their ability to pull him off course from the beachhead by compelling evasive maneuvers. Even so, in this alternative it is estimated that evasive maneuvering due to aerial torpedo attack imposes a cost of an additional hour of transit time for Kurita on his way out of the Gulf.
If Kurita had continued his journey southward after being spotted by Taffy 3, he would have been under aerial attack for roughly six hours before entering firing range of the beachhead, inclusive of the two hours his force is held up by Oldendorf. Kurita’s southward journey also brings him within range of the full weight of the Taffy escort carriers, whereas at the historical Battle off Samar, he mainly faced the planes of Taffy 3 and Taffy 2. In response to Taffy 3 coming under fire, all Taffy units were ordered by Kinkaid to recover their aircraft and move northward to assist.34 Had Kurita pressed on to the gulf, it would have been only a matter of time before he was subject to the full weight of the 18 Taffy escort carriers.
However, the longer duration of the alternative sequence of events diminishes the already limited effectiveness of the escort carriers against heavy surface forces. In the historical battle, Taffy 2 had exhausted its limited supply of torpedoes and semi-armor piercing bombs after only four airstrikes against the Center Force, with the fourth strike being launched at 1115.35 The Taffy forces may have had much more opportunity to strike the Center Force in the alternative, but the majority of the time would have likely been spent conducting harassing attacks of limited effect.
The disposition of the three Taffy escort carrier groups during the Battle off Samar.36
Fleet Carrier Forces Intercept Kurita
Fleet carrier forces were of course present at the Battle of Leyte Gulf, but most were fully committed to destroying the carriers of the IJN Northern Force in the Battle off Cape Engaño. The IJN decoy carrier force was successful in pulling Halsey away from the San Bernadino Strait and putting him on a northeast course hundreds of miles away from the gulf. It is therefore unlikely Halsey’s carrier striking forces would have been able to interfere with Kurita’s advance on October 25. Despite the range and speed of carrier aircraft, the distance would have still been too great for Halsey to bring his firepower to bear on Kurita in timely fashion. At the Battle off Cape Engaño, TF 38 launched its final strike against the decoy carrier force at 1615.37 Darkness would have fallen by the time the carriers could have mounted another major strike, ending the possibility of further air attacks that day.
However, by concluding a bombardment at Leyte by roughly 1530, Kurita offers abundant opportunity for Halsey to strike at Kurita the next day. With night falling and the carriers of the IJN Northern Force thoroughly damaged by the evening of October 25, Halsey may have perceived an opportunity to reorient the rest of TF 38 for a major strike against the Center Force. In this alternative, Halsey has wrapped up the Battle off Cape Engaño by 1900 and turns onto a southwestern course. Steaming at a speed of 20 knots for 12 hours, by the next morning Halsey’s TF 38 would have been well within range of launching air strikes across the Sibuyan Sea and over the San Bernardino Strait, where Kurita’s force would have been transiting.38 These alternative timelines create another intersection between forces, precipitating a second Battle of the Sibuyan Sea.
In the actual historical event, fleet carriers did manage to engage Kurita’s Center Force on October 25 off Samar, and again on October 26 in the Sibuyan Sea. On October 22, Admiral John S. McCain Sr.’s TF 38.1 was detached from Halsey’s TF 38 and sent east to replenish at the base of Ulithi.39 Halsey’s first key action in response to Kinkaid’s urgent requests for help was to turn McCain’s task force around at 0930 and set course for the gulf. An hour later McCain’s force, consisting of three fleet carriers and two light carriers, launched an extreme-range air strike in excess of 300 nautical miles, and launched a second and final strike two hours later.40 The extreme range of these strikes forced the planes to forgo heavier ship-killing loadouts, which ultimately resulted in negligible results. But had Kurita remained in Leyte Gulf to complete a bombardment, McCain would have been able to greatly close the distance, equip his planes with heavier payloads, and launch additional strikes on October 25.
When Halsey detached Lee’s TF 34 from TF 38 at 1115, he also detached the fast carrier task force TF 38.2 under Admiral Bogan.41 This latter force rendezvoused with McCain’s TF 38.1 on the morning of October 26 at 0500, and both task forces launched strikes that hit the Center Force in the Tablas Strait west of the Sibuyan Sea.42 These strikes sunk a light cruiser and a destroyer.
The fact these carrier forces were still in range to hit Kurita on October 26 highlights how he may have been subjected to much greater carrier air power in the alternative scenario, where his westward passage through the San Bernadino Strait occurs roughly nine hours later than the historical case. In the alternative, Kurita egresses through the strait on October 26 at roughly 0600, at about the time of sunrise, whereas in the historical case he egressed the strait at 2130 the previous night. This enabled the Center Force to cross most of the Sibuyan Sea under cover of darkness and open the range between Japanese units and American carriers.43 In the alternative, the cost Kurita pays in time to defeat Oldendorf’s force, bombard the beachhead, and egress the gulf substantially expands the opportunity for American carriers to attack the Center Force, especially the following day. On October 26, the second Battle of the Sibuyan Sea would have seen the remnants of the Center Force under aerial attack by a powerful combined force of up to eight fleet carriers and seven light carriers.
Light Surface Forces Intercept Kurita
The Taffy forces also included a considerable amount of light surface units. The three Taffy task forces featured a total of nine destroyers and 11 destroyer escorts, each equipped with torpedoes.44 But only Taffy 3’s surface units engaged the Center Force in the Battle off Samar, with all but one of its seven surface escorts launching torpedo attacks.45 Only one of these torpedo attacks connected with a target, blowing the bow off an IJN heavy cruiser. The primary operational effects of these torpedo attacks were the evasive maneuvers they compelled, which helped break up the Japanese formation and temporarily take it off course from its pursuit.
In the alternative scenario, Kurita’s onward press opens up the opportunity for more Taffy light surface units to attack the Center Force, and to conduct higher quality attacks as well. A cohesive naval formation steaming on a steady course would have made for a much more predictable target for torpedo firing solutions compared to the more disaggregated force that flexibly chased Taffy 3. The light surface units from Taffy 1 and Taffy 2 would have had more than enough time to reach the Center Force and contribute their own attacks.
It is difficult to imagine that Kurita would be able to steadfastly hold his course toward the beachhead while under torpedo attack. At a minimum, these attacks would have inflicted a cost in time due to the evasive maneuvering they compelled. It is also likely that Kurita would have incurred a cost in cohesion by detaching his light forces so they may close with the U.S. light surface units and spoil their torpedo runs. Light forces feature high speed and maneuverability, making them challenging targets for heavy caliber weapons to strike at range. Kurita would have likely depended on his destroyers to disrupt the attacks of the opposing light forces, in order to keep his heavy units on a steadier course toward his ultimate objective. In the alternative, it is estimated that evasive maneuvering spurred by surface unit torpedo attacks imposes an additional hour of transit time on Kurita’s egress.
It is possible that not all 20 of the Taffy surface units would have contributed to an attack on the Center Force, even if there was an abundance of time and opportunity. These units were mainly meant to screen their respective escort carriers. Screening roles and dispositions do not typically offer light surface units the proximity and independence needed to launch torpedo runs. In the historical event, Taffy 2’s surface units were well within range of reaching the point of contact and launching torpedo attacks, but the Taffy 2 commander opted to keep these forces in their screening roles.46 In the alternative, it is likely that more but not all of the Taffy surface units would have been detached to perform torpedo runs against the Center Force.
October 25, 1944 – USS Herman (DD-532) and a destroyer escort lay a smokescreen to protect their escort carrier group from attacking Japanese surface ships during the Battle off Samar. (U.S. Navy photo)
Heavy Forces Intercept Kurita
The extra nine-hour cost in time that Kurita incurs in a press to the beachhead and back creates a critical opportunity for the U.S. to intercept the Center Force with fresh heavy surface forces. If Lee’s TF 34 were to proceed straight to San Bernadino Strait after being detached from TF 38 at 1115, it would have been at the strait roughly two hours before Kurita, at around 0400. This would have allowed Lee to effectively set the disposition of his force to block the strait and maximize his available firepower in the direction of Kurita’s advance. Lee’s force would have had a major advantage in both numbers of heavy surface units (six battleships) and ammunition compared to Kurita’s force, which would have been heavily depleted and battered by air and torpedo attacks by this time.
Lee’s superiority would have been overwhelming. Had Lee been able to lock Kurita into a decisive engagement on these terms, TF 34 would have likely completed the destruction of the Center Force. However, the relatively close timing of this early morning intercept means that Kurita may have had some opportunity to slip through the strait before Lee could have engaged. The more time that Oldendorf and allied torpedo attacks impose on Kurita’s timetable, the greater Lee’s chances of intercepting and decisively destroying the Center Force at the strait.
The timing and location of Kurita’s early morning strait transit at 0600 also suggests that the full weight of the combined forces of TF 38 and TF 34, featuring numerous fleet carriers and battleships, could have been brought to bear against the Center Force in these early daylight hours. What the alternative reveals is that U.S. forces are able to impose multiple new engagements on the Center Force given the intersecting timelines created by Kurita’s longer journey to and from Leyte Gulf.
Click to expand. A depiction of the alternative timeline of the Battle of Leyte Gulf. Key alternative events are denoted by gradient-filled boxes. (Author graphic)
Bombardment, Attrition, and Strategic Effect
Had he pushed through, Kurita would have likely enjoyed a lengthy opportunity to bombard the Leyte beachhead, even if he would have been under persistent air attack. Kurita’s gunnery may have been spoiled at times by evasive maneuvering spurred by torpedoes, but the U.S. forces that could have threatened Kurita in the 1030-1530 timeframe are unlikely to pose an overwhelming threat. Kurita would have had enough operational freedom to expend the bulk of his firepower against the beachhead before retiring. However, the cost in time Kurita incurs in pressing toward the gulf substantially expands the opportunity for the U.S. to strike the Center Force, which would have likely been destroyed during its egress.
The added attrition Kurita could have inflicted and suffered is ultimately of limited strategic effect. Kurita’s ability to influence the course of events in the Pacific War at Leyte was eclipsed by a combination of American industrial might and a new dominant mode of warfare that had already rendered the Center Force of limited value. A heavy bombardment of the Leyte beachhead and its transports could have hampered U.S. operations for a matter of weeks at most, but could not have been decisive enough to achieve its intended objective – the foreclosure of the invasion.
The allied invasion of Leyte was divided into two main landing sites, with the Northern Attack Force landing south of the city of Tacloban, and the Southern Attack Force landing near Dulag, with the landing sites being separated by about 12 nautical miles.47 Five days after the October 20 invasion of Leyte, allied forces had delivered 81,000 troops and 115,000 tons of supplies ashore for the Northern Attack Force, and 50,000 troops and 85,000 tons ashore for the Southern Attack Force.48 While the invading forces had made it well inland by the time Kurita could have entered the gulf, their logistical infrastructure was still heavily concentrated on the shore areas.
The Leyte Assault, 20-25 October 1944, with the landing sites of the Northern and Southern Attack Forces highlighted.49
According to Admiral Koyanagi, Kurita’s chief of staff at the battle, the Combined Fleet Headquarters directed that Kurita’s primary target be the invasion’s amphibious transport ships.50 This was a reference to the large Landing Ship, Tank (LST) vessels, which were crucial to the allied war effort. LSTs were needed for carrying armored vehicles and large amounts of logistical needs for allied forces. Their amphibious capability allowed them to deliver their cargoes over shorelines, rather than only be limited to port infrastructure like conventional cargo vessels.
These ships were so critical that their limited availability had a constraining influence on allied strategy, especially with multiple allied invasions occurring on opposite sides of the globe. The D-Day invasion was postponed by a month partly in order to have enough LSTs deemed sufficient for sustaining the invasion.51 As General Eisenhower wrote to General Marshall, “we will have no repeat no LSTs reaching the beaches after the morning of D plus 1 until the morning of D plus 4.” After the decision to postpone was made, Eisenhower wrote Marshall again to say “one extra month of landing craft production, including LSTs, should help a lot.”52 The Battle of Leyte Gulf occurred only four months after the D-Day invasion, which had absorbed a substantial amount of allied LST capacity, suggesting that these vessels were still in especially high demand.
According to Samuel Eliot Morison, on October 24-25 there remained 23 LSTs and 28 Liberty ships in Leyte Gulf.53 It is unclear how many of these vessels were afloat or beached, but perhaps they may have been able to escape the gulf if given a few hours’ notice of Kurita’s advance. The ability to reposition shoreside supply dumps may have been more limited. It is plausible that if Kurita had penetrated into the gulf, his large and powerful force would have had more than enough ammunition and opportunity to sink most if not all of the transports if they were unable to escape beforehand.
LSTs disgorge cargoes during the invasion of Leyte, Philippines, October 20, 1944. (Photo 26-G-3575-Box-1 via U.S Naval History and Heritage Command)
The amount of destruction Kurita could have wrecked on the transport vessels amounts to about a month’s worth of LST construction and two weeks’ worth of Liberty ship construction.54 More than 120 LSTs participated in unloading the invasion forces between October 20-25, suggesting Kurita could have knocked out about 20 percent of the LSTs in the vicinity. The D-Day experience is instructive, namely that the originally planned for May 1, 1944 invasion called for 230 LSTs, but only a month’s worth of LST production was deemed necessary enough to compel a delay to June.55 While the broader availability of LSTs is unclear in the October 1944 timeframe, it is noteworthy that even at the peak of American wartime industrial output, the limited availability of the LST had a constraining effect on strategy. It can be expected that the destruction of LSTs and other transports in the Leyte Gulf would have had a noteworthy effect on the Philippine campaign, including a temporarily diminished operational tempo and possibly even a shift to a defensive posture until logistical capacity could be regenerated.
Regeneration may have taken several weeks and occurred in the midst of the Japanese counterattacks on Leyte. The Japanese military had more than 430,000 troops on the Philippines, but only 20,000 on Leyte at the time of invasion.56 U.S. airpower was highly successful at interdicting Japanese ship transports aiming to reinforce Leyte after the invasion, to where two months later in December the Japanese were only able to reinforce their presence on Leyte to 34,000 troops.57 The Japanese were having their own transports harassed and destroyed, contributing to their inability to push the invasion force of more than 130,000 troops back into the sea. It is therefore doubtful that losing whatever transports were present in the gulf on October 25 would have been decisive enough to foment a collapse of the U.S. lodgment, much less decisively foreclose the option of a Philippine invasion.
In terms of Japanese attrition, Kurita took substantial losses at the Battle of Leyte Gulf, and would have suffered even more in the alternative. Kurita began the battle with five battleships, 10 heavy cruisers, two light cruisers, and 15 destroyers. He ended the battle with four battleships, two heavy cruisers, and 13 destroyers.58 In the alternative, he is most likely destroyed wholesale, due to the overwhelming amount of firepower he invites with a lengthier operation.
Many forces that could not engage Kurita in the historical case would have had an opportunity to do so in the alternative. In the alternative scenario, the following additional forces gain an opportunity to impose new engagements on Kurita: Oldendorf’s detachment from TF 77.2 (three battleships, four heavy cruisers, 20 destroyers); Lee’s TF 34 (six battleships, three light cruisers, eight destroyers); Admiral T.L. Sprague’s Taffy 1 (six escort carriers); Taffy 1 and Taffy 2 light surface forces (up to six destroyers and seven destroyer escorts); and the remainder of Halsey’s TF 38 carrier forces (four fleet carriers and three light carriers). Kurita would have also faced additional air attacks from McCain’s TF 38.1 (three fleet carriers, two light carriers) and Bogan’s TF 38.2 (one fleet carrier, two light carriers).59 By pressing toward the beachhead, Kurita dramatically expands the striking opportunity U.S. forces would have had against the Center Force due to an estimated increase in operational duration of only nine hours. Against such overwhelming odds, it is likely that Kurita’s Center Force would have been decisively destroyed, or a few heavily damaged units would have survived at best.
Click to expand. A depiction of the various strikes and interceptions that could have occurred against the Center Force after it completed its bombardment of the Leyte beachhead. Also shown are the actual air strikes that McCain’s TF 38.1 and Bogan’s TF 38.2 executed against the Center Force on Oct 25 and 26. (Author graphic.)
The strategic impact of a steeper sacrifice from Kurita would have been marginal. The historical case of the Battle of Leyte Gulf is already widely regarded as the battle that decisively ended the Imperial Japanese Navy as a fighting force of strategic value.60 This stems not from the extensive losses the Japanese heavy surface forces took, but from the conclusive destruction of the bulk of the IJN’s remaining carrier forces at the Battle off Cape Engaño, where one fleet carrier and three light carriers were sunk.61 These carriers could only serve as decoys because their air wings had not recovered from the heavy attrition they suffered at the Battle of the Philippine Sea four months earlier. But this was unknown to the Americans, causing Halsey to justifiably concentrate his fleet’s striking power against the opposing carrier force. As Halsey later wrote of his decision during the battle,
“In modern naval warfare there is no greater threat than that offered by an enemy carrier force. To leave such a force untouched and to attack it with anything less than overwhelming destructive force would not only violate this proven principle but in this instance would have been foolhardy in the extreme.”62
This complements a rationale offered by Kurita’s chief of staff, Admiral Koyanagi, who argued:
“In modern sea warfare, the main striking force should be a carrier group, with other warships as auxiliaries. Only when the carrier force has collapsed, should the surface ships become the main striking force. However majestic a fleet may look, without a carrier force it is no more than a fleet of tin.”63
In the case of Halsey, he aggressively pursued decoy carriers, in the case of Kurita, he aggressively pursued falsely classified escort carriers. Both sides were understandably seduced by the strategic opportunity of inflicting heavy damage against carrier forces. They shared a common recognition that carrier strike had emerged as the dominant mode of blue water naval warfare in WWII, and to destroy the handful of capital ships at the core of this new paradigm would have opened up outsized strategic possibilities.
October 25, 1944 – Japanese aircraft carrier Zuiho still underway after taking several hits by aircraft of U.S. Task Force 38 during the Battle off Cape Engaño. (U.S. Navy photo)
By comparison, a navy deprived of carriers would have few good options for contesting sea control, options that increasingly depend on significant amounts of luck and skill. These options include sending submarines through dense and overlapping layers of screening forces, having surface forces seek out decisive night engagements, or sending surface units through a gauntlet of hundreds of miles of carrier strike before they can finally bring their guns to bear. Such was the fate of the super battleship Yamato that sailed with Kurita, which was later sacrificed in a suicide run against the Okinawa invasion force.64
The dominant mode of warfare is why the destruction of IJN carrier forces at the Battle of Cape Engaño is what ultimately allowed the U.S. to operate without much concern for the Imperial Japanese Navy for the remainder of the Pacific war. If Kurita’s Center Force had never set sail for Leyte, the effect would have been much the same.
Historical Probability
The probability of this alternative appears quite high. The historical case featured Kurita choosing a major deviation from his standing orders and narrowly escaping the firepower of multiple converging naval formations. Had Kurita adhered to his original intent, he would have been more likely to reach the beachhead than not, and more likely than not to have his force destroyed. It is estimated here that some version of this alternative was actually the more likely event, with the historical reality being the less likely outcome.
The key factor is Kurita accurately classifying the flattops of Taffy 3 as escort carriers. An accurate classification could have been enabled by various means and factors. The Yamato battleship carried multiple reconnaissance float planes that could have been launched to provide some measure of improved awareness, even if they would not survive for long with U.S. carrier air attacking the Center Force. The Japanese battleship force had also suffered relatively little attrition up until this point in the war and was not seriously deprived of experienced personnel like the depleted naval aviation arm.
Kurita could have also properly classified the escort carriers and their escorts after being under attack by them for several hours. The volume of Taffy 3 aircraft and the intensity of their attacks hardly compared to the powerful beating the Center Force took from five fleet carriers in the Battle of the Sibuyan Sea the day prior. The Center Force also received no heavy gunnery salvos in response to its pursuit, which should have highlighted the major improbability of a force of multiple fleet carriers somehow having no escorts larger than a destroyer.
The ability to accurately identify Taffy 3’s flattops as escort carriers was certainly complicated by its effective tactics of conducting a fighting withdrawal, including extensive use of smokescreens, maneuvering into local squalls, and torpedo attacks that forced Kurita’s pursuing forces to temporarily break contact for the sake of evasion.65 But even so, the combination of factors, especially experience, should have made an accurate classification more likely than not.
Each of the hypothetical intercepts also become highly probable in the alternative if Kurita presses on. Oldendorf’s intercept is practically guaranteed by virtue of proximity and the likely duration of Kurita’s presence in the gulf. The Taffy forces and McCain’s TF 38.1 are also virtually guaranteed to have more opportunity to launch more airstrikes than the historical case. Lee’s ability to intercept an egressing Kurita at San Bernardino Strait is more likely to happen than not, given the extensive cost in time that Kurita pays for his drive to the gulf. Because of the same time costs, Halsey’s TF 38 is well within range of striking Kurita in the Sibuyan Sea the next day, and the combined forces of McCain’s TF 38.1 and Bogan’s TF 38.2 also have much more opportunity to strike. Every hour it costs Kurita to press deeper in the gulf converts into more daylight striking opportunity the following day by multiple converging carrier forces.
The possibility of these alternative engagements fundamentally hinges on a relatively small increase in operational duration. Within an hour of Kurita being sighted by Taffy 3, American naval commanders set in motion a series of counter-moves that would close in on Kurita in a matter of hours. Had Kurita held to his orders and had he accurately classified the escort carriers, these alternative clashes would have been more likely to happen than not.
Counterarguments
Kurita was pulled into an engagement with the Taffy escort carriers because he saw a decisive opportunity, a perception that was encouraged by the dominant mode of naval warfare and the IJN’s institutional doctrine of prioritizing decisive fleet engagements. The main counterargument to the alternative is that the opportunity of striking fleet carriers fits neatly enough with the preferences of Kurita and IJN doctrine, making the historical case the more likely outcome.
While Kurita’s primary objective was the Leyte beachhead, the naval staff of the Center Force and the staff of the Combined Fleet Headquarters had previously discussed the possibility of a fleet engagement. It was generally agreed upon that a crippling blow to the enemy’s carrier force would have had a far more strategic effect on the war than heavily damaging the beachhead. Kurita’s chief of staff, Admiral Koyanagi, expressed this thinking:
“Our one big goal was to strike the United States fleet and destroy it. Kurita’s staff felt that the primary objective of our force should be the annihilation of the enemy carrier force and that the destruction of enemy convoys should be but a side issue. Even though all enemy convoys in the theater should be destroyed, if the powerful enemy carrier striking force was left intact, other landings would be attempted, and in the long run our bloodshed would achieve only a delay in the enemy’s advance. On the other hand, a severe blow at the enemy carriers would cut off their advance toward Tokyo and might be a turning point in the war. If the Kurita Force was to be expended, it should be for enemy carriers…Kurita and his staff had intended to take the enemy task force as the primary objective if a choice of targets developed.”66
Yet Koyanagi also explained that the tension between these objectives was affecting the force’s leadership. Kurita’s Center Force knew it would deploy deep in the battlespace with little naval air cover and potentially face devastating American carrier strikes, which it eventually did in the Battle of the Sibuyan Sea. It would require steadfast determination to subject one’s force to this punishment while in pursuit of an objective that was not the enemy’s main battle fleet, especially if that battle fleet happened to come within range of heavy surface gunnery. With respect to the Combined Fleet’s operational policy of prioritizing the beachhead, Koyanagi described the attitude of the Center Force staff: “our whole force was uneasy, and this feeling was reflected in our leadership during the battle.”
Taffy 3 therefore provided an opportunity for the Center Force to focus on its preferred operational aim – a fleet-on-fleet engagement. Encountering Taffy 3 allowed Kurita to redirect his focus given how a “choice in targets” had in fact developed. The previous day’s heavy punishment in the Sibuyan Sea likely reinforced the desire to destroy carriers. Kurita pursued Taffy 3 at top speed for nearly three hours, possibly thinking he had come upon one of the luckiest breaks for the Imperial Japanese Navy in the war. As Koyanagi described the initial sighting of Taffy 3,
“This was indeed a miracle. Think of a surface fleet coming up on an enemy carrier group! We moved to take advantage of this heaven-sent opportunity. Yamato increased speed instantly and opened fire at a range of 31 kilometers. The enemy was estimated to be four or five fast carriers guarded by one or two battleships and at least ten heavy cruisers.”67
In fact, Taffy 3 contained six escort carriers, three destroyers, and four destroyer escorts. Taking Koyanagi’s upper figures, the Center Force overestimated the tonnage of the naval force it encountered by a factor of five.68
While the Center Force’s strong preference for engaging in fleet battles was understandable, the multiple factors that should have enabled accurate classification remain plausible. They also become more plausible as time goes on during the Battle off Samar, given how the attacks of Taffy 3 and its escorts increasingly reveal their marginal capability compared to the major fleet combatants the Center Force misclassified them as. The institutional preference for fleet engagement is the strongest factor buttressing the historical case, but it is still weaker than the combination of multiple factors that make the alternative more likely.
Conclusion
The Battle of Leyte Gulf was an intricate engagement, consisting of multiple separate but interconnected battles. If any of these battles resulted in different outcomes, it would have affected the operational behavior of the forces in the other clashes. By slipping through the San Bernadino Strait, the Center Force exerted a powerful influence over the behavior of all major U.S. naval forces present at the battle, including many that never got a chance to engage Kurita. But had Kurita not been diverted by the escort carriers of Taffy 3, he would have likely earned an opportunity to bombard his primary objective, while also creating an opportunity for his force’s annihilation.
Kurita’s efforts were ultimately futile regardless of his courses of action. By then the industrial might of the U.S. was conferring overwhelming material superiority to the allies, as exemplified by the more than 15 fleet carriers and 120 escort carriers that were produced during the war years.69 That Kurita sortied at all is more a testament to the obstinate fatalism of the Japanese Empire rather than its strategic acumen.
The Battle of Leyte Gulf remains the most recent high-end, fleet-on-fleet combat action despite occurring 80 years ago. It endures as a highly instructive case of naval warfare, whose many fundamentals can still apply today. Whether it is command confusion afflicting U.S. operations, on-scene leaders perceiving what they want to see in enemy forces, or fast-breaking decisions defining combat outcomes, modern warfighters should recognize that future fleet battles may be rife with similar challenges. If U.S. naval forces are ever sortied against daring odds to damage a beachhead on a foreign shore, they should heed Koyanagi’s warning – “As in all things, so in the field of battle, none can tell when or where the breaks will come.”
[1] Martin R. Waldman, “CALMNESS, COURAGE, AND EFFICIENCY,” Remembering the Battle of Leyte Gulf, pg. 3-4 (PDF pg. 7-8), Naval History and Heritage Command, 2019, https://www.history.navy.mil/content/dam/nhhc/research/publications/publication-508-pdf/battle_leyte_gulf_508.pdf.
[2] Samuel E. Morison, “History of United States Naval Operations in World War II, Volume 12, Leyte, June 1944 to January 1945,” pg. 184-187, 1958, Little, Brown and Company, https://archive.org/details/historyofuniteds00mori/page/n3/mode/2up.
[3] Ibid, pg. 189.
[4] Ibid, pg. 190.
[5] Rear Admiral Tomiji Koyanagi, former Imperial Japanese Navy, “With Kurita at Leyte Gulf,” U.S. Naval Institute Proceedings, February 1953, https://www.usni.org/magazines/proceedings/1953/february/kurita-battle-leyte-gulf.
[6] Interrogations of Japanese Officials – Vols. I & II United States Strategic Bombing Survey (Pacific), https://www.history.navy.mil/research/library/online-reading-room/title-list-alphabetically/i/interrogations-japanese-officials-voli.html#no35.
[7] Samuel E. Morison, “The Battle of Surigao Strait,” U.S. Naval Institute Proceedings, December 1958, https://www.usni.org/magazines/proceedings/1958/december/battle-surigao-strait.
[8] Battle Summary No. 40, The Battle of Leyte Gulf 23rd-26 October, 1944, pg. 14 (PDF pg. 9), Tactical and Staff Duties Division, Historical Section, Royal Australian Navy, May 1947, https://www.navy.gov.au/sites/default/files/documents/Battle_Summary_No_40.pdf.
[9] Admiral W.A. Lee, Jr., “Report Of Operations Of Task Force Thirty-Four During The Period 6 October 1944 To 3 November 1944,” December 14, 1944, https://www.ibiblio.org/hyperwar/USN/rep/Leyte/TF-34-Leyte.html.
[10] Battle Summary No. 40, The Battle of Leyte Gulf 23rd-26 October, 1944, pg. 67 (PDF pg. 37), Tactical and Staff Duties Division, Historical Section, Royal Australian Navy, May 1947, https://www.navy.gov.au/sites/default/files/documents/Battle_Summary_No_40.pdf.
[11] Image “Plate NO. 60,” from, Reports Of General MacArthur: The Campaigns Of MacArthur In The Pacific, Volume I, pg. 210 (PDF pg. 229), https://history.army.mil/html/books/013/13-3/CMH_Pub_13-3.pdf.
[12] Richard Bates, The Battle for Leyte Gulf. October 1944. Strategical and Tactical Analysis. Volume V. Battle of Surigao Strait, October 24th-25th, pg. 656-657 (PDF pg. 799-800), U.S. Naval War College, 1958, https://www.ibiblio.org/hyperwar/USN/rep/Leyte/NWC-5.pdf.
[13] Ibid, pg. 664 (PDF pg. 807).
[14] Ibid, pg. 675, (PDF pg. 818).
[15] Fleet Admiral William F. Halsey, Jr., U.S. Navy (Retired), “The Battle for Leyte Gulf,” U.S. Naval Institute Proceedings, May 1952, https://www.usni.org/magazines/proceedings/1952/may/battle-leyte-gulf.
[16] Ibid.
[17] Ibid.
[18] Ibid.
[19] Admiral W.A. Lee, Jr., “Report Of Operations Of Task Force Thirty-Four During The Period 6 October 1944 To 3 November 1944,” December 14, 1944, https://www.ibiblio.org/hyperwar/USN/rep/Leyte/TF-34-Leyte.html.
[20] Battle Summary No. 40, The Battle of Leyte Gulf 23rd-26 October, 1944, pg. 78 (PDF pg. 43), Tactical and Staff Duties Division, Historical Section, Royal Australian Navy, May 1947, https://www.navy.gov.au/sites/default/files/documents/Battle_Summary_No_40.pdf.
[21] For Kurita, see: Interrogations of Japanese Officials – Vols. I & II United States Strategic Bombing Survey (Pacific), https://www.history.navy.mil/research/library/online-reading-room/title-list-alphabetically/i/interrogations-japanese-officials-voli.html#no35.
For Lee, see: Admiral W.A. Lee, Jr., “Report Of Operations Of Task Force Thirty-Four During The Period 6 October 1944 To 3 November 1944,” December 14, 1944, https://www.ibiblio.org/hyperwar/USN/rep/Leyte/TF-34-Leyte.html.
[22] Samuel E. Morison, “The Battle of Surigao Strait,” U.S. Naval Institute Proceedings, December 1958, https://www.usni.org/magazines/proceedings/1958/december/battle-surigao-strait.
[23] Ibid.
[24] Samuel E. Morison, “History of United States Naval Operations in World War II, Volume 12, Leyte, June 1944 to January 1945,” pg. 295, 1958, Little, Brown and Company, https://archive.org/details/historyofuniteds00mori/page/n3/mode/2up.
[25] Richard Bates, The Battle for Leyte Gulf. October 1944. Strategical and Tactical Analysis. Volume V. Battle of Surigao Strait, October 24th-25th, pg. 675 (PDF pg. 818), U.S. Naval War College, 1958, https://www.ibiblio.org/hyperwar/USN/rep/Leyte/NWC-5.pdf.
[26] Eugene Cammeron, “Battle off Samar,” Navweps, http://www.navweaps.com/index_oob/OOB_WWII_Pacific/OOB_WWII_Samar.php.
[27] Norman Friedman, “A Massive Torpedo,” Naval History Magazine, April 2019, https://www.usni.org/magazines/naval-history-magazine/2019/april/massive-torpedo.
See also: Samuel J. Cox, “H-008-3: Torpedo Versus Torpedo,” Naval History and Heritage Command, July 2017, https://www.history.navy.mil/content/history/nhhc/about-us/leadership/director/directors-corner/h-grams/h-gram-008/h-008-3.html.
[28] For narratives and analysis of the naval battles off Guadalcanal, see Trent Hone, Learning War: The Evolution of Fighting Doctrine in the U.S. Navy, 1898–1945, Naval Institute Press, 2019, and Jim Hornfischer, Neptune’s Inferno: The U.S. Navy at Guadalcanal, Bantam, 2012.
[29] Ibid.
[30] For rate of fire, see: Captain C.G. Grimes, Target Report – Japanese 18″ Guns and Mounts, pg. 50 (PDF pg. 53), Chief Naval Technical Mission to Japan, February 1946, https://web.archive.org/web/20141022175714/http:/www.fischer-tropsch.org/primary_documents/gvt_reports/USNAVY/USNTMJ%20Reports/USNTMJ-200F-0384-0445%20Report%20O-45%20N.pdf.
For ammunition capacity of Yamato, see: Samuel J. Cox, “H-044-3: “Operation Heaven Number One” (Ten-ichi-go)—the Death of Yamato, 7 April 1945,” April 2020 2020, https://www.history.navy.mil/about-us/leadership/director/directors-corner/h-grams/h-gram-044/h-044-3.html.
[31] Battle Summary No. 40, The Battle of Leyte Gulf 23rd-26 October, 1944, pg. 98 (PDF pg. 54), Tactical and Staff Duties Division, Historical Section, Royal Australian Navy, May 1947, https://www.navy.gov.au/sites/default/files/documents/Battle_Summary_No_40.pdf.
[32] Ibid, pg. 78 (PDF pg. 43).
[33] Ibid, pg. 112-113, (PDF pg. 61).
[34] Ibid, pg. 69 (PDF pg. 38).
[35] Ibid, pg. 98 (PDF pg. 54).
[36] Image “Plate NO. 62,” from, Reports Of General MacArthur: The Campaigns Of MacArthur In The Pacific, Volume I, pg. 219 (PDF pg. 238), https://history.army.mil/html/books/013/13-3/CMH_Pub_13-3.pdf.
[37] Battle Summary No. 40, The Battle of Leyte Gulf 23rd-26 October, 1944, pg. 89 (PDF pg. 49), Tactical and Staff Duties Division, Historical Section, Royal Australian Navy, May 1947, https://www.navy.gov.au/sites/default/files/documents/Battle_Summary_No_40.pdf.
[38] The effective combat radius of U.S. WWII fleet carriers was about 300 miles. For effective range of U.S. WWII fleet carriers, see: Dr. Jerry Hendrix, Retreat from Range: The Rise and Fall of Carrier Aviation, pg. 17-19, Center for a New American Security, October 2015, https://www.files.ethz.ch/isn/194448/CNASReport-CarrierAirWing-151016.pdf.
Also see Samuel E. Morison’s description of McCain’s initial air strike against the Center Force, which at 335 miles Morison described as “one of the longest carrier strikes of the war. Samuel E. Morison, “History of United States Naval Operations in World War II, Volume 12, Leyte, June 1944 to January 1945,” pg. 309, 1958, Little, Brown and Company, https://archive.org/details/historyofuniteds00mori/page/n3/mode/2up.
[39] Battle Summary No. 40, The Battle of Leyte Gulf 23rd-26 October, 1944, pg. 23 (PDF pg. 13), Tactical and Staff Duties Division, Historical Section, Royal Australian Navy, May 1947, https://www.navy.gov.au/sites/default/files/documents/Battle_Summary_No_40.pdf.
[40] Samuel E. Morison, “History of United States Naval Operations in World War II, Volume 12, Leyte, June 1944 to January 1945,” pg. 309, 1958, Little, Brown and Company, https://archive.org/details/historyofuniteds00mori/page/n3/mode/2up.
[41] Admiral W.A. Lee, Jr., “Report Of Operations Of Task Force Thirty-Four During The Period 6 October 1944 To 3 November 1944,” December 14, 1944, https://www.ibiblio.org/hyperwar/USN/rep/Leyte/TF-34-Leyte.html.
[42] Samuel E. Morison, “History of United States Naval Operations in World War II, Volume 12, Leyte, June 1944 to January 1945,” pg. 311, 1958, Little, Brown and Company, https://archive.org/details/historyofuniteds00mori/page/n3/mode/2up.
[43] Ibid, pg. 310.
[44] Battle Summary No. 40, The Battle of Leyte Gulf 23rd-26 October, 1944, pg. 112-113 (PDF pg. 61), Tactical and Staff Duties Division, Historical Section, Royal Australian Navy, May 1947, https://www.navy.gov.au/sites/default/files/documents/Battle_Summary_No_40.pdf.
[45] Ibid, pg. 72-73 (PDF pg. 40).
[46] Ibid, pg. 76-77 (PDF pg. 42).
[47] Samuel E. Morison, “History of United States Naval Operations in World War II, Volume 12, Leyte, June 1944 to January 1945,” pg. 135, 1958, Little, Brown and Company, https://archive.org/details/historyofuniteds00mori/page/n3/mode/2up.
[48] Ibid, pg. 155-156.
[49] Image “Plate NO. 58,” from, Reports Of General MacArthur: The Campaigns Of MacArthur In The Pacific, Volume I, pg. 201 (PDF pg. 220), https://history.army.mil/html/books/013/13-3/CMH_Pub_13-3.pdf.
[50] Rear Admiral Tomiji Koyanagi, former Imperial Japanese Navy, “With Kurita at Leyte Gulf,” U.S. Naval Institute Proceedings, February 1953, https://www.usni.org/magazines/proceedings/1953/february/kurita-battle-leyte-gulf.
[51] Craig L. Symonds, “The unloved, unlovely, yet indispensable LST,” Navy Times/WWII Magazine, June 6, 2019, https://www.navytimes.com/news/your-navy/2019/06/06/the-unloved-unlovely-yet-indispensable-lst/.
[52] Ibid.
[53] Samuel E. Morison, “History of United States Naval Operations in World War II, Volume 12, Leyte, June 1944 to January 1945,” pg. 156, 1958, Little, Brown and Company, https://archive.org/details/historyofuniteds00mori/page/n3/mode/2up.
[54] For LST construction rate, see: Craig L. Symonds, “The unloved, unlovely, yet indispensable LST,” Navy Times/WWII Magazine, June 6, 2019, https://www.navytimes.com/news/your-navy/2019/06/06/the-unloved-unlovely-yet-indispensable-lst/.
For Liberty ship construction rate, see: Gus Bourneuf Jr., Workhorse of the Fleet: A History of the Liberty Ships, pg. 112 (PDF pg. 120), American Bureau of Shipping, 1990, https://ww2.eagle.org/content/dam/eagle/publications/company-information/workhorse-of-the-fleet-2019.pdf.
[55] Craig L. Symonds, “The unloved, unlovely, yet indispensable LST,” Navy Times/WWII Magazine, June 6, 2019, https://www.navytimes.com/news/your-navy/2019/06/06/the-unloved-unlovely-yet-indispensable-lst/.
[56] Charles R. Anderson, Leyte: The U.S. Army Campaigns of World War II, pg. 14, Center of Military History, U.S. Army, 2019, https://history.army.mil/html/books/072/72-27/CMH_Pub_72-27(75th-Anniversary).pdf.
[57] Ibid, pg. 24.
[58] Battle Summary No. 40, The Battle of Leyte Gulf 23rd-26 October, 1944, pg. 105 (PDF pg. 57), Tactical and Staff Duties Division, Historical Section, Royal Australian Navy, May 1947, https://www.navy.gov.au/sites/default/files/documents/Battle_Summary_No_40.pdf.
[59] The carrier Princeton is not counted given how it was sunk several days before the battle. For overall order of battle, see: Battle Summary No. 40, The Battle of Leyte Gulf 23rd-26 October, 1944, pg. 107-113 (PDF pg. 58-61), Tactical and Staff Duties Division, Historical Section, Royal Australian Navy, May 1947, https://www.navy.gov.au/sites/default/files/documents/Battle_Summary_No_40.pdf.
[60] John Grady, “Panel: Lessons Learned from the Battle of Leyte Gulf Endure,” USNI News, October 26, 2019, https://news.usni.org/2019/10/26/panel-lessons-learned-from-the-battle-of-leyte-gulf-endure.
[61] Battle Summary No. 40, The Battle of Leyte Gulf 23rd-26 October, 1944, pg. 87-90 (PDF pg. 48-50), Tactical and Staff Duties Division, Historical Section, Royal Australian Navy, May 1947, https://www.navy.gov.au/sites/default/files/documents/Battle_Summary_No_40.pdf.
[62] Fleet Admiral William F. Halsey, Jr., U.S. Navy (Retired), “The Battle for Leyte Gulf,” U.S. Naval Institute Proceedings, May 1952, https://www.usni.org/magazines/proceedings/1952/may/battle-leyte-gulf.
[63] Rear Admiral Tomiji Koyanagi, former Imperial Japanese Navy, “With Kurita at Leyte Gulf,” U.S. Naval Institute Proceedings, February 1953, https://www.usni.org/magazines/proceedings/1953/february/kurita-battle-leyte-gulf.
[64] Samuel J. Cox, “H-044-3: “Operation Heaven Number One” (Ten-ichi-go)—the Death of Yamato, 7 April 1945,” April 2020 2020, https://www.history.navy.mil/about-us/leadership/director/directors-corner/h-grams/h-gram-044/h-044-3.html.
[65] Battle Summary No. 40, The Battle of Leyte Gulf 23rd-26 October, 1944, pg. 70-72 (PDF pg. 39-40), Tactical and Staff Duties Division, Historical Section, Royal Australian Navy, May 1947, https://www.navy.gov.au/sites/default/files/documents/Battle_Summary_No_40.pdf.
[66] Rear Admiral Tomiji Koyanagi, former Imperial Japanese Navy, “With Kurita at Leyte Gulf,” U.S. Naval Institute Proceedings, February 1953, https://www.usni.org/magazines/proceedings/1953/february/kurita-battle-leyte-gulf.
[67] Ibid.
[68] This calculation is based on the tonnage of following common classes of American WWII warship: Essex-class fleet carriers, Casablanca-class escort carriers, Baltimore-class heavy cruisers, and Fletcher-class destroyers.
[69] For fleet carrier production, see: Scot MacDonald, “The Evolution of Aircraft Carriers: The Early Attack Carriers,” pg. 47 (PDF pg. 49) Naval Aviation News, https://www.govinfo.gov/content/pkg/GOVPUB-D221-PURL-gpo67727/pdf/GOVPUB-D221-PURL-gpo67727.pdf.
For escort carrier production, see: Ensign G. I. “Ike” Heinemann, U.S. Navy, “Bring Back the CVLs,” U.S. Naval Institute Proceedings, June 2019, https://www.usni.org/magazines/proceedings/2019/june/bring-back-cvls.
Featured Image: 24 October 1944 – The Japanese battleship Yamato is hit by a bomb near her forward 460mm gun turret, during attacks by U.S. carrier planes during the Battle of the Sibuyan Sea. (U.S. Navy photo)
Following the attack on Pearl Harbor, Japan’s options for attaining a favorable war termination diminished to a handful of feasible strategies. The United States, emboldened by the surprise bloodshed, committed to an unlimited war with Japan unless de-escalation or a viable forced negotiations option were presented.1 Japan did not pursued several alternative strategies to achieve a favorable outcome in its war against the United States. First, Japan possessed the ability to prevent attrition of critical wartime capabilities, including aviation assets and merchant shipping, but did not preserve critical combat power. Second, Japan did not sufficiently concentrated its combat power towards exploiting strategically beneficial offensives before the end of 1942. Finally, Japan underutilized its diplomatic and information means of national power. If Japan employed these alternative strategies, American’s willingness for war termination negotiations and the chances of Japan achieving its strategic objectives would have increased.
Preventing Attrition of Critical Wartime Capabilities
By preventing overwhelming attrition of its critical wartime capabilities, especially in the early stages of the war, Japanese could have applied its combat power to induce the United States to a negotiated war termination.2 Following the attack on Pearl Harbor and through the end of 1942, the United States shifted its focus to a theater-wide defensive posture while reconstituting and repositioning its combat power needed to confront Japan. America’s posture its forces for a campaign of cumulative attrition, allowing US forces to maintain the initiative and conduct systematic engagements to impose unsustainable military losses on Japan.
However, the American effort relied on friendly local forces alienated by the brutal Japanese occupations providing intelligence of Japanese force movements. This tactical intelligence proved fundamental for the attrition of Japanese aircraft and pilots traveling between Rabaul and Guadalcanal, eroding Japanese air combat power.3 Japan’s did not focus on limiting their intelligence flow from alienated civilians, either through coercive or forceful means, to prevent attrition of its critical land-based aviation and pilots. Likewise, Japan did not sufficiently collect and exploit intelligence about the United States as it had during the first few months following Pearl Harbor to ensure naval aviation maintained combat loss mitigated initiatives.4
To further mitigate losses of its land and naval aviation capabilities Japan needed to focus on resource reallocation, pilot recovery operations, and maintaining aviation proficiency. After the initial offensives of 1941 and 1942, Japan depleted its aviation assets to dangerously low levels with no clear path for reconstitution. To prevent crippling attrition, Japan could have provided long-distance air support from Rabaul for the south Pacific. In addition, Japan was slow to recognize the future operational demand for greater quantities of its aviation assets and shift resources from obsolete programs like the superbattleship program.5
Finally, Japan’s inability to avoid detrimental losses of its proficient pilots by focusing on pilot recovery operations and rotating pilots to instruct recruits proved costly.6,7 At war initiation, Japan possessed a cadre of talented pilots. Japan’s failure to prioritized maintaining the cadre of skilled pilots negated their advantage they held at the start of the war. By capitalizing on early airpower concentrations and avoiding attrition of such a critical intellectual capability, Japan would have sustain its continued offensives with devastating efficacy and forced the United States to the bargaining table.8
The little attention paid to the protection of Japanese merchant shipping proved costly, as this non-military power was attrited to fatal levels and counted the early war American strategy of cumulative attrition.9 The tyranny of distance in the Pacific required significant quantities of merchant shipping to maintain the extensive sea lines of communications.10 Although Japan remained unaware, the United States had decrypted Japan’s merchant shipping communications. Japan did not appreciate the level of risk that existed and did not change its encryption following its attack on Pearl Harbor. This protection of vital communications would have blunted the American intelligence interception and decreased the Japanese merchant shipping attrition levels.11 American submarines posed the great threat to Japanese merchant shipping, but Japan was slow to recognize the threat and reallocate resources to convoy escorts and anti-submarine tactics.12 These ship-based efforts, coupled with land and naval aviation, would have preserved Japanese logistics and transportation capabilities for the necessary offensives to force the negotiated end of hostilities.13
Concentration of Combat Power for Strategic Offensives
Japan’s failure to concentrate its offensive combat early in the war to achieve decisive victories decreased the United States’ willingness to negotiate. In the early stages of conflict with the United States, an underlying aspect of Japanese wartime execution was a risk-averse approach to offensives. This piecemeal mindset led to debilitating attrition, such as the slow commitment to capturing and defending Guadalcanal.14 Rather than the piecemeal approach, Japan could have concentrated overwhelming force to attack the American forces and push eastwards through the Central Pacific.15 Overwhelming force coupled with Japan’s distinct naval warfare advantages could have proven decisive. The Japanese navy missed an opportunity to continued its fearsome offensives under cover of darkness and using sea control during the daytime.16
Japan did not focus its offensive combat power in bolder ways to achieve decisive action with strategic benefits. One operational line of efforts planned for but never executed was the use of Japanese submarines in the vicinity of Hawaii to sink American ships entering and leaving the port.17 This use of Japanese submarines, especially immediately following the attack on Pearl Harbor, would have crippled America ships and the limited aircraft carriers returning to port.
Japan did not concentrate its defensive combat power through the garrisoning of mutually supportive islands, a miscalculation American forces exploited. The isolated citadel strategy with its island defenses proved vulnerable to the American leapfrogging approach.18 Vast distances between these islands were often equivalent to the coast-to-coast span of the United States and placed a tremendous strain on supply chains, resulting in non-combat-related losses for aircraft.19 Concentrating defensive combat power on mutually supportive islands, Japan could then bring to bear overwhelming firepower to deter American invasion plans or repel landing assaults.20 The practical approach to amphibious defensive warfare could have allowed for the coordination of simultaneous attacks on approaching American naval forces and limited the attrition of critical Japanese air power.21,22 The coordination of firepower from these mutually supportive islands, in the form of fixed artillery sites and land-based aviation, could have undermined American strategy and provided more effective safe havens for reconstituting Japanese forces.
With the concentration of offensive and defensive combat power, Japan did not launch audacious offensives before the end of 1942, which would have resulting in the decisive destruction of American naval forces. At the outset of the war, Japanese leadership recognized the industrial might of the United States would inevitably lead to defeat unless Japan could meet its principal military aims before the end of 1942.23,24,25,26 These bold offensives would have denied the United States strategic positions required for force projection, such as Guadalcanal, and disrupted vulnerable sea lines of communication. 27 Japanese offensives should have targeted Ceylon and Australia to threaten Allied capabilities to support American force movements and draw American carriers, still few in numbers and lacking proven doctrine, to more threatening operating areas. 28,29 The Indian Ocean would have been an area of strategic gain for Japan should it have employed its submarine force, away from Allied air cover, to conduct convoy raiding on Lend-Lease merchant vessels transiting to support Russia via the Middle East.30,31 Most significantly, Japan should have executed its planned invasion of Hawaii, which would have directly threatened Alaska, the West Coast, and the Panama Canal.32,33 These three locations were of particular concern for the United States, while increasing their willingness to negotiate a peace settlement.34
Employing Diplomatic and Information Means
Aside from preventing attrition and concentrating combat power, Japan did not exploit its diplomatic and information leverage to force negotiations with the United States. The United States remains concerned about Japan’s involvement within the Tripartite Pact. Japan could have exploited this opportunity by quickly pulling out of the Tripartite Pact after Pearl Harbor to unburden itself from the disjointed German and Italian war aims.35 The Tripartite Pact forced Japan into close relations with Germany and Italy, both had their own strategic objectives and were so distanced that any significant resource or military assistance to Japan was impractical.36 By distancing itself diplomatically from Germany and Italy, Japan could have vastly complicated President Roosevelt’s strategic calculus for publicly justifying the war in Europe to the American people. 37 A rapid exit from the Tripartite Pact would have negated the risk of Germany and Italy declaring war on the United States, which bolstered the American public’s emotions for hatred and revenge.38
Japanese exploitation of divisions within the Allies, either via diplomatic or information means, could have also proved beneficial for several reasons. First, China was a significant cause of manpower attrition for the Japanese, aggravated by the increasing influx of Allied military assistance.39 If Japan could have diplomatically severed this assistance, it could have detracted the Allied political interest within the region and ensured Japan’s status as the regional hegemony. Second, a point of possible exploitation could have been isolating Australia and India diplomatically from Great Britain by highlighting the ongoing colonial ambitions of Winston Churchill. Australia, India, and to a lesser extent, smaller Asian countries, had existing ambitions to separate themselves from Great Britain.40 Japan should have exploited these divisions and fractured British equities, which would have decreased the political interest in the region.
Japan should have highlighted the forcefulness of American leadership over Allied strategy and policy. This messaging should have sought to use American aggressiveness over its allies as a rationale for degrading the United States’ access to critical military facilities in the south and central Pacific.41 With distinct divisions amongst the Allies, Japan should have exploited opportunities to fracture away as much support for the United States as possible.
Although Japan used propaganda to a limited extent against deployed American forces, Japan did not sufficiently target the domestic American population. During the early stages of the war, Japan used propaganda as a leading tool of its national strategy with strategic success.42 Japan missed an opportunity to wield this capability with devastating effects by highlighting perceived British ambitions to expand its colonial rule against southeast Asian nations.43 Additionally, Japan did not highlight the enormous financial costs of General MacArthur’s self-imposed Philippine Campaign, which could eroded the American public’s support against any continued intervention in the Philippines.44,45
Japan did not focus on weakening the American public’s view of the Pacific Fleet serving as a mobile defensive line early in the war. By messaging the Pacific Fleet as an ineffective deterrent fleet incapable of preventing further Japanese aggression, combined with a decisive attack, would have potentially dissolved the America public’s belief in the West Coast’s safety.46 This emphasis on diminishing the morale of the American people could have been a focal point of Japanese strategy to circumvent the domestic calls for total national unity.47 With the will of the American people depleted, the chances of a negotiated war termination would have likely increased in Japan’s favor.
Counterargument and Rebuttal
Some might argue that the Japanese wait-and-react strategy served as a better solution for ensuring a favorable outcome with the United States. This strategy was structured to combine phased combat actions to achieve the complete destruction of American naval power in the Pacific Ocean. First, Japanese naval forces would search for and annihilate American naval forces permanently stationed or operating in the western Pacific Ocean. Next, Japan would conduct a series of minor naval engagements to attrite an American main battle force moving westward to relieve or recapture American territories like Guam. Finally, Japan would seek to decisive engagement, decimate the American naval forces to force negotiations for war termination.48
The attack on Pearl Harbor, and the initial stages of the war, shaped by strategic assumptions fundamental to the wait-and-react strategy remained valid throughout the Interwar Period. First, the Japanese assumed it would achieve its war aim following a rapid, decisive offensives, forcing the United States into peace negotiations. Second, the Japanese navy’s was to gain sea control needed for conflict success, enabling the capture of a strategic position essential for the survival of Japan following the war, and ensure the future prosperity of Japan. In the minds of the Japanese, the western and central Pacific were the defining features of these geographic considerations. Third, Japanese navy leadership remained adamant that only decisively defeating the American battle fleet guaranteed sea control. Fourth, suppose if Japan could not confront the United States with equal or greater numbers of ships. In that case, Japan could negate with ship overmatch with superior firepower, armor, training, and outranging technology such as carrier-borne aviation. Finally, the victory following a decisive naval battle would ensure the Japanese homeland security needed for prosperity and lead directly to a negotiated peace with the United States.49
Despite these contrary views, the wait-and-react strategy was a doomed path for Japan to remain on without considering alternative strategies that would have better enabled a negotiated war termination with the United States. A significant piece of evidence for this is that Japan blatantly violated its own fundamental axiom of grand strategy, which was the principle of fighting only one enemy at a time.50 Additionally, key Japanese naval leadership, including Yamamoto Isoroku, Ozawa Jisaburo, and Onishi Takijiro, guarded criticisms for the wait-and-react strategy. First, it relied entirely on the United States being a cooperative adversary and left the initiative of location and time for naval engagement with the Pacific Fleet. Second, the nature of offensive naval power had transitioned from the battleship-based fleet to one reliant on carrier-based aviation: a transition that required a more risk-averse (and thus less offensive) mindset to prevent loss of expensive carriers that would be troublesome to reconstitute during the conflict.
Finally, even with the introduction of carriers, the confrontation between Japan and the United States would still ultimately focus on critical airbases and facilities, predominately throughout the central Pacific.51 To rationalize both these criticisms and the fundamental tenets of wait-and-react, the Japanese navy sought a carrier aviation-based pre-emptive strike deep at Pearl Harbor to decisively defeat the Pacific Fleet. However, no legitimate plan was devised to transition to war termination through a negotiated settlement. 52 This execution of wait-and-react military strategy without the diplomatic ammunition to support it left Japan in a precarious situation that slowly but surely, led to Japan’s defeat.
Lieutenant Commander Crosby, an active duty naval intelligence officer, began his career as a surface warfare officer. His assignments have included the USS Lassen (DDG-82), USS Iwo Jima (LHD-7), U.S. Seventh Fleet, and the Office of Naval Intelligence, with multiple deployments supporting naval expeditionary and special warfare commands. He is a Maritime Advanced Warfighting School–qualified maritime operational planner and an intelligence operations warfare tactics instructor. He holds master’s degrees from the American Military University and the Naval War College.
Endnotes
1. Paine, Sarah C. M. The Wars for Asia, 1911-1949. New York: Cambridge University Press, 2012. 189.
2. Lee, Bradford A. “A Pivotal Campaign in a Peripheral Theatre: Guadalcanal and World War II in the Pacific.” In Naval Power and Expeditionary Warfare: PeripheralCampaigns and New Theatres of Naval Warfare. Bruce A. Elleman and S. C. M. Paine, eds. London and New York: Routledge, 2011. 84.
3. Ibid., 94.
4. Evans, David C. and Mark R. Peattie. Kaigun: Strategy, Tactics, and Technology in the Imperial Japanese Navy, 1887-1941. Annapolis: Naval Institute Press, 1997. 470-471.
5. Warner, Denis and Peggy. “The Doctrine of Surprise”; Miller, Edward S. “Kimmel’s Hidden Agenda”; and Cohen, Eliot A. “The Might-Have-Beens of Pearl Harbor.” MHQ: The Quarterly Journal of Military History, vol. 4, no. 1 (autumn 1991). 23.
6. O’Brien, Phillips. How the War Was Won: Air-Sea Power and Allied Victory in World War II. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015. 385.
7. Baer, George W. One Hundred Years of Sea Power: The U.S. Navy, 1890-1990. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1994. 221.
8. O’Brien, Phillips. How the War Was Won: Air-Sea Power and Allied Victory in World War II. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015. 375.
9. Wylie, J. C. Appendix A, “Excerpt from ‘Reflections on the War in the Pacific.’” In Military Strategy: A General Theory of Power Control. New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 1967. Annapolis: Naval Institute Press, reprint, 1989. 119.
10. James, D. Clayton. “American and Japanese Strategies in the Pacific War.” In Makers of Modern Strategy: From Machiavelli to the Nuclear Age. Peter Paret, ed. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1986. 717.
11. Ibid., 729.
12. O’Brien, Phillips. How the War Was Won: Air-Sea Power and Allied Victory in World War II. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015. 417.
13. Evans, David C. and Mark R. Peattie. Kaigun: Strategy, Tactics, and Technology in the Imperial Japanese Navy, 1887-1941. Annapolis: Naval Institute Press, 1997. 485.
14. James, D. Clayton. “American and Japanese Strategies in the Pacific War.” In Makers of Modern Strategy: From Machiavelli to the Nuclear Age. Peter Paret, ed. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1986. 718.
15. Lee, Bradford A. “A Pivotal Campaign in a Peripheral Theatre: Guadalcanal and World War II in the Pacific.” In Naval Power and Expeditionary Warfare: PeripheralCampaigns and New Theatres of Naval Warfare. Bruce A. Elleman and S. C. M. Paine, eds. London and New York: Routledge, 2011. 88.
16. Ibid., 92.
17. Baer, George W. One Hundred Years of Sea Power: The U.S. Navy, 1890-1990. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1994. 171.
18. Larrabee, Eric. Commander in Chief: Franklin Delano Roosevelt, His Lieutenants and Their War. New York: Simon and Schuster, 1987. Annapolis: Naval Institute Press, reprint, 2004. 339.
19. O’Brien, Phillips. How the War Was Won: Air-Sea Power and Allied Victory in World War II. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015. 409.
20. James, D. Clayton. “American and Japanese Strategies in the Pacific War.” In Makers of Modern Strategy: From Machiavelli to the Nuclear Age. Peter Paret, ed. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1986. 718.
21 Ibid., 719.
22. Evans, David C. and Mark R. Peattie. Kaigun: Strategy, Tactics, and Technology in the Imperial Japanese Navy, 1887-1941. Annapolis: Naval Institute Press, 1997. 466.
23. Lee, Bradford A. “A Pivotal Campaign in a Peripheral Theatre: Guadalcanal and World War II in the Pacific.” In Naval Power and Expeditionary Warfare: PeripheralCampaigns and New Theatres of Naval Warfare. Bruce A. Elleman and S. C. M. Paine, eds. London and New York: Routledge, 2011. 88.
24. James, D. Clayton. “American and Japanese Strategies in the Pacific War.” In Makers of Modern Strategy: From Machiavelli to the Nuclear Age. Peter Paret, ed. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1986. 707-708.
25. Baer, George W. One Hundred Years of Sea Power: The U.S. Navy, 1890-1990. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1994. 159.
26. Ibid., 169.
27. Lee, Bradford A. “A Pivotal Campaign in a Peripheral Theatre: Guadalcanal and World War II in the Pacific.” In Naval Power and Expeditionary Warfare: PeripheralCampaigns and New Theatres of Naval Warfare. Bruce A. Elleman and S. C. M. Paine, eds. London and New York: Routledge, 2011. 84-85.
28. Ibid., 86-87.
29. O’Brien, Phillips. How the War Was Won: Air-Sea Power and Allied Victory in World War II. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015. 391.
30. Ibid., 418.
31. Baer, George W. One Hundred Years of Sea Power: The U.S. Navy, 1890-1990. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1994. 209.
32. Larrabee, Eric. Commander in Chief: Franklin Delano Roosevelt, His Lieutenants and Their War. New York: Simon and Schuster, 1987. Annapolis: Naval Institute Press, reprint, 2004. 364-365.
33. Baer, George W. One Hundred Years of Sea Power: The U.S. Navy, 1890-1990. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1994. 210.
34. “The Blue Team: Documents on U.S. Policy, Strategy, and Operation1949. New York: Cambridge University Press, 2012. 186.
35. Evans, David C. and Mark R. Peattie.Kaigun: Strategy, Tactics, and Technology in the Imperial Japanese Navy, 1887-1941. Annapolis: Naval Institute Press, 1997. 454.s in the Pacific War.” 11.
36. Paine, Sarah C. M. The Wars for Asia, 1911-
37. James, D. Clayton. “American and Japanese Strategies in the Pacific War.” In Makers of Modern Strategy: From Machiavelli to the Nuclear Age. Peter Paret, ed. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1986. 712-713.
38. Baer, George W. One Hundred Years of Sea Power: The U.S. Navy, 1890-1990. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1994. 181.
39. James, D. Clayton. “American and Japanese Strategies in the Pacific War.” In Makers of Modern Strategy: From Machiavelli to the Nuclear Age. Peter Paret, ed. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1986. 713, 716.
40. Paine, Sarah C. M. The Wars for Asia, 1911-1949. New York: Cambridge University Press, 2012. 198.
41. James, D. Clayton. “American and Japanese Strategies in the Pacific War.” In Makers of Modern Strategy: From Machiavelli to the Nuclear Age. Peter Paret, ed. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1986. 723.
42. Ibid., 719-720.
43. Ibid., 722.
44. O’Brien, Phillips. How the War Was Won: Air-Sea Power and Allied Victory in World War II. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015. 382.
45. Larrabee, Eric. Commander in Chief: Franklin Delano Roosevelt, His Lieutenants and Their War. New York: Simon and Schuster, 1987. Annapolis: Naval Institute Press, reprint, 2004. 346.
46. Baer, George W. One Hundred Years of Sea Power: The U.S. Navy, 1890-1990. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1994. 150.
47. Warner, Denis and Peggy. “The Doctrine of Surprise”; Miller, Edward S. “Kimmel’s HiddenAgenda”; and Cohen, Eliot A. “The Might-Have-Beens of Pearl Harbor.” MHQ: The Quarterly Journal of Military History, vol. 4, no. 1 (autumn 1991). 22.
48. Evans, David C. and Mark R. Peattie. Kaigun: Strategy, Tactics, and Technology in the Imperial Japanese Navy, 1887-1941. Annapolis: Naval Institute Press, 1997. 464.
49. Ibid., 480.
50. Ibid., 450.
51. Ibid., 472.
52. Warner, Denis and Peggy. “The Doctrine of Surprise”; Miller, Edward S. “Kimmel’s Hidden Agenda”; and Cohen, Eliot A. “The Might-Have-Beens of Pearl Harbor.” MHQ: The Quarterly Journal of Military History, vol. 4, no. 1 (autumn 1991). 25.
Featured Image: October 1941, Imperial Japanese Navy carrier Zuikaku at Bungo-channel. (Photo colorized by Irootoko Jr.)
