NAVY'S HUSHED-UP TRAGEDY AT WEST LOCH

Sea Classics, Nov 2005 by Oliver, A Alan

A second major tragedy at Pearl Harbor became the Navy's best-kept wartime secret when powerful explosions wracked the amphibious staging area at West Loch, sinking six LSTs

The day began as any other in wartime Hawaii with a gentle westerly breeze wafting across the sugar cane fields of the sunbasked Waipio Peninsula. Warmer than normal for mid-May, the usual parade of camouflaged warships steaming in and out of Waipio's teeming West Loch anchorage was absent on this quiet Sunday, 21 May 1944. Aboard the dozens of amphibious vessels crowded within this bustling anchorage, most soldiers, sailors and marines looked forward to a day of relaxation after a long week of endless drills, maneuvers and practice amphibious landings.

A busy staging area for the invasion fleets of the Pacific, West Loch was more than usually crowded as the Fleet prepared for one of the largest invasions yet - Operation Forager - the assault against Saipan in the distant Marianas. Jamming this isolated haven adjacent to Pearl Harbor was a virtual armada of amphibious vessels of every description, size and purpose. Nested beam-to-beam at piers off of Hanaloa and Intrepid Points opposite Lualualei (now known as Naval Magazine Pearl Harbor) were six compact rows of LSTs and APDs moored at "Tare" piers jutting into the adjoining waters of West Loch and Walker Bay. Normally the scene of a scurrying variety of supporting service craft, fuel barges, tugs, and utility boats, this especially serene Sunday saw only a few plodding watercraft leisurely ferrying supplies and personnel to and from the Lualualei Naval Ammunition Depot to respective mother vessels.

Ringing West Loch's northern shore were 29 328-ft 1625-ton Landing Ship Tanks (LSTs) tied up at six of the Tare berths, plus a variety of other amphibious vessels ranging from APD fast transports and tenders to 119-ft Landing Craft Tanks (LCTs). Several of the LCTs were already shackled in place aboard the LSTs' main decks, ready to be carried to the invasion zone where they would be launched by listing the LST sufficiently to allow them to slide into the sea. Each was slated to play a key role in Operation Forager as their bow doors and landing ramps opened to disgorge a rush of fully-equipped troops, vehicles and combat stores onto the enemy beach.

With the long anticipated Forager landings scheduled for mid-June, many of the LSTs had already been laboriously loaded with their full cargoes of lethal munitions, volatile fuels and combat equipment; a veritable cornucopia of supplies vital to the forthcoming assault. Stored on many LSTs' forecastles were 80 to 100 55-gal drums of high-octane gasoline ready to be sped ashore to keep tanks and vehicles on the move once the fighting moved inland. Crammed within the LSTs' cavernous tank deck with its 92,765-cu-ft of storage area were tons of cargo and ammunition, much of it pre-loaded aboard amphibious vehicles known as DUKWs. Among their cargoes were mortar and artillery ammunition, grenades, rockets, flares, incendiary and armor-piercing shells, plus hundreds of thousands of rounds of .30- and .50-cal ammunition for Marine infantrymen. Interspersed between these vehicles on either the tank or main deck were trucks, artillery pieces, weapons carriers, jeeps, ambulances, command cars, bulldozers, field kitchens and tons of miscellaneous provisions required to keep a highly mobile invasion force in action until a beachhead was secured.

In addition to combat stores for the Marines was the ship's own volatile cargo of 20mm, 40mm and small arms ammunition, 200,000-gals of diesel fuel, drums of lubricating oil, flares, signal rockets and fog oil smoke pots, much of it carried in main deck ready ammunition lockers, or stored dangerously exposed on the fantail. Manning the ponderous LSTs were Navy or Coast Guard crews of 120 men, including six or seven officers. Aboard to move the equipment ashore were Marine detachments of 200 men, mostly vehicle drivers and mechanics.

With Forager's D-Day growing inevitably nearer, tension mounted as the training became more intensified. For most of the young sailors and marines the upcoming invasion would be their first combat; a nervously awaited baptism of fire. Similarly, the crews of the LSTs were also largely fresh and untried. While most of these vessels had participated in previous landings, the rapid expansion of the amphibious fleet saw all too many crews unfortunately thinned by the many transfers of experienced hands to newly commissioned ships. Wartime casualties, leaves and normal crew rotations necessitated that youngsters fresh out of boot camp or specialist training be assigned to these veteran ships. It was the attempt to weld these new crewmen into tight knit teams that the accelerated training of the previous weeks had been addressed. And now - on the brink of another major invasion - young men soon to meet and better the hated enemy looked forward to a welcome day of relaxation.

With the weekend, most of the ships had only half of their crews aboard; as many as possible having been granted liberty to enjoy a day or two on the town in Honolulu. Sailors not on duty or standing watch made the most of the relaxed Sunday schedule. Those ashore lounged in the Depot's recreational area playing cards, billiards, basketball, or writing letters home. Some swam from their ships, or sun-bathed at the local beach. Aboard ship, many "shot the breeze" in small friendly clusters while others read, joked, dozed, or quietly reflected on what lay ahead. Many a hangover was slept off while fitness-minded shipmates sought to deepen tans, sunning themselves on deck. Others thought of loved ones, wives, and sweethearts back in the "Good ole 48" as the occasional melodies of a wistful harmonica or guitar filled the air.