thedrifter
10-19-02, 01:16 PM
Life so far had been pretty good to Frank Gross. Just shy of 21, his khaki shirt already sported the duel chevrons of a Marine corporal. He and his fellow 392 leathernecks of the lst Defense Battalion had been getting three squares a day, time off, beer at the slop chute and mail from home. Frank's sister wrote of worrying over him with the world seemingly determined to plunge itself into war. Frank responded: "The war is in Europe. The further I get out in the Pacific, the further I get away from war."
Gross had noted, however, that events had taken an upturned tempo with the arrival of the new commanding officer, Major James P. S. Devereux. Building up the island's fortifications took more time from gun drills on the .50-caliber machine gun the corporal helped crew.
James O. King, a 20-year-old private first class assigned as a communicator to Devereux's command post, let it be known that the new CO was a quiet, by the book Marine, a combat veteran of the "Banana Wars" in Nicaragua and a captain of horse Marines in China.
It was about that time that the battalion went to a seven-day workweek. It was dig, dig, dig, push, push, push, work, work and work some more improving defenses and fortifications. Scuttlebutt had it that the new "skipper" knew something was going to happen.
PFC Jack Davis ventured, "Something is coming down. We aren't out here diggin' foxholes in the sand for nothing."
Eighteen-year-old Private Ewing E. "E. E." Laporte speculated with his fellow privates that it could be that the Japanese were coming. Sergeant Ray L. Coulson admonished them, saying if that happened, the American fleet would arrive in a few days and "just tear that Japanese fleet up." He piled on more work, and the "snuffy" chatter ceased.
Still, with the exception of Devereux, not many on Wake Island felt the urgency of impending war. Wake is a V-shaped Pacific atoll 1,000 to 2,000 miles from any place of any recognition or importance. Midway, Wake and Guam are the stepping stones across the Pacific from Hawaii. Wake, however, is a small stone. Its 2.5 square miles, barely discernible above the sea, had never been inhabited until after a British schooner landed at the island in 1796. Smaller than New York City's Central Park, Wake is separated from Peale Island by a small channel at the north end. An even smaller channel at the south separates Wake from Wilkes Island. It wasn't then or now much to write home about.
Young Marines shrugged as they dug and wondered, "What would the Japanese want with this place?" Devereux knew, and he pushed them to be ready.
So did Rear Admiral Sadamichi Kajioka, commander of the Imperial Japanese Navy's Fourth Fleet of three cruisers, six destroyers, at least two submarines, two assault-transports and two transports berthing the Special Naval Landing Force or "Imperial Marines" churning at a steady speed from the Marshall Islands toward Wake.
Kajioka understood the capture of Wake and Guam would prevent the Americans from launching air attacks on the Japanese-held Marshall and Gilbert islands, block American supplies to the Philippines and provide a base for reconnaissance for the invasion of Midway. Kajioka glanced at the ship's clock. It was nearly noon, 8 Dec. 1941, in that quadrant of the Pacific. There could be no turning back. The rear admiral knew as he prepared to invade Wake that 2,004 miles east, across the International Dateline, the naval forces of ADM Isoroku Yamamoto had, a few hours earlier, attacked the U.S. fleet at Pearl Harbor.
North of Wake at 12,000 feet, 36 twin-engine Japanese bombers had made the long 720-mile flight from their Marshall Island base at Roi. The group leader of Air Attack Force Number 1, Twenty-Fourth Air Flotilla noted a squall at about 2,000 feet directly above Wake. It would add to his element of surprise. He ordered his group into a gliding approach.
There had been disturbing and confusing rumors circulated all morning among those occupying the island—stories of garbled messages from Hickam Field, Oahu, Hawaii, indicating Oahu had been bombed.
Jack Davis, normally at his searchlight with Battery G on Wilkes Island, had drawn duty in the officers' mess. He watched Devereux come in and announce to the officers that he had received a message from the Army at Hickam Field saying it was no drill. Devereux ordered Field Music Alvin J. Waronker to "sound General Quarters." Waronker blew "Fire Call," but everyone got the idea.
Ammunition cases were broken open, Springfield '03 rifles came out of their racks, 782 gear and World War I "skimmer" style helmets were donned, and everyone reported to their section chiefs. Pvt Laporte, after a shaky start during which he donned Frank Gross' shirt with corporal chevrons, was on a truck headed to Peale Island when someone said Pearl Harbor was bombed. He and the rest had a good laugh.
Frank Gross called it "lollygagging," a term that comes and goes in the lexicon of the Corps. Marines are warned against lollygagging, but when they are not working, lollygagging and beating their gums is what they do. So it was with Gross and the Marines around him waiting at their guns. Gross talked corporal to corporal with Frank Gutherie, who manned one of the 5-inch guns. "Gutherie, what do you think this is?"
"Oh, just a big Pacific maneuver," he answered.
It was at the midday meal over stew that Gross sought a more learned opinion from Second Lieutenant Robert M. Hanna, when he noticed several planes drop through the clouds. They speculated the planes to be inbound American B-17 Flying Fortress bombers. They watched them fly directly over head about 1,000 feet up and felt like they could almost reach up and touch them. A moment later the planes were over the airport and let loose with bombs. That's when everyone knew the war had started.
The klaxon horn sounded and scared everyone more than the bombs. Marines threw down their stew and coffee and scrambled for their weapons.
Frederick Knight, one of Dan Teters' civilians working under Navy contract, heard someone holler, "Here come our planes." He and his fellow workers ran into the street and were met by bullets from strafing Japanese bombers. Knight ducked behind a tree. Behind him were many of his cohorts, dead and dying in the street.
Marine Fighting Squadron 211 with its 12 new Grumman F4F Wildcat fighters had arrived at Wake's airfield only four days earlier. Revetments were still being built, and the VMF-211 commander, Maj Paul A. Putnam, had ordered pilots and mechanics to disperse the parked aircraft as widely as possible. He'd sent up four planes to patrol the island; however, they missed the incoming Japanese.
First Lieutenant William W. Lewis, an experienced antiaircraft artilleryman who commanded Btry E at Peacock Point on Wake, saw the Japanese planes. His battery opened up with 3-inch antiaircraft guns and .50-cal. machine guns. It was nowhere near enough.
http://www.mca-marines.org/Leatherneck/dec01wake.htm
Sempers,
Roger
Gross had noted, however, that events had taken an upturned tempo with the arrival of the new commanding officer, Major James P. S. Devereux. Building up the island's fortifications took more time from gun drills on the .50-caliber machine gun the corporal helped crew.
James O. King, a 20-year-old private first class assigned as a communicator to Devereux's command post, let it be known that the new CO was a quiet, by the book Marine, a combat veteran of the "Banana Wars" in Nicaragua and a captain of horse Marines in China.
It was about that time that the battalion went to a seven-day workweek. It was dig, dig, dig, push, push, push, work, work and work some more improving defenses and fortifications. Scuttlebutt had it that the new "skipper" knew something was going to happen.
PFC Jack Davis ventured, "Something is coming down. We aren't out here diggin' foxholes in the sand for nothing."
Eighteen-year-old Private Ewing E. "E. E." Laporte speculated with his fellow privates that it could be that the Japanese were coming. Sergeant Ray L. Coulson admonished them, saying if that happened, the American fleet would arrive in a few days and "just tear that Japanese fleet up." He piled on more work, and the "snuffy" chatter ceased.
Still, with the exception of Devereux, not many on Wake Island felt the urgency of impending war. Wake is a V-shaped Pacific atoll 1,000 to 2,000 miles from any place of any recognition or importance. Midway, Wake and Guam are the stepping stones across the Pacific from Hawaii. Wake, however, is a small stone. Its 2.5 square miles, barely discernible above the sea, had never been inhabited until after a British schooner landed at the island in 1796. Smaller than New York City's Central Park, Wake is separated from Peale Island by a small channel at the north end. An even smaller channel at the south separates Wake from Wilkes Island. It wasn't then or now much to write home about.
Young Marines shrugged as they dug and wondered, "What would the Japanese want with this place?" Devereux knew, and he pushed them to be ready.
So did Rear Admiral Sadamichi Kajioka, commander of the Imperial Japanese Navy's Fourth Fleet of three cruisers, six destroyers, at least two submarines, two assault-transports and two transports berthing the Special Naval Landing Force or "Imperial Marines" churning at a steady speed from the Marshall Islands toward Wake.
Kajioka understood the capture of Wake and Guam would prevent the Americans from launching air attacks on the Japanese-held Marshall and Gilbert islands, block American supplies to the Philippines and provide a base for reconnaissance for the invasion of Midway. Kajioka glanced at the ship's clock. It was nearly noon, 8 Dec. 1941, in that quadrant of the Pacific. There could be no turning back. The rear admiral knew as he prepared to invade Wake that 2,004 miles east, across the International Dateline, the naval forces of ADM Isoroku Yamamoto had, a few hours earlier, attacked the U.S. fleet at Pearl Harbor.
North of Wake at 12,000 feet, 36 twin-engine Japanese bombers had made the long 720-mile flight from their Marshall Island base at Roi. The group leader of Air Attack Force Number 1, Twenty-Fourth Air Flotilla noted a squall at about 2,000 feet directly above Wake. It would add to his element of surprise. He ordered his group into a gliding approach.
There had been disturbing and confusing rumors circulated all morning among those occupying the island—stories of garbled messages from Hickam Field, Oahu, Hawaii, indicating Oahu had been bombed.
Jack Davis, normally at his searchlight with Battery G on Wilkes Island, had drawn duty in the officers' mess. He watched Devereux come in and announce to the officers that he had received a message from the Army at Hickam Field saying it was no drill. Devereux ordered Field Music Alvin J. Waronker to "sound General Quarters." Waronker blew "Fire Call," but everyone got the idea.
Ammunition cases were broken open, Springfield '03 rifles came out of their racks, 782 gear and World War I "skimmer" style helmets were donned, and everyone reported to their section chiefs. Pvt Laporte, after a shaky start during which he donned Frank Gross' shirt with corporal chevrons, was on a truck headed to Peale Island when someone said Pearl Harbor was bombed. He and the rest had a good laugh.
Frank Gross called it "lollygagging," a term that comes and goes in the lexicon of the Corps. Marines are warned against lollygagging, but when they are not working, lollygagging and beating their gums is what they do. So it was with Gross and the Marines around him waiting at their guns. Gross talked corporal to corporal with Frank Gutherie, who manned one of the 5-inch guns. "Gutherie, what do you think this is?"
"Oh, just a big Pacific maneuver," he answered.
It was at the midday meal over stew that Gross sought a more learned opinion from Second Lieutenant Robert M. Hanna, when he noticed several planes drop through the clouds. They speculated the planes to be inbound American B-17 Flying Fortress bombers. They watched them fly directly over head about 1,000 feet up and felt like they could almost reach up and touch them. A moment later the planes were over the airport and let loose with bombs. That's when everyone knew the war had started.
The klaxon horn sounded and scared everyone more than the bombs. Marines threw down their stew and coffee and scrambled for their weapons.
Frederick Knight, one of Dan Teters' civilians working under Navy contract, heard someone holler, "Here come our planes." He and his fellow workers ran into the street and were met by bullets from strafing Japanese bombers. Knight ducked behind a tree. Behind him were many of his cohorts, dead and dying in the street.
Marine Fighting Squadron 211 with its 12 new Grumman F4F Wildcat fighters had arrived at Wake's airfield only four days earlier. Revetments were still being built, and the VMF-211 commander, Maj Paul A. Putnam, had ordered pilots and mechanics to disperse the parked aircraft as widely as possible. He'd sent up four planes to patrol the island; however, they missed the incoming Japanese.
First Lieutenant William W. Lewis, an experienced antiaircraft artilleryman who commanded Btry E at Peacock Point on Wake, saw the Japanese planes. His battery opened up with 3-inch antiaircraft guns and .50-cal. machine guns. It was nowhere near enough.
http://www.mca-marines.org/Leatherneck/dec01wake.htm
Sempers,
Roger