Late in 1941, President Roosevelt Ordered an Urgently Needed Re-Supply Convoy Sent to the Philippines to Bolster Macarthur’S Garrisons

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The USS Pensacola (CA-24) would become the namesake of the most controversial convoy in the history of WW II. Late in 1941, President Roosevelt ordered an urgently needed re-supply convoy sent to the Philippines to bolster MacArthur’s garrisons. Had this convoy not been the victim of timidity and military wrangling, it might have reached its destination and changed the entire course of the Pacific War.

few months prior to 7 December 1941 and the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, President Franklin D. Roosevelt formulated plans to send a military convoy to the Philippines to Areinforce Gen. Douglas MacArthur’s garrisons in the islands. On 14 November, Operation Plum was given the go-ahead. Seven merchant vessels and two U. S. Navy warships were fitted out for the voyage to Manila. The troopships included the Willard A. Holbrook, Republic, Miens, Bloemfontein, Admiral Halstead, Farmer, and Chaumont. The escorts assigned to the Pacific crossing were the heavy cruiser USS Pensacola (CA-24) and the submarine chaser USS Niagara. The relief force, dubbed the Pensacola Convoy, comprised a brigade of National Guard artillery, 20 75mm guns, 52 Douglas A-24 dive bombers, 18 Curtiss P-40 fighters, 340 vehicles, a half-million round of .50-cal ammunition, 9,600 rounds of 37mm antiaircraft shells, 5,000 bombs, and 9,000 drums of aviation gasoline. On 20 November 1941, the 4,600 National Guard troops arrived at San Francisco. The First Battalion, 148the Idaho Field Artillery, and the First and Second Battalions of the 147th South Dakota Field Artillery marched aboard the Holbrook. The Bloemfuntein carried the Second Battalion of the 131st Texas Artillery. Willard Heath, of the 148th, stated: “Once aboard the ‘rust bucket’ Holbrook any preconceived ideas of a pleasure cruise soon vanished.” Originally the Holbrook had been a passenger vessel of the American President Lines. But she had outlived her usefulness in that capacity and had been converted to a freighter, sailing the ocean routes between the Philippine Islands and the US. The pungent odor of copra and jute permeated her holds, giving the ship the ignominious nickname of the “The stinkin’ old Holbrook” Cliff Causton, of B Battery 148th Artillery, remarked: “I was one of the first of our group to draw KP on the vessel. The first day out we had mutton stew. The nauseating smell of several cauldrons of meat The USAT Willard A. Holbrook had formerly been operated by bubbling away in the American President Lines as the SS President Taft. galley made me thankful we had stairs leading up to the main deck. If I had been forced to climb a ladder, I never would have made it topside to the rail.” The Holbrook steamed into Pearl Harbor, on 27 November - the same day that the USS Houston (CA-30), flagship of the Asiatic Fleet, received orders to be “fully fueled, provisioned, and ready to sail at a moments notice.” On Sunday, 30 November, the Pensacola Convoy formed and began its journey across the Pacific. Henry J. Batrol recalled: “I was standing on the upper deck of the Holbrook as we steamed out from Pearl Harbor. I looked up and noticed the sky covered with planes. I remarked to several officers nearby that the aircraft didn’t look like ours. I was then told, with confident authority, that if they were not our planes, Army Intelligence would have notified us.” The Pensacola Convoy crossed the Equator on 5 December, and the following day a foreboding omen occurred. A scout plane catapulted from the cruiser, failed to return. Early the next morning, word was piped over the PA systems that the Japanese had bombed Pearl Harbor. Willard Heath described the resulting flurry of activity: “Trouble must have been anticipated. Brushes and paint cans were immediately slapped into our hands. The red, white, and blue colors of the Holbrook were quickly obliterated by battleship gray as hundreds of men scrambled over the ship, repainting her from stem to stern and waterline to top mast. Any slowpokes, who didn’t move fast enough, were also painted battleship gray.” Lookouts were posted and cautioned to keep their eyes peeled for Japanese planes, submarines, and surface ships. Life rafts were lashed near the railings. All personnel were instructed to wear life jackets and carry a full canteen of water. Several hours later, news flashed over the radio that the US had declared war on Japan. Unconfirmed rumors flooded the airways - including a report that the Holbrook had been sunk or lost at sea. But the freighter was till afloat and made preparations to battle the enemy. Machine guns and ammunition were carried up from the hold, and the 50-cal weapons were mounted on the bow Meanwhile, back in the States, a controversy developed as to what to do with the Pensacola Convoy. Admiral Richmond K. Turner wanted the flotilla returned to Hawaii to reinforce the decimated army garrison. General Leonard T. Gerow stated that if the troopships were not recalled to Pearl Harbor, then they should be sent back to the US. The Joint Army Navy War Board finally approved a plan to return the Pensacola Convoy to Hawaii. However, Gen. George C. Marshall felt obligated to send help to MacArthur. On the morning of 10 December, a meeting was held at the White House where President Roosevelt expressed his opinion that the convoy should continue on its mission to the Far East. The Joint Board met that same afternoon, and a decision was reached to send the flotilla to Brisbane, Australia. Willard Heath recalled the tense voyage: “The convoy was zig-zagging, with the slowest ship determining our speed. We began to run far behind schedule. Meals were cut to twice a day. Bread molded, meat spoiled and drinking water tasted salty. The weather became very warm and humid. We had no idea where we were headed. Rumors, at first flooded the Holbrook, but then slowed to a trickle with the gradual realization that our destiny was completely out of our hands.” General MacArthur was elated when he received the news that reinforcements were on the way. He immediately conferred with the commander of the Asiatic Fleet, Adm. Thomas C. Hart, on the possibility of the Navy providing additional escort vessels for the dangerous trop from Brisbane to Manila. By employing American and Dutch Naval units, MacArthur was certain that the flotilla could get through. However, Adm Hart was pessimistic. He remarked that the Allies were fully engaged at Singapore and along the Malay Barrier, and the he could not take the responsibility for protecting the Pensacola Convoy with the few ships he had at his disposal. Hart also believed that the Japanese would have the Philippine Islands blockaded before reinforcements could arrive. General MacArthur was boiling mad. He stated emphatically that the flotilla would be able to make the voyage safely if adequate sea and air protection were provided. On 22 December, Japanese forces landed at Lingayen Gulf in northwest Luzon. And that same day the Pensacola Convoy steamed into the harbor at Brisbane, Australia. The ocean-weary soldiers anxiously disembarked from the transports. Hunger, thirst, and seasickness were completely forgotten as the troops paraded in perfect order through the city. Willard Heath remembered: “Crowds of people lined the streets and cheered. We were the first American contingent to land in their country. The Australians knew that the Japanese were moving south in their direction, while most of the Aussie Army was fighting in North Africa. The home front felt very vulnerable - and they were. “We marched to the Ascot Race Track, which had been turned into a military camp, and were quartered in pyramid shaped tents. The next morning, we lined up for what I thought would be a long-awaited real breakfast. One by one the troops passed down the chow line and held out their mess kits to the amiable, jolly cook. ‘Plop!’ A mutton chop - covered with grease which was already beginning to congeal. To the Australians, this was their idea of a treat. Fortunately there was plenty of fresh bread available. I had hoped for a good cup of coffee - but no luck, only weak tea with ‘generous’ amounts of milk and sugar stirred in.” While the troops of the Pensacola Convoy were enjoying the sights of Brisbane, their fate was being decided thousands of miles away. General MacArthur continued his efforts to convince Washington that the Philippines could be successfully defended against the Japanese, and it was the Navy’s responsibility to keep the Army supply lines open. He further insisted that the artillery brigade sail to Manila as soon as possible. But Adm. Harold Stark, Chief of Naval Operations, had already determined that the first line of defense would be the Malay Peninsula and the chain of islands north of Australia. The Joint War Board agreed that the Philippine Islands could not be defended. However, Henry L. Stimson, Secretary of War, urged that the US had an obligation to support the Filipinos, or else lose face with the rest of the Oriental world. In order to pacify MacArthur, Stark directed Adm. Hart to cooperate with the Army in transporting by air urgently needed supplies “when practicable.” General George H. Brett was sent to Australia to establish an air base. The planes, in crates aboard the Pensacola Convoy, were ordered taken off, reassembled, and flown north with all the ammunition and equipment they could carry. But, when the aircraft were brought ashore, various critical parts were missing - including trigger motors, gun sights, and self-sealing gas tanks. On the afternoon of 28 December, the Idaho and South Dakota battalions marched aboard the two fastest transports - the Holbrook and Chaumont. With the Pensacola as their escort, the troopships were ordered to make a dash to Manila. The following day the Bloemfontein, carrying the Texas Field Artillery Battalion, steamed for Surabaya, Java. But valuable time had been wasted. While the Allies engaged in rhetoric, the Japanese were on the move. They quickly established bases in Sumatra, Java, and Borneo. It soon became apparent that the prospect of the Pensacola Convoy dodging the enemy blockade was slim - if not impossible. The convoy was directed to change course and head for Darwin, Australia. The transports and protecting cruiser raced northwest, through the Torres Strait and across the Arafura Sea, arriving at Darwin on 6 January 1942. However, because of 28-ft tides, the ship were forced to drift into the anchorage with the flood tide. When the tide was out, ships rested with their keels on the bottom of the harbor - virtually defenseless against enemy air attacks. Joe Tomecek recalled: “When we pulled into Darwin, I was able to look down on the wharf from the deck of the Holbrook. But by the time we disembarked, the tide had gone out, and we had to walk up the gangplank to the dock.” The Japanese Army continued its advance down the Malay Barrier. By the middle of February they had reached Timor at the eastern end of the Netherlands East Indies. The capture of this island would put Japanese land and air forces within 400 miles of Darwin. A frantic decision was made by the Allied High Command to reinforce Dutch and Australian soldiers on Timor in hopes of stopping the enemy’s progress. The operation was given the code name Sparrow Force. Four small freighters were assigned to transport the expedition. The 148th Idaho Field Artillery got the call, along with a battalion of Australian infantry and an Aussie anti-tank unit. On 14 February, the American contingent boarded the Tulagi and Port Mar. The two cargo vessels had previously been hauling pineapples, sugar cane, and cattle. With the oppressive heat of the “Down Under” summer, the stench below decks was overpowering. The Australian detachment packed the gunwales of the Miens and Mauna Loa. The convoy sneaked out of Darwin at dusk, escorted by the heavy cruiser Houston and the destroyer USS Peary (DD-226). Two Australian corvettes, the Swan and Warrego, protected the flanks of the flotilla. No air cover was provided. Willard Heath commented on the voyage: “In retrospect, the entire mission was ill- conceived. The Convoy had to cross more than 400 miles of open ocean with no air support - then establish a beachhead on an island that might already be crawling with Japs. There was also the problem of transferring the artillery ashore. Barges had been constructed from 50-gal drums and wood planking. Our 75s were to be loaded onto these rafts. The ships carried trucks to haul the guns, but the vehicles also had to be floated to the landing site. It would have been a horrendous task even without enemy interference. But, as it was, the whole venture had all the earmarks of a disaster - along with the frightening possibility of losing about 800 men in the attempt.” At noon, the following say, a Japanese Kawanishi flying boat spotted the convoy and trailed it for an hour. Captain Albert Rooks, commanding officer of the Houston, radioed Darwin for fighter cover, but there was only one P-40 at the airbase. Lieutenant Robert J. Buel did not hesitate. He immediately jumped into his plane and took off. As Buel dived out of the sun at the Kawanishi, the Japanese pilot dropped his bombs (narrowly missing the Port Mar) and began evasive tactics. Topside, on the flotilla, ever eye was on the P-40 as it dashed in hot pursuit of the enemy aircraft. A minute later, there was a bright flash on the horizon as both planes disappeared from view. Lieutenant Buel never returned to base - neither did the Kawanishi. Captain Rooks was well aware that a bombing run on the convoy was only hours away. On 4 February, the Houston and the USS Marblehead (CL-12) had barely escaped with their lives after fighting off an air attack at the southern end of the Makassar Strait. During the bombing, the Houston received a hit aft that killed 48 men and knocked her rear turret out of commission. Above: is the USS Marblehead (CL-12) undated photo to the left...the right one is showing damage she receive in the Makassar Strait.

The Timor-bound convoy quickly became top priority on the enemy’s list of targets. Early the next morning, 36 Japanese land-based bombers and ten float planes roared across the sky at 20,000-ft. Four flight raced in from different directions - all in perfect “V” formations. Five of the aircraft circled like vultures above the ships - waiting to pick off any vessel that might stray to far from the defensive perimeter. It quickly became apparent that the Japanese intended to sink the Houston first and then concentrate their attention on the vulnerable troopships. Bombs splashed on all sides of the cruiser as Capt. Rooks waved his ship in and out of the convoy - repelling group afer group of enemy planes. Firing more than 900 rounds in less than 45 minutes, the Houston gun crews made their ship appear a “sheet of flame.” After each angry salvo, the air was torn by earsplitting explosions, and large, deadly cotton balls began to carpet the sky. Although shells from the Houston’s batteries were only able to reach halfway to the bombers, the steady barrage of gunfire disrupted the aim of the high-flying aircraft. Near misses swamped the cruiser’s decks like giant tidal waves, but she bounced back like a cork, while her red-hot guns continued to blister the air with shrapnel. The commanding officer of one ship laid on the deck of his bridge and followed the incoming planes through high powered binoculars. He knew the altitude of the aircraft and the time required for the missiles to fall. As son as a Japanese plane dropped its stick of bombs, the captain would shout his orders to the helmsman, and the vessel would swing hard right or left - the projectiles splashing harmlessly nearby. Jack Allured was topside on the Port Mar when several bombs exploded close to the freighter: “Our turn came when a formation of planes flew directly overhead. The sound of falling bombs was new to us - but once heard, is never forgotten. It began with a faint rushing noise that quickly turned into a hiss - becoming louder and louder until it sounded like an escape valve going off on a steam engine. The rumble and shock of the underwater explosions caused our ship to shake so hard that rivets popped.” After an hour of combat, the frustrated Japanese cut off the attack and returned to base. Surprisingly, the convoy escaped unscathed - with the exception of two men on the Mauna Loa who were wounded by flying shrapnel. After the “All Clear” sounded, the Houston steamed abreast of the Tulagi and Port Marl. Captain Rooks dipped his ship’s flag and the Task Force Cmdr., Lt. Col. James C. Patterson, returned the salute. The soldiers expressed their appreciation with rousing cheers. But the expedition was now in jeopardy. The convoy had been discovered. Any attempted landing would be a reckless venture. In addition, a Japanese carrier force had been reported in the Flores Sea. The efforts to reinforce Allied troops on Timor had been too little and too late. The Houston was directed to return the flotilla to Australia. The men of the convoy breathed signs of relief when their ships steamed into Darwin Harbor on the morning of 18 February. However their rejoicing proved to be only temporary. Unknowingly they had sailed into a trap. The Miens and Mauna Loa were directed to unload Aussie troops at the dock. But the harbor was overcrowded with vessels, and the Tulagi and Port Mar were ordered to anchor out in the bay - with the American artillery units remaining on board. Among the ship moored in the anchorage was a former Navy four- stack destroyer, the USS William B. Preston (AVD- 7). She had converted to a seaplane tender, but her captain made a respectable warship out of the craft by scrounging up 17 .30- and .50-cal machine guns - salvaged from wrecked PBYs - and mounting them wherever there was room. The Houston and Peary hurriedly refueled. USS William B. Preston (DD-344) as she appeared before being They had received urgent converted to a seaplane tender and re-designated (AVD-7) instructions to join Dutch Adm. Karl Doorman’s Allied fleet in the Java Sea. Soon after departing Darwin, the Peary picked up a submarine contact and conducted an aggressive search. The enemy boat managed to escape, but the

USS Houston (CA-30) (right center) At Darwin, Australia, probably on 15 or 18 February 1942. The destroyer astern of Houston may be USS Peary (DD-226). Among the ships in the background, to the left, are HMAS Terka and the SS Zealandia. cat-and-mouse game exhausted much of the destroyer’s fuel supply. The Peary was ordered back to Darwin for refueling. After the Miens and Mauna Loa had finished unloading their troops, the freighters moved out in the bay, relinquishing their wharf space to a couple of British ammunition ships - the Neptuna and Zealandia. About 1000-hrs the following day, several waves of Japanese bombers and fighters swept in over the harbor. No air warnings had been received. The first group of bombers raced across the dock area. The English vessels took direct hits and disintegrated in a tremendous explosion. Flames and smoke shot several hundred feet in the air - topped off by a mushroom shaped cloud. A second enemy flight blasted the Darwin airfield and plastered the town with incendiaries - setting building and warehouses ablaze. At the same time, a squadron of dive bombers darted across the bay - intent on sinking any vessel that attempted to escape the onslaught. The Mauna Loa caught two missiles down an open hatch and sunk like a lead bar. The Miens was clobbered by three bombs and an aerial torpedo. She disappeared under 20 fathoms of foaming sea. The Admiral Halstead had a hole blown in her hull and most of her rigging shot away. But while the ship was slowly sinking, her crew unloaded the freighter’s valuable cargo of aviation fuel, and floated the precious gasoline drums ashore. An Australian hospital ship, the Manunda, was struck several times - even though she was marked with a bright red cross. And the Norwegian tanker, Benjamin Franklin, was also badly damaged. A Brazilian merchantman, the Don Isidro, was sunk outside the harbor. In the midst of lung- choking smoke, spreading flames, and the resulting Australian hospital ship “Manunda” chaos, the Peary and Preston careened at high speed through the water - their tracers seeking out enemy planes that darted from the rolling clouds of black fog. Suddenly, four dive bombers dropped from the sky toward the lightly armed seaplane tender. However, the Preston’s antiaircraft fire was too hot to handle for a couple of the Japanese pilots and they veered off from the vessel. But the other two planes slipped through the death-dealing curtain of steel. The explosive fury of three bombs ripped the tender - lashing the ship with shrapnel. The Preston was severely damaged but refused to sink. She continued to pepper the sky with her machine guns, and was one of the few ships to survive the Japanese attack. The Peary zig-zagged at high speed back and forth across the cluttered harbor - avoiding burning and sinking ships - dodging aerial torpedoes - and barely clearing bomb straddles. But the destroyer’s luck was about to run out. Two bombs crashed the vessel. One missile exploded on her fantail - demolishing the depth charge racks, shearing off the propeller guards, and flooding the steering-engine room. Moments later, an incendiary plowed into the galley - turning the ship into a flaming pyre. Despite the crippling assault, the Peary had plenty of fight left in her. For nearly three hours, damage control crews fought the flames, while antiaircraft batteries battled the enemy planes. More bombs buffeted the destroyer - including an incendiary that burst in the aft engine room. The Peary began to break up and sink. Her guns were still firing as the clutching sea lapped over her decks.

USS Peary (DD-226) as she appeared in 1921 shortly after being commissioned.

USS Peary (DD-226) afire and beginning to drift. Australian hospital ship Manunda is at right. [inset pic] English tanker British Motorist just prior to capsizing. Fore part of USS Peary (DD-226) is shown being swept into the main channel just prior to sinking (at right).

Meanwhile, the men of the 148th Artillery were mad as rabid dogs. Not only had the Australians refused to let them land the day before, but now they were trapped aboard two small freighters - setting ducks for the swarming Japanese air squadrons. Well, if the Japs wanted a war - they were about to find one. The troops aboard the Tulagi and Port Mar grabbed every weapon they could lay their hands on. Machine guns and ammunition were quickly hauled topside and put to immediate use. An unrelenting barrage of antiaircraft fire pockmarked the sky. The noise was deafening. Oppressive heat and blinding smoke blanketed the decks of the vessels. Swift dive bombers plunged down on the angry Americans. Bullets and flying shrapnel splintered the rust from bulkheads as the strafing planes zoomed overhead. Dudley Smith, on the Tulagi, wrote: “All hell broke loose. Three gunners were killed when they were struck by bomb fragments and bullets.” One Japanese pilot had a single bomb remaining and decided to make a run on the port side of the Tulagi. He raced in with his wing-guns blazing, but Sgt. Hulse and Pvt. Sam did not budge. They cut loose with their .50-cal weapons - firing point-blank at the on-rushing aircraft.

Bottom left is the Corvette HMS Armidale and upper right is the SS Tulagi in this undated photo.

At the last moment, before smashing into the freighter, the Jap sung away - dropping his bomb alongside the vessel. The captain of the Tulagi immediately headed for shallow water - driving his vessel aground to keep her from sinking. Louis Kohl recalled what happened next: “We were ordered to abandon ship. Some men jumped into the water, while others climbed down ropes that had been tossed over the side. We swam or grabbed anything that would float - finally reaching a small island in the harbor.” Dudley Smit stated: “I found a small board in the water and began paddling toward shore. The First Engineer, struggling nearby, cried out the he couldn’t swim. I shouted back that if he touched my plank I’d kill him. But then I got soft-hearted and shoved the board to him. The ship’s captain yelled a warning, ‘Watch for sharks!’ The unanimous answer - “To hell with the sharks, let ’em look out for themselves!” The Port Mar was also whip lashed during the violent air and sea struggle. Lloyd Henrichs commented: “We were directed to abandon ship. Life rafts had been constructed from planks and oil drums. I ordered my section aboard a raft, but is sank from too much weight. We climbed back on the freighter just in time for the vessel to get up the steam and head for the beach. The empty raft was dragged into the ship’s propellers and chewed to pieces. Several weeks later, I noticed the Port Mar in dry-dock. She had 98 hole in her sides. The most disturbing aspect of the Japanese bombing raid on Darwin was the lack of any warning. Willard Heath explained: “At 0930 on the day of the attack, a Catholic missionary at Bathurst Island - 50 miles north-northwest of Darwin - observed four squadrons of planes and transmitted a radio message before the enemy flight arrived. The communication was received and the Royal Australian Air Force notified. However, the RAAF assumed that the aircraft were P-40s returning from Java, and the report was ignored. An alarm was frantically sounded about 1000 - just as the bombs were beginning to fall. Ironically, it was an ‘All Clear’ signal.” Although the Pensacola Convoy failed to reach Manila, the 148th Field Artillery completed the mission. They did it the hard way - battling the Japanese across New Guinea, New Britain, Leyte and Mindoro - finally landing Lingayen Gulf, Luzon, on 9 January 1945. The end of their long journey was now less than two months away.

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