The Battle of Leyte Gulf

Overview 

On 15 October 1944, following indications of impending Allied landings in the Philippines, the Japanese Imperial Navy’s First Mobile Fleet launched Operation Shō. Shō pulled together the majority of Japan’s remaining battleship, cruiser, and carrier forces in a desperate, multi-pronged attempt to interdict and destroy Allied landing forces off of Leyte in the central Philippines and inflict crippling damage on U.S. naval forces. The limited strike capabilities of severely depleted Japanese carrier air groups were to be augmented by land-based naval and army aviation units based in Formosa (Taiwan) and the Philippines. The stage was set for the multiple, widely separated engagements that made up the Battle of Leyte Gulf.

The First Mobile Fleet’s Main Body (“Northern Force”), which included the carrier force based in Kure, Japan, approached the Philippines from the northeast. It successfully drew Admiral William F. Halsey’s Third Fleet (including TF 34, its powerful fast battleships) away from the Leyte Gulf area, exposing the northern flank of Vice Admiral Thomas C. Kinkaid’s Seventh Fleet invasion force. The Northern Group would be largely destroyed by Halsey’s carrier air wings in the Battle of Cape Engaño on 24 October. Meanwhile, the First Mobile Fleet’s Third Section, based in Brunei and approaching the Philippines from the southwest, and the Kure-based Second Diversion Attack Force approaching from northeast to northwest, were combined in a “Southern Force.” This force would be soundly defeated by the U.S. Seventh Fleet’s Bombardment and Fire-Support Group (battleships, cruisers, destroyers, and PT boats) in a tumultuous surface engagement on 24/25 October in the Battle of Surigao Strait as it attempted to force its way into Leyte Gulf from the south. It was one of the unique instances in naval warfare where a U.S. force successfully crossed the “T” of a Japanese force. 

The Brunei-based Japanese First Diversion Attack Force (“Center Force”), also approaching from the southwest, was hit by U.S. submarines in the Palawan Strait on 23 October and by U.S. naval air attacks as it transited the Sibuyan Sea in the center of the Philippine archipelago on 24 October. After being sighted by American carrier pilots in apparent retirement to the west, the force resumed its eastward passage and broke out of the San Bernardino Strait north of Samar, focused on destroying U.S. amphibious shipping to the south in Leyte Gulf. Due to the Northern Force’s successful decoy of U.S. Third Fleet, the Center Force was faced only by three U.S. Seventh Fleet escort carrier task units when it emerged from the strait in the early morning hours of 25 October. These task units had been providing close air support and an ASW screen for the Leyte landings. The resulting clash of the utterly mismatched forces and ultimate Japanese withdrawal—the Battle off Samar—would prove to be the most dramatic naval engagement of the Leyte campaign.

By 26 October, Operation Shō had been repulsed successfully. Despite hard battles ahead, the American offensive in the Philippines and beyond was to continue unabated. Most important, Leyte completely destroyed the strategic threat posed by the Imperial Japanese Navy.  

“Calmness, Courage, and Efficiency”: Remembering the Battle of Leyte Gulf 

In the U.S. Navy’s history, few battles are as significant or as controversial as that of Leyte Gulf (24–26 October 1944). Among the largest naval battles ever fought,¹ Leyte involved nearly 200,000 men and 282 ships fighting in four separate engagements across 100,000 square miles of ocean. It was exactly the sort of “decisive battle” that both the Allies and the Japanese had sought since the beginning of World War II, one that pitted the waning might of the Japanese Combined Fleet against the U.S. Third and Seventh fleets. Although the Japanese hoped that this battle would revive their flagging fortunes, in the end, it would be prove to be their navy’s death knell, leaving the Allies in command of the Pacific and well situated to recapture the remainder of the Philippines. 

Beyond Leyte’s operational significance, it can be argued that no other battle fought during World War II encompassed as many facets of naval warfare nor, for that matter, the rich tableau of experiences and challenges that U.S. Navy sailors endured in service to their country during the conflict. This battle was a naval operation of an incomparable scale, the outcome of which turned on innumerable individual acts of heroism; a showcase for naval air power, which also featured the last engagement between battleships; and an unparalleled victory that came perilously close to becoming an unmitigated disaster. Even 75 years later, Leyte Gulf still has much it can teach us about planning and preparation, the evolving nature of warfare, decision-making under fire, and, above all, individual sacrifice.

“I Have Returned”: Planning for the Invasion of the Philippines

From its very inception, the invasion of the Philippines promised to be one of the most wide-ranging naval campaigns ever conducted by the U.S. Navy, one that would involve multiple fleets, raids on other Japanese-held islands, shore bombardments of enemy defenses, and, most importantly, the transportation and landing of Army troops onto the island of Leyte. Naturally, the planning that went into this undertaking was quite extensive, with Navy planners working hand-in-hand with their Army counterparts to develop a workable strategy for the upcoming invasion. The proposed undertaking was well-conceived, but, like all joint operations, it would require a high degree of cooperation and coordination among all forces involved, a task made all the more complicated by the fact that command of the naval forces would be divided between Admiral William Halsey (Third Fleet) and Vice Admiral Thomas C. Kinkaid (Seventh Fleet). While this would prove no obstacle to success initially, the divided command structure had the potential to complicate the operation, particularly if the Imperial Japanese Navy (IJN) decided to vigorously oppose the invasion.

Suffice to say, this is exactly what the IJN intended to do. Following the Combined Fleet’s disastrous showing at the Battle of Philippine Sea (19–20 June 1944),² its leaders recognized that time and resources were running out to blunt the Allies’ momentum and prevent them from launching attacks against the Japanese Home Islands. Believing it necessary to force the U.S. Navy into a “decisive battle” but uncertain as to where it would strike next, they developed four separate contingency plans that corresponded to potential invasion routes the Allies might take.³ Collectively known as “Shō-Go” (“Operation Victory”), each plan called for the IJN to commit the bulk of its remaining fleet to the proposed engagement in the hopes of delivering a crippling blow to its enemies.

The IJN’s plan to defend the Philippines (Shō-1) initially involved three separate forces.⁴ The first, the Task Force Main Body consisting primarily of carriers under Vice Admiral Jisaburo Ozawa, would sortie from Japan and approach the Philippines from the north, stationing itself off the island of Luzon. Joined by Vice Admiral Kiyohide Shima’s Second Striking Force, they would attempt to draw off the ships covering the Allied landings. With the landing ships now unprotected, Vice Admiral Takeo Kurita’s First Striking Force would easily be able to swoop in and destroy the landing craft, leaving the Allied troops stranded until a counter-invasion could be launched to wipe them out.⁵

As we shall see, Shō-1 underwent some crucial revisions once the Allied invasion of the Philippines actually materialized, but even in its earliest form, it can be viewed as a product of both strategic daring and sheer desperation.  So much of the operation’s success rested on a number of different variables, not the least of which was whether or not Ozawa’s fleet could entice the U.S. Navy’s covering fleet to abandon the amphibious forces. While they publicly exuded confidence, those involved in the operation privately knew it was a desperate gambit, with Ozawa admitting to Allied interrogators after the war that he did “not have much confidence in being a lure, but there was no other way than to try.”⁶ Others were even more fatalistic, including Kurita.  In the run-up to the battle, he asked his crew, “Would it not be a shame to have the fleet remain intact while our nation perishes?”⁷

Although the U.S. Navy had some intelligence concerning Japan’s plans for a “decisive battle,”⁸ those involved in the planning of the Philippines campaign did not anticipate “that major elements of the Japanese fleet will be involved in the present operation.”⁹ While this prediction proved to be woefully inaccurate,¹⁰ it cannot be said that they were ill-prepared to defend the landings in the event that a Japanese attack did materialize. Whereas most prior operations had only utilized a single fleet, the plan for Leyte Gulf called for the involvement of both the Third and the Seventh fleets. The latter, under the command of Vice Admiral Kinkaid would operate out of Leyte Gulf, conducting bombardments of Japanese shore defenses, ferrying General Douglas MacArthur’s troops ashore, and guarding the southern approach to the gulf through the Surigao Strait. Admiral Halsey’s Third Fleet, on the other hand, would “cover and support forces of Southwest Pacific [i.e. the Seventh Fleet],” as well as destroy “enemy naval and air forces in or threatening the Philippines Area.” Crucially, Halsey’s orders also contained the important caveat that, “In case opportunity for destruction of major portions of the enemy fleet offers or can be created, such destruction becomes the primary task.”¹¹ This certainly got Halsey’s attention, as he subsequently wrote Nimitz, “My goal is the same as yours—to completely annihilate the Jap fleet if the opportunity offers.”¹²

Halsey’s enthusiastic reaction was very much in line with his overall command style and temperament.  Known for aggressive tactics and bombastic pronouncements (upon hearing a Japanese broadcast that tauntingly asked, “Where is the American fleet?” the admiral told an aide, “Send them our latitude and longitude!”),¹³ Halsey was a commander very much in the mold of Horatio Nelson. In the months following Pearl Harbor, he had led a series of daring raids against Japanese-held islands, provided naval support for the famed Doolittle Raid, and commanded the Navy’s successful operations in the eastern Solomons. Feted by the American press and revered by those who served under him, Halsey was, arguably, the face of the Navy during World War II.

His counterpart, Kinkaid, was almost the polar opposite. Although Kinkaid had developed his own well-deserved reputation as a “fighting admiral,” he was considerably more cautious and personally reserved than Halsey, once remarking to a reporter, “Please don’t say I made any dramatic statements. You know I’m incapable of that.”¹⁴ As a commander, he tended to take a more group-oriented approach, trusting in the abilities of his subordinates and collaboration with others to accomplish the tasks at hand. It was for this reason that Admiral Chester W. Nimitz, Commander in Chief Pacific Ocean Areas (CINCPOA), had chosen him to lead joint operations with the Army, first in the Aleutians in 1943 and then in the Southwest Pacific Area (SWPA). The latter assignment placed him under Douglas A. MacArthur, the famed general who had led the defense of the Philippines in early 1942 and was now desperately seeking to return there. Despite the general’s rather mercurial temperament and his staff’s innate distrust of the Navy, Kinkaid developed a productive working relationship with them during their campaigns against the Admiralty Islands and western New Guinea.¹⁵ 

This strong relationship would pay dividends in planning upcoming invasion of the Philippines. Although planning for the operation had begun in July 1945, the decision in mid-September to move up the invasion from December to October gave Kinkaid and his staff only five weeks to come up with a workable plan. Thankfully, most of the principle staff involved were located at or near MacArthur’s headquarters in Hollandia, enabling them to resolve issues quickly and gain a greater understanding of all aspects of the operation. Indeed, the planning process was apparently so thorough that it impressed even Roger Keyes, former Royal Navy Admiral of the Fleet. Keyes, who was visiting Hollandia at the time, told Kinkaid, “I’ve been here for your briefings. I understand what is going on, I know your plan, and I think the plan is a good one and it will succeed.”¹⁶

As thorough as the planning process had been, there was one potential sticking point: the command structure. Since early in the war, Pacific operations had been divided into two separate theaters, with MacArthur in charge of the Southwest Pacific Area and Nimitz commanding the Pacific Ocean Area.  Under this arrangement, the Seventh Fleet had been placed under MacArthur’s overall command (hence, its nickname “MacArthur’s Navy”), while Third/Fifth Fleet had been under Nimitz.¹⁷ Ideally, the two commands would have merged once operations converged in a single theater, but it is unlikely that either Nimitz or MacArthur would have suffered being made subordinate to the other.¹⁸ Thus, the divided command structure remained in place, even as the Allies prepared for what be the largest, most complicated amphibious operation since the landings at Normandy earlier that year.

In Halsey’s view, the divided command structure contributed to some of the problem subsequently experienced at Leyte. As he later argued, “If we had been under the same command, with a single system of operational control and intelligence, the Battle of Leyte Gulf might have been fought differently to a different result.”¹⁹ Kinkaid, on the other hand, contended that, “One head would not have been better than two in a case of this sort, where each of us had his mission, I thought, very clearly stated.”²⁰ On this last point, the Kinkaid was arguably mistaken. Although some elements of the Third Fleet had been involved the planning process,²¹ Halsey and Nimitz’s involvement had been limited to a handful of planning sessions, largely attended by their representatives. Thus, it is not necessarily surprising the two came to have differing as perceptions as to what their respective missions were.  Whereas Kinkaid and MacArthur believed that Third Fleet’s main priority was to provide cover for the landing operation, Halsey viewed his mission as being potentially much more offensively oriented.²²

Complicating things further were the communications restrictions that MacArthur had imposed on Kinkaid.  Perhaps fearful of ceding any authority, MacArthur forbade Kinkaid from communicating directly with Nimitz or Halsey directly and required all communications through a radio station on Manus. This would greatly complicate the already difficult task of coordinating the two fleets, as the radio station proved unable to cope with the sheer number of messages that would flow through it during the battle. Consequently, some very critical messages were not delivered until many hours after they had been sent, something that would significantly affect Halsey and Kinkaid’s decision-making.²³     

It must be emphasized that, at least for now, the divided command structure and communications barriers remained only potential complications for the Leyte operation, and that the invasion plan itself was quite strategically sound. Indeed, the opening stages of the Philippines invasion went about as smoothly for the Allies as could be hoped for. On 17 October, TG 77.2 (the Fire Support and Bombardment Group) under Rear Admiral Jesse B. Oldendorf approached Leyte from the east, conducting minesweeping and shore bombardment operations off the islands of Suluan, Homohon, and Dinagat in order to secure the entrance to the gulf.²⁴ Three days later, on 20 October, Kinkaid, MacArthur, and the rest of Seventh Fleet entered the gulf and commenced the invasion of Leyte proper. Not content to watch the operation from afar, MacArthur waded ashore and famously proclaimed, “People of the Philippines! I have returned.” 

Despite the grandiloquent certainty of this pronouncement, however, the general’s return was anything but assured at this point. Although the Navy’s strategic planning had already paid considerable dividends, it remained to be seen whether or not it would hold up under pressure, particularly once the Japanese put their own plans into effect. Once that occurred, the Third and Seventh fleets would be forced to contend with not only the Japanese Combined Fleet, but also their shore-based aircraft.  It would be here, in the skies over the Philippines, that the opening stages of the Battle of Leyte would be won or lost.

Japanese battleships at Brunei, Borneo, October 1944, photographed just prior to the Battle of Leyte Gulf. Ships are, from left to right: Musashi, Yamato, a cruiser, and Nagato. At Leyte, the three battleships were components of Vice Admiral Takeo Kurita’s Center Force (NH 73090).

“Strike, Repeat, Strike!”: In the Skies Over Sibuyan Sea

Since the beginning of World War II, aviation had redefined naval warfare, indelibly linking the struggle for supremacy at sea to supremacy in the air. This remained true even as naval actions in the Pacific shifted from carrier duels in open waters to support missions for land-based operations such as the invasion of the Philippines. Indeed, air power arguably became even more important at this stage in the war, for although the Japanese had sustained irreversible losses to their naval aircraft at the Battle of Philippine Sea, they still commanded significant shore-based air power that could be brought to bear against the Navy, particularly now that the action had moved from isolated atolls to large islands in closer proximity to the Japanese mainland.²⁵ Consequently, any successful defense of the Leyte landings would depend just as much on the Navy’s ability to neutralize the Japanese aircraft as it did their ships. Fortunately, in contrast to their opponents, the Navy had both the air power and the trained personnel necessary to do just that.

One of the engagements most critical to the success of the Leyte campaign actually occurred in the weeks preceding the landings. In order to throw the Japanese off-balance and keep them guessing as to where the Allies would target next, Halsey and Third Fleet staged a series of raids against Okinawa, Formosa, and Luzon. These raids succeeded beyond all expectations, not only forcing the Japanese to partially activate Shō-1 and Shō-2 plans, but to also sortie their shore-based aircraft against Halsey’s forces. The ensuing air battles (11–16 October) absolutely decimated the Japanese air fleets, costing them an estimated 529 aircraft. Critically, at least some of these the aircraft were from Ozawa’s carrier force, leaving him with little over 110 aircraft in reserve for the Leyte operation.²⁶ This, coupled with the loss of shore-based aircraft would leave the ships of the Japanese Combined Fleet with precious little air cover heading into the upcoming engagement.²⁷ Captain Mitsuo Fuchida, air staff officer to the Commander in Chief Combined Fleet, later testified that this, essentially, doomed the Leyte operation from the start.²⁸

One other important consequence of Halsey’s raids is that it threw the Japanese completely off-balance and delayed their response until it became clear that the Allies’ primary target was not Formosa or Luzon, but Leyte. It was only on 18 October that they finally initiated the Shō-1 plan in earnest and sortied their fleets in the hopes of catching the Third and Seventh fleets at unawares. Departing from Brunei on 22 October, Kurita’s First Striking Force (referred to as the “Center Force” in U.S. Navy documents) would proceed as planned to the Sibuyan Sea in the hopes of reaching Leyte Gulf by 25 October. Upon the recommendation of Fleet HQ, he would also detach a smaller force of seven ships (two battleships, one cruiser, and four destroyers) under Vice Admiral Shōji Nishimura (the “Southern Force”) to proceed through the Sulu and Mindanao seas with the aim of approaching Leyte Gulf from the south through the Surigao Strait. They would be followed shortly thereafter by Vice Admiral Kiyohide Shima’s Second Strike Force, which had originally been slated to oversee the counter-landings at Leyte in the event of Shō-1’s success. Meanwhile, Ozawa’s Mobile Strike Force (the “Northern Force”) would proceed southwards from Japan in the hopes of luring away Halsey’s Third Fleet. If all went according to plan, the Center and Southern forces would meet in Leyte Gulf and overwhelm the landing ships of Seventh Fleet.²⁹   

Despite their best efforts, the Japanese quickly lost the element of surprise when U.S. submarines Darter (SS-227) and Dace (SS-247) espied the Center Force off Palawan on 23 October. Taking advantage of their good fortune, the two submarines launched their own surprise attack against the Japanese fleet, damaging cruiser Takao and sinking heavy cruisers Maya and Atago, Kurita’s flagship.  Humiliatingly, the admiral would be forced to spend at least part of the engagement (later dubbed the “Battle of Palawan Passage”) treading water until he could be rescued.³⁰  

As all of this was occurring, Halsey was busy preparing his own warm welcome.  Upon receiving word that the Center Force had entered the Sibuyan Sea on the morning of 24 October, he ordered his aircraft to launch at 0833 with the admonition, “Strike!  Repeat: strike!”³¹ Over the course of the day, they did just that, mercilessly pounding the Japanese Center Force with bombs and torpedoes while fending off incoming waves of Japanese aircraft launched from Luzon and other parts of the Philippines.  In a demonstration of just how profoundly air power had reshaped naval warfare, Third Fleet’s pilots fatally wounded Musashi, one of the IJN’s two Yamato-class battleships. The largest battleships ever built, the Yamato-class ships had been feted as nigh unsinkable symbols of Japan’s naval might.³² Now, lacking air support, they had become target practice for the determined squadrons of Third Fleet, with Musashi alone taking between 20 and 30 hits from bombs and torpedoes.  Despite considerable effort being made to save her, she would sink at 1900, taking 1,100 sailors into the deep with her. Tellingly, just prior to going down with his ship, Rear Admiral Toshihira Inoguchi expressed considerable regret at having placed so much faith in big guns and big ships.³³

U.S. naval air power proved just as effective against airborne foes as it did against surface ones. Over the course of the battle, the Japanese sent three waves of 50 to 60 shore-based planes, all of which were fearlessly met by aircraft from Third Fleet.  During the first wave alone, Commander David McCampbell and Ensign Roy Rushing of Essex (CV-9) were able to shoot down a combined 15 planes.  McCampbell’s nine kills alone were a record for a single engagement, one that would subsequently earn him the Medal of Honor.³⁴ Despite such heroics, at least one Japanese plane did manage to get through and bomb Princeton (CVL-23) at 0938. Although the initial damage was not fatal, a fire in the ship’s interior caused an explosion in her torpedo stowage at 1523. Unfortunately, the explosion not only mortally wounded Princeton, but also caused significant casualties (229 killed, 420 wounded) on board Birmingham (CL-62), which had pulled alongside the carrier to aid her.³⁵

This tragedy notwithstanding, the U.S. Navy’s overall successes in the air were crucial in forcing Kurita to reverse course. With the operation having lost a significant number of aircraft even before it had begun, Kurita lacked the air cover necessary to fend off the swarms of bombers that Halsey launched at his force that day. Recognizing that he was at a severe disadvantage, the Japanese admiral retired westwards at 1600, both in the hopes of avoiding further damage and giving the impression that he was in full retreat. Despite the significant loss of Musashi and cruiser Myoko, as well as the earlier losses he had sustained off Palawan, Kurita still retained a formidable force of 22 ships (four battleships, six heavy cruisers, two light cruisers, and ten destroyers). Although he could not possibly hope to compete against Third Fleet, he still had sufficient numbers to attack the amphibious forces of Seventh Fleet, assuming he could make it through the San Bernardino Strait unmolested. Hoping to bolster his fatigued commander’s resolve, Admiral Soemu Toyoda, Commander in Chief of the Combined Fleet, sent Kurita a message at 1800, exhorting, “Trusting in Divine guidance, resume the attack.”³⁶

Kurita’s “retreat” marked the end of the first engagement of the Leyte campaign (the Battle of Sibuyan Sea). While the U.S. Navy had suffered some casualties, they had inflicted far more damage on the Japanese Center Force. Despite these early successes, however neither Halsey nor his staff could rest easy. To this point, most of the aircraft encountered by Third Fleet had been shore-based, leading Halsey’s air operations officer, Commander Douglas Moulton, to eloquently inquire, “Where in the hell are those goddamn carriers!?”³⁷ Such questions only intensified when two air squadrons from Enterprise (CV-6) spotted Nishimura’s Southern Force steaming through the Sulu Sea at 0820 sans any carriers.³⁸ It would not be until 1245, when Langley (CVL-27) detected fighters inbound from the north, that they realized that the Japanese carriers were approaching from the north. 

What they did not learn until much later is that this fleet (dubbed the “Northern Force”) was the decoy force outlined in the Shō-1 plan. Indeed, Vice Admiral Ozawa was actually so eager to be found that he had repeatedly broken radio silence in the hopes of getting Third Fleet’s attention. When this failed to work, he launched nearly all of his aircraft (little more than 110 in all), both in the hopes of relieving pressure on Kurita’s Center Force and attracting Halsey’s notice. On the latter account, he succeeded, as planes from TG 38.3 finally discovered the Northern Force at 1640.³⁹ Having finally found his quarry, Halsey had to decide whether to pursue them or maintain station in the Sibuyan Sea in the event that the Center Force returned. Ever eager to go on the offensive, Halsey ultimately chose the former course, a decision that would eventually come to overshadow nearly everything that had been achieved at Sibuyan Sea. 

We shall examine this decision momentarily, but for now, let us remain focused on the battle just fought. In certain respects, few naval battles of World War II demonstrate just how profoundly air power had reshaped naval warfare than Sibuyan Sea. Well before the battle had even commenced, the Japanese had been placed at a severe (perhaps even fatal) disadvantage with the loss of so many aircraft in the Philippine Sea and over Formosa. Unable to muster sufficient air support for its upcoming mission, the Center Force would be forced to rely primarily on its anti-aircraft (AA) guns to counter the threat from the skies above, a rather inadequate solution as the loss of Musashi proved. Built to go head to head with any ship afloat, the majestic battleship was nonetheless rendered impotent by the lack of air support and the repeated air attacks against it. Her rather inglorious end was not only a huge blow to the Japanese, but also seemed to send an unmistakable signal that the era of the battleship had finally come to an end. To a large extent, this was quite true, but, as we shall see, the battleships still had at least one more engagement to fight, one that would end on a decidedly more triumphant note for the U.S. Navy.

The Japanese battleship Musashi under heavy attack during the Battle of the Sibuyan Sea, 24 October 1944 (80-G-281765)

“Make All Ready for a Night Battle”: Last Clash of the Battleships in Surigao Strait

Although the Battle of Sibuyan Sea had offered yet another example of just how profoundly air power had changed naval warfare, the big guns of the battleship still had one last song to sing before their final curtain call. The stage for this final performance would be Surigao Strait; the leads, Rear Admiral Oldendorf and Vice Admiral Nishimura; the production, an updated interpretation of a maritime classic that had previously been performed at such illustrious venues as Tsushima in 1905 and Jutland in 1916. It was, to put it less poetically, a classic naval surface engagement between big-gun fleets, one which saw the combined forces of TG 77.2, 77.3, and Destroyer Squadron (DesRon) 56 absolutely decimate the Japanese Southern Force using the sort of maneuvers that could have come straight out of any war college textbook. While at least some of this outcome can be attributed to last-minute revisions to the Shō-1 plan and poor coordination among the Japanese forces, it was also a rare example of a meticulously drawn-up battle plan being executed to near perfection. 

In its earlier iterations, the Shō-1 plan had not actually called for a separate force to attack Leyte through the Surigao Strait. Instead, the strait was supposed to serve as an exit for Kurita’s force. However, at 1006 on 20 October, Vice admiral Ryūnosuke Kusaka, Admiral Toyoda’s chief of staff, recommended that Kurita detach part of his force to head through Surigao Strait so that they might attack Seventh Fleet from both the north and the south. Kurita concurred with this recommendation and detached seven ships (including battleships Fuso and Yamashiro) under the command of Vice Admiral Nishimura. Curiously, it was around this same time that Vice Admiral Shima received permission to also take the Second Striking Force through the Surigao Strait. One might assume that this force was intended to reinforce Nishimura’s, but for whatever reason, there was no actually coordination between the two.⁴⁰ Indeed, Kurita was not even aware that Shima had been assigned to the operation until after he had drawn up his plans for Nishimura.⁴¹ As a consequence, Nishimura’s Southern Force would enter the strait ahead of the Second Striking Force.

Although the U.S. Navy would soon have to deal with its own coordination and communications issues, at least when it came to defending Surigao Strait, all commanders involved were very much on the same page. Once word arrived that some of Enterprise’s planes had come into contact with Nishimura’s force, Kinkaid sent a message to Oldendorf at 1443, ordering him to “Make all ready for night battle.”⁴² Consisting of 40 ships, Oldendorf’s squadron already significantly outnumbered the seven ships of the incoming Southern Force. To further tilt the odds in their favor, Kinkaid also detached a group of torpedo boats to patrol the southern end of the strait. These would serve as forward sentries, informing Oldendorf when the Japanese Southern Force entered the strait and then harrying its ships until they came within range of his guns.

Having received his orders, Oldendorf set about developing a battle plan for the upcoming engagement.  Taking advantage of the strait’s geography, Oldendorf positioned his destroyers along both sides of the strait while his cruisers and battleships formed the main line across the strait. If all went according to plan, the incoming column of Japanese would be subjected to torpedo attacks by the destroyers and then finished off by raking gunfire from the battleships and cruisers that formed Oldendorf’s battle line. The latter’s firing range would be somewhat limited by the fact that they were mainly carrying high-capacity (HC) explosive rounds meant for shore bombardments rather than armor-piercing (AP) rounds,⁴³ but this would not be a serious impediment in the forthcoming action.

From a tactical standpoint, Oldendorf’s plan was quite sound, but, like any plan, its success would depend on those carrying it out. Wanting to make sure that his commanders had a thorough understanding of the plan and how they it was to be carried out, Oldendorf invited his task force commanders, Rear Admiral George L. Weyler (the battle line) and Rear Admiral Russel S. Berkey (right flank) over to his flagship (Louisville [CA-28]) to discuss every aspect of it from necessary range of the guns to how best to utilize torpedoes.⁴⁴ According to Captain Roland N. Smoot, commander of DesRon 56, this was very much in character for Oldendorf. As he recalled, Oldendorf was “a very thorough and meticulous man, and one for whom I had the greatest admiration, because he left no stone unturned to be sure that all of his Commanding Officers were versed in the way he thought and how he was going to do this operation.”⁴⁵ Such praise stands in stark contrast to some of the criticisms leveled at Oldendorf’s opponent, Vice Admiral  Nishimura, whose officers later questioned his “indifference at not attending the briefings,”⁴⁶ and the fact that his “tactical conceptions were quite different from those of the other ships under his command.”⁴⁷

With all preparations complete, there was little else Oldendorf and his forces could do but wait. Only vaguely aware of the force assembled to meet him in confines of the strait, Nishimura’s Southern Force entered it around midnight and was almost immediately swarmed by torpedo boats. Although they failed to hit any of the Japanese ships with their torpedoes, they at least provided Oldendorf with crucial intelligence concerning the disposition and composition of the enemy fleet. Almost immediately, he knew that seven or eight ships were proceeding through the strait and that they would reach his position in approximately two and half hours.⁴⁸

While awaiting the arrival of the Southern Force, Oldendorf worried that Nishimura would stop and reverse course in an attempt to draw him deeper into the strait. He need not have been concerned, as Nishimura instead moved his destroyers to the front of the column and increased his speed, apparently intent on plowing headlong into Oldendorf’s battle line. The admiral could scarcely believe his good fortune.  Although he had planned for this possibility, he had not actually expected the Japanese to engage in such a reckless maneuver, one that would leave them exposed to gunfire from his entire battle line while limiting them to using just their forward guns. Known as “crossing the T,” this was exactly the sort of scenario “dreamed of, studied, and plotted in War College maneuvers and never hoped to be obtained.”⁴⁹ The Japanese had won the Battle of Tsushima in 1905 using just this sort of maneuver and now they were poised to be on the receiving end of it. As Oldendorf recalled, “It can readily be seen that the force at my disposal was enormously superior to the Southern Japanese Force…. Is it any wonder that I could not quite believe that this far outmatched Jap force would really run headlong into us?”⁵⁰   

Oldendorf’s incredulity was understandable, but it must emphasized that the Southern Force’s strategy was very much in line with the daring and desperation that underlay other parts of the Shō-1 plan. While his orders had only stated that he was to transit the Surigao Strait and rendezvous with the Center Force in Leyte Gulf, Nishimura was wise enough to know that his mission was likely one-way, intended primarily to divert part of the Seventh Fleet similar to how Ozawa’s carriers were intended to distract the Third Fleet. Even knowing this, Nishimura was determined to carry his mission out at all costs, perhaps believing that his forces might either win, or at least, distract Oldendorf’s squadron long enough to allow Kurita’s Center Force more time and opportunity to sneak into Leyte Gulf and destroy the landing forces.⁵¹

Regardless of Nishimura’s intentions and expectations, Oldendorf was not about to give him any quarter.  Muttering, “This is going to be good,”⁵² he ordered his ships to open fire on the approaching Southern Force at 0240. The destroyers were the first to attack, launching wave upon wave of torpedoes that would slam against the hulls of the vulnerable Japanese ships. In the first half hour alone alone, the Japanese Southern Force would suffer significant casualties, with Fuso and Yamashiro receiving significant damage, while destroyers Asagumo and Michisio were disabled entirely. Destroyer Yamagumo, on the other hand, exploded in spectacular fashion, quickly sinking within a matter of minutes. According to an eyewitness, the fiery wreckage made a sizzling sound as it sank into the water, “like a huge red-hot iron plunged into water.”⁵³ All of this was before Oldendorf had even brought his cruisers and battleships forward.

Prior to World War II, the United States and Japan had expected their big-gun fleets to play a critical role in any hostilities, but the emergence of the aircraft carrier and naval air power had largely relegated the battleship to the sidelines of many engagements and left them to serve as oversized escort ships.⁵⁴ Now, for the first time during the war, they were finally involved in just the sort of battle they had been built for. After Oldendorf’s cruisers engaged the enemy at 0351, his battleships’ 16-inch guns roared to life at around 0353. Fittingly, one of the opening salvos was fired by West Virginia (BB-48), which had been sunk during the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor in 1941. Raised from the harbor and refitted, she and her sister ships had waited three long years for this very moment. She made it count, hitting Nishimura’s flagship Yamashiro dead on with her very first shot.⁵⁵

Much to his chagrin, Oldendorf saw very little of this. In his zeal to see Louisville’s big guns in action, he had failed to shield his eyes, causing him to be temporarily blinded when they fired.⁵⁶ Fortunately, DesRon 56 commander Captain Smoot was able to provide him with a rather poetic description of the action, observing that, “The devastating accuracy of this gunfire was the most beautiful sight I have ever witnessed. The arched line of tracers in the darkness looked like a continual stream of lighted railroad cars going over a hill. No target could be observed at first, then shortly there would be fires and explosions, and another enemy ship would be accounted for.”⁵⁷ 

From the Japanese perspective, the reality of the situation was far less poetic than Smoot had described.  Oldendorf’s fleet absolutely decimated the Southern Force, ultimately sinking five ships including Fuso and Nishimura’s flagship Yamashiro. On the two battleships alone, 3,500 hands went to the bottom of the strait,⁵⁸ almost one and half times the number killed at Pearl Harbor. By the time Shima’s fleet finally arrived, only Mogami and Shigure were still afloat (although the former would soon have to be abandoned). Amazingly, no one among on board the surviving ships thought to warn Shima what awaited him at the other end of the strait. It was only as he got closer to Oldendorf’s position and saw the strait lit up by the burning, twisted hulks of sinking ships that he learned of the Southern Force’s fate.  Recognizing the futility of pressing forward, he retreated southward.⁵⁹ 

Compared to the significant casualties they had inflicted on the Japanese, the Allied losses had been fairly minimal save for those on board Albert W. Grant (DD-649). In one of the war’s tragic ironies, the ship had experienced engine trouble during the battle, leaving it exposed to the withering crossfire from both Yamashiro and Oldendorf’s battle line. Smoot’s enthusiasm turned to horror when he realized what was happening. He immediately got on the radio at 0408 and alerted Oldendorf that, “You are firing on ComDesron 56!  We are in the middle of the channel!”⁶⁰ By the time the Oldendorf’s battle line stopped firing, 34 men were already dead or dying. More might have perished had their commanding officer, Commander Terrell A. Nisewaner, not gone down into the forward engine room (one of the hardest-hit areas of the ship) and carried out a number of wounded.⁶¹

Even accounting for this tragedy, Surigao Strait was still arguably one of the more lopsided naval victories of World War II, one that to this day stands as both the last engagement fought directly between battleships and one of the few in which a fleet successfully crossed its opponent’s “T.” While the ultimate outcome was not particularly in doubt given Oldendorf’s numerical superiority and the Southern Force’s suicidal approach, the engagement could have exacted a considerably higher toll on the U.S. ships had the planning or the execution been lackluster. Neither was, however, something which is attributable in part to the high degree of preparedness of all involved. As Captain Jack H. Duncan of Phoenix (CL-46) enthused in his after-action report, “I was most forcibly impressed with the calmness and coolness of action of all hands. Here was the peak of every naval man’s fighting man’s ambition—a major surface engagement!  Here we were in a situation which every officer and man in the Navy would give a right arm to share! Here we were carrying the ball in the pay-off! Yet one would think from the appearance of all hands that routine drill was being carried on, in oil-smooth fashion.”⁶² 

Oldendorf deserves at least some of the credit for this as he not only drew up the battle plan for the engagement, but also ensured that those involved had a firm understanding of it. The CINCPOA report on the operation praised Oldendorf as “a man holding a handful of aces or trumps,” who “played them with consummate skill.”⁶³ For his part, Oldendorf merely noted, “Luck plays a part in any battle.  I myself, I admit, after 40 years of training, was lucky to be there in command. But the force that I commanded was well balanced and war seasoned—manned by able officers and men who, when the order came to open fire, knew what to do—and did it.”⁶⁴ Such modesty was characteristic of Oldendorf’s views on command and its role in winning battles. As he reflected at another point in his memoir, “Neither land nor sea battles are any longer won (if they ever were) by the unaided genius of any individual who suddenly changes the whole course of action by some order that proves to be so clear and so unanswerable as instantly to decide the outcome.”⁶⁵ Left unsaid was the fact that while battles might not be won by the “unaided genius” of individuals, they could indeed be lost on account of it. Such was nearly the case of William Halsey and his fateful decision to pursue the Northern Force.

U.S. cruisers firing on the Japanese Southern Force in the Surigao Strait, 24–25 October 1944. Photographed from USS Pennsylvania (BB-38) (80-G-288493).

“Where is Task Force 34?”: Decision and Indecision off Cape Engaño

Following the Battle of Sibuyan Sea, Halsey had a critical decision to make, one which, in his view had the potential to not only influence the outcome of the Battle of Leyte Gulf, but the war itself. To the north, just off Luzon, lay the Japanese carrier fleet that had served as the heart of Japan’s naval might since the war’s beginning. To the west lay the Center Force, which had been bloodied, but now appeared to have resumed its approach toward the San Bernardino Strait. Both were potential threats to the Leyte operation, but, in Halsey’s view, only one of them could be dealt with at a time. Faced with the choice of going on the offensive against the Japanese carriers or guarding the strait against the Center Force, Halsey chose the former option, and, in doing so, exposed Seventh Fleet to a devastating attack from the Center Force.  Controversial even at the time it was made, Halsey’s decision is a cautionary tale that highlights the need to maintain flexibility of thought in the heat of battle. It also highlights the importance of establishing clear channels of communication among forces, firm awareness of the overall strategic objectives, and creating a command culture that both permits and encourages collaboration and criticism. 

Given its significance, it is just as important to analyze why Halsey made his decision as it is to understand its fateful consequences. It must be strongly emphasized at the outset that Halsey’s decision to pursue the Japanese carrier force was not an inherently poor one nor was it entirely unworkable. While it is true that the Northern Force was intended to serve as decoy and possessed very few surface aircraft, Halsey could not know either of these things for certain. In fact, all he knew at the time was that there was a sizable enemy carrier force to the north, one that likely possessed the capability to strike at both him and other forces operating in and around Leyte. Equally important, its proximity to Luzon might have enabled its aircraft to rearm and refuel ashore, allowing them to condu