The biggest bombardment of Henderson Field during the Guadalcanal campaign by two Japanese battleships marked the low point of the Guadalcanal campaign for the Americans. The bombardment is remarkable for the Providence of God working through the mind of Admiral Takeo Kurita to withdraw at the height of victory, thus sparing the field from incurring even more disastrous damage.

 Background

After the battle of Cape Esperance on October 11^th 1942, U.S. fortunes on Guadalcanal seemed to improve. At sea, the U.S. Navy proved its ability to engage in straight up fights with the Imperial Navy with moderate success. On land, “things were looking much better; patrols pushed to the west of the Matanikau River without hindrance.”[1] In the air, things looked better too, for Henderson Field now boasted ninety operational aircraft, and though they short on gasoline, the prospects of getting more were good.[2] Morale among the weary Marines took a boost when the 164^th Infantry Regiment of the Americal division was landed on Guadalcanal. The marines, weary and tired after three months of combat, welcomed the arrival of reinforcements, and the supplies, vehicles, ammunition, and anti-tank guns, with them. With 4,500 new men, the Marines on Guadalcanal would be in a better position to beat back the next Japanese attempt to retake Henderson Field, or to conduct offensive action of their own. But the arrival of these reinforcements was welcome to the Americans for another reason. It signaled to the soldiers that the top brass was really interested in Guadalcanal and would commit the troops necessary to win the island. Perhaps, the marines would live to get off the island after all.

 

But as Morison writes, “Events shortly proved that American optimism was premature.”[3] The Japanese top brass, including Admiral Isoroku Yamamoto, commander in Chief of the Japanese Combined Fleet, had no intentions of letting any marines live long enough to get off the island at all. Indeed, they had concocted a plan to eject the Americans from Guadalcanal, once and for all. Author Adrian Stewart explains:

 

Rightly regarding American command of the skies as a crucial factor, they intended first to neutralize Henderson Field with bombardments from the sea and from the new artillery pieces – the ‘pistol petes’ – so recently landed by Rear Admiral Joshima. At the same time they would supply a final batch of reinforcements to Lieutenant-General Hyakutake, while a powerful fleet which had left Truk on October 11^th under the command of Vice Admiral Kondo, would take up station north of the Solomons to prevent the Americans bringing in any reinforcements from their own. With the ‘Cactus Air Force’ destroyed, Hyakutake’s soldiers would break through the defenses to seize the airfield and its neighboring food, fuel and ammunition dumps.[4]

 

That “final batch of reinforcements” mentioned in our quote from Stewart comprised 4,500 troops from the 16^th Infantry regiment, two battalions of the 230^th Infantry regiment, and 824 men of the 4^th Maizuru Special Naval Landing Force.[5] The usual Japanese practice of getting their reinforcements to Guadalcanal was to ship them to the island in fast, light ships, land them under cover of darkness, and escape out of range of Henderson Field’s pilots by the coming of daylight, a practice dubbed the “Tokyo Express” by the Americans. The problem was, the fast, light ships used for these high-speed runs lacked the space to carry heavy equipment, such as tanks and field guns, or very many supplies, such as large quantities of food and ammunition. But Yamamoto had always been a gambler, and now he was hedging his bets on this final reinforcement to the island. It wouldn’t do to send these men in without the equipment they needed to properly do their job, which was killing marines, and so he decided that this time he would land them with all their supplies and heavy equipment. Lack of ammunition and supplies was hindering the Japanese Army on Guadalcanal, and this time, Yamamoto wanted to make sure that his latest reinforcements would not suffer from the same logistical problems.

 

Thus, the Japanese departed from the usual practice of running the Tokyo Express, and instead reverted to the more conventional one of delivering their troops and supplies in slow transports. Daylight convoys had proven highly costly to the Japanese from the effects of American air power. The Japanese certainly had no intentions of mounting a suicide operation, despite their infamous lack of aversion to such. Hence, the Japanese realized that it was necessary to suppress or knock out Henderson Field, at least temporarily, to enable the transports to land their passengers and cargoes without risk of interference by the Cactus Air Force from Henderson Field. To accomplish this, it would be necessary to intensify the daily aerial and naval bombardments of Henderson Field to a degree that the field would at least be temporarily, if not permanently, knocked out.

 

This task Yamamoto assigned to the 3^rd Battleship Division which comprised the two Kongo class battleships Kongo and Haruna, armed with a main battery of eight 14-inch guns in four twin turrets. Although the Kongo class ships were the oldest battleships in Japanese naval service, they were by no means the least useful. Fast battleships converted from battlecruisers, only the Kongo class of Japanese battleships had the necessary speed to make the approach, bombardment and withdrawal, during the short time available under cover of darkness. Early Japanese plans for this bombardment involved beefing the 3^rd Battleship with four heavy cruisers, and Admiral Yamamoto’s flagship Yamato, but due to the time constraints and worries about maneuvering room for the massive leviathan caused Yamamoto to scrap such notions and shoulder the responsibility onto the 3^rd Battleship Division alone.[6] For protection against possible American naval interference, it was assigned a screen of one light cruiser and nine destroyers.

The Japanese reinforcements sailed from the Shortland Islands on October 13^th, aboard six transports, escorted by eight destroyers. In addition, to the 4,500 infantry already mentioned, the transports carried their supplies and heavy equipment too: “one battery each of 10cm guns, and 15cm howitzers, one battalion of anti-aircraft guns, the 1rst Independent Tank Company, and stocks of ammunition and provisions.”[7]

 Prelude

The first inkling that the turn in American fortunes would be quite temporary came at 12:02 pm, October 13^th, when 24 “Betty” medium bombers, escorted by eighteen Zero fighters, arrived over Henderson Field from Rabaul. This was nothing out of the ordinary. The Japanese launched noonday raids on Henderson Field every day, weather permitting, like clockwork. But was out of the ordinary of the accuracy of the bombardiers. The daily bombing raids on Henderson Field from Rabaul were characteristically inaccurate. Not today, however. Today, the Japanese navy got their money’s worth, and the bombardiers earned theirs. Flying six miles high, Unreported by coastwatchers, and only discovered on radar when nearing the island, the Japanese took the Americans by surprise.[8] The Americans scrambled fifty-five fighters to meet them, but they could not reach above 27,000 feet, while the Japanese Bettys flew at 30,000 feet, and thus avoided effective interception.[9] What interception was made resulted in the loss of one American fighter, (whose pilot bailed out), one Zero and one Betty.[10] The Bettys released their bombs, and for the first time, their aim was good. Bombs knocked thirteen holes in the Henderson Field runway, causing serious damage to the metal matting, torching 5,000 gallons of aviation fuel, and destroying twelve aircraft on the ground.[11] Two hours later, a second airstrike of fifteen Bettys with Zero escort, arrived. They caught most of the American fighters fueling on the ground, and only a dozen were aloft to meet the airstrike. As a result, the Japanese left the airfield peppered with bomb craters and “looking like a slice of Swiss cheese.”[12]

The Seabees had no sooner filled in the craters, than an artillery shell exploded smack dab in the center of the airstrip. It was the debut of the Japanese field artillery on Guadalcanal, unloaded on the night of October 11^th by that night’s Tokyo Express. Now these fieldpieces opened up on the airfield from carefully hidden positions beyond the Matanikau river.[13] Thankfully, for the disgusted Seabees, the fieldpieces were temporarily silenced that evening by three U.S. destroyers, which took them under fire. A few days later, several hundred dead Japanese were found in this area, apparently a testament to the power of American 5-inch naval gunfire.[14] The artillery shelling, which had forced up geysers of dirt, along the western end of Henderson Field, forced flight operations to be shifted to the east to the grass fighter strip, a narrow field 2,000 yards eastward.[15] Nevertheless, this handicap did not prevent the afternoon air search from being undertaken, and it found the Japanese reinforcement convoy 200 miles from the island.[16] Two air raids in one day, followed by artillery shelling, left the Americans with the suspicion that something was up. The Japs had been very busy today, busier than usual in fact, and the Americans now knew something was in the works. Night now fell over Guadalcanal, leaving a darkness that was “palpable with an impersonal brooding menace.”[17]

 

Earlier that day, the 3^rd Battleship Division departed Truk, with its ten-ship escort, covered during the daylight hours by fighters operating from Buin. During the afternoon, it passed through “the slot” – as New Georgia Sound was dubbed – and that night entered Ironbottom Sound. It was commanded by Vice Admiral Takeo Kurita, whose main claim to fame thus far in the war was the rather ignominious one of having been in command of the 7^th Cruiser Division, which he had commanded since before the Pearl Harbor attack and up through the battle of Midway, where his cruiser division suffered heavy casualties: one heavy cruiser sunk and one severely damaged by air attack. The fault, however, was not Kurita’s, and this was part of the wider Midway disaster anyhow, facts that were acknowledged with his subsequent promotion to Vice Admiral and his reassignment to take command of the 3^rd Battleship division in July of 1942.

 

Kurita, who had never commanded aircraft carriers, was a surface warship sailor through and through. Wedded firmly to orthodox surface warfare tactics and strategy, Kurita was not at all happy with his orders as he received them. Using battleships for shore bombardment was not all in keeping with the doctrinaire tactics of surface warfare as taught by the American Admiral Alfred Thayer Mahan. And this Japanese disciple of his, firmly believing that the battleships should be retained for the decisive fleet clash between enemy surface forces, standard doctrine of the Imperial Navy, bitterly protested his assignment. But Yamamoto stuck to his guns, and when he threatened to lead the 3^rd Battleship Division to Guadalcanal himself when Kurita demurred, the latter relented and reluctantly shouldered the responsibility. But if in tactics, Kurita was as traditional as one could get, in another area he was quite untraditional for a Jap. Unlike most of his colleagues and countrymen, Kurita lacked the fatalistic suicide mentality that characterized the Japanese fighting man in the Second World War. Kurita was not one to take unnecessary risks, and though he believed that the risks outweighed the benefits in this case, he could not bear to put the Commander in Chief’s life in jeopardy by his own hard-headedness. Therefore, as we have mentioned, Kurita took the job.

 

Bombardment

A lot of preparation had gone into Kurita’s bombardment plan, which he discussed with his staff gunnery officer aboard Kongo’s darkened bridge during the evening hours.[18] It a nutshell, it called for firing a barrage of 14-inch ammunition into a 2,200-meter square area that overlapped both Henderson Field and the grass fighter strip.[19] Midnight found Kurita’s force at a point west of Savo Island. Kurita’s screen was comprised of the light cruiser Isuzu (flagship of Rear Admiral Raizo Tanaka, Japan’s preeminent torpedo warfare officer), and nine destroyers. Four of these now thrusted ahead to provide Kurita with early warning of any enemy surface ships about and to dispatch the same with torpedo fire, while Isuzu and the remaining five remained with the two battleships.[20]  The three U.S. destroyers that had temporarily suppressed the troublesome fire of the “pistol petes” were not encountered, for the simple reason that they had high tailed it for safer places earlier that night. It was not healthy for American warships to remain in Ironbottom Sound at night, without the aerial umbrella furnished by the Cactus Air Force. Tonight, it would have been particularly hazardous to the health.

 

Kurita’s battleships had catapulted floatplanes for gunfire spotting, and midnight on Henderson Field found the marines annoyed by the chugging Japanese floatplane buzzing about overhead. He disturbed their sleep, so the marines disgustedly named the pilot, (as they called the pilot of any float-plane type buzzing around during the night hours), “Louie the Louse.” In the aircraft dispersal areas, ninety aircraft were bedded down for the night: forty-five Wildcats, twelve P-400 Airacobra fighters, sixteen Dauntless dive bombers, and six Avenger torpedo bombers.[21] At 1:31 am, Kurita’s battleships moved past the south shore of Savo Island, reduced speed to eighteen knots from 25, and changed course to 77 degrees.[22] Gunnery officers now worked the range finders and solved the mathematical calculations inherent in their work. Eight twin 14-inch gun turrets swung out and trained on Henderson Field, ready to blow it into the stratosphere. In the magazines the Japanese battleships carried over 900 14-inch shells. Only 300 of these were of the high explosive type, designed to shred enemy personnel and their planes. The rest were conventional armor-piercing naval gun shells, designed for use against heavily armored ships. They could be used in the bombardment role too but were of more limited effectiveness.  Louie the Louse now dropped aerial flares over the airfield, basking it in pale light. At 1:33 am, Kongo opened fire, and was followed less than two minutes later by the Haruna, at the range of 29,500 yards.[23] The first shells fell west of the runway, but Louie the Louse in his observation seaplane, along with watching observers in the hills, radioed back reports that caused Kurita’s fire control parties to make the necessary adjustments to their aim. The second salvo was fired as the airfield sprouted bright flame, and with such a clear aiming point, further corrections were no longer necessary. The Japanese 14-inch guns now barked continuously, the gunners carefully walking their ordnance back and forth across the airfield, and aircraft dispersal areas.

 

At Henderson Field, the Condition Red alert had sounded as the first salvo landed. A thousand marines leapt from their tents and dashed for their foxholes and dugouts. Unfortunately, for the Americans, these were not as deep as they could have been. The hot weather, and the inaccuracy of previous aerial bombing and naval gun shelling, had caused the marines to be rather lax in how deep they dug these shelters. Now, undoubtedly, every man present, wished that he had dug his foxhole deeper, as the rain of Japanese shells crashed home around him. Shells ploughed up the earth, and the violent concussions of bursting shells caused the earth to tremble and shake violently. Perhaps needless to say, horrific damage was caused. The shells did their deadly work,

 

shattering planes and storehouses, setting off fuel dumps, knocking down trees, killing men or tearing their bodies with jagged fragments. One 14-inch shell explodes in General del Valle’s command post. Newly arrived soldiers of the 164^th Infantry wonder if this is what life on Guadalcanal is always like.[24]

 

The Marines simply huddled in their foxholes as the Japanese kept shooting. More shells cratered the runways; others tore apart man and airplane alike. Joseph Foss, a marine fighter pilot, huddling in a foxhole six feet long and eighteen inches deep with another man, described the terrible events:

 

The ground was shaking and pitching from the violent concussions. We were shaking too – I’ll admit that. We about beat each other to death that night. Jap planes overhead were dropping occasional white parachute flares and bombs. Fires set by the shelling lighted our area like day. A hundred yards away captured Jap gasoline in drums blazed with periodic eruptions that shook our back teeth. Shell fragments, slashing overhead after each burst, knocked down tents a few feet away, and the hot jagged pieces cut off dozens of palm trees…At the height of the bombardment the express train roar of the bursting salvoes was so loud that it overloaded the capacity of the human ear. Those two hours were simply indescribable. Nothing like them can be imagined.[25]

 

In terms of outright saturation of a target, this was one of the most concentrated naval bombardments in history.[26] The Japanese limited their shelling to the airfield itself and aircraft dispersal areas – with rewarding results. Although the airfield and perimeter had been bombarded before, it had never been by battleships, and this shelling was of a new and horrific kind. It seemed as though nothing on the surface of the earth could live through it, and indeed, much didn’t. It seemed to the marines in their foxholes that all hell had broken loose, and they were to dub this terrible night “All Hell’s Eve.” And author Herbert Laing Merillat, describes the shelling as well:

 

…shells tore up the earth and set the ground trembling as though it was set in jelly. Throughout the bombardment Japanese planes came over in relays and bombed the airfield. Captain Fred O. Wolf, an interpreter with the Marine forces, added to his great reputation as a wit by remarking as the earth quivered under the bombardment, ‘And you know it isn’t the least bit habit forming.’ The Division command post as this time was again located on the landward side of a coral ridge at the northwest end of the airfield. Salvo after salvo blasted the seaward side of the ridge and others pounded the roadway and coral hillocks scarcely fifty yards on the other side. The Command Post of the Eleventh Marines, a short distance away on the seaward side, suffered a direct hit from a 14-inch shell, a ton of steel and high explosive. It ripped through a reinforced concrete wall of a dugout excavated in the side of a coral hillock where many officers and men had taken shelter, but by some miracle, all escaped with only minor injuries. Another shell blasted the crest of the ridge within a few feet of the Division Communications Center. Communications were disrupted. Everywhere wires were ripped up…For almost two hours the rain of steel and high explosives continued. Those who lived through that great…[27]

 

Shells ripped through the coconut groves, north of the airfield, where the aviation personnel were quartered and started explosions and fires among the tents there. Others exploded among the aircraft dispersal fields, ripping apart airplanes, or setting them ablaze. Still other shells tore directly into Henderson Field itself. The hospital was struck and badly damaged; the radio station was smashed to bits. Bombs and ammunition cooked off in a series of explosions as the heat of the fires or the blasts of the shells ignited them. The burning shards of shrapnel scattered by the 14-inch-high explosive ammunition employed by the Japanese battleships was devastating, torching aircraft, ammunition, fuel dumps, tents, and the field itself. The incendiary character of the Japanese high explosive shells proved its worth that night. Raging fires were ignited as the fuel dumps were torched and touched off. Smashed and wrecked planes acted as kindling for the fuel fed fires which slowly spread all over the field and bathed the scene in so much firelight that it might well have been daylight. Above this fiery inferno, a cloud of debris filled the air.[28] Samuel B. Griffith writes: “As flares floated gently toward earth, licking flames devoured tents and ate their way into fuel, ration, and ammunition dumps.”[29] Indeed, all of Henderson Field’s aviation fuel was set ablaze by the bombardment. One author described conditions: “A nearby gasoline dump was sprouting roaring flames hundreds of feet high, parked planes were blazing all over Henderson Field, an ammunition depot was cooking off with spectacular display, and flares drifted down periodically from Japanese aircraft flying overhead.”[30]

 

From the battleship Kongo, Admiral Kurita and Gunnery Officer Yanagi beheld the scene with glee and delight, noting how the salvoes ignited spreading fires until the whole airfield was a virtual “sea of flames.” To the other Japanese spectators too, the scene was one to warm the cockles of their oriental hearts. Rear Admiral Raizo Tanaka described the bombardment from the Japanese vantage point:

 

The ensuing scene described defied description as the fires and explosions from the thirty-six-centimeter shell hits on the airfield set off enemy planes, fuel dumps, and ammunition stores. The scene was topped off by flare bombs from our observation planes flying over the field, the whole spectacle making the Ryogoku fireworks display seem like mere child’s play. The night’s pitch darkness was transformed by fire into the brightness of day. Spontaneous cries and shouts of excitement ran throughout our ships. The attack seemed to take the enemy by complete surprise, and his radio could be heard sending emergency messages such as “Intensive bombardment by enemy ships. Damage tremendous.”[31]

 

On the beach at Lunga Point, American searchlights stabbed out beams of light to illuminate the source of this destruction; star shell wafted aloft on the same mission. But the probing searchlights could not find the Japanese battlewagons; they were too far away. American 5-inch shore batteries banged away ineffectively at the two battleships. But the Kongo and Haruna, nearly 20,000 yards offshore, were far out of range. But the hail of shells that rained down on Henderson Field and surrounding areas that night were not merely 14-inch. The Japanese destroyers closed in on the north shore and added their 5-inch shells to the barrage, spitting their lighter ammunition into the fires that now covered the length of the airfield. The shore defense guns scored a few hits on the destroyers, which ventured too close to shore, while Isuzu returned the fire of an American shore battery on Tulagi. At 2:13 am, the Japanese ceased fire, while they executed a turn, their supply of high explosive and incendiary ammunition expended. But they quickly resumed fire with armor-piercing 14-inch projectiles. As the fires ashore blocked all the Japanese aiming points, they were forced to rely on the use of mechanical “shelling disc” for gunfire plotting.

 

But at this point, the United States Navy got into the fight. The Navy did not have much on hand to throw in. All that available to use was Lieutenant Commander Allen Montgomery’s Motor Torpedo Boat Squadron 3. This squadron was comprised of four PT Boats, 46, 48, 60, and 38. This squadron had arrived at Tulagi on October 12^th. Their planned missions were the breakup of Japan’s nightly Tokyo Express runs. Their employment was made with attacks on destroyers in mind, not battleships. But the situation was desperate. Montgomery was awakened by distant explosions. The PT Boat skipper immediately roused his crews, all of whom were junior grade reserve lieutenants: “Henry S. Taylor of Pt-46, Robert C. Wark of PT-48, and the Searles brothers, John M. of PT-60, and Robert L. of PT-38.”[32] “Prepare for action.” Montgomery ordered. “All boats underway immediately.” The four PT boat crews scrambled into their craft, and the four boats sortied from Tulagi harbor. “Midway between Tulagi and Guadalcanal, the tremendous orange flashes of Japanese guns became visible. Montgomery gave the signal to deploy for attack.”[33]  Morison summarizes the resulting attack, writing in the present tense:

 

All four pile in briskly. A spirited, but baffling action is joined with the Japanese destroyer screen, the PTs firing torpedoes, shooting machine guns, and receiving plenty of near-misses from 5-inch shells. The PT men are certain they are making hits but they probably seeing is the flash of enemy gunfire.[34]

 

Robert Bulkley describes the gallant attack of these little “Davids” on the enemy “Goliaths” in more detail:

 

In the blackness of the night, PT 38 became separated from the others. Bob Searles saw a Japanese searchlight flash on and sweep over his boat without picking it up. Seconds later he saw what appeared to be a light cruiser forward to his starboard beam. He eased his boat in at 10 knots, fired two torpedoes at 400 yards, two more at 200 yards, than shoved his throttles forward to full speed, turned right and passed astern of the cruiser. Searles saw a torpedo hit forward of the bridge, causing a double explosion. All the hands on the PT felt the intense heat of the blast. [Searles mistook the flash of enemy gunfire for torpedo explosions, however, and was incorrect in his conviction of a torpedo hit]. Montgomery attempted to close the only ship still shelling Guadalcanal, but a destroyer searchlight swept the water on PT 60’s port hand, silhouetting the PT for another destroyer to starboard, which immediately opened fire. The 60 held her course until she could fire two torpedoes, then turned hard left and retired at high speed, under fire from the pursuing destroyer. H.M. Ramsdell, CMM, [Chief Mechanist’s Mate] said he saw two explosions at the target. Taylor, in the 46, also saw explosions and  was certain they were they were torpedo hits. Montgomery, believing that he had shaken the destroyer, slowed the 60 and stopped laying smoke. Almost immediately another destroyer fixed the PT in its searchlight beam and opened fire. The first shell landed 20 feet astern, almost lifting the PT out of the water. The 60 zigzagged at high speed, laid smoke, tried to shoot out the destroyer’s searchlight, and finally discouraged pursuit by dropping two depth charges in the destroyer’s path. Later still another destroyer was seen, patrolling Sandfly Passage, at the western end of Florida Island. The 60, still idling close to the beach, washed aground on a coral reef. Wark, in the 48, saw the first searchlight spot the 60. Just then the 46 cut across the 48’s bow, forcing Wark to turn hard right to avoid collision. Wark lost contact with the destroyer and cruised slowly until another destroyer 200 yards away caught the 48 full in its searchlight and opened fire. C.E. Todd, SC1c, poured .50 caliber into the destroyer’s bridge and superstructure. The searchlight went out and the destroyer was not seen again. Taylor, in the 46, had cut across the 48’s bow to avoid collision with a destroyer which he saw only when it put its spotlight on PT 60. The 46 escaped detection and swung back to its original course to intercept the vessels shelling Guadalcanal. But the shelling had stopped, and with no gun flashes to silhouette the enemy ships, Taylor was unable to find them.[35]

 

Contrary to the reports of the PT crews, however, they scored no hits on any of the Japanese ships. In such a confused night battle as this, it was easy to mistake the explosions of enemy gunfire for torpedo explosions. The PT Boat raid was a big enough deal to warrant mention by the Japanese. In their official report, the Japanese recorded the attack in concise language: “During the bombardment, four enemy PT boats moved in for an attack from the Tulagi area but were avoided.” Tanaka provided little more detail: “…several motor torpedo boats of the enemy came out to pursue our rear-guard ships, but the destroyer Naganami drove them away.”[36] American fortunes could not sink any lower. Henderson Field was cringing under a battleship bombardment, and the four PT Boats, all the Americans could throw at the Japanese, had scored no torpedo hits. But at this point, the Providence of God intervened on the American behalf. Admiral Kurita became fearful and apprehensive. Morison records:

 

The brawl has its effect, however in helping Admiral Kurita describe to break off. American searchlights have picked up his battleships; he knows not what may develop behind the PTs; he has already been shooting for 80 minutes and his initial ammunition allowance is expended.[37]

 

Kurita thus broke off the bombardment five minutes early, having fired 973 shells at his target,  and at 2:30 am he ordered “cease fire.” His ships retired according to plan, cranking speed up to 29 knots to get out of range of American air power before daylight. He did not think Henderson Field would be in any position to be launching air attacks come tomorrow morning, but one did not presume on things like that. It was best to err on the side of caution, and not risk his battleships just in case in he was wrong. Thus, the Providence of God intervened in his mind to force Kurita to decide to withdraw, though had he continued the bombardment, he not only would have faced no more opposition but would have caused more damage. This is especially true when one considers what might have happened had Kurita stayed around longer than the 90 minutes his plan called for. At 2:50 am, the shelling ceased, and the dazed and shell-shocked marines stumbled from their shelters. But the end of the bombardment did not bring an end to the troubles of the marines that night. Japanese aircraft harassed from overhead, dropping a bomb every now and then, and this state of affairs continued until daylight.

Aftermath

At 5:30 am, the “Pistol Petes” opened up once again on the airfield. Along with all their other problems, the marines now had to deal once more with annoying Japanese artillery fire. When the sun arose over the horizon, bringing an end to this hellish night, the bright light of day revealed a ghastly sight, which the marines beheld to their horror as they climbed out of their foxholes the next morning. They found Henderson Field pockmarked with yawning chasms. The scene was one of utter destruction. John B. Lundstrom records the findings of one marine major who inspected Henderson Field that morning:

 

Thirteen large craters tore the Marston matting on the runway. Armor-piercing shells had burrowed as deep as 15 to 20 feet, but fortunately left quite narrow holes. VF-5’s ready tent sported a neat hole from a shall that had passed through and detonated…Scattered around the whole area were jagged pieces of shrapnel and baseplates of 14-inch shells…The coconut grove, where the pilots lived, was a mess from shell bursts in the treetops. The “entire floor of the grove was littered with fallen trees, palm fronds, coconuts whole and shredded, and assorted debris from tents and buildings.” Partially destroyed coconut trees had a nasty habit of falling on men who worked to clean up beneath them. The VF-5 tents were “cut to ribbons.” The pilots just sifted the living sites for personal belongings than moved on…[38]

 

 

Samuel B. Griffith records the scene:

 

At Henderson, first light revealed a shambles. Jagged pieces of steel matting torn from the runway were found hundreds of yards from the field where they had ripped through tents, blankets and cots. Scores of coconut trees were torn to pieces; a portion of the hospital was completely wrecked. Flaming fuel dumps still cascaded smoke; bombs and ammunition exploded every few minutes. One 36-cm. shell hit a ration dump and blew it apart; eviscerated tins labeled “Spam” were picked up for days. Their contents were plastered over every coconut tree within a radius of a mile and a half. The rats that infested the coconut groves would have no foraging problems for some time to come.[39]

 

But the damage to men and aircraft were of more concern. Forty-one men had been killed in the bombardment, including Major Gordon Bell, the commanding officer of Marine Squadron 141, a dive-bombing squadron, along with his four of his officers. All five of these men were wiped out by a direct hit on their dugout during the night.[40] Many other men were wounded. As for the ninety aircraft on Henderson Field, the bombardment had caused serious damage to them. Of the ninety, only forty-two remained flyable. 48 had been destroyed or wrecked. Of the 39 dive bombers on the field when the sun went down, only seven were operational when the sun came back up. Of the 40 Wildcat fighters, only sixteen had not been reduced to twisted, mangled mounds of steel. And all of the remaining 24 were damaged. Four P-400s and two P-39s remained operational. But of the torpedo bombers, all of them had been wrecked so thoroughly that they were fit only for scrap metal. In a case of spectacular bad timing, eight B-17 Flying Fortresses had put down for the night on Henderson Field the previous day. Daylight found only five of the aircraft still flyable. Two had been wrecked and one damaged. When the marines stumbled from their foxholes the next morning, they found these aircraft, either blown to bits, or blazing fiercely. Lundstrom explains the reaction of one marine major:

 

Major Renner beheld a horrible scene of burning aircraft, including a VF-5 Wildcat parked 100 yards away. It threatened another F4F 50 feet beyond. Heat from the nearby fire caused gasoline to stream from the undamaged F4F’s overflow valve. He swiftly organized a party to push that Wildcat out of danger…[41]

 

And if all this was not enough, the aviation fuel supply was nearly all gone, burned in great consuming fires during the bombardment. This was especially incapacitating, because even what aircraft the marines still had could not be used if they lacked gasoline. To Japanese observers in the hills, Henderson Field appeared finished. They noted fires and explosions continuing to wrack the field even by midmorning.[42] But the Japanese never did let up, and the long-suffering marines did not get a break, because at noon on October 14^th, a flight of 26 Bettys bombed Henderson Field without opposition. Another air raid arrived an hour later, but this time American Wildcats mounted a savage defense and little damage was caused. But while the grass fighter strip was still operable, Henderson Field wad definitely out of action, at least for the time being. With its dive bombers and torpedo bombers destroyed, its offensive punch was gone, and hence its danger to the Japanese. The way was clear for the reinforcement convoy to land its troops and supplies without daylight molestation from the air. This was certainly acknowledged by the Japanese. At 5:00 am, Admiral Isoroku Yamamoto officially declared Henderson Field “suppressed.” He was correct, but if the Japanese were lulled by this into a sense of security, it was a false one, for the marines were certainly down, but not yet out.

 

But the Marines were tenacious, and thanks to the Seabees, one runway was made operational within a few hours. The morning air searches took off to scour the ocean around Guadalcanal, much to the astonishment of Japanese observers. The several Dauntlesses launched found the approaching Japanese convoy 140 miles to the northwest, steaming for Guadalcanal. This was bad news for the Americans. For they had few aircraft left, and worse yet, no aviation fuel. General Vandegrift urgently requested air and naval support, radioing: “Urgently necessary this force receive maximum support of air and surface units. Absolutely essential aviation gas be flown here continuously.” But the Americans had no surface ships available in the area with which to hit the advancing convoy. Any attacks on it would have to be made by the air. The Americans could only scrounge up four dive bombers for attack, and any additional bombing would have to be done by fighters pressed into service as bombers. The situation was desperate. But it had to be done. One of the staff officers of the marine air wing addressed the pilots of the 67^th Fighter Squadron:

 

“I want to pass the word along that the situation is desperate. We don’t know whether we’ll be able to hold the field or not. There’s a Japanese task force of destroyers, cruisers and troop transports headed this way. We have enough gasoline left for one mission against them. Load your airplanes with bombs and go out with the dive-bombers and hit them. After the gas is gone we’ll have to let the ground troops take over. Then your officers and men will attach themselves to some infantry outfit. Good luck and goodbye.”

 

The Marines used what little gas they had available to send off four Dauntlesses, seven P-400s and P-39s equipped with bombs, escorted by seventeen Wildcats, after backbreaking efforts on the part of the ground crews to get these planes ready for departure. They attacked the advancing Japanese convoy at 3:45 pm but scored only a near miss on the destroyer Samidare. One American fighter was shot down. The night of 14-15^th of October was another bad one for the marines ashore. Vice Admiral Mikawa took two heavy cruisers, Chokai and Kinugasa into “Sleepless Lagoon” as the Marines were beginning to call it, and with a two-destroyer escort, proceeded to bombard Henderson Field yet again, this time plastering the perimeter with 752 8-inch shells.[43] This time the Americans did not even have Montgomery’s PT Boats available to interfere. Morison explains:

 

Four PT crews looked on but could do nothing; one boat had been damaged by grounding the night before; one was out of torpedoes and the other two compelled to remain with a small craft convoy moving between Tulagi and Guadalcanal.[44]

 

Thankfully, the PT Boats had been available the previous night, when Henderson Field was under Battleship shelling, and not merely cruiser shelling, as now. They had been more useful on the night of the 13^th and 14^th, then they would have been on the night of 14^th to 15^th. When Admiral Aubrey Fitch at Espiritu Santo heard of the marines’ plight, he at once set in motion airlifting 55-gallon gas drums to Guadalcanal in transport planes; he also ordered 17 dive bombers and 20 fighters flown to the island. Under cover of Mikawa’s bombardment, the Japanese naval convoy reached Tassafaronga and proceeded unloading its troops, and supplies. Satisfied and assured that Henderson Field would not be able to oppose them, unloading operations proceeded leisurely, and the Japanese did not haul anchor when the rising sun shined its rays down upon them. “By dawn Thursday, over 2,000 fresh troops had landed and more than half of the ship’s cargoes – ammunition, rations, antitank guns, howitzers, medical supplies – had been boated to the beach and hidden in the coconut groves.”[45] But the Cactus Air Force was not about to let them do this unhindered, not so long as one American plane remained flyable. Morison explains their heroic actions that day of October 14^th:

Dawn of the 15^th revealed a spectacle highly humiliating to the Marines who saw it, and to the Navy that did not. In full view were enemy transports lying-to off Tassafaronga, unloading troops and supplies with as much ease as if they had been in Tokyo Bay. Hovering around and over them were destroyers and planes. General Geiger, Marine Air Commander, was told there was no gas at Henderson Field. “Then by God, find some!” he ordered. Men scoured the dispersal areas, collected some 400 drums of aviation gas from swamps and thickets where they had been cached and trundled them to the field. Even the two disabled B-17s had their tanks siphoned dry. And by mid-morning, Marine and Army transport planes began to fly in gasoline from Espiritu Santo. Off Tassafaronga, Army, Navy, and Marine pilots bombed and strafed the transports all day long 15 October, fighting off “Zekes” and dodging the darting tongues of anti-aircraft tracers…High above the revitalized field, Wildcat bullets and anti-aircraft shells brought down twelve Nip bombers and five fighters. Everybody who flew claimed damage that day, and for once they were right. Three large transports not yet completely unloaded (Azumasan Maru, Kyushu Maru, and Sasako Maru) had to be beached and became a total loss. By 1550 [3:50 pm] things had become so hot that the Japanese task force commander decided to withdraw with the other three transports. Not one transport escaped damage, not one troop unit landed without casualties and loss of equipment. This field day cost the Americans three dive-bombers and four fighter planes.[46]

 

The Marines were unable to prevent the Japanese reinforcement. Indeed, 80 percent of the Japanese equipment was landed. But they had inflicted damage upon the enemy. They could be proud of that at least. That night, the Japanese inflicted their revenge. The Marine perimeter and Henderson Field were again bombarded, again by two heavy cruisers, the Myoko and Maya, and this time they had Rear Admiral Tanaka’s destroyers with them to assist. The Myoko and Maya poured 800 8-inch shells onto the airfield and marine perimeter, and Tanaka’s destroyers added 300 5-inch to the deadly downpour.[47] Griffith records this bombardment:

 

At ranges of between 8000 and 10,000 yards, Kondo battered the field for over an hour…Again the earth shook, but not with the tremors of “The Night.” Nevertheless, again men were killed and wounded; again flames licked at dumps, and shell fragments tore through parked aircraft. The dawn count was depressing: 15 Wildcats completely wrecked. Geiger had only 27 assorted airplanes left; half of them needed repairs.[48]

 

But the next day found the Americans bringing in more gasoline and more planes, and the Cactus Air Force held on through this trying time of Mid-October. Thus, the Guadalcanal campaign had returned to its deadly normalcy, in which American air power ruled the day, and Japanese surface ships ruled the night. This bloody stalemate, in which neither side was able to dislodge the other, would continue much longer, and culminate in eventual victory of the United States Armed Forces. The bombardment of 13^th to 14^th of October was the worst bombardment ever suffered during the Guadalcanal campaign, earning its designation among Guadalcanal veterans as the bombardment, as this bombardment made the others pale so much in comparison it was if they were not bombardments at all. Had Admiral Kurita stayed longer to bombard, the damage to Henderson Field would have been greater, and quite likely, no airstrike could have been mounted against the Japanese reinforcement convoy on the 15^th. Thus, this action should be memorable for Americans, both for the heroism of the PT Boat crews and their daring night attack, and most of all, for the Providence of God that intervened in the mind of Admiral Takeo Kurita to convince him to withdraw. Without this, Henderson Field might have out of action, at a time when desperately needed.

Endnotes

[1] Samuel Eliot Morison, History of United States Naval Operations in World War II Reprint. (Edison, New Jersey: Castle Books 2001) 5:172

[2] Ibid

[3] Ibid

[4] Adrian Stewart Guadalcanal: World War II’s Fiercest Naval Campaign (London, England: William Kimber Ltd. 1985) p. 86

[5] Richard B. Frank Guadalcanal: The Definitive Account of the Landmark Battle (New York, New York: Penguin Books 1990) p. 315

[6] Ibid p. 316. Battleship Yamato was the first of a pair of the two most powerful battleships in the Japanese Navy, and indeed, in the world. On a 65,000-ton displacement, they mounted a main battery of nine 18-inch guns and a speed of 27 knots. The use of her in nightly Tokyo Express runs would have been interesting to say the least, and horrifically destructive against the Americans, to say the most. We can judge it a providential mercy therefore, that she was not used. Besides the Kongo class, the Yamato class alone had close to the speed necessary for their use in nightly bombardments of Guadalcanal and nightly operations around the island.

[7] Ibid

[8] Ibid p. 314

[9] Ibid

[10] Ibid

[11] Ibid

[12] Samuel Eliot Morison, History of United States Naval Operations in World War II Reprint. (Edison, New Jersey: Castle Books 2001) p. 172

[13] Ibid

[14] Ibid p. 173

[15] Richard B. Frank Guadalcanal: The Definitive Account of the Landmark Battle (New York, New York: Penguin Books 1990) p. 315

[16] Ibid

[17] Ibid p. 316

[18] Samuel Eliot Morison, History of United States Naval Operations in World War II Reprint. (Edison, New Jersey: Castle Books 2001) p. 173

[19] Richard B. Frank Guadalcanal: The Definitive Account of the Landmark Battle (New York, New York: Penguin Books 1990) p. 316

[20] Samuel Eliot Morison, History of United States Naval Operations in World War II Reprint. (Edison, New Jersey: Castle Books 2001) p. 316

[21] Figures from James D. Hornfischer Neptune’s Inferno: The U.S. Navy at Guadalcanal (New York, New York: Bantam Books 2012) p. 192

[22] Richard B. Frank Guadalcanal: The Definitive Account of the Landmark Battle (New York, New York: Penguin Books 1990) p. 316

[23][23] Ibid p. 317

[24] Samuel Eliot Morison, History of United States Naval Operations in World War II Reprint. (Edison, New Jersey: Castle Books 2001) p. 174

[25] Joseph Foss Flying Marine: The Story of His Flying Circus (Arcadia Press 2022) [Reprint] p. 24-25

[26] Richard B. Frank Guadalcanal: The Definitive Account of the Landmark Battle (New York, New York: Penguin Books) p. 317

[27] Herbert Laing Merillat A History of the First Marine Division on Guadalcanal: August 7 to December 9, 1942 (Yardley, Pennsylvania: Westholme Publishers LLC 2010) [Reprint] pp. 143-144.

[28] Adrian Stewart Guadalcanal: World War II’s Fiercest Naval Campaign (London, England: William Kimber Ltd. 1982) p. 88

 

[29] Samuel B. Griffith II The Battle for Guadalcanal (New York, New York: Bantam Books 1963) p. 181

[30] Quoted in Adrian Stewart Guadalcanal: World War II’s Fiercest Naval Campaign (London, England: William Kimber Ltd. 1982) p. 88

 

[31] Daniel C. Evans, ed. The Japanese Navy In World War II: In the Words of former Japanese Naval Officers (Annapolis, Maryland: Naval Institute Press 1986) p. 181

[32] Samuel Eliot Morison, History of United States Naval Operations in World War II Reprint. (Edison, New Jersey: Castle Books 2001) p. 174

[33] Captain Robert J. Bulkley At Close Quarters: PT Boats in the United States Navy (Washington D.C: Government Printing Office, 1962) p. 85

[34] Samuel Eliot Morison, History of United States Naval Operations in World War II Reprint. (Edison, New Jersey: Castle Books 2001) p. 174

[35] Ibid pp. 85-86

[36] Daniel C. Evans, ed. The Japanese Navy In World War II: In the Words of former Japanese Naval Officers (Annapolis, Maryland: Naval Institute Press 1986) pp. 181-182

[37] Samuel Eliot Morison, History of United States Naval Operations in World War II Reprint. (Edison, New Jersey: Castle Books 2001) p. 174

[38] John B. Lundstrom The First Team and the Guadalcanal Campaign: Naval Fighter Combat from August to November 1942 (Annapolis, Maryland: Naval Institute Press 1994) p. 302

[39] Samuel B. Griffith II The Battle for Guadalcanal (New York, New York, Bantam Books 1963) p. 181

[40] John B. Lundstrom The First Team and the Guadalcanal Campaign: Naval Fighter Combat from August to November 1942 (Annapolis, Maryland: Naval Institute Press 1994) p. 302

Samuel B. Griffith II The Battle for Guadalcanal (New York, New York, Bantam Books 1963) p. 181

[41] John B. Lundstrom The First Team and the Guadalcanal Campaign: Naval Fighter Combat from August to November 1942 (Annapolis, Maryland: Naval Institute Press 1994) pp. 301-302

[42] Richard B. Frank Guadalcanal: The Definitive Account of the Landmark Battle (New York, New York: Penguin Books) p. 319

[43] Samuel Eliot Morison, History of United States Naval Operations in World War II Reprint. (Edison, New Jersey: Castle Books 2001) p. 176

[44] Ibid

[45] Samuel B. Griffith II The Battle for Guadalcanal (New York, New York, Bantam Books 1963) p. 183

[46] Samuel Eliot Morison, History of United States Naval Operations in World War II Reprint. (Edison, New Jersey: Castle Books 2001) pp. 176-177

[47] Samuel Eliot Morison The Two Ocean War (Boston, Massachusetts, Little, Brown and Company 1963) p. 189

[48] Samuel B. Griffith II The Battle for Guadalcanal (New York, New York, Bantam Books 1963) p. 185