6 To the Philippines

No one can guarantee success in war, but only earn it.

Winston Churchill

To the pilots flying at an airspeed of more than 200 knots and at an altitude of only a few hundred feet, the beach came up fast in the early morning light. While division leaders checked their navigation, the wingmen kept eyes alert, looking for the Japanese fighters which did not appear.

Three task groups had launched their Hellcats only 50 miles off Mindanao that morning, 9 September. Farther east, Task Group 38.4 was striking the Palaus, but the main blow fell on the southernmost of the Philippine Islands. The briefed targets were Mindanao’s nine known airfields.

Surprise was complete. The Japanese had no idea American aircraft were anywhere near until they swept over the beach. When the low-flying Hellcats burst out from behind jungle foliage in shallow dives, strafing, bombing, and rocketing parked aircraft and facilities, there was nothing to do but dive for cover. Only a handful of enemy planes got airborne, and they were quickly shot down by the wide-ranging F6Fs.

One such squadron on the prowl was VF-19, led by the CAG, Commander T. H. Winters. Air Group 19 had relieved Air Group 16 aboard Vice Admiral Marc Mitscher’s flagship Lexington in late July, and now Hugh Winters took his Hellcats to Lumbia and Del Monte airfields in the Cagayan Valley. No airborne Japanese were seen, but Fighting 19 claimed the destruction of 27 aircraft on the two fields. This was nearly half the total enemy planes destroyed on the ground during the two-day Mindanao strike.

Fighting 15 shot down the only four enemy planes it saw: two Topsys and a pair of Vals. Then the Essex fighters worked over a convoy of 42 ships off the east coast—all coastal freighters. Joined by other planes from Air Group 15’s sweep-strike, they played a large role in sinking 18 vessels and damaging several others. But as usual, there was a price for such a victory. Lieutenant John E. Barry, Jr., a determined North Carolinian, pressed his strafing run so low on an ammunition ship that he was killed instantly when his F6F was caught in the huge explosion.

The Philippines campaign was underway.

General Douglas MacArthur’s amphibious troops were to make their initial landings in Leyte Gulf the next month, and with Mindanao’s air power neutralized Mitscher’s three task groups raised their sights several notches. During 12 and 13 September, fighter sweeps and strikes were flown against the middle Philippines—Leyte, Samar, Negros, and Cebu.

The Hornet still operated Air Group Two, despite frequent assurances that relief was on the way. “Just one more operation”¹ had become the half-cynical, half-humorous byword in VF-2’s ready room, but Bill Dean’s pilots found that this particular “last time” afforded good hunting. The Rippers claimed 16 kills on the 12th, including 10 in the morning when 24 Hellcats escorted 17 bombers to Negros. The fighter leader, Lieutenant Charlie Harbert, called out 10 to 12 Zekes near Cebu and two divisions engaged. Harbert chased one Zeke “halfway across the islands”² before he splashed it. Lieutenant (jg) C. P. Spitler downed four Zekes in about five minutes, making the Ohio pilot VF-2’s 24th ace. Three more Zekes and two Irving twin-engine fighters were also claimed.

Lieutenant (jg) Andy Skon nearly got another Irving flown by a cool-headed Japanese pilot. Skon set the port engine afire at low level but was astonished to see the Irving land safely on a nearby airfield and taxi directly into a revetment, engine still ablaze!

Air Groups 15 and 19 were accustomed to working together by now in Task Group 38.3, and both the Essex and Lexington put up two divisions for an early sweep over the Visayas in extremely poor weather. Commander Winters of Air Group 19 was the sweep leader with VF-15’s CO, Lieutenant Commander James F. Rigg, the Essex leader. These 16 Hellcats found an estimated 80 Japanese fighters taking off from Cebu and Opon airdromes and immediately engaged.

It was a wild, widespread fracas fought under low clouds. Rigg saw two Zekes taking off from Opon and dropped one from ten o’clock high. It crashed near the south end of the runway. Next he saw two Tojos climbing and flamed the leader from eight o’clock low. By now the 29-year-old squadron commander was alone and, looking for an F6F, he saw another Zeke low over the water of Cebu Harbor. Rigg made an overhead run and saw it splash. Next he dove from 5,000 feet on a Zeke over Cebu town and literally shot it in two. His fifth victim was seen jinking low among trees and houses, fleeing the area, and Rigg hit it from astern. The Japanese glided down to a water landing.

Still hungry, Rigg joined two Lexington fighters and went after a lone Zeke extremely low over Mactan. This Zero was flown by an expert who avoided all but a few hits and evaded the three Hellcats after nearly ten minutes.

While Rigg was becoming Air Group 15’s fourth “ace in a day,” Hugh Winters was destroying three fighters himself. The top VF-19 score was turned in by Lieutenant Albert Seckel, who claimed four. In all, Winters’ pilots were credited with 14 kills and Rigg’s with 17, but with the loss of two F6s. The fact that Commander Dave McCampbell waded in with some of the strike’s escorting F6Fs and bagged ten more—four by the CAG himself—did little to alleviate the feeling of loss. A comment from Rigg is noteworthy: “We lost two experienced pilots for only 17 (emphasis added) and one probable.”³ Ensign Claude W. Plant, an ace with eight-and-one-half victories, and Lieutenant (jg) W. V. Henning were VF-15’s fifth and sixth pilots known lost to enemy aircraft.

The next day, 13 September, was more of the same. The Essex fighters claimed another 29 kills during two missions, including 21 during the dawn fighter sweep over Cebu and Negros. Three VF-15 divisions ran into nearly 50 airborne bandits, a curious mixture of 20 to 25 fixed-gear Nates, 15 to 20 Zekes and Oscars, and four Bettys. The Nates were small, open-cockpit monoplanes, slow and lightly armed but incredibly maneu-verable—presumably used for advanced training. McCampbell got two Nates early in the fight, then separated and called for rendezvous ten miles south of Bacolod airdrome. His wingman, Roy Rushing, had bagged two Oscars and was covering Ensign J. W. Brex, who had force-landed. Therefore, McCampbell was alone when attacked from above by a Nate which he did not see until too late. The nimble Japanese fighter pulled up quickly out of gun range without doing any damage, but McCampbell wanted the kill. He dropped his belly tank and went to War Emergency Power, climbing hard but still losing ground.

Noticing its advantage, the Nate rolled over to begin an overhead pass. McCampbell was having none of that. He pushed his nose down and dived to safety. After dropping an Oscar he returned to the Essex and reported: “(1) Nate is even more maneuverable than Zeke. (2) Nate can outclimb F6F at 110-120 knots airspeed. (3) This ‘operational student,’ if he was such, will have no trouble completing the course.”⁴

Most of the other “operational students” were spared the trouble. Eleven more Nates fell to VF-15, including three each to Ensigns Wendell Van Twelves and Larry R. Self. Nineteen Japanese planes were also thought destroyed on Bacolod.

The Essex-class air groups drew most of the juicy assignments during this period, but one of the more fortunate CVL squadrons was VF-31 off the Cabot. During the dawn fighter sweep of the 13th, 21-year-old Lieutenant (jg) Arthur R. Hawkins put his previous experience to good use. He had claimed three kills during the Turkey Shoot and another in July, but exceeded his previous total by knocking down five enemy fighters in this, his third combat. His squadron mate “Conny” Nooy got three more as the Cabot pilots ignored heavy AA fire over their airfield targets to pursue enemy aircraft to extremely low level. But during the 13th and 14th most damage was done on the ground. As before, VF-19 enthusiastically went after parked airplanes and returned to the Lexington with another big tally. The 30 burned or wrecked on Negros and Panay brought Fighting 19’s three-day total on the ground to 110.

The mid-September strikes were an unqualified success. Over 170 aerial victories and over 300 ground claims went into the files, this against a loss of eight carrier planes attributable to enemy action. The fast carriers were therefore ordered to hit Luzon on the 21st and 22nd, where an estimated 500 Japanese aircraft were thought to be based. On the night of 20 September, Admiral John S. McCain radioed the squadrons of his Task Group 38.1: “Tomorrow will be hot fighting over land and water.”⁵ He was right. But for a change the heaviest action was found by the CVL units. Morning launch was delayed due to bad weather and heavy seas, but the first strikes were in the air by 0700. There were two fighter sweeps by three CVL squadrons each, led by Lieutenant Commander Roger Mehle of Air Group 28 and Lieutenant Commander Fred Bardshar of Air Group 27, respectively.

Bardshar took his 48 Hellcats to Nichols Field and Neilsen Field, where his 16 Princeton fighters accounted for 38 kills, which was 8 more than VF-27 claimed in the Turkey Shoot. The four Princeton divisions were low cover at 12,000 feet when Bardshar spotted a lone Nick at 10,000 over Neilsen. The combined fire of Bardshar and his wingman’s guns shattered the twin-engine fighter. Then the dogfight began.

Bardshar had a tough battle with some Zekes which shot out his right aileron and arresting hook. He downed two of them before disengaging and making a barrier landing aboard a big carrier. But all his other planes returned to the Princeton.

Lieutenant Carl Brown almost didn’t get back. He shot down a Hamp and a Tony, but one Zeke got in a good burst which stopped his engine. Brown split-essed to evade and decided to bail out while he still had altitude. He was ready to jump when “I thought better of it. . . . I hit the primer and pumped the throttle. The darned thing roared.”⁶ Upon landing aboard, the Texan found two 20-mm holes in one propeller blade.

Nor was that all. After Brown reported to the ready room, his plane captain called him back up to the flight deck. There Brown saw his seat-pack parachute in tatters. Unknown to him, another 20-mm had exploded and fragments had shredded the ‘chute. He commented, “Had I bailed out, my descent would have been faster than I planned.”⁷

Lieutenant Commander Mehle’s formations attacked Clark Field, where a remarkable performance was again turned in by VF-31. The Cabot Hellcats were launched with 500-pound bombs but were intercepted near the target. Conny Nooy and his wingman, E. W. Toaspern, engaged several bandits, but both pilots retained their bombs. It was in direct contrast to normal procedure and—some may have argued—not good sense. But Nooy and Toaspern “fought their guns” so successfully that they shot down seven planes between them. Nooy bagged two Zekes, two Tojos, and a Tony; Toaspern got a pair of Tonys. Then they dropped their bombs on Clark Field hangars. This impressive display of skill and courage won Nooy his second Navy cross, and boosted his aerial score to 15 kills. Other Cabot fighters claimed 22 more.

Late that afternoon Lieutenant Charles M. Mallory led six VF-18 Hellcats as top cover for an Intrepid strike to Clark. The weather had improved, and as Mallory led his F6s towards 24,000 he could see the bombers beginning their dives towards the green fields of Luzon between breaks in the fluffy clouds. At that moment Japanese fighters bounced the bombers, and Mallory prepared to lead the way down when his wingman called out two dozen bandits five miles away. They were converging from port, about 5,000 feet below.

Thankful for his division’s extra altitude, Mallory attacked. He exploded a Tony on his first pass. “The next few minutes were a free-for-all,” he recalled.⁸ Covered by his wingman, whose guns were inoperative, Mallory shot down three more bandits. Then he saw one of his pilots boxed in by five Tojos, one only 100 feet behind the F6. With so little room for deflection, Mallory rolled in to an aiming point ahead of the Hellcat and loosed a burst. The Tojo rolled over in flames, his fifth kill of the engagement.

In the pull-out another Tojo boresighted Mallory and hit his plane solidly. The port elevator was shot off, the landing gear partially extended due to loss of hydraulic pressure, and several holes were punched in the wings. The CO evaded by feinting a split-ess, then gathered his troops en route home. All five other F6Fs were badly damaged and two pilots wounded, but each landed safely. When Mallory climbed out of his cockpit and dropped to the hardwood deck, his plane captain informed him there were 67 bullet holes in his airplane. “My Grumman had brought me home safely,” he recalled.⁹

There was less air combat during the 22nd. Fighting 15 had to settle for a single kill, though VF-19 claimed six Tonys and three probables during an escort. And at long last, Fighting Two’s four victories during two strikes proved the end of their long string. Lieutenants (jg) M. W. “Tex” Vineyard and Wilbur “Spider” Webb got the last pair of Tonys during the Hornet’s second strike of the day. It raised VF-2’s aerial claims to 261 in ten months of combat, of which 224 were officially allowed. Bill Dean’s pilots flew their final mission two days later and anxiously looked forward to getting back to “Uncle Sugar.” Not a few of the original VF-2 contingent wondered if Wave Ensign Marie Thompson would be on hand to welcome them back. She had gone to Atlantic City to bid farewell to Lieutenant Jack Holladay, the personnel officer, when the squadron left the East Coast the previous October. Aviators being what they are, every pilot kissed Ensign Thompson goodby. Admiral McCain must have understood, for he wished the squadron, “luck, ladies, and the good time they have earned.”¹⁰

Upon its retirement to Ulithi and Manus, the task force received replacement air groups and one new carrier. When Fighting Two finally departed the Hornet, it left a mixed batch of F6F-3s and -5s to VF-11 under tough, aggressive Lieutenant Commander E. G. Fairfax, captain of the 1939 Annapolis boxing team. Two CVL air groups were also rotated; the Cabot and Langley welcomed VF-29 and VF-44 respectively. Fighting 31 departed the Cabot with 146 aerial victories. It would remain the top score for a CVL fighter squadron in one tour.

The new addition to the force, the Hancock with Air Group Seven, brought the total fast carriers to 17. Lieutenant Commander Leonard J. Check was skipper of VF-7, which with 41 F6F-5s including four night fighters, was equipped entirely with late-model Hellcats. So were VF-18, VF-20, VF-21, and VF-22.

By now the two F6F types had been flown together long enough to form an opinion of their relative merits. The consensus held that it was undesirable to operate both -3s and -5s in the same formation because the former were usually slower than the latter and used more fuel to keep pace. Some said the -5 climbed faster than the -3; others said the heavier -5 lost some vertical performance. But the F6F-5’s primary attribute was its greater offensive capability, and that was what was most valued.

The first half of October was devoted to a feint at the Ryukyus and preliminary strikes upon Formosa and Luzon. In attacks against Okinawa on 10 October surprise was achieved, and most enemy planes were attacked on the ground. For instance, Fighting 19 found no airborne opposition, and VF-14 off the Wasp claimed only two enemy planes damaged in the air. The Essex Hellcats were more fortunate. After an unopposed early sweep, VF-15 tangled with a mixed bag of Tonys, Oscars, Zekes, and Nates at midday and bagged eight. One of the Tonys was credited to Lieutenant Bert DeWayne Morris, Jr. The blonde, handsome 30-year-old Californian was better known as movie star Wayne Morris, one of several Hollywood actors who flew off to war. Jimmy Stewart became a B-24 squadron commander in England; Tyrone Power flew Marine transports; Robert Taylor was a naval aviator, and Clark Gable flew a few missions as a B-17 gunner. But Bert Morris—who was married to Dave McCampbell’s niece—became a genuine “Hollywood ace.” The Tony was his fifth confirmed victory in air combat. The top VF-15 score of the day went to Lieutenant (jg) Arthur R. Singer who shot down three Frances bombers that afternoon.

Fighting 11 had suffered relatively light casualties during its 1943 tour on Guadalcanal with F4Fs, but quickly found out how things had changed. Pressing through heavy flak to get at shipping in Miyako Jima anchorage, the Sundowners were credited with probably destroying two of the ten vessels sunk during the day. Nineteen-year-old Ensign Ken Chase, the baby of the squadron, skipped his 500-pounder directly into the side of a 5,500-ton transport. Then, while following his division leader Lieutenant Jimmie E. Savage off the target, Chase’s Hellcat was hit by flak and crashed into the water. “Doc” Savage remembered how Chase’s young mother had kissed Savage goodby and asked him to take good care of her son. How did one explain there was no way to protect a pilot from hidden, anonymous antiaircraft guns?

Hollywood ace. Movie actor Bert D. (Wayne) Morris, Jr., became a fighter pilot with VF-15 aboard the USS Essex. On 10 October 1944 he shot down his fifth Japanese aircraft, a Tony fighter. Two weeks later he gained his last two victories, a pair of Zekes in the Battle of Leyte Gulf.

The strikes continued until dusk when approximately one hundred enemy aircraft had been destroyed—mostly by strafing—against a loss of 21 carrier planes to all causes. On the next day a strike against northern Luzon met very little opposition, and results were equally slight. The Hellcat CAP found only three snoopers to handle. But the following day, 12 October, would more than compensate. The target was Formosa.

There were almost 350 Japanese aircraft on Formosa, nearly half of them fighters. Though the Fast Carrier Force steamed within launch range undetected by enemy patrol planes, the dawn fighter sweep which launched before 0600 was picked up on Japanese radar. Two hundred and thirty bandits immediately scrambled for one of the most sensational fighter battles since the first Truk raid.

Commander Dan F. “Dog” Smith’s Air Group 20 aboard the Enterprise had had no significant air combat since its tour began in August. The sweep-strike to Einansho changed all that. The skipper of VF-20, Lieutenant Commander Fred Bakutis, led three divisions which met an estimated 30 fighters. Young Ensign Doug Baker, barely a year out of flight school, shot down three Tojos and a Zeke in his first dogfight. Bakutis claimed one of the other seven victories. Then Dog Smith, leading ten Hellcats with the Enterprise strike, arrived and knocked down a bold Zeke trying to surprise an Avenger formation. One VF-20 pilot bailed out to become a POW.

The Lexington and Essex provided the Hellcats of Task Group 38.3, which fanned out to cover central Formosa from Kagi to Taichu. They ran into large numbers of Zekes and Tojos with a few Oscars and Jacks observed nearby. Fighting 15 knocked down 20 bandits, losing none in air combat, but had two pilots forced down either by AA fire or engine trouble. Ensign Clarence A. Borley had the best shooting, with two Oscars, a Zeke, and a Tojo destroyed.

Fighting 19’s sixteen fighters were not as lucky. When the four divisions became separated from one another, small formations of Hellcats were sometimes outnumbered as much as six to one. The Lexington pilots fought tenaciously, claiming 27 kills in the frantic, fearful minutes the battle lasted. Three Hellcats were lost, as were two pilots: VF-19’s skipper, Lieutenant Commander F. E. Cook, and the flight officer, Lieutenant D. K. Tripp. A New Jersey pilot, Lieutenant Joseph J. Paskoski, got four kills, then ditched his shot-up F6F near the task force. Nearly all the planes that returned to the Lexington bore significant battle damage. Lieutenant B. L. Garbow claimed three victories, but he earned them the hard way; he counted 48 holes aft of his cockpit.

Lieutenant (jg) Luther D. Prater had a similar experience. He shot one Zeke off Cook’s tail, then saw the CO crash on the airfield he was strafing. Prater was jumped by more Zekes, evaded into some clouds, and shot down one on the way home. But upon his return to the Lexington, he discovered his arresting hook would not extend due to battle damage. Yet he managed one of the trickiest feats in naval aviation—a carrier landing without a tail hook—and caused no further damage.

Though the Essex and Lexington Hellcats claimed nearly 50 victories between them, the most spectacular battle was fought by 32 F6Fs of VF-8 and VF-18 in Task Group 38.2. The targets were Shinihi and Matsuyama airfields, which the Intrepid’s Hellcats attacked with 500-pound bombs. Fighting 18 pushed over into 60-degree dives and hit Shinihi’s hangars, then rendezvoused at 8,000 feet north of the target and headed for Matsuyama. En route, four Lillys and one Sally were seen preparing to land at Taien airfield. Lieutenant Cecil E. Harris, a South Dakota school teacher with two previous kills in Wildcats, led his division down. Inside of two minutes all the bombers were destroyed, including a Sally and Lilly by Harris.

Then 15 to 20 Zekes hit the top rear cover from a cloud layer at 12,000 feet. These Zekes were well flown; they were unobserved until they attacked and maintained their altitude advantage through most of the combat. With a professional eye, the Intrepid pilots commented on “the beautiful way the Japs flew.”¹¹ Smaller enemy formations arrived in several minutes until about 40 Zekes were engaged.

The combat area was some eight square miles from 10,000 feet down to the trees. All that the Hellcats could do was weave, keep a sharp lookout, and shoot straight. It was enough. Repeatedly, F6Fs with Zekes on their tails led their pursuers across the noses of section leaders or wingmen, who shot the Japanese off. Ensign Arthur P. Mollenhaur had bagged one of the bombers and in the next few minutes fired at ten Zekes. He expended 1800 rounds and received confirmation on four Zekes, becoming an ace in his first combat. Lieutenant (jg) F. N. Burley got three Zekes, while Cecil Harris and Lieutenant F. C. Hearrell both added a pair of Zeros to the bombers they had shot down.

Fighting 18 lost four Hellcats and three pilots in this combat against a claim of 20 fighters and five bombers. Returning pilots said there was never less than one parachute in the air, and at one time there were perhaps five.

Fighting Eight also had an observation, but of a different nature. Scotty McCuskey, the squadron’s chief G-suit booster, noticed that it was easy to identify Japanese aircraft at a distance because of the fine streamers of vapor trailing from their wingtips. The Zeke vapor trails were thin and continuous, while those from the F6Fs were blunt and irregular.

The Bunker Hill pilots got into the hassle when Nick twin-engine fighters were seen taking off from Taien. Twelve Hellcats went down to have a look while the CO, Commander W. M. Collins, kept his division as top cover. His number four, Lieutenant (jg) W. E. Lamoreaux, called out a large gaggle at 12,000 feet, which was several thousand feet above the Hellcats. Collins looked up to see an estimated 50 to 75 fighters.

In the ensuing combat, Collins methodically shot down two Zekes and two Oscars; Lamoreaux, guarding his tail, got two more Zekes. Then Collins’s plane was hit, and as he jinked violently he blacked out momentarily despite his G-suit. But the Zekes had been unable to follow his high-speed maneuver. When Collins emerged from a cloud he found a Betty dead ahead, apparently unaware of him, and he shot it down.

The other VF-8 pilots had also joined the combat. Scott McCuskey shot at five planes, killing a Nick and two Zekes. Five other Bunker Hill pilots also claimed triples, frequently joining the Intrepid Hellcats as elements of both squadrons became separated from their friends. Back aboard the Bunker Hill, Fighting Eight counted 32 destroyed and three probables for one F6F jettisoned with heavy damage. The grand total for this fighter sweep was 57 kills for five Hellcats lost.

Combat continued throughout the day, though at a considerably lessened tempo. Fighting 8 and 18 ran their scores for 12 October to 49 and 40 respectively during further sweeps and strikes. Final claims showed 188 aerial victories for the Hellcats. But not all of the combat occurred over the island. One hundred enemy sorties were flown against the task force which, counting snoopers downed by the CAP, accounted for 40 of the Japanese losses. Fighting 29, off the Cabot, splashed six Bettys during an unsuccessful dusk torpedo attack, the last action of the day.

There was considerably less air combat on Friday the 13th. Fighting 19’s new CO, Lieutenant Roger Boles, shot down a Tojo, the only bandit his squadron saw. Other Lexington pilots occupied themselves by shooting up a large primary training field. The delicate Willow biplanes, which reminded the F6F pilots of N2S Stearmans they had flown back at Pensacola or Corpus Christi, made easy targets.

Air Group 11 found tougher going against Takao city. The Hornet pilots reported extremely intense AA fire from ships, the shore, and the hill that rose above the harbor. Young Lieutenant (jg) Blake Moranville, a Nebraska boy who had quit college when the flying bug bit him, was astonished by the volume of gunfire from “Ape Hill.” “It lit up like a bunch of blinking Christmas tree lights,” he said.¹² The Hornet CAG, Commander Fred Schrader of the Annapolis class of ’35, was strafing a moored seaplane when his F6F was hit heavily by flak and crashed from low level.

The dusk torpedo planes were back again that evening. Three low-flying Bettys got within gun range of Task Group 38.4 and went after the Franklin. A VF-13 pilot in the landing circle spotted the threat and splashed one Betty with the help of gunners on nearby ships. The remaining two released their torpedoes, which narrowly missed the Franklin.

The cruiser Canberra lacked “Big Ben’s” luck. She took an aerial torpedo and slid to a stop only 90 miles off Formosa and 1,300 miles from the nearest Allied base, Ulithi. She was ordered towed from the area, and two CVLs were detached to provide air cover—the Cowpens from TG-38.1 and the Cabot from TG-38.2.

As expected, the 14th brought intense action as Japanese aircraft made determined efforts to sink the damaged Canberra. Nearly 200 enemy aircraft approached or actually attacked the task force, and another 225 tried to find it but failed.

Though 250 carrier sorties were flown against Formosa, the heaviest combat occurred out at sea during the afternoon and evening. Seven Hornet Hellcats under Lieutenant Nelson Dayhoff were vectored onto an incoming raid of about 12 Judy dive bombers escorted by 15 to 20 Zekes and Tonys. Dayhoff’s radio quit before the interception, then Lieutenant Doc Savage’s compass failed, so tactical command passed to Lieutenant Charles R. Stimpson, entering his first combat since Guadalcanal.

Savage called the tally-ho at 17,000 feet. Charlie Stimpson climbed to tackle the top cover, leaving Savage to deal with the Judys. Experienced, deadly “Skull” Stimpson “tiptoed up behind three Zekes”¹³ and exploded them before they could even drop their external tanks. His wingman, Ensign Fred Blair, also bagged one. Then they dived behind the other Zekes attacking Savage’s flight, and Stimpson exploded one with a short burst. Savage had dropped two Zekes himself, only to find a Tony on his tail, which Stimpson hit and saw fall away smoking. It went unclaimed, but Blair shot a Zeke off another Sundowner’s tail for a confirmed kill. By now three Hellcats had also gone down, including Dayhoff.

Stimpson and Blair were attacked from both sides and scissored on one another. Stimpson hit another Tony chasing Blair, who in turn flamed yet another Zeke. But as Stimpson reversed again, a Zeke hit Blair’s belly tank which burst into flames. Pulling wide deflection, Stimpson blew one wing off this bandit and fired his final rounds at another which tried to follow Blair down. The last Zeke broke off, but it was too late. Blair’s burning Hellcat splashed headlong into the sea.

Commander Emmet Riera, CAG-11, ready for takeoff from the USS Hornet. Originally a dive bomber pilot, Riera’s first flight in an F6F was while at sea. Photo: R. E. Riera

Fighting 11 had completely broken up the attack, claiming 14 definite kills against the loss of three pilots and four F6Fs.

Fred Bardshar led two divisions of VF-27 into a covey of 16 Fran torpedo planes approaching TG-38.3 that afternoon. The skipper splashed three and his pilots gunned down ten more as the survivors jettisoned their torpedoes and fled.

Fighting 19 from the same task group had 20 fighters up on CAP and search missions that evening and claimed 10 of 30 hostiles encountered between 1600 and 1700. Lieutenant (jg) R. W. Blakeslee was escorting a Lexington SB2C when 19 Japanese twin-engine bombers passed below on a reciprocal heading. The Helldiver pilot lost track of Blakeslee when the F6F turned to attack, and minutes later heard Blakeslee on the radio. He had shot down two bombers but had a badly damaged aircraft and zero oil pressure. Blakeslee added he was making a water landing. It was the last thing heard from the courageous Michigan pilot.

Despite the efforts of VF-11, VF-19, and VF-27-and other fighter squadrons—the Japanese tenacity brought results. The light cruiser Houston, which had replaced the Canberra, was torpedoed at dusk. A “cripple division” was formed of the two damaged cruisers and their escorts, and it began the long, slow haul out of air range. The Cabot’s VF-29 downed three Japanese planes near the vulnerable ships, losing one plane and pilot.

On the next day, 15 October, three task groups withdrew southward to refuel and resume attacks on Leyte. But Task Group 38.1 stayed behind to cover the four-knot retreat of the two cruisers being towed slowly to safety. Fighting 14 off the Wasp claimed 31 kills during the day, raising four pilots to ace status, but losing one pilot in combat. Fighting 11 claimed only three Judys and, like VF-14, lost a pilot who bailed out but was never rescued. Meanwhile, Fighting 29 flamed three snoopers near the plodding “CripDiv One.”

On the 16th the Japanese tried harder.

Over 60 enemy planes went after the “bait” group, now guarded by only the combined 46-plane strength of the two CVL fighter squadrons. Most of the combat fell upon VF-29. Lieutenant Alfred J. Fecke’s division joined that of Lieutenant Max Barnes about 20 miles north of the ships, then headed west at 10,000 feet. They sighted the enemy at 1335, a mixed formation of twin-engine Frances bombers, Jill torpedo planes, and Val dive bombers covered by about 20 Zekes at 11,000 feet. Barnes took his pilots into the bombers while Fecke climbed to starboard to draw off the fighters.

But the Zekes held back, apparently covering the rearmost bombers, and both Cabot divisions quickly got in among the leaders. Barnes splashed two Frans, then was chased into some clouds by a half-dozen late-arriving Zekes. His wingman, Ensign Robert E. Murray, also got a Fran on the first pass and then, separated from Barnes, joined Lieutenant (jg) Irl V. Sonner of Fecke’s division. Murray got two Jills, and as he passed the second one he saw the Japanese pilot stand up and shake his fist at the Hellcat, just before the Jill hit the water. Murray then bagged a Zeke while Sonner dropped two Jills and two Frans.

Fecke’s division rang up 15 kills. Seeing the Zekes hanging back, Fecke went after the rearmost bombers and shot a Frances down in flames. He quickly splashed three Jills, then chased a fourth with two other F6Fs and finished it as well. Fecke’s wingman, Ensign R. B. Williams, became separated after the first pass and though he shot one Zeke off a Hellcat’s tail, his plane was badly shot up and he dropped the F6F into a safe water landing. Williams was rescued shortly.

Meanwhile, Fecke’s number four, Ensign Robert L. Buchanan, bagged two Frans and a pair of Jills. Heading home he attempted to join about 16 “friendly” Zekes. Recognizing his error, Buchanan scooted for some protective clouds at 17,000 feet while two Zekes chased him, one high and one low. But the second Japanese stalled 800 feet below the Hellcat, giving Buchanan a safe opening against the other. He attacked from three o’clock, saw his tracers hit the cowl, and the Zeke exploded in midair.

Eight Hellcats had broken up a major attack, downing 26 planes for the loss of one F6F. Buchanan and Fecke were both credited with five victories, Sonner and Murray with four each.

Fighting 22 picked over the remainder of the Japanese. The Cowpens Hellcats claimed a dozen kills, including four torpedo planes by Lieutenant Clement M. Craig. One torpedo-packing Japanese pressed on to hit the Houston a second time, but the battered cruiser remained afloat. Both ships survived their ordeal, thanks to the spirited defense put up by their Hellcat guardians.

Some 500 Japanese replacement aircraft intended for the Philippines were destroyed on Formosa, so the next week passed in relative quiet as the fast carriers roamed east of Luzon. Wednesday the 18th was the busiest day of that week, with small but violent fighter battles over land and water. On the morning sweep Fred Bakutis took three of his VF-20 divisions to the Manila area, prowling high at 25,000 feet. The Enterprise Hellcats found seven Tojos climbing out of Clark Field, and Bakutis took two divisions down after them. But more bandits arrived, the F6 top cover came down, and a close-in, milling dogfight ensued. Lieutenant (jg) Bill Foye bagged two fighters, then radioed he was going down near Subic Bay. He bailed out, unseen by his friends, and was found by Filipino guerrillas.

Ensign John Hoeynck collided with an Oscar in a turning contest, losing three feet of his port wing. The Japanese fighter tumbled out of sight, and Hoeynck limped towards home under close escort by Bakutis and another Hellcat. After a persistent Oscar made five or six passes at Hoeynck, Bakutis reversed his usual turn in the defensive weave and shot it down for his third kill of the fray. Ensign Doug Baker, continuing to score in multiples, also shot down three as did Ensign Chuck Haverlund. In all, VF-20 claimed 18 kills in this combat and added another 11 later in the day, but lost two more Hellcats.

Fighting 14 flew two sweeps over central Luzon, meeting strong opposition. When enemy fighters jumped Lieutenant E. B. Turner’s division and shot down his section leader, Turner “went berserk”¹⁴ and destroyed five. The other Wasp pilots got 11 more.

But most squadrons saw little air combat on the 18th. Fighting 15 scored six victories in an early morning sweep over the Visayas, including a Dinah and a Nate by Dave McCampbell, who became the first Navy pilot to reach 20 kills. “Fabled Fifteen” then burned a medium-sized transport. And though VF-19 got two Kates in the same area, Hugh Winters’s Hellcats were mainly engaged in trying out their new, fast, shallow masthead bomb attacks against cargo vessels.

Three of the four fast carrier task groups were steaming in Leyte Gulf the morning of 24 October. Task Group 38.1 was headed for Ulithi, but the other 11 carriers prepared to launch searches and CAPs. It was a routine beginning to a most unroutine day.

Northernmost was Rear Admiral Fred Sherman’s TG-38.3—the Essex, Lexington, Princeton and Langley—100 miles east of Luzon. Upon these ships’ air groups would fall nearly all the major combat in this, the opening day of the Battle of Leyte Gulf. Air Group 19 aboard the Lexingtonhad most of the task group’s search responsibility, and 37 aircraft were sent off to scout the western quadrant to a distance of 300 miles. Five search sectors, from 245° to 295° True, were assigned to 19 Hellcats and 18 Helldivers. Another division of F6Fs was sent out to 200 miles, south of Manila Bay, to act as radio relay.

The Lexington search teams launched at 0607, but several F6Fs and SB2Cs lost track of each other in heavy clouds between the task group and Luzon. While search teams to the south were locating the major Japanese surface forces between Mindoro and Mindanao, the Lexington planes found only coastal shipping. Lieutenant Bruce Williams, formerly a Willamette University law student, led a three-plane division which was the only team to sink anything. Ammunition barges were found underway in Lingayen Gulf and Williams attacked. Known as “Willy Mohawk,” for the Lexington’s call sign, the exuberant Oregonian put his 500-pounder on a 35-foot barge and “blew it to bits,”¹⁵ but the explosion tossed his Hellcat 200 feet upward through the debris. Returning to base, Williams’s flight was bounced by Tojos and one F6 had to duck into cloud cover. Almost immediately, however, Williams and Lieutenant (jg) Larry Cauble pursued several twin-engine Sallys in a tail chase through a valley and shot down five before their ammunition ran out.

In the adjacent search sector, Lieutenant Elvin Lindsay’s division was flying by sections near Clark Field when they were jumped by 17 Tojos. Lindsay and Ensign W. H. Martin had ten to themselves. Lindsay claimed a kill and two probables while Martin got two kills, the Japanese displaying little coordination or air discipline. Though Martin’s F6F was damaged in the fight, he and Lindsay each dropped a Val shortly thereafter. Martin ditched his faltering plane near a destroyer upon returning to the task group and was rescued. The second section bagged three of seven Tojos. The division had claimed eight victories for one F6F.

The biggest haul was made by Lieutenant (jg) William J. Masoner’s division, which found 20 twin-engine bombers in four groups along its search route. Masoner already had two kills from his days with VF-11 on Guadalcanal and put his experience to superb use. His gun camera recorded the destruction of a Betty, a Dinah, and four Nells, while the other three pilots accounted for another seven bombers. In all, 15 Fighting 19 pilots claimed 30 kills from this five-hour mission while VF-15 splashed seven hostiles during similar searches in the same area.

Meanwhile, the Japanese were on the offensive. Some 450 naval aircraft had been flown into the Philippines during the night, and beginning at 0750, TG-38.3’s radarscopes glowed brightly with multiple contacts. Three attack waves of 50 to 60 aircraft each, 15 miles apart, were headed towards Sherman’s four carriers. For the moment, any thought of launching strikes against enemy surface units to the southwest was forgotten. All available fighters were scrambled immediately.

Aboard the Lexington, where 11 Hellcats were ready for launch, a peculiar thing happened. The “Lex’s” gunners—hard-bitten veterans of a full year of carrier war—actually cheered as VF-19 pilots charged down the flight deck to man their planes. It was as if the fighter pilots were running onto a football field to the applause of the hometown crowd. And never could there be a more appreciative rooting section. For in this contest, when the opposition scored it meant the loss of friends, a place to sleep, of one’s home away from home.

Lieutenant Roger Boles led his VF-19 pilots away from the task group on a vector of 215°, climbing at maximum power in response to the FDO’s order for “Gate” speed. The Grummans arced up into a three-tenths cloud cover dotted with thunder showers, indicating 250 knots as the big Pratt and Whitneys burned four gallons per minute. Twenty miles out, the lead division spotted some lone bogeys and bagged two Zekes. Boles chased down a Nick and splashed it from a height of 100 feet.

Meanwhile, Lieutenant H. V. Bonzagni, Jr., took his second division into a formation of Vals with Zeke top cover as the third division of three Hellcats tailed behind. Bonzagni’s four made high side passes, ignoring the Zekes which turned west and left the Vals unprotected. Bonzagni burned three Vals from 17,000 feet down to 8,000 and his pilots got four more plus one shared with a Langley Hellcat of VF-44. The third division claimed one Jill shot down but returned minus Ensign F. P. Hubbuch, who had reported engine trouble and was last seen chasing a hostile. Thus, the Lexington’s fighter scramble claimed 11½ kills for one loss.

At the same time, VF-27 was already engaged. Three divisions were up on CAP before the scramble was ordered, including those of Lieutenants James A. Shirley and Carl A. Brown. “Red” Shirley received two vectors to investigate bogeys and shot down two snoopers. Carl Brown also got two vectors but both times found Avengers with their IFF off.

Shortly thereafter, Shirley’s division was at 20,000 and Brown’s at 10,000 when both were given the same vector at Gate speed. Shirley’s flight pulled ahead while Brown clawed for altitude. “When both of us got the same vector,” Brown said, “I knew it had to be trouble.”¹⁶ He was right.

Still climbing at Gate, Brown repeatedly asked how many bandits were up ahead. The busy FDO ignored the questions several times, then rasped out, “Many, many, many, many.”¹⁷ The lower division had reached 18,000 feet when Shirley tally-hoed two hostiles in succession and dropped them both. Brown had now closed up, and saw a huge enemy formation straight ahead, stacked from about 20,000 to 23,000 feet. Notifying the Princeton, Brown said, “Hatchet Base, estimate 80.”¹⁸ He got a roger and good luck as he prepared to engage. At almost the same time Shirley called out, “Hundreds of bogeys, high, low, and in the middle. Am attacking ’til ammo runs out.”¹⁹

For the next several minutes, airplanes fell into the sea at a terrific rate. To the men on the Princeton, Red Shirley had always been “a real killer,”²⁰ and certainly he was this day. He spent the last of his ammunition on his fifth victim of the mission. It brought his total to 12 in only three combats.

Another division rushed to the scene, and the battle intensified as casualties were inflicted on both sides. Ensign Thomas J. Conroy paced the squadron with six and a half kills while Lieutenant Gene Townsend splashed five planes. But Lieutenant Ralph S. Taylor was shot in the leg and returned to the Princeton, and Ensign Oliver Scott never got back at all.

Carl Brown had a rugged five minutes. He began the fight with an altitude and airspeed disadvantage, attacking from below. His F6F was repeatedly hit in a series of dogfights with numerous Zekes. But he gave better than he got, and claimed five destroyed and two probables. He recalled, however, that “I finished the fight with four Zekes on my tail arguing who’d kill me.”²¹ Before they decided who would do the honors, Brown shoved his stick full forward, two-blocked the throttle with prop in full low pitch, and made a hard right spiral. This violent maneuver shook his pursuers and, despite his damaged plane, he requested a steer back to the combat. But by then the raid had dissipated.

Brown’s instrument panel was shot up, and a cut fuel line spilled about three inches of gasoline onto the cockpit floor. Approaching the task group, he discovered his arresting hook would not extend. Then he heard that the Princeton had a fouled deck, and neither the Lexington nor the Langleywould take him aboard, fearful he would crash and close their decks, too. The Texan had just resigned himself to a water landing when the Essex came on the air: “Hatchet 7, if you’ll land immediately, we’ll take you.”²² Immensely relieved, Brown prepared to land without an airspeed indicator or tail hook. Yet despite two leg wounds, he plunked his battered Cat down on the Essex’s deck, the hook jarred loose, engaged the first wire, and he was safe.

The saga of Fighting 27 was not yet over. The CAG, big Fred Bardshar, had been scheduled to lead a strike when his division was scrambled to meet the emergency. That made 20 Princeton fighters airborne during the raid. The flight was placed in a rather vulnerable orbit at 7,500 feet about 75 miles from the force, barely above the overcast. Bardshar tried to get permission to climb higher but the voice circuits were jammed. Then the roof fell in.

Some 30 Oscars dived on the division from 5,000 feet above. But they were unaggressive and most dived into the clouds rather than face VF-27’s delayed weave. Two Oscars disappeared trailing smoke, and though Bardshar’s plane had taken hits in the engine, smearing his canopy with a film of oil, “the old R-2800 ran well.”²³ On the way home the CAG’s wingman, Ensign Arthur Munson, drew blood for the division by shooting down a stray Val.

Vectored to base, ten VF-27 pilots had been taken aboard when Bardshar and the remaining eight learned that the Princeton’s problem was more serious than a fouled deck. At 0938 a lone Judy had dropped out of the low clouds and put its bomb into “Sweet P’s” flight deck, near the aft elevator. Other Hellcats destroyed the Judy but the Princeton’s fires proved uncontrollable. Six hours later she exploded and sank—the only U.S. Navy fast carrier lost in the last three years of the war.

Lieutenant Carl Brown’s VF-27 Hellcat is pushed forward on the USS Essex after combat with Japanese aircraft attacking the light carrier Princeton. Fighting 27 claimed the destruction of 36 attackers, but one broke through and hit the Princeton. starting her fatal fires. Photo: R. M. Hill

The Princeton orphans were made most welcome aboard the Essex. No pilots had ever fought harder for their ship. The shark-mouthed Hellcats had shot three dozen Japanese planes into the water in only a few minutes. Of the seven pilots who destroyed five or more enemy aircraft this day, four were from VF-27. And though they were now effectively out of the action, many of them would be back.

Spotted on the port catapult aboard the Essex that morning was Dave McCampbell’s F6F-5, “Minsi III,” named for his friend Mary Blatz of Milwaukee. Originally scheduled to lead a strike, McCampbell was shot off at 0820 to meet the imminent threat, and two divisions followed. His section leader’s plane was unable to launch, however, giving the CAG seven fighters including his own.

Over the Essex at 6,000 feet, McCampbell was Buster-vectored north to a radar plot 38 miles out. Three minutes later he saw a large formation about 25 miles away. At first the disposition looked like a TF-38 strike group, but “shortly thereafter the planes were definitely identified as enemy and reported to be composed of at least 60 rats, hawks, and fish.”²⁴

Most of the “rats” (enemy fighters) were well above McCampbell’s altitude of 14,000 feet. But as he led his Hellcats towards them, the Japanese reversed course, causing the formation to string out. It was now vulnerable and the CAG ordered his second division after the “hawks” and “fish” (dive bombers and torpedo planes) while his three worked over the fighters.

At this moment communications failed. The F6Fs had to change radio frequencies, and McCampbell lost tactical control when five of his fighters dived on the enemy below, chasing the bombers down through the overcast. Four of the VF-15 pilots eventually gunned down six planes, but the main event was fought topside.

Dave McCampbell and his regular wingman Roy Rushing were the right men in the right place at the right time. The 21 Japanese flags below McCampbell’s cockpit testified to his experience and proficiency. In all, there were about 40 bandits—mostly bomb-carrying Zekes and a few accompanying Oscars. They maintained a large, orderly Lufbery circle which guarded the tail of each plane. After three or four passes to seek an opening, McCampbell and Rushing pulled up and each lit a cigarette. Time was on their side.

Commander David McCampbell in his personal F6F-5, “Minsi III,” aboard the USS Essex on 22 October 1944. Two days later he shot down nine Japanese fighters while defending his task group from heavy air attack, a feat which earned him the Congressional Medal of Honor. Photo: R. M. Hill

McCampbell figured the Japanese “probably were not too flush with petrol,”²⁵ knowing that when they dispersed there would be confusion and easy pickings among the stragglers. There were.

For 95 minutes Dave McCampbell and Roy Rushing played out their waiting game. They sat above the Japanese, harrying the large formation as it finally headed back towards Manila—two wolves biting at the flanks of a dangerous herd. The two Hellcats were careful not to expose themselves to unnecessary risk, but concentrated on enemy planes which attempted to climb to their altitude, those which lagged behind or went too wide on their weaving turns. Working this way, McCampbell could see it was going to be a long day. “It was not until we had destroyed five and business was beginning to get good that I decided to keep a box score by marking on my instrument panel with a pencil,”²⁶ he recalled.

McCampbell spent 30 minutes screaming for help before he got through to the Essex FDO—a future Secretary of the Navy named John Connally. One VF-15 F6F flown by Lieutenant (jg) Albert C. Slack finally joined up. Now able to take on larger groups, the Essex Hellcats pressed their attacks and flamed three planes on each of two passes. Slack used up all his ammunition while downing four Zekes and withdrew, leaving McCampbell and Rushing to finish the job.

Between them, the CAG and his wingman made 18 to 20 passes, and there were only 18 planes left in the formation when ammo and fuel shortages forced them to disengage. Dave McCampbell had nine definite kills: seven Zekes or Hamps and two Oscars, plus two probables which were last seen spinning towards the water. Roy Rushing splashed five Zekes or Hamps and an Oscar, damaging three others. The only damage to their two F6Fs was some superficial dents and scratches caused by the debris of exploding airplanes.

In this mission McCampbell set a record for American and Allied fighter pilots: nine kills in one sortie. He ran his score to 30, temporarily sharing the U.S. “ace of aces” title with Army Air Force Major Richard Bong. Rushing had doubled his own tally, from 6 to 12.

McCampbell and Rushing returned together to the task group but the CAG had to set down on the Langley. His fuel tanks had not been topped off before the scramble, and he couldn’t wait for the Essex to recover aircraft already in the pattern. But Dave McCampbell had the luck of the Irish. His engine died when he tried to taxi out of the arresting gear, and the Langley deck crew told him he had two rounds of .50 caliber remaining.

Meanwhile, a second scramble had been ordered. Two full divisions, led by Lieutenant Bert Morris, intercepted a mixed fighter-bombertorpedo formation 50 miles out. In a 25-mile running battle the eight Hellcats destroyed ten bandits. The two Essex scrambles, involving 15 F6Fs, had shot down 35 Japanese aircraft. In all, the task group had claimed over 85 attackers, allowing one to get through—the lone Judy which hit the Princeton. It was proof enough of what the other carriers had been spared.

By mid morning the fast carriers were on the offensive. Powerful Japanese surface units, reported earlier in the Sibuyan Sea and Surigao Strait, were tracked for the rest of the day and subjected to several air strikes. The first was a 36-plane group from the Intrepid and the Cabot, including 21 Hellcats, which went after the larger force in the Sibuyan Sea. The TG-38.2 planes attacked Admiral Kurita’s 26 warships at 1026, pushing through intense AA fire, but meeting no aerial opposition. On this strike, as on most of the others, many Hellcats were armed with bombs.

Once Rear Admiral Fred Sherman’s northern task group was free to do so, the Essex and Lexington began launching 16 Hellcats, 20 SB2Cs, and 32 Avengers at 1050. The strike coordinator was Commander Hugh Winters, leading his squadrons through terrible weather across southern Luzon and out over the sea. Low overcast and five-mile visibility plagued the attackers most of the day.

Fighting 19 carried no bombs, anticipating enemy air cover, but instead engaged almost entirely in strafing. Lieutenant J. J. Paskoski, Winters’s section leader, had just pulled out of a firing pass when he saw a Jake being overrun by other F6Fs. Paskoski turned in behind the floatplane and sent it down burning after a single burst, one of only four enemy aircraft seen over the Kurita force.

Arriving back at the task group around 1500, Winters noted AA bursts in the air. He was about to call Mohawk Base to ask the Lexington what was happening when he saw a Judy fleeing from two Helldivers low on the water; another raid was in progress. Winters peeled off, got on the Judy’s tail and exploded it with one well-aimed burst.

Lieutenant Elvin Lindsay, a wheat rancher from Palouse, Washington, was on his second flight of the day. He led two divisions into an estimated 30 Zekes at 4,000 feet only 15 miles out. Lindsay flamed two from dead astern, his third and fourth confirmed kills of the 24th. Five other VF-19 pilots splashed seven more, and the raid was dispersed.

Meanwhile, TG-38.4, farthest south, had launched search-strikes from the Enterprise and Franklin. The “Big E’s” planes, under Commander “Dog” Smith of Air Group 20, found Vice Admiral Nishimura’s seven ships near Mindanao. Smith’s 18 F6Fs and 12 Helldivers were not enough to sink either of Nishimura’s two battleships, but they could do considerable damage. Lieutenant Commander Fred Bakutis, skipper of VF-20, led his Hellcats down in a rocket attack and took hits in his engine. Losing oil pressure, he shucked his belly tank and splashed down to a water landing. He spent the next seven days floating in the Sulu Sea before rescue by a U.S. submarine.

The other missions were all flown against Kurita, since he represented the greater threat. By the time the last Grummans and Curtisses departed after 1500, the giant battleship Musashi had taken three dozen bomb and torpedo hits. She sank that evening. But unknown to the Americans, Kurita doggedly continued east during the night, heading for San Bernardino Strait.

In all, 259 carrier sorties had been flown against this powerful surface force, nearly half by Hellcats. Eighteen TF-38 planes were lost to the formidable flak put up by the battleships and cruisers. Ten more went down on search or CAP sorties, but upwards of 150 Japanese planes had been destroyed—over three-quarters of them by the F6Fs of TG-38.3. The Lexington fighters led the way with 52 claims.

Air combat was one thing; attacking battleships was yet another. But the next day would make many of the aviators’ fondest wishes a reality. Japanese carriers were again at hand.

All during the night of the 24th and into the wee hours of the 25th, the fast carriers pounded north. Admiral Halsey, commanding the Third Fleet, had no intention of letting the hated Japanese flattops escape as they had from the Marianas. He had no way of knowing that the four enemy carriers steaming off Cape Engano were sacrificial decoys in classic Japanese fashion, with only 29 planes.

Thus diverted, Halsey left San Bernardino Strait open to the determined Kurita’s battleships and cruisers, which would fall upon the escort carriers off Samar. But to the aviators of TF-38 all this was both unknown and irrelevant. Long before daylight the ready rooms were full of eager fliers, anxious to see and strike Japanese carriers. Few of Mitscher’s aviators had ever seen one; only three air groups remained from TF-58 and that long-ago evening of 20 June.

Search teams of F6Fs and SB2Cs were launched as soon as practical, probing west and north for the enemy carriers. To save time, strike groups were also sent up, orbiting about 50 miles north of the task force waiting for the enemy’s location. A VF-15 radio relay team led by Lieutenant John Collins made first contact, passing the word at 0735 that four carriers, two hermaphrodite battleships, and eleven escorts were 150 miles north of Mitscher.

Task Group 38.3’s heavy punch from the Essex and Lexington went in first. Eighteen to 20 Zekes were airborne to meet the strike. Fighting 15 got to them first and shot down nine. Four Zekes fell to Lieutenant J. R. Strane, who bailed out over unfriendly water after his engine was hit. He was fished out that afternoon by a U.S. destroyer.

Dave McCampbell set up as target coordinator, call-sign “99 Rebel,” and prepared to oversee the first two strikes. He directed his own planes and those of other squadrons against the light carrier Chitose, which took several bomb hits. Lieutenant Roger Boles, at the head of VF-19, shot down one Zeke which got in his way en route to the Chitose and the “Lex’s” planes also piled in. The Chitose went down at 0937.

McCampbell remained as target coordinator until relieved by his counterpart Hugh Winters who arrived with the third strike. By this time two more light carriers and one of the flight-deck-equipped battleships had also been damaged.

Winters’s strike was the largest of the day—over 200 aircraft. The Lexington CAG directed a torpedo attack against the only remaining CV, the veteran Zuikaku, which sank on the spot. Subsequent missions finished off the two damaged CVLs.

Well over 500 carrier sorties were flown in the course of six strikes, but nearly all the damage was done in the first four. The strain began telling by 1700 when the fifth strike went in, as many pilots were then on their third mission. A full 200 of the task force sorties were flown by F6Fs, which accounted for a goodly share of the bomb hits. It was in contrast to the Marianas where bomb-toting Hellcats fared poorly in the strike role. But here, off Cape Engano, there was no shortage of time or daylight; nor was there effective fighter interception.

Finally deprived of any effective carrier force, the Japanese Navy had become desperate. Yet exactly how desperate was not to be evident for a few days.

On 29 October Task Groups 38.2 and 38.4 were assigned airfield targets on Luzon, and four of the air groups met with considerable success. The Hancock, Franklin, Intrepid, and Enterprise Hellcats claimed some 70 aerial victories during the strikes, and left about a dozen more wrecked on their parking aprons. Ten Hellcats were lost to enemy action. Fighting 18 had the best of the action, with a tally of 42 kills during the day’s four missions, losing two in combat and one operationally. Lieutenant Cecil Harris bagged three Tojos and a Zeke, the third time he had downed four planes in one day.

During the noon hour a large Japanese formation was intercepted too close to the task force to prevent a lone intruder from sneaking past the CAP. Taking advantage of the poor weather, this plane intentionally dived into one of the Intrepid’s starboard 20-mm gun sponsons. The “Evil I” was not seriously hurt, and remained with the task group. But her slight damage did nothing to alleviate the fact that the first suicide attack against the fast carriers had been successful.

The kamikazes had arrived.

The next day, Task Groups 38.2 and 38.4 were operating off Leyte. The sustained pace of combat had depleted operational F6Fs to a dangerously low level, and several kamikazes either penetrated the CAP or evaded interception entirely. Five of them dived on TG-38.4, but were spotted by the AA gunners, who fired at them. Three fell into the water.

The surviving pair lived long enough to die as they intended. One smashed into the Franklin, tearing a large hole in her flight deck, destroying 33 aircraft, and causing over 100 casualties. The other plunged down on the Belleau Wood and made a direct hit, inflicting 150 casualties and wrecking a dozen planes. The task group was forced to return to Ulithi because of these setbacks, leaving only the under-strength TG-38.2 covering Leyte for the moment.

During the short breather at Ulithi, Vice Admiral John S. McCain relieved Mitscher as Commander Task Force 38, and the new staff began considering suicide attack countermeasures. An analysis of the Philippines reports showed that kamikazes always came from the nearest land, usually in two groups—sometimes three—numbering from three to six planes in the first group and three to 15 in the next two. They nearly always flew at mixed altitudes up to 18,000 feet.

For the moment, the only possible action was to restore the fighter squadrons to their full authorized strength of 54 Hellcats on CVs and 24 on CVLs. But McCain decided to retain more fighters for ForceCAP while sending fewer to escort strikes. And while sailors and airmen traded rumors about an unfathomable enemy—suicide pilots were reported locked in their cockpits or shot down by other Japanese if they returned to base—McCain’s staff went to work on an effective kamikaze doctrine.

By the end of October 1944 the Fast Carrier Force had evolved to its penultimate form. Over a year of combat and practical experience had brought the force to its current high level of proficiency. There were full-time night carriers, enabling round-the-clock operations against nearly any target in range. The importance of fighters had been recognized to the extent that F6Fs comprised 60 percent of all aircraft in the task force. Consequently, they were performing virtually every function but torpedo attack. Directed by experienced controllers with the best electronics available, the Hellcats had made their flight decks almost immune to conventional air assault.

The battle against the kamikazes would sorely test all previous skill, knowledge, and experience.

Hellcat Squadrons in Combat: September to November, 1944

VF-2	Hornet	Commander William A. Dean, Jr.
VF-3	Yorktown	Lieutenant Commander W. L. Lamberson
VF-4	Bunker Hill, Essex	Lieutenant Commander K. G. Hammond
VF-7	Hancock	Lieutenant Commander Leonard J. Check
VF-8	Bunker Hill	Commander William M. Collins, Jr.
VF-11	Hornet	Lieutenant Commander Eugene G Fairfax
VF-13	Franklin	Commander William M. Coleman
VF-14	Wasp	Lieutenant Commander R. Gray, Lieutenant Commander H. H. Hassenfratz
VF-15	Essex	Lieutenant Commander James F. Rigg
VF-18	Intrepid	Lieutenant E.J. Murphy
VF-19	Lexington	Lieutenant Commander F. E. Cook, Jr. (KIA), Lieutenant R. Boles (KIA)
VF-20	Enterprise	Commander F. E. Bakutis, Commander James S. Gray
VF-21	Belleau Wood	Lieutenant Commander V. F. Casey
VF-22	Cowpens	Lieutenant L. L. Johnson
VF-27	Princeton	Lieutenant Commander Frederick A Bardshar
VF-28	Monterey	Lieutenant Commander Roger W. Mehle
VF-29	Cabot	Lieutenant Commander W. E. Eder
VF-31	Cabot	Lieutenant Commander D.J. Wallace, Jr.
VF-32	Langley	Commander Eddie C. Outlaw
VF-44	Langley	Commander Malcolm T. Wordell
VF-51	San Jacinto	Commander Charles L. Moore