78 YEARS AGO - THE MARIANAS TURKEY SHOOT

Following the loss of the Gilberts and Marshall Island in late 1943 and early 1944 respectively, the Imperial Navy concluded the Americans’ next target would be the Marianas, which constituted the linchpin of the empire’s inner defenses. The navy would have to fight the Americans in that event. A new battle plan, “A-Go” was hurriedly devised, which expected the battle would take place off Palau or the Western Carolines. The possibility of a battle in the vicinity of the Marianas was not addressed until mid-May.

The Mobile Fleet was faced with the problem that the aviators operating from the carriers were far less-capable than even the fliers who had been defeated by the Americans at Truk in February. They had trouble flying from land bases, let alone carriers, and had no gunnery or navigation training; thus they were forced to follow experienced leaders if they were to attack a target - and there were very few experienced leaders left. Thus, the battle plan that was devised called for Admiral Ozawa’s carriers to use the greater range of their aircraft to attack the American carriers while remaining out of range of a counter-strike, with the poorly-trained carrier pilots landing on Guam to be refueled and rearmed for a second attack against the Americans. It was expected that once the Mobile Fleet was discovered the Americans would move toward the fleet, taking Task Force 58 away from the invasion fleet they were there to support, which would allow more attacks against the invaders. The plan was a poor substitute for trained naval aviators. It also suffered from the fact that the American commander, Admiral Raymond Spruance, victor of Midway, would refuse to act according to their plan.

The American invasion of Biak Island, north of New Guinea, on May 27 threw the Japanese plan into disarray. Seeing this as the American attack they must oppose, the fleet prepared to go to sea. Before they could depart Tawi Tawi, a reconnaissance flight to the U.S. Navy’s new anchorage at Majuro Atoll in the Marshall Islands found Task Force 58 at anchor. The Japanese staff officers thought it impossible the Americans could mount both an invasion of Biak and the expected Marianas operation simultaneously.

The morning of June 6, 1944, the Fifth Fleet’s 154 aircraft carriers, battleships, heavy and light cruisers, and destroyers departed their anchorage at Majuro atoll. Vice Admiral Marc Mitscher’s seven heavy and eight light carriers of Task Force 58 supported the 535 amphibious assault ships of Task Force 51. More than 300,000 sailors and airmen manned the fleet; it was the largest fleet to set sail in history. As the sun set that evening, news spread that Allied forces had landed on the storm-tossed shores of Normandy, half a world away. That the United States could simultaneously launch two such colossal assaults against separate enemies half a world apart was the clearest demonstration of the country’s globe-girdling military-industrial power after only two and a half years of war. In the fliers’ ready rooms, bets were being taken as to when the fleet action would take place; the smart money was on the days immediately preceding June 20.

The staff officers of Task Force 58 were aghast when they were informed of Admiral Spruance’s battle plan. The plan foresaw the Japanese would attempt to use the greater range of their aircraft, and took into account the known failings of their fliers with the expectation they would attempt to land in the Marianas and attack again in a shuttle. Every fleet exercise in the 1930s, as well as the four carrier battles to date - Coral Sea, Midway, Eastern Solomons and Santa Cruz - had demonstrated the carrier force that struck first would win. Spruance decreed that the purpose of the Fifth Fleet and Task Force 58 was to protect the invasion; they would not advance toward the enemy. The Japanese would be allowed to strike first. But their planned shuttle raids would be blunted because in the time between the arrival of the Fifth Fleet at the Marianas and the arrival of the Imperial Navy, the aircraft of Task Force 58 would destroy all the Japanese bases on the islands. It was a bold and audacious plan.

Very few of the Naval Aviators in Mitscher’s carrier fleet had ever seen an enemy carrier before. The last confrontation of the two navies had been at the Battle of Santa Cruz on October 25, 1942. On June 11, when the fleet was 200 miles south-southeast of the Marianas, the combat air patrols shot down two Japanese snoopers, but not before they sent their sighting reports. Now that the enemy knew the presence of Task Force 58, Mitscher changed his plans from the the traditional dawn strike, which had been scheduled for the morning of 12 June. New orders were passed that the first strike would depart for Saipan that day, at 1300 hours.

On the first strikes against Saipan and Tinian, Air Group 15 commander Dave McCampbell scored his first victory. “Suddenly a Zeke came down from above our fighters and pulled up in a high wingover on my port beam. I turned into him and fired a short burst from close up, not more than 250 yards. The Zeke turned over on its left wing. I followed and got in another short burst, then got on his tail and gave him another burst. The pilot made another wingover, but he was already going down. The plane fell off on the right wing and spiraled toward the sea. Another F6F followed it, firing. I remained in position. The Zeke hit the water without burning and sank. No pilot appeared. I knew I could shoot him down and I did.”

Task Force 58's strikes decimated Japanese air power in the Marianas. Admiral Spruance ordered Admiral Mitscher to isolate the islands from further aerial reinforcement. The Japanese Mobile Fleet, which had been spotted on June 14 in the western Philippine Sea, was expected to be in range by June 19.

“General Quarters! General Quarters! All hands man your battle stations!” echoed over the dark sea at 0300 hours. Crews bustled on flight decks and hangar decks to prepare the Hellcats, Helldivers and Avengers for what lay ahead. As daylight broke over the rolling waves of the Philippine Sea, VF-2 intelligence officer Lt(jg) Morrisey recorded, “We awoke to an ominously-placid sea; the night had passed peacefully enough, but the morning dispatches carried with them forebodings of busy and hectic hours ahead.”

Sleepy pilots shuffled into ready rooms to be roused fully awake by the electrifying news: Task Force 58 and the Japanese Mobile Fleet would meet in combat that day. The lucky bettors who had gone against the tide and chosen June 19, 1944, collected their winnings.

The day would enter the history books as “The Marianas Turkey Shoot,” the biggest aerial battle of the Pacific War.

American radar detected the first Japanese strike at 1000 hours, 150 miles distant. The 64 aircraft were from the three smallest carriers, Chitose, Chiyoda, and Zuiho. Loudspeakers blared across the flight decks: “Pilots! Man your planes!” Aboard Lexington, Admiral Mitscher’s flagship, VF-16 ace Alex Vraciu recalled the pilots climbed into the first empty cockpit they came to. Hellcats were soon lifting off the flight deck as pilots pushed throttles “through the gate” and climbed as steeply as possible with Fighting 16's skipper Lt. Commander Paul Buie leading. The fighter direction radio circuits filled with the ancient battle cry for all hands to defend the American circus: “Hey Rube!”

Vraciu later recalled: “Our skipper was leading with three divisions of Hellcats and I was leading the others. He had a new engine in his F6F and pulled completely out of sight. His wingman’s prop froze trying to keep up with him and he had to ditch. Suddenly my wingman started pointing at my wing and I found out later that my wings weren’t fully locked. We were directed to orbit over the task group.”

Lexington’s Signalman 1/c Tom Curtis remembered later, “We men on the ships below could see aerial explosions and fiery trails of smoke trace the sky on the horizon, with contrails above that reminded me of photos of the Battle of Britain over London.”

Alex Vraciu’s division headed toward the enemy. “About 25 miles away, I saw three bogeys and closed on them immediately. As I got closer, I saw a force of 50 planes flying 2,000 feet below us on the port side and heading toward our ships. The bombers did not have any fighter protection and our position was perfect for a high-side run. I headed for the nearest inboard straggler, which was a Judy. As I closed on him, I caught another Hellcat zeroing in on the same Judy, so I backed off.

“I picked out another Judy and came in from the stern, giving him a burst, and he caught fire, heading down in a trail of smoke. Pulling up I spotted two more and sent the first down and maneuvered in from the rear on the second one, with its rear gunner peppering away. It was on fire and as it spiraled into a death dive, the gunner was still firing at me.

“The sky was an incredible sight full of smoke, tracer, debris and large bits of fallen enemy planes. We tried to keep the enemy aircraft bunched up; when one broke formation, I got behind it and fired a burst. He twisted out of control crazily.

“Despite our efforts, the bombers were lining up on their targets. I headed for a group of Judys in a long column. I approached the tail-ender just as the leader was hit by a five-inch round from a destroyer below. I was behind number three and a second after opening fire his engine started flying to pieces and he fell off toward the water.

“The next one I latched onto was in his dive against one of our destroyers. He was intent on this as I caught up with him and a short burst produced astonishing results. He blew up with a sky-shaking explosion right in front of my face. The heat from the blast belched into my cockpit and I figured to have hit his bomb. I’ve had planes blow up before but not like this! Yanking up sharply to avoid the flying hot stuff I radioed, ‘splash number six; there’s another one diving on a battleship, but I don’t think he’ll make it.’ Hardly had the words left my mouth when the Judy caught a direct hit. He had flown into a curtain of steel roaring up from the battleship below. With the Judy gone, I looked around. I could only see a sky full of Hellcats. Glancing back along our route there was a 35-mile long pattern of flaming oil slicks on the water.”

Vraciu managed to get through the American flak and land back aboard Lexington, where the ordnancemen discovered he had fired only 360 rounds. Each of the six kills followed a burst lasting less than five seconds. Vraciu climbed out of his cockpit and held up both hands with six fingers extended to indicate his score. A photographer caught the moment, which became one of the Pacific War’s iconic photos. With 19 victories, Alex Vraciu was now the Navy’s leading ace with the Navy record for most enemy aircraft shot down in one mission.

Dave McCampbell led 11 Hellcats from Essex to intercept the inbound enemy. He later recalled, “By the time my fighters were organized, the fighter controller announced another raid was coming in: 50 bogeys at 150 knots, 45 miles to the east. I was to intercept and stop them.” Ensign Spike Borley, who at a month short of his 20th birthday was the youngest pilot in VF-15, considered himself lucky to be number four in McCampbell’s lead division.

McCampbell’s Hellcats leveled off at 25,000 feet. The engines of two began to cut out and McCampbell ordered them to orbit Essex. “We had altitude and speed. When we reached the enemy formation, six made high-speed runs, leaving four above for protection. My first target was a Judy on the left flank, approximately halfway back in the formation. I intended to make the run on this plane, pass under it, retire across the formation, then hit a plane on the right flank with a low-side attack. The plan was upset when the first one I fired at blew up practically in my face. I made a pullout above the entire formation. I remember being unable to get to the other side fast enough, feeling as though every rear gunner was directing his fire at me.”

McCampbell then attacked a Judy on the right flank. “It caught fire and fell away out of control as I dove below and zoomed ahead. My efforts were directed at keeping as much speed as possible and working myself ahead into position for an attack on the leader.” He made a third gunnery pass below and to the rear of a Judy, which he left smoking as he pulled out and dived to regain speed. “After making my first pass on the leader with no visible damage observed, I decided it would be easier to concentrate on the port wingman than on the leader.”

His next pass was from seven o'clock high, and the wingman exploded. “Breaking away down and to the left placed me in a position for a run on the leader from six o'clock low. I continued to fire until he burned and spiraled down out of control.” McCampbell’s guns stopped but he quickly charged them to clear them. “I decided I must be out of ammunition and started back for the carrier.”

Air Group 15's leader had just become Fighting 15's first “ace in a day” with his victory over seven Judys, as well becoming the group’s leading ace with the two victories he had scored on June 11 and 13. He would maintain that status for the rest of the deployment to become the Navy’s Ace of Aces. Alex Vraciu’s record had lasted 19 minutes.

Ensign Borley had remained tenaciously on his leader’s tail throughout the fight. “Unfortunately, I realized, as I tried to open fire, that I had committed a real beginner’s mistake. When we attacked the Japanese, I discovered that I had not charged my guns. I went through the whole fight without firing a shot.” Borley expected an ass-chewing from the boss on their return. As Jim Duffy explained, “Dave McCampbell was a fair and understanding leader. It was understood that if you screwed up, you had a fair chance of a serious ass-chewing.” Instead, McCampbell came up to the young Ensign and quietly asked what had happened. When Borley admitted his failure to charge his guns, McCampbell responded, “We won’t have to worry about that again, will we?” “No, sir!” Borley replied. He never forgot again.

Task Force 58's 15 Hellcat squadrons claimed 371 victories over the course of June 19 for the loss of 14 pilots.

Dave McCampbell’s “Satan’s Playmates” set the all-time American record of 67.5 victories in a single day.

VF-2 scored 51 victories over the day, which put the “Rippers” in second place.

Lexington’s veteran VF-16 claimed 46, including Vraciu’s six Judys.

VF-1 from Yorktown claimed 37, and Princeton’s brand-new VF- 27, who called themselves the “Hell Cats” with their Hellcats decorated with slavering mouths and eyes, the only individual squadron markings in the Navy, opened their score with 30.

While the air battles went on, American submarines sank the Japanese carriers Shokaku - one of two survivors of the six carriers that struck Pearl Harbor - and Taiho, the newest carrier in the Mobile Fleet.

June 19, 1944 had indeed been “The Marianas Turkey Shoot.” What would go into the history books as The Battle of the Philippine Sea - the greatest naval battle in history - was not the decisive carrier action that had been sought in terms of sinking enemy ships, though the aerial losses suffered by the Japanese on June 19 effectively sounded the death knell for Japanese carrier aviation for the rest of the war. There would be no time left to replace the losses and provide training to even the very modest level of the pilots who fought in the Marianas. What was left of Japanese naval aviation in the aftermath of the meatgrinder of Rabaul and the depredations by the New Navy in the spring of 1944, in addition to the losses sustained on June 19, was a mere shadow of its former self.

From: “Pacific Thunder: The Central Pacific Campaign from Wake Island to Leyte Gulf”

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