BATTLESHIP SCOUT PILOT

Sea Classics, Apr 2004 by Huston, Dan

Newly assigned to the battleship Colorado, Kingfisher pilot Dan Huston survives the ordeal of his baptism of combat during the invasion of Tarawa and has a bold confrontation with the Japanese enemy

PART THREE

Our battle group, Colorado, Maryland, New Mexico, a couple of cruisers and half a dozen destroyers now started changing formation and took a northward course. We made a mid-ocean rendezvous with an enormous fleet from the States and were on our way to a place called Tarawa. As our units merged, I observed an enormous battlewagon we learned was the Iowa.

There were at least five other battleships, one of which was the Tennessee who was to join our ranks along with cruisers and destroyers far to numerous to count and three big carriers. As we watched and cheered, I mean we stood and cheered, the carriers launched some fighters, big and tough looking so that you could actually see them climb - powerful. This was our first look at the F6F Hellcat. I am sorry my words cannot describe what a thrill those few hours were as we realized Mr. Halsey's words were coming true.

Too bad Tarawa did not go as well. The actions were still being controlled by the armchair admirals who acted as if the war was one big training exercise. Joining us was a small armada of troop transports, supply ships, tankers and auxiliary vessels, mine sweeps and such. We now headed toward the target that was Top secret and not divulged to us. I guess they thought the Japs might overhear us talking in the mess room.

The V Division and our Kingfishers just sat around; no antisub patrols. After a few days we were at Tarawa. The troop ships and supply ships were anchored in one long line about a mile or so south of the enemy atoll. The next morning we were up early and made ready to launch the planes. The combat ships took up positions as ordered. The spotter plane was launched along with the second plane, with no task assigned - just to stay out of the way. I wanted to see as much as I could so I went up to the signal bridge. The guys had warned me to take cover when the big guns were going to shoot, and they flaked out in the space outside the wardroom but always in touch with the bridge.

On the signal bridge I looked through a set of their fantastic glasses and could actually see Japanese troops running about. Fifteen miles or so away was a column of black smoke which we were to learn was the escort carrier Liscome Bay, burning and sinking after being torpedoed by an enemy sub. We came under fire from a Japanese shore battery and luckily they were firing armor-piercing shells that clanged through part of our superstructure but did not explode until beyond the ship, perhaps 200-ft past us.

Now it was 0800, time for us to began our bombardment. I should have listened to my guys. When they fired that first four-gun salvo it almost tore my head off. The concussion certainly got my attention but when you consider those guns hurling a two-ton shell up to 18 miles, I should have listened. The Operation Orders read - ships to fire into selected areas till 0900. Cease fire while carrier air strikes were made. Troops were to begin landings at 0930. Stand by if called upon for selective gunfire.

Very precise, very neat, except we had no idea the Japs had built protective bunkers and just sat out our bombardment and were now waiting to slaughter our Marines. On top of that, there was no way of knowing that the main assault landing area could have been so treacherous for the incoming troops. The beach was sandy but just below the water was a shelf of live coral, the round, razor sharp coral heads almost impossible to walk across with the burden of packs, rifles and ammunition.

The Higgins boats came racing for the beach but began to hang up on the coral while still many yards from the beach. Down came the ramps and our troops tried to wade ashore, walking on that coral while wading in water, and now beginning to draw enemy fire. Brutal. While all those big guns on the ships lay idle and we took bows for our hour's worth of shooting. Real war was different than practice war.

Late morning and the Kingfishers returned for refueling and a minor change in our second phase. Plane One would carry bombs and seek out targets of opportunity as they were recognizing the troubles the Marines were having on the beach. Plane Two would carry depth charges and patrol an area just seaward of all the anchored cargo and troop vessels. The Brass was very nervous after the Liscome Bay sinking. Also no ship was to fire at supposed sub sightings as some gun groups had shot at a 5in gun brass bobbing in the water and the ricochets had gone on to hit other ships. Who was nervous?

I talked them into letting me fly the anti-sub patrol plane, my first genuine combat mission. After lunch and with full fuel tanks and depth charges, we were catapulted. I had to fly over the beachhead and till this day the memory sickens me. All those wonderful, young American boys bobbing there in the water, face up, face down, water red with blood. An awful sight one would never forget. Somehow, those tough Marines had established a beachhead and were now moving ahead off the beach.