Read Online Ship of Ghosts by James D. Hornfischer - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: James D. Hornfischer
Ads: Link
the Combined Striking Force, under the overall command of Helfrich, who in turn delegated its tactical control to Rear Admiral Doorman.
Doorman was aggressive, but even the boldest deployment of cruisers faced dim prospects under enemy-controlled skies. The Combined Striking Force’s February 3 sortie, abandoned after the
Houston
took that terrible bomb hit on Turret Three, revealed the difficulties that even the most powerful surface squadron would have in a theater dominated by enemy planes. As his damaged ship docked at Tjilatjap in the first week of February, Captain Rooks might well have seen the evolving Allied predicament as similar to Spain’s doomed attempt in 1898 to hold Cuba and Puerto Rico during the Spanish-American War as an American invasion loomed. He had studied it at the War College. The commander of Spain’sCaribbean Squadron, Adm. Pasqual Cervera, had seen the futility of defending “an island which was ours, but belongs to us no more, because even if we should not lose it by right in the war we have lost it in fact, and with it all our wealth and an enormous number of young men, victims of the climate and bullets, in the defense of what is now no more than a romantic ideal.”
CHAPTER 6
R omantic ideals dissolved quickly in the Pacific war’s early days. As the last Allied base in the Sunda chain beyond the reach of Japanese bombers, located in the center part of the island’s south coast, away from the pincers of Japanese airpower encroaching from east and west, Tjilatjap had drawn a multinational crowd of ships, naval and merchant alike, seeking to elude the onslaught. It was clear that nothing could be done for the grievous wound to the
Houston
’s after turret. Although support ships were on hand to service destroyers and submarines short on ordnance, stores, and parts, the
Houston
’s after turret was a permanent ruin, its internal circuitry burned out, breechblocks and firing locks frozen into place. The crew used a dockside crane to hoist the turret assembly back onto its roller bearings. Shipfitters patched the roof of the gun house with a big steel plate, draped a canvas shield over the turret’s side, and trained it aft, creating the appearance of combat readiness. Two fractured longitudinal support beams under the main deck were replaced with rails from the train yard near the docks. The
Houston
’s forward antiaircraft director was jury-rigged back into service, and stocks of antiquated five-inch projectiles were replaced with five hundred live rounds taken from the
Boise
. The most modern ship in the theater, the
Boise
had been forced to Ceylon after runningaground off Timor. Her last contribution was leaving her valuable ordnance behind.
The most important service was rendered to the
Houston
’s deceased. The crew stood at attention in their dress whites as the dead followed the wounded ashore. As they were loaded onto Dutch Army flatbed trucks, the ship’s band performed Chopin’s funeral dirge. The solemn procession marked the turning of a page. Among the men killed in the inferno in Turret Three was warrant officer Joseph A. Bienert, a boatswain, whose last act before the bomb struck was to order one of his electricians forward to check the circuitry on a malfunctioning five-inch projectile hoist. The order spared Howard Brooks his life. The electrician’s mate returned aft to find Bienert sitting there with his insides blown out. “Oh, don’t bother with me,” Bienert said. “Go help someone that you can help. Don’t bother with me.” Bienert was the only man among the
Houston
’s fifty-four officers and warrants who had been on board for President Roosevelt’s memorable cruise in 1938, when the band was playing a very different tune.
As the funeral procession motored off along Tjilatjap’s dusty streets to the beachside cemetery, an uneasy feeling became palpable among the newly war-wise sailors. Crossing-the-line initiations, tropical fishing expeditions,
Doorman was aggressive, but even the boldest deployment of cruisers faced dim prospects under enemy-controlled skies. The Combined Striking Force’s February 3 sortie, abandoned after the
Houston
took that terrible bomb hit on Turret Three, revealed the difficulties that even the most powerful surface squadron would have in a theater dominated by enemy planes. As his damaged ship docked at Tjilatjap in the first week of February, Captain Rooks might well have seen the evolving Allied predicament as similar to Spain’s doomed attempt in 1898 to hold Cuba and Puerto Rico during the Spanish-American War as an American invasion loomed. He had studied it at the War College. The commander of Spain’sCaribbean Squadron, Adm. Pasqual Cervera, had seen the futility of defending “an island which was ours, but belongs to us no more, because even if we should not lose it by right in the war we have lost it in fact, and with it all our wealth and an enormous number of young men, victims of the climate and bullets, in the defense of what is now no more than a romantic ideal.”
CHAPTER 6
R omantic ideals dissolved quickly in the Pacific war’s early days. As the last Allied base in the Sunda chain beyond the reach of Japanese bombers, located in the center part of the island’s south coast, away from the pincers of Japanese airpower encroaching from east and west, Tjilatjap had drawn a multinational crowd of ships, naval and merchant alike, seeking to elude the onslaught. It was clear that nothing could be done for the grievous wound to the
Houston
’s after turret. Although support ships were on hand to service destroyers and submarines short on ordnance, stores, and parts, the
Houston
’s after turret was a permanent ruin, its internal circuitry burned out, breechblocks and firing locks frozen into place. The crew used a dockside crane to hoist the turret assembly back onto its roller bearings. Shipfitters patched the roof of the gun house with a big steel plate, draped a canvas shield over the turret’s side, and trained it aft, creating the appearance of combat readiness. Two fractured longitudinal support beams under the main deck were replaced with rails from the train yard near the docks. The
Houston
’s forward antiaircraft director was jury-rigged back into service, and stocks of antiquated five-inch projectiles were replaced with five hundred live rounds taken from the
Boise
. The most modern ship in the theater, the
Boise
had been forced to Ceylon after runningaground off Timor. Her last contribution was leaving her valuable ordnance behind.
The most important service was rendered to the
Houston
’s deceased. The crew stood at attention in their dress whites as the dead followed the wounded ashore. As they were loaded onto Dutch Army flatbed trucks, the ship’s band performed Chopin’s funeral dirge. The solemn procession marked the turning of a page. Among the men killed in the inferno in Turret Three was warrant officer Joseph A. Bienert, a boatswain, whose last act before the bomb struck was to order one of his electricians forward to check the circuitry on a malfunctioning five-inch projectile hoist. The order spared Howard Brooks his life. The electrician’s mate returned aft to find Bienert sitting there with his insides blown out. “Oh, don’t bother with me,” Bienert said. “Go help someone that you can help. Don’t bother with me.” Bienert was the only man among the
Houston
’s fifty-four officers and warrants who had been on board for President Roosevelt’s memorable cruise in 1938, when the band was playing a very different tune.
As the funeral procession motored off along Tjilatjap’s dusty streets to the beachside cemetery, an uneasy feeling became palpable among the newly war-wise sailors. Crossing-the-line initiations, tropical fishing expeditions,
Similar Books
