The voyage, week after week of monotonous steaming through the long pacific swell was completely uneventful and when at last we approached our destination, every ship was in position according to the pre-arranged plan. There had been no loss or damage from enemy action and very few signs of enemy air reconnaissance. One can only presume that the bold plan of going for the center atoll of the Marshalls had taken the Japs completely by surprise.
Our main objectives in the Northern Attack Force were the islands of Roi and Namur. But unfortunately both these islands are on the windward side of the Kwajalein atoll ring where the heavy reefs make direct assault impossible. In other words we must first capture islands on the leeward or clam weather side, force an entrance into the lagoon and then attack the main objectives from inside.
As dawn broke on "D" day, Phelps ahead of the rest of the Task Force was nosing in towards the first objectives. In the darkness we had seen lights burning on Roi and Namur, where the Japs were obviously trying to repair the damage from the previous day's bombing. Now as the small flat islands became visible, in the morning light with their clusters of palms sticking out of the vast expanse of water, they looked rather like the sort of mirage one would expect after a long march across the Sahara. Flying fish kept skimming out of the water, wondering what all the commotion was about.
At exactly the appointed second, the Captain ordered "Open Fire" and with a blinding flash of her broadside, Phelps had the honor of starting the bombardment. Almost immediately there were more flashes from further out as the battle ships, cruisers, and other destroyers let fly. It was far and away the most staggering bombardment I have ever seen and i have witnessed a good many in my time. Each ship took on not only her own particular island, but an actual spot on that island. The whole northern tip of the atoll ring was surrounded by ships pounding it from every side and if you watched carefully, you could see the bursts relentlessly and systematically creeping across each strip of land covering every possible point where there might be Jap emplacements or defenses. Then suddenly as if one master hand was controlling the trigger of every gun, the bombardment ceased, and as the great clouds of yellow cordite smoke drifted away in the breeze, gun crews tumbled out of their turrets and enjoyed a quick smoke while empty shell cases were heaved out of the way leaving everything clear for the next phase.
But that temporary lull in the ships allowed no respite for the defenders in the islands. Even as the smoke and dust from the last shells were subsiding, dive bombers were roaring in and carrying on the good work. One after the other came hurtling down, and from where we were close in shore we could watch every bomb leave the aircraft, see the flash as it exploded and almost determine from the palms, coral, or concrete thrown into the air exactly what had been hit. On the tails of the last dive bombers came the fighters, tracers from their cannon shells showing up brilliantly in the half light of early morning, and bouncing up like grotesque illuminated ping-pong balls as the shells exploded. As the last aircraft zoomed up into the sky and flew off to its carrier to reload, the warships opened up again. It was triumph of planning and concentrated action. The Phelps being closest in shore, had in addition to her scheduled bombardment program, the responsibility of dealing with individual targets as and when they presented themselves. Mow as the light improved, emplacements, barges, and observation posts became clearly apparent. All of them were systematically blown sky-high. It was a gunnlayer's paradise, and those gunlayers in the Phelps certainly knew their job.
By now the second phase of the operation was taking shape. While preliminary bombardment had been going on, transports and other parent ships had been disgorging their landing craft and scores of different types of amphibious tanks and assault boats were converging on the Phelps who had the additional duty of grouping them in their correct waves and then, at the right moment launching them for their assault.
The wind at this stage was freshening rapidly and had also backed a number of degrees. This meant that the beaches chosen for the first assault would not have as much lee as originally expected. From where were it was already plainly obvious that the surf was assuming considerable proportions.
As the assault craft approached the nearest beaches, it became plainly apparent from the was they were being tossed about in the rollers that it would be extremely difficult to force a landing at those points. One or two craft determined no doubt to live up to the spirit of their Colonel's final message, "Good luck to the first Marine to land on Jap soil" attempted to break through, were swung beam on and capsized. The remainder benefitting by their example concentrated on those points where there was a better lee and before long the first Marines were safely ashore. Almost immediately there was the rat-tat-tat of small firearms but soon these became more sporadic until about an hour later they finally died away, and it became obvious that the first objectives, were secure in our hands. Meanwhile there had been no let-up from the bombarding ships and aircraft. As the last Fighters had straffed the beaches immediately prior to the assault craft touching down on the first objectives, so the whole bombardment had lifted and moved to the next island to be taken.
Having safely dispatched the landing craft for the assault on the first islands, the Phelps next duty was to force an entrance into the lagoon and take up a pre-arranged position where the next groups of landing craft would rendezvous. As we steamed slowly through now accompanied by mine sweepers everyone was keeping an almost sharper lookout than ever. This was the point we had decided, where the enemy would have placed every trap in the way of mines and underwater obstructions to halt us and leave us a sitting target for his shore batteries. But almost before we had time to realize our good fortune, we were safely through the narrow channel and inside the enemy waters of the lagoon itself. From there it was a comparatively simple task to arrive at the exact point from which to launch the next attack and as we were receiving no interference from shore batteries, the anchor was let go. The first US ship the anchor in a Jap harbor in this war.
It was a strange and unforgettable sight inside that lagoon. There sat the Phelps looking rather like a dignified old duck with all her tiny ducklings fussing and spluttering around her. I couldn't help thinking what a wonderful cartoon Walt Disney could have made of it all. From the entrance we'd just come through, more and more ducklings were streaming towards us, freed at last from their long captivity in their parent ship. There they came in hundreds splashing along, carting this way and that, and as you'll always find in even the best organized circles the occasional Donald either late or spluttering around just avoiding collisions with someone else. On three sides we were surrounded by coral reefs and palm tree islands. Some of these islands particularly Roi and Namur were belching black smoke from oil tanks which had been hit. All with the exception of the two we'd already captured were being systematically pounded with shells and bombs.
outside beyond the atoll ring we could still see the transports and steaming to and fro the battleships and cruisers. Occasionally they would be hidden by an island and the flash of their guns would give an impression of having been fired from the island itself. Then a moment later they would appear from behind and be clearly visible above the white breakers in the coral reefs with the great flashes and clouds of yellow cordite smoke issuing from their guns. And again from beyond them, from carriers way over the horizon dive bombers and fighters were continually streaming in to drop their loads and return for more. The noise wa terrific and even our own broadside firing point blank at clearly defined targets on the islands about to be attacked were lost in the general uproar. Then suddenly a terrific explosion took place, louder than I have ever heard in my life, shook and rocked the lagoon. As an enormous release of white and black smoke shot upwards from Namur and belched out in a colossal mushroom, debris and bodies could be seen spinning round and round as in a gale. Some of the debris looked suspiciously like aircraft engines and we hoped and prayed that they didn't belong to our own spotting aircraft who had been above Namur and were now completely hidden by the billow of smoke. Obviously a large ammunition dump had been hit.
By now all the landing craft were in position and at a signal from Phelps they steamed off in perfect formation towards the next island to be captured. Just as in the morning attacks, covering fire from larger craft and fighters cleared the way before them, and by dusk all the scheduled objectives for "D" day were in our hands. And so as night closed down, Phelps, a few mine sweepers and some of the larger support landing craft remained inside the lagoon while the larger ships watched from the outside and the small amphibious assault craft lay high and dry on the beaches of the islands they had captured.
But there was little sleep during the night. The Japs it was reckoned would take every advantage of the cover of darkness to sneak out in small boats. But as the night wore on there was little sign of enemy movement. Obviously the shells still dropping on the main islands, the tremendous weight of explosives that had been poured on them during the previous day had more than done the trick.
Daylight revealed a grim and murky day with low clouds and rain squalls, but it was soon difficult to discriminate between cloud rain squall, smoke, and shell burst as the final bombardment of Roi and Namur started in earnest. I had thought that yesterday's bombardment and bombing could never be surpassed, but now it was intensified to a pitch which almost took one's breath away. It was so staggering that one just couldn't take one's eyes off it, and when eventually I glanced over my shoulder, the assault craft which I had last noticed outside the lagoon, had now effected a complete transformation. The whole northern end of the lagoon seemed to be packed with "ducklings". Yesterday there had been scores of them, now there were literally hundreds and hundreds.
Soon they were surrounding us, forming up in their proper lines, and waiting impatiently for Phelps signal to attack. many of their Marines had their faces blackened. Others had favoured a weird khaki background with black streaks. All were gripping their carbines and tommy-guns and obviously itching for action.
The Stars and Stripes were already proudly flying from the islands already captured. These men were determined that it would soon be flying over Roi and Namur. At first, as the assault deployed and touched down along the beaches, they met little resistance, but as they moved inland across the islands, there were still a number of stubborn Japs offering a last desperate resistance.
The scene ashore was an indescribable shambles. Dead fish of all colors and sizes had been hurled onto the beaches by nearby explosions. Nearly every palm tree had had its top blown off. There was hardly a square foot of ground which had not been hit or covered with debris. Dead and mutilated Japs lay about in grotesque attitudes, Pill Boxes and air Raid shelters which had received direct hits revealed an awful seen of carnage. The stench was foul and nauseating. Flies, a few lizards, some birds, a chicken, a pig, a dog, and a few prisoners seemed to be the only living creatures who had survived the hell of the last few days. While the prisoners were being led off for investigation the Seabees already were starting to clear the debris, the little dog was being stroked and petted and obviously being groomed for a regimental pet. The pig on the other hand was obviously being groomed for the evening meal. Somehow I felt sorry about the social distinction. I had watched the pig a various moments during the bombardment. I had seen him scamper away as a shell exploded nearby, and then go on sniffing as if nothing had happened. After all he been through, I felt he deserved to live to a ripe old age. But I'm probably unduly sentimental, and anyhow the smell of dead Japs had definitely affected my appetite.
And as through all that day, that night and the following day and night the grim business went on of exterminating japs wherever they might be hiding in drains, foxholes, or whatever cover was left, until the last one had been dealt with.
The whole operation had cost us amazingly few lives, thanks to perfect organization, a bold stroke of planning, and a brilliant execution.
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