The 15 fast carriers of Task Force 58 brought some 475
Hellcats to the Marianas in the second week of June 1944. Another 66 F6Fs were
aboard three of the five escort carriers assigned to support the invasion
beachheads in Operation Forager. It was by far the largest Hellcat gathering to
date; nearly 550 of them embarked in 18 CVs, CVLs, and CVEs. To naval
historians the forthcoming confrontation would be the First Battle of the
Philippine Sea. To Hellcat pilots and nearly everyone else, it would always be
the “Great Marianas Turkey Shoot.”
D-Day in Normandy had come and gone by the time Admiral
Mitscher’s seven CVs and eight CVLs were in position to open Forager. But D-Day
for Saipan wasn’t until the 15th, allowing the Hellcats four days to gain air supremacy
over the Marianas, the last of the major Central Pacific island groups to be
captured before the Philippines. As it turned out, two days would be
sufficient.
Mitscher’s staff was aware that by now the Japanese were
accustomed to dawn fighter sweeps as the forerunner to amphibious invasion, and
they devised a new schedule to throw the enemy off guard. Ordinarily the first
sweep would have been launched on the morning of 12 June, but instead it was
advanced to early afternoon of the 11th. And it was none too soon, for a
Japanese snooper spotted the task force that morning. Four intruders were
downed during the noon hour by the CAP.
Then at 1300 the fast carriers, steaming into a 14-knot
wind, began launching 208 Hellcats. The large flattops each sent off four
divisions; the Independence-class ships sent three divisions each, in a fairly
complex plan. The Hornet, Yorktown, Belleau Wood, and Bataan of Rear Admiral
Jocko Clark’s TG-58.1 were assigned targets at Guam. Rear Admiral Alfred
Montgomery’s 58.2 and Rear Admiral J. W. Reeves’s 58.3 took Saipan and Tinian,
while the smallest task group, Rear Admiral W. K. Harrill’s 58.4, with the
Essex, Langley, and Cowpens, shared Tinian and had Pagan to themselves. The
Marianas lie nearly north-south, and the distance from Saipan to Guam is almost
150 miles. Pagan to Guam is even farther. It meant the Hellcats were launched
180 to 240 miles from their targets.
In the widespread dogfights that resulted, claims were made
for over 70 aerial victories. About half the day’s total was contributed by the
Hornet’s VF-2, reunited with its air group since March. The skipper, Commander
Bill Dean, led his troops over Guam and attacked airfields there, but his
attention was diverted when Lieutenant (jg) Howard B. Duff was shot down by AA
fire. Cruising at about 1,000 feet, attempting to guide SB2Cs to Duff so they
could drop life rafts, Dean was alerted by Lieutenant (jg) J. T. Wolf’s “Heads
up.”
Nearly 30 bandits jumped VF-2 below the 2,000-foot overcast.
A pair of Zekes came down behind the lead division, but Dean and his wingman
Lieutenant (jg) Davy Park did simultaneous right and left chandelles into the
attack and set both assailants on fire. Dean also chased a Tojo in a climb,
catching up by using water injection, and burned it. He then bagged another
Zeke for a total of five and one-half kills since November. Wolf claimed three
Zekes, and the squadron tally for this battle was 21 Zekes and two Tojos.
But VF-2 wasn’t finished for the day. The Hornet’s CAP
picked off three Bettys above a picket destroyer, and a second sweep-strike to
Guam netted seven Zekes, two Tojos, and an Irving without a loss. Another
Irving late that afternoon boosted Fighting Two’s total claims for the 11th to
37, the only loss being Duff’s Hellcat.
Three VF-31 divisions flew top cover under Lieutenant Doug
Mulcahy, the only Cabot pilot on the sweep with a previous score. The 12
Hellcats claimed 13 and two probables destroyed in the air—with three pilots
scoring doubles—and four wrecked on the ground. The only loss was Ensign R. G.
Whitworth’s plane. The young flier was fished out of the ocean three days
later.
The Belleau Wood’s VF-24 made only one kill near Guam, but
it was encouraging anyway. A four-plane division sighted a lone Zeke north of
the island and gave chase, spotting the bandit a three-mile head start. The F6
pilots poured on 55 inches of manifold pressure and 2,700 RPM, indicating 240
knots. After an eight-mile low-level tailchase, the Hellcats hauled into gun
range, even though three kept their drop tanks and the Zeke jettisoned its own.
The Zeke outmaneuvered individual Hellcats at 200 knots airspeed, but was boxed
in and Lieutenant (jg) R. H. Thelen made the kill. It was further proof that
the F6F was considerably faster than its primary opponent.
Another single victory during the day was notable, but for a
different reason. Farther north, near Saipan, the CAG of the Essex’s new Air
Group 15 saw a lone Zeke drop out of the cloud cover. Commander David
McCampbell, a former intercollegiate diving champion from the Annapolis class
of ’33, instantly turned towards the Mitsubishi and fired three bursts. The
Zeke went down streaming smoke, the first in what would become a long, long
string for the CAG.
McCampbell’s initial success in aerial combat was met with a
professional’s cool detachment: “I knew I could shoot him down, and I did.
That’s all there was to it.” It was something of an understatement, for like
all squadron commanders and CAGs, Dave McCampbell had had extensive practice. A
naval aviator since 1938, he had assumed command of VF-15 in September 1943 and
moved up to air group commander while in training aboard the new Hornet in
February. McCampbell had some 2,000 hours of total flight time, including 800
in F6Fs, when he led Air Group 15 on its first combat mission against Marcus
Island on 19 May. During that strike his Hellcat was so badly shot up it was
pushed overboard upon landing.
Eleven F6Fs were lost on 11 June, though three pilots were
recovered. Lieutenant Commander Robert H. Price suffered two weeks of drifting,
scorching tedium in a raft before he was finally rescued. His F6F had gone down
while leading a Cowpens attack upon a Japanese convoy northwest of Saipan. But
enemy air power in the Marianas was so depleted that Mitscher’s fighters
claimed only a dozen victories the next day. By the 13th, D-Minus Two, the
Hellcats owned the sky over the islands. The Japanese had no recourse but to
attempt funneling aircraft into the Marianas via Iwo Jima to the north and the
Carolines to the south.
The former possibility had been anticipated, as Iwo Jima and
the Bonins were almost exactly halfway between the Marianas and Japan—an
excellent staging area. Task Groups 58.1 and 58.4 were ordered northward to
strike these bases on the 15th and 16th, despite the forecast of poor weather
over the targets.
The meteorological pessimists proved accurate. When launch
position was reached in the early afternoon of the 15th, low ceilings and
limited visibility greeted the fliers, who also had to contend with a fairly
rough sea. But launch commenced 135 miles east of Iwo Jima, and 44 Hellcats in
three formations set out to bomb and strafe Iwo’s two fields before the SB2Cs
and TBMs arrived.
About 100 Japanese aircraft were based on Iwo, but only 38
were scrambled in time to intercept the unexpected Hellcats, so the odds were
nearly even. The combat wasn’t. Fighting One, newly arrived aboard the
Yorktown, and Fighting Two from the Hornet had things almost entirely to
themselves, destroying nearly all the airborne Zekes.
First over the target was VF-1, in its first large combat.
The CO, “Smoke” Strean, led his division down from 10,000 feet in a 50° dive,
dropping fragmentation bombs and strafing revetted fighters. Strean himself
caught a Zeke taking off and dropped it from 300 feet, then two of his four
divisions tangled with the late-reacting enemy fighters.
Lieutenant Paul M. Henderson’s three-plane division claimed
half of VF-1’s total of 20 kills. Henderson and Lieutenant (jg) J. R. Meharg
were both credited with four Zekes, but Henderson was lost from sight after
shooting the last one off the tail of his number three, Ensign A. P. Morner.
Morner claimed a double and returned to the Yorktown with Meharg but Pablo
Henderson never showed up. Another Fighting One Hellcat was lost to
antiaircraft fire.
Seven Hornet F6Fs were next on the scene, led by Lieutenant
Lloyd G. Barnard. Commander Bill Dean had democratically sent only pilots
without victories to Iwo for a chance to catch up. They made the most of the opportunity.
In the next 25 minutes, Barnard exploded three Zekes and shot two more into the
water. Lieutenant (jg) Myrvin E. Noble and Lieutenant (jg) Charles H. Carroll
both claimed three apiece, and the other four pilots accounted for six more.
Barnard remembered Zeros “blowing up all over the place,” but only two of his
F6Fs received minor battle damage. The one loss was Noble’s Hellcat,
irreparably damaged in landing aboard in heavy seas.
By the time Fighting 15 arrived, there were only three Zekes
available and the Essex pilots got them all. Thus, the claims were 40
“confirmed” kills—an obvious exaggeration—but even so the Japanese recorded the
loss of nearly all their airborne fighters. During the rest of the day
Hellcats, Avengers, and Helldivers concentrated on destroying parked aircraft.
Poor weather prevented air operations all morning of the
16th. Shortly after noon, however, strikes were resumed on facilities at Iwo
and Chichi Jima. Flak brought total U.S. aircraft losses to 12, but Japanese
air strength in the Bonins-Jimas was annihilated. The bomb-cratered runways
would be quickly repaired, but no aircraft from Iwo would get to the Marianas
in time to contest the invasion. Rear Admirals Clark and Harrill took their
task groups back south for the main event.
Things had been relatively quiet in their absence. One of
the few squadrons to find combat over the Marianas on the 15th was VF-51 off
the San Jacinto, “Flagship of the Texas Navy.” Commander Charles L. Moore’s
pilots accounted for seven confirmed and a probable. Three were Tonys downed by
the unit’s top scorer, Lieutenant W. R. Maxwell, whose division had splashed a
pair of snoopers on the 11th. It was a welcome change of fortune for Bob
Maxwell, whose first combat tour had been cut short on his fifth mission from
Guadalcanal one year earlier. His VF-11 Wildcat lost its tail in a mid-air
collision, and he spent two weeks making his way to safety from
Japanese-controlled waters. The Marianas campaign was to be equally significant
to the San Jacinto fighters, for during June VF-51 would gain 21 of its total
29 victories.
Aerial opposition remained skimpy even after D-Day, but that
didn’t lessen the risk. The Enterprise CAG, W. R. “Killer” Kane, discovered
that the hard way on the 16th. As the day’s first target coordinator, Kane
arrived over the landing force west of Saipan with a wingman at 0540, before
daylight. Suddenly Kane’s F6F was jarred violently by an AA shell which
exploded just under his port wing. Gasoline and smoke spewed from the Hellcat
as more shells burst all around. The two fighters were 25 miles offshore, under
fire from American ships.
Kane’s first instinct was to bail out. But when he
determined his engine was still running, he decided to dive out of range. Too
late. Another AA barrage cut him off, and with zero oil pressure he plunked his
riddled Hellcat down into the waves with a jarring deceleration which knocked
his head forward into the gunsight.
Despite a nasty gash on the forehead, Kane scrambled into
his rubber raft and watched his F6 sink as the sun rose. He was rescued 30
minutes later, unmollified by the knowledge that American gunners could knock
down a plane with their first round. What was worse, Kane would be off flight
status for three days, recovering from his injury. It had been a full three
months since his first three kills as CO of VF-10 at Truk, and now with a fleet
engagement in sight, he was grounded.
Admiral Spruance, in overall command of Forager, knew from
submarine reports that a large Japanese task force was approaching the Marianas
to contest the landings. There was little activity on Sunday the 18th, except
that eight Belleau Wood Hellcats over Guam were bounced by about 15 Zekes,
seven of which were downed by VF-24, including three to Lieutenant (jg) Bob
Thelen. But it seemed fairly certain that the next day would see the war’s
fifth carrier battle, and Mitscher’s people fumed at the orders which kept the
task force tied down within 100 miles of the islands, guarding the beaches.
The Imperial Japanese Navy mustered nine flattops—five CVs
and four CVLs—in three carrier divisions under Vice Admiral Jisaburo Ozawa.
They embarked nearly 450 aircraft, of which half were Zekes: 145 fighters and
80 modified for dive-bombing. Thus, except for some Japanese Army Air Force
planes which flew up to Guam from the Carolines, it would be a classic
Zero-versus-Hellcat fighter battle. The Japanese 601st, 652nd, and 653rd Air
Groups also included 99 Judy dive bombers, 87 Jill torpedo planes, and 39 of
the familiar Vals and Kates.
No Hellcats or Helldivers had ever flown against enemy
carriers, but almost 60 percent of the Japanese formations were composed of the
same aircraft types which had begun the war at Pearl Harbor. Though large
numbers of Japanese land-based aircraft brought the total air strength on both
sides to about parity, Japanese coordination was poor; the Americans would deal
with the seaborne and land-based threats separately. And at sea, the fast
carriers stocked fully as many Hellcats as Ozawa’s total strength.
In addition to these advantages, the F6F pilots possessed a
less tangible but even more crucial edge. Though six fighter squadrons (VF-1,
VF-14, VF-15, VF-27, VF-28, and VF-51) were relatively new to combat, the
Hellcat pilots had had extensive, thorough training. Not so their adversaries.
Excluding a smattering of veteran fliers, the Japanese squadrons were composed
of aviators who could take off and land aboard carriers and fly formation. The
tactical aspects of their training had been necessarily brief, and this would
show up in the results they obtained. In the Marianas the Imperial Navy would
pay for its catastrophic personnel losses at Midway and the Solomons.
Still, the enemy air groups were to be reckoned with.
Launched in sufficient strength, large formations stood a chance of penetrating
the American CAP by sheer force of numbers. The full force of Hellcats could
never be committed at any one time, nor even a majority of them. Ample reserves
waiting on deck and those being refueled and rearmed would necessarily amount
to at least two-thirds of the available F6Fs. As things developed, intercepting
Hellcats would invariably be outnumbered. The equalizing factors were advance
radar warning, superior pilot and aircraft performance, and carefully cultivated
air discipline.
Daylight on the 19th brought beautiful flying weather. It
was a bright, warm morning with a 10-knot easterly breeze. Ceiling and
visibility were unlimited—perfect conditions for defending fighter pilots who,
even with radar guidance, had to eyeball their targets as soon as possible. The
few scattered low clouds would be no help to large formations seeking cover in
them, and telltale contrails would form as low as 20,000 feet.
In so complex a military art as carrier warfare, the
importance of communications was impossible to overestimate, and the upcoming
battle had caught the U.S. carriers at an inopportune time. Only two
fighter-direction channels were common to all four task groups, because radio
equipment was being updated in the task force. The situation would demand that
pilots suppress their radio chatter if tactical information were to be relayed.
Even more responsibility was borne by the four junior
officers who were responsible for fighter direction of each task group. The
force FDO was Lieutenant Joseph R. Eggert aboard the Lexington. A young
reservist like the other FDOs, Eggert had been a New York stockbroker in
civilian life. On this day his management skills would be fully tested. The
experience, skill, and judgment of these young men was all-important, for they
would actually be in tactical control of the largest carrier duel in history.
While Avenger search planes were out hunting the Japanese
carriers, the day’s first contact occurred. At about 0530 the task force radar
picked up a blip west of the southernmost group, Montgomery’s 58.2. A division
of VF-28 from the light carrier Monterey was already airborne on Vector CAP and
was sent out to have a look. The division leader, Lieutenant (jg) W. T.
Fitzpatrick, sighted two Judys in tight step-down echelon only 30 miles west of
the Monterey, probably land-based recon planes from Guam. Fitzpatrick and his
wingman attacked from a 500-foot altitude advantage, diving from starboard in a
30° high side run.
Fitzpatrick fired and hit the lead Judy forward of the
cockpit, continuing his dive below and to port. The second section of Hellcats
saw the Judy pull up, roll inverted, and spin into the water. Immediately, the
second Judy split-essed into some convenient clouds at 4,000 feet and was lost
from sight, and after having drawn first blood the F6Fs were recalled to base.
Less than an hour later, a VF-24 division was dispatched to
Orote airfield to investigate a suspicious radar contact. The four Hellcats
encountered numerous airborne Zekes—evidence that the Japanese were sending
aircraft north from Truk and Yap. The Belleau Wood pilots hollered for help and
attacked, claiming ten shot down for one F6F damaged. This combat began a
series of strung-out scraps which involved 33 more Hellcats until 0930. During
the hour or so of on-again, off-again dogfights over and around Guam, these
fighters claimed 30 Zekes and five bombers. But the F6 pilots reported more
bandits taking off and many more still on the ground. Mitscher concluded that
his force was “probably due for a working over by both land-based and
carrier-based planes,” and shortly before 1000 the fighters over Guam were
recalled to the task force by the radioed phrase, “Hey Rube,” first used by the
old Lexington in early 1942.
At almost the same time, radar picked up enemy aircraft
orbiting at 20,000 feet about 100 miles to the west. The general alarm was
sounded at 1004, and 140 additional Hellcats were scrambled in 15 minutes to
join the nearly 60 on CAP.
The battleship Alabama’s radar had estimated the strength of
this first strike at about 50 aircraft, bearing 265° True. Actually, there were
over 60: 14 Zeke fighters escorting 43 Zeke fighter-bombers and seven speedy
Jill torpedo planes. Commander Charles W. Brewer, skipper of VF-15, was first
on the spot, about 55 miles out. He called the tally-ho at 1035. The hostiles
were flying at 18,000 feet, and from 6,000 feet above them Brewer maneuvered
his two divisions for the attack. Three minutes after the tally-ho, Brewer
rolled into a dive and in a few short minutes shot down three Zekes and a
“Judy.” His wingman Ensign Richard E. Fowler got separated while meeting an
attack from port but shifted for himself, claiming four Zekes. Five of VF-15’s
other 12 kills were made by Lieutenant (jg) George R. Carr, who, like Brewer,
identified the Jills as Judy dive bombers.
In the next 25 minutes, 54 more Hellcats from seven
squadrons piled in. To say the affair was one-sided is to understate the matter
considerably. Only three minutes after VF-15 struck, Commander Bill Dean and
seven other VF-2 pilots dropped down from 27,000 feet. They picked off nine
Zekes and three of the Jills which split away from the main formation. The
surviving Jills poked their round noses down and outdistanced the F6F-3s, though
eight Cowpens fighters chased after them.
The “Rippers” of VF-2 frankly considered this batch of Zekes
“the best we’ve met.” Back aboard the Hornet, Dean told his air intelligence
officer, “I was fighting for my life for almost an hour out there.”
The larger formation was harried and chopped to pieces by
F6Fs from VF-25, VF-27, VF-28, and VF-31 for about 20 miles. Aboard the Cabot,
Lieutenant Commander Bob Winston won a footrace with two of his ensigns for the
last available Hellcat and was nearly hit by two falling Japanese planes as he
launched. He had not scored since the end of March and was nearly wild with
frustration, intensified when he was only able to find a formation of SBDs
circling clear of the fight.
The remnants were picked over by VF-8, VF-10, and VF-51.
Only a few Japanese pressed on, and even then their efforts were wasted on the
battleship task group. The South Dakota took a hit which did little harm.
Twenty Zekes and two Jills survived.
In exchange for 42 enemy aircraft destroyed, three Hellcats
and their pilots were lost, one from VF-25 and two from the Princeton’s VF-27.
The latter formation was led by the CAG, Lieutenant Commander Ernest W. Wood, a
gifted pianist fond of playing “Claire de Lune.” Wood went into a vertical dive
on an enemy formation and began a rolling pullout when his horizontal
stabilizers sheared off under the exceptional stress. His Annapolis classmate,
Fred Bardshar, exec of VF-27, took over.
Raid Two got considerably closer before it was intercepted.
But again it was VF-15, this time led by CAG Dave McCampbell, that made first
contact. At 1140 McCampbell’s 11 Hellcats bounced 109 Zekes, Jills, and
shark-mouthed Judys only 40 miles west of Task Group 58.7, the battle-wagons.
The Essex fighters mauled the big formation for six minutes before 43 more
Hellcats arrived.
McCampbell took the Judys which were stacked above the
Jills, and his other eight planes handled the Zeke top cover. Actually, the CAG
never did see the enemy fighters; he was too busy shooting down five Judys. The
first one “exploded practically in my face,” he reported. The force of the
Essex fighters’ attack was spectacular. When he had time to look around,
McCampbell saw the unforgettable sight of a line of splashes in the water where
Japanese airplanes had crashed, and varicolored parachutes floating on the
surface.
Then the reinforcements arrived. The largest contingent was
23 of the Lexington’s VF-16, backed up by three divisions of VF-14 off the Wasp
and two divisions of VF-27 from the Princeton. Lieutenant Commander Paul Buie
led most of his Airdales in a high-power cruise which left five of his pilots
in its wake with various mechanical difficulties. One was Alex Vraciu, who
found his supercharger would not shift into high blower. He reported to the FDO
and was vectored onto a strung-out line of Judy dive bombers. In a fast eight
minutes the Indiana ace caught up with and shot down six, chasing the last two
right into task force AA fire. Vraciu’s squadron mates splashed 16 more in the
25 minutes before noon.
Fred Bardshar had been sunbathing after an uneventful CAP
when another scramble was ordered aboard the Princeton. He launched with two
divisions in such a hurry that he was climbing through 10,000 feet before he
got around to fastening his parachute pack to his harness. When a head-on
interception occurred at 14,000 feet, the Princeton pilots noted that the
top-cover Zekes were strangely inactive. Bardshar quickly shot down one bomber,
then was drawn out of the fight by a diving bandit which he flamed at about
7,000 feet. By the time he regrouped, it was all over. The running battle had
progressed farther east. Fighting 27’s current top scorer, Lieutenant Dick
Stambook, had downed two Zekes and a pair of Judys.
Again the enemy’s remnants split their forces, attempting a
forked attack on the battleships and two of the carrier groups. This phase of
Raid Two was dominated by 21 Yorktown Hellcats in three formations. CAG-1,
Commander J. M. Peters, took six F6Fs with him, while the fighter skipper, Smoke
Strean, sailed in with ten more. A five-plane division rounded things out for
VF-1. In an up-and-down combat, Peters’s and Strean’s pilots chased vectors
from 30,000 feet down to 5,000 and back up again, claiming 32 of the 35 Zekes
encountered. Lieutenant R. T. Eastmond splashed four Zekes and four other VF-1
pilots claimed three apiece. Strean got a double.
Though small attacks were made on four individual carriers,
no significant damage was done. Again, barely 20 enemy aircraft returned to
their ships in exchange for four Hellcats shot down and three pilots killed.
Fighting 1, 14, and 15 all lost a plane and pilot while a VF-8 pilot bailed
out. Additionally, VF-1 had to jettison a second Hellcat with extensive battle
damage and another F6 ditched but the pilot was rescued. Ninety-four Japanese
planes were claimed from Raid Two.
At 1230 the radarscopes were clear and most airborne
fighters were instructed to land and refuel. But 12 minutes later a bogey
showed up, and some VF-10 fighters were given a vector less than 40 miles out.
First on the scene, however, was Lieutenant William B. Lamb, the new VF-27
exec, flying by himself after bagging two torpedo planes early in the raid. The
Californian paced the 12 Jills, keeping out of gun range while reporting their
position and asking for help. Then, often with only one gun firing, he made
repeated runs on the formation and sent three spinning towards the ocean. To
Fred Bardshar it was “a bit like Sergeant York’s shooting up the WW I German
patrol—one at a time, like turkeys, from the rear!” The rest of the Judys,
which had been behind and below the main enemy formation, were broken up by
other Hellcats.
Raid Three actually failed to develop as such. The strike’s
27 bombers failed to find the U.S. carriers, but its 20 escorting Zekes were
reported by Yorktown radar at about 1245. As the VF-1 CAP was now patrolling
well to the west, the Hornet’s controller took over and vectored three
divisions to intercept. The 17 Hellcats claimed 14 kills, and though Japanese records
indicated the actual loss was half as many, the enemy were dispersed. The only
harm suffered by the F6Fs was slight 20-mm damage to a VF-2 plane.
