Sunday in hell, p.42
Sunday in Hell, page 42
Reports assembled as of that date, indicated the Fleet expended 284,469 rounds of ammunition of all types, with the bulk of rounds fired, 272,556 from .45, .30 and .50-caliber guns. The remaining 11,913 came from 1.1-inch, 3-inch, and 5-inch guns.19
As the bitter day wore on, Pearl Harbor’s and Oahu’s defenders would begin to learn, sadly, their fierce defense wouldn’t stop the carnage and devastating losses on the ground and in the harbor, and would cause “friendly fire” deaths on military installations, in Honolulu and its surrounding communities, and in the air over Oahu - the painful prices of a successful surprise air attack, and war.
Into the Maelstrom: Enterprise’s Scouting Squadron Six (VS-6)
At 0720 in the morning, following his 0618 launch from the flight deck of Enterprise approximately 215 miles west of Oahu, Lieutenant Commander Howard L. Young, Enterprise’s Air Group Commander, was airborne in his Douglas Dauntless SBD-3, with his rear-seat passenger, Lieutenant Commander Bromfield B. Nichol, USN, Tactical Officer attached to the staff of the Commander Aircraft, Battle Force. Admiral Kimmel’s staff had informed Nichol that the Commander-in-Chief wanted to see him as soon as he landed at Ford Island. Flying the Group commander’s airplane and 6-S-2, to search sector 095-105 degrees, the next sector south of Young, were the VS-6 squadron commander, Lieutenant Commander Hallsted L. Hopping in 6-S-1, with his Radioman/gunner First Class Harould Thomas; and on Hopping’s wing in plane 6-S-3 was Ensign John H.L. Vogt, with Radioman/gunner Third Class Sidney Pierce. The remaining fourteen SBD-3s, in seven flights of two, like the two senior officers’ flights - all equipped with two, cowling-mounted .50-caliber machine guns, and one flexible, aft-firing .30-caliber machine gun mounted in the rear cockpits - were already spread into their respective scouting sectors.
Young was continuing toward NAS Pearl Harbor, ahead of the thirteen other planes from
VS-6 and four from VB-6, and was one of the squadron’s nine, two-plane sections, intending to complete the scouting mission in support of Task Force 8 and Enterprise, and recover the squadron in advance of Task Force arrival at Pearl Harbor. His wingman in plane 6-S-2 was Ensign Perry L. Teaff, with Radioman/gunner’s Mate Third Class Edgar P. Jinks in the rear seat. Teaff was comfortably spread in a tactical formation to permit both crews to scan the ocean surface and surrounding skies. The two sections on either side of Young’s were just over the horizon, not visible to the four men.
When Young sighted the tanker to starboard at 0720, he was proceeding on an easterly course. Upon investigation it proved to be the SS Pat Doheny, out of Los Angeles, owned by the Richfield Oil Company. Proceeding on their assigned track of 090 degrees, he sighted and passed the submarine Thresher, accompanied by the destroyer Lichtfield, at 0740 - the same time Fuchida fired the first red flare, northeast of Point Kuhuku, signaling the Japanese first wave to assemble into their attack formations.
At 0810 Young’s flight passed Kaena Point abeam to port, his position, 20 miles west of Oahu. By 0810, the Japanese Kate torpedo bombers had completed most of the destruction and death caused in their deadly torpedo attacks; Wheeler and Hickam Fields, NAS Kaneohe Bay and the Mooring Mast Field at Ewa were ablaze, with many airplanes destroyed or beyond repair, and hundreds dead and wounded. Oklahoma was listing heavily to port, soon to capsize. West Virginia was settling, its crews battling to avoid capsizing while fighting fires, Japanese bombers and fighters. Arizona had been shattered in one terrible instant, killing more than 900 men in minutes, and was a raging inferno. Vestal was fighting the air defense battle while fighting fires, struggling to avoid sinking or being consumed by the fire fed by Arizona’s ruptured tanks. California and Nevada had been struck with torpedoes, and were battling fires and enemy airplanes.
Maryland and Tennessee, though relatively unscathed, were deeply absorbed in fighting the air defense battle as best they could, rescuing hundreds of men forced to abandon Oklahoma, West Virginia and Arizona while warding off the oil-fed inferno creeping toward them from Arizona and West Virginia. And on the other side of Ford Island, Utah was two minutes away from capsizing, the cruiser Raleigh was fighting the air defense battle while trying to avoid capsizing as well. In between, Ford Island was a shambles and in flames with nearly all its airplanes and hangars destroyed or damaged, while on the east side of the harbor, the cruiser Helena and minelayer Oglala were blazing away with their AA guns, while Helena was trying to stay afloat and Oglala was starting to list toward capsizing into Helena.
At 0820 Young passed to seaward (south) from Barber’s Point, and at that time saw approximately a squadron of planes circling Ewa in column. Believing them to be Army pursuit planes, he gave them wide berth, decreasing his altitude to 800 feet and continued toward NAS Pearl Harbor.
At a point mid-way between Ewa and Ford Island he noticed considerable antiaircraft fire ahead. At almost the same instant he was attacked from the rear, without warning, by Japanese planes. Recognizing the insignia of one plane that had completed a dive on him - he immediately dove toward the ground zigzagging. Nichol didn’t have sufficient time to man the free gun in the rear cockpit. The SBD’s fixed guns were loaded and charged but Young had no opportunity to use them. He didn’t recognize with certainty the planes that attacked him, and at first described them as “low-wing monoplane fighters with retractable landing gear.” They were Japanese fighters, Zekes.
Perry Teaff’s plane was attacked at the same time but neither he nor his gunner, Jinks, were hit, though their plane absorbed several hits. In spite of the now wild ride, Teaff stayed with his flight lead, circling with Young’s plane, low over a cane field to the North of Pearl City. To Young it became immediately evident the flight was also under AA fire regardless of which direction he led them. He didn’t have sufficient fuel to return to the ship had he been able to get away from the island.
Hoping the two SBDs would be recognized as friendly, he decided to make a low approach to the Ford Island field and land - it seemed he had no alternative. Nevertheless, until he landed, their plane was subjected to heavy AA fire from ships and shore batteries in spite of recognition maneuvers and lowered wheels and flaps for landing. Young estimated his landing time was about 0835, approximately ten minutes after the first wave of attackers began withdrawing from their assault to rejoin at their Barber’s Point rendezvous, and return north to their carriers. Teaff, subjected to the same harrowing AA fire decided to turn away just prior to landing. He finally landed later under the same conditions. Throughout the wild melee, the Air Group Commander was unable to establish communications with the Ford Island control tower.20
There was good reason for the tower’s failure to respond. After he landed, he could see what wasn’t entirely visible or understandable until he got on the ground. At Ford Island, the hangars, and planes on the ramp and in the hangars, were wrecked. There were numerous fires. The nearby battleships were in the grip of an inferno, with huge black clouds of smoke rising from Arizona, burning oil on the water, and the settling, burning West Virginia and California. The sky was being obscured by giant clouds of black and gray smoke.
A massive rescue operation was already under way. Crew members on several major combatants were desperately fighting to save their ships. Gunners on board ships and on Ford Island were still fighting furiously to down or drive off any aircraft they believed might be attackers. It was “shoot first and ask questions later.” To make matters worse, few men firing at any aircraft considered within range had received sufficient training in aircraft recognition, and couldn’t distinguish friend from foe when they weren’t under attack.
Inspection of Young’s plane revealed several bullet holes through the wings but no serious damage.
Thus began VS-6’s return to Oahu early the morning of 7 December 1941. Not yet known to the Air Group Commander, matters had already deteriorated and were rapidly worsening. Former Radioman/gunner Second Class Jack Leaming, who became a prisoner of war on 4 March 1942, was personally involved in the return of his squadron to Pearl Harbor, meticulously researched, and wrote of the men in VS-6, and the four airplanes in VB-6 who were with them that morning.
Lieutenant Commander Hopping’s wingman, Ensign John H.L. Vogt, with Radioman/gunner Third Class Sidney Pierce in plane 6-S-3, were apparently killed. At the time, there was little information available to explain what occurred. Hopping, who was flying a track further south than Young, but behind him, also investigated the tanker Doheny, seen by the Air Group Commander at 0720. Hopping, spotting the ship 20 miles “broad on his port bow,” signaled Vogt in 6-S-3 to remain outside gun range while he investigated. He made contact with the ship at 0730, and also identified her as the Pat Doheny. When Hopping completed his investigation, Vogt’s 6-S-3 couldn’t be found. Hopping completed the sector search alone, and set course for Barbers Point.
When a short distance from Barbers Point, Hopping observed heavy smoke ahead, over Pearl Harbor and Ewa. Just as he caught sight of the smoke, he heard a frantic radio call several aircraft in his squadron also heard - Ensign Gonzalez’s pleading voice saying, “Do not attack me. This six baker three, an American plane!” The same voice continued on telling his gunner to break out the boat as he was landing in the water. When abreast of Ewa Hopping sighted Japanese airplanes attacking the airfield.
He immediately broadcasted a report that Pearl Harbor was being attacked by Japanese aircraft, a report apparently heard by few in the squadron. He rolled into a high speed dive to low altitude and headed for Ford Island, and landed at 0845 amidst a hail of friendly fire.
Vogt, apparently still airborne at that time, remained separated from his flight lead, and eventually encountered Japanese Val dive bombers from Kaga or Hiryu near Ewa. As events would prove, Marine Lieutenant Colonel Claude A. “Sheriff” Larkin, Ewa’s commander saw Ensign John H.L.Vogt’s SBD and a Val collide in mid-air. Vogt and Radioman/gunner Third Class Sidney Pierce bailed out, but at too low an altitude. Both died in the trees when their parachutes failed to fully deploy. Neither of the Japanese crewmen escaped from their Val when it crashed.
In spite of his missing wingman, the squadron commander wasted no time when he landed at Ford Island. He began preparing to take his men and their planes back into the war now raging around them. But, it would take time to learn how many would be available for the next mission they would fly that day - find and attack the Japanese fleet.
Flying the northernmost track, 050 degrees, were two of the four SBDs from VB-6, Enterprise’s bombing squadron. It was common practice to assign them to participate in the scouting mission. In the lead plane from Bombing Six, 6-B-3, was Ensign Manuel Gonzalez, pilot, with Radioman/gunner Third Class Leonard J. Kozelek, in the rear cockpit. Ensign Frederick T. Weber, pilot in plane 6-B-12 with Seaman First Class Lee E.J. Keaney, the radioman/gunner in the rear cockpit, flew Gonzalez’s wing.
Gonzalez and Weber sighted nothing on their first leg. About twenty miles past the island of Kauai, they completed their search mission and turned to a heading toward Oahu. Shortly after turning, Weber instructed Keaney to tune in radio station KGU in Honolulu to get some homing practice. Approximately twenty-five miles from Oahu, Weber sighted a large group of planes “milling around” between three thousand and four thousand feet. At first, he thought they were Army planes and continued to watch them for a few minutes. He was flying about five hundred yards on the right wing and five hundred feet above Gonzalez. When next he looked toward his flight lead, he couldn’t locate Gonzalez. He rolled into a turn and circled, attempting to visually sight him again, then made four or five “S” turns over the position he had last seen him.
He glanced ahead and saw a plane at the same altitude and course the two had been flying. He tried overtaking the plane, assuming it was Gonzalez. Approximately two thousand yards astern of the aircraft, it began a 180-degree turn toward him. Weber concluded Gonzalez was helping him overtake and rejoin. He rolled into an easy turn to port to cut off his presumed leader and slide toward regaining his position in the tactical formation. When the plane was ahead on Weber’s right, it abruptly increased its bank toward 90 degrees, pulling into a tight, high-G turn toward him. Then he saw the large red circle on the topside of the left wing. Reaction was instantaneous, and training took over.
Weber pushed his throttle full open while abruptly reversing his turn to starboard, rolling into a diving turn, passing well underneath the enemy. He was changing his direction opposite the enemy’s and accelerating into an inverted high-speed dive to separate from the raider - by pulling his airplane’s nose down while inverted, then rolling his wings level to begin pulling out of the dive before colliding with the water. He leveled off twenty-five feet above the water, having put insurmountable distance between his plane and the enemy’s, and evaded an attack. Gonzalez and Weber had intruded upon the rendezvous point of the Val dive bombers that had completed their first wave attack and were returning to their carriers.
Weber’s pilot report recalled the foregoing events occurred between 0810 and 0830. He estimated there were forty to fifty Japanese planes in the group. He never heard Gonzalez’s transmission, “Don’t shoot!” because he had instructed Keaney to change the radio frequency to station KGU, Honolulu, to take a bearing and practice homing on the station. The circumstance wasn’t unusual, since the squadron was routinely ordered to maintain radio silence, and was well-disciplined to do so. Later, on reaching Barber’s Point, Ensign Weber joined on plane 6-S-10.
Lieutenant Wilmer E. Gallaher, and his Radioman/gunner First Class Thomas E. Merritt, were flying their mission in the assigned sector for track 080 degrees, the sector just north of the Air Group Commander’s search area. On Gallaher’s wing in plane 6-S-5 was Ensign William P. West, with Radioman/gunner Louis D. Hansen in the rear cockpit. They had completed their 150-mile leg that ended between Kauai and Oahu and turned south for Oahu. Shortly after turning, Gallaher, flying at five hundred feet and obtaining a bearing on station KGU, saw several planes rendezvousing ahead at approximately 1,500 feet. He thought they were U.S. Army planes.
After obtaining the bearing, he returned to the squadron’s voice frequency and heard White-16, the squadron commander, Lieutenant Commander Hopping, broadcast Pearl Harbor was being attacked. Immediately thereafter he heard Manuel Gonzalez transmit, “Don’t shoot, I’m a friendly Navy plane!” - or words to that effect. Gallaher continued to Oahu and arrived about 0835.
Ten minutes earlier, Lieutenant Clarence E. Dickinson, a 1934 Naval Academy graduate and pilot in 6-S-4 with Radioman/gunner First Class William C. Miller in the rear cockpit, and Ensign John R. McCarthy in 6-S-9 with Radioman/gunner Third Class Mitchell Cohn, had completed their search of sector 110 degrees, the sector south of the squadron commander, Hopping. Dickinson and McCarthy were approaching Barbers Point from the south at 1,500 feet, after Dickinson had turned north and instructed Miller to take a bearing off a Honolulu radio station to be certain they were on the correct heading.
As they approached Barbers Point, about ten miles west of Pearl Harbor, Dickinson saw numerous shell splashes in the water near the entrance to the harbor. Looking for the source, he saw a cruiser and three destroyers about three miles off the harbor entrance, but they weren’t firing guns. Looking upward he saw numerous AA bursts above Pearl Harbor. Ewa’s Mooring Mast Field was afire and sending dense smoke as high as 5,000 feet over Barber’s Point. Smoke was also rising from the Arizona and covering the channel area. Completing his scan of the channel area, he saw no other planes.
He instructed McCarthy to come alongside and started climbing. They leveled off at 4,000 feet over Barber’s Point and hadn’t seen any enemy planes, “but was very shortly attacked by two Japanese fighters as we headed towards Pearl Harbor.” McCarthy, seeing the approaching Zekes, slid behind, underneath and across to Dickinson’s left, so his gunner could get a better shot at the fighters. Unfortunately, the fighters opened fire at a time that took McCarthy’s aircraft right into the bullet stream - just as Dickinson rolled into a left turn to give Miller a better shot. When Dickinson rolled into his left turn and checked his wingman, he saw McCarthy’s plane below, smoking. It had caught fire from the right side of the engine and the right main fuel tank. He lost speed and dropped about fifty yards astern and to Dickinson’s left. Dickinson could see McCarthy attempting to regain control of his plane as 6-S-9 slowly circled to the left, losing altitude.
Dickinson lost sight of McCarthy and Cohn but in a few seconds sighted their plane below, just as it struck the ground. He saw a parachute had opened at about 200 feet with the occupant apparently safe. McCarthy’s leg was broken in his escape. Plane 6-S-9 crashed and burned near Ewa. Cohn went in with the aircraft. (Later, Cohn’s remains were buried at The Punchbowl, mistakenly identified as unknown.)
Dickinson and Miller, now without a wingman to help ward off their attackers, found themselves under fire from four or five enemy planes, the nearest less than one hundred feet away. Miller reported he had been hit, followed by another report, as Dickinson recalled, “…I think it was just as the wing caught fire.”
“Are you all right, Miller?”
“Mr. Dickinson, I’ve expended all six cans of ammunition.” Then he screamed. To Dickinson it seemed “…as if he opened his lungs and just let go. I have never heard any comparable human sound. It was a yell of agony. I believe Miller died right then. When I called again there was no reply.” Dickinson looked aft and saw a Japanese plane on fire slowly losing altitude but didn’t actually see him hit the ground. He was able to get in two short bursts from his fixed guns when one enemy plane overshot them and pulled ahead.
Dickinson’s left fuel tank was on fire and he learned his controls had been shot away when he attempted to roll into a right turn. He told Miller to jump but he didn’t reply. The plane entered a spin to the right at approximately 1,000 feet. As it started to spin, Dickinson made the necessary preparations and bailed out. His parachute operated normally and he had the good fortune to have it open - and open low enough the Japanese hadn’t the time to attempt to attack him in his parachute, or the Marine gunners on the ground near Ewa mistake him for an enemy and open fire. He also was fortunate to come to earth virtually unhurt on the freshly graded dirt of a new road, a narrow aisle through the brush to the west of Ewa Field.
