The Battle of Cape Esperance

Early in World War II, Japanese forces were superior to the Americans in almost every way. In the air, the Japanese Zero fighters were faster and more maneuverable than the US Wildcats and P-40's which protected Guadalcanal, so that the US planes had to be continually replaced. The American pilots also had to be replaced on an average of every thirty days. The jungle took its toll in dysentery and malaria, as did the stress of constant bombardment, and a shortage of fuel and ammunition. On the sea, the Japanese torpedoes were more accurate, and all their ships carried them, whereas the US torpedoes exploded only about half the time and only destroyers carried them. Also the Japanese navy excelled in night fighting, having worked out signals for communication between ships, and pyrotechnics to light up enemy targets.

The island of Guadalcanal lay in the middle of Japan’s defensive perimeter, and it straddled the supply route for the Allied forces, so both sides considered it essential to their strategic plan. Since the US marines had taken over the base and air strip there, the Japanese put all their resources into taking it back. It was up to the US navy to make sure they didn’t succeed.

In September of 1942 Everett’s ship, the USS San Francisco, was part of Task Force 18, assigned to protect a supply convoy headed for Guadalcanal. The convoy was discovered and attacked by Japanese submarines on September 8, and while they managed to deliver supplies and reinforcements to Guadalcanal, they lost the Destroyer O'Brien, the Battleship North Carolina, and the aircraft carrier Wasp. 

Everett witnessed the sinking of the three ships and the rescue of the survivors. Out of a crew of 2247 men on the Wasp, 173 were killed and 400 injured. He said the sinking of the Wasp was the most horrific explosion he ever witnessed, and that was saying something. After the battle, the US was now left with only one aircraft carrier in the Pacific, the Hornet, while the Japanese now had six. The Japanese were also building up their forces on Guadalcanal almost unmolested, in night runs the marines nicknamed the “Tokyo Express.”

By October, General Vandergrift, commander of the American troops on Guadalcanal, informed his superiors that he would not be able to hold the island much longer. The US Navy hadn’t been able to stop the Tokyo Express, and it had lost 8 cruisers and 3 destroyers in the attempt. So far the US naval command hadn't been willing to commit more troops to Guadalcanal, reserving them for the capture of the island of Ndeni, where they intended to build an air base for planes on their way to Guadalcanal. 

Finally, on October 8, Admiral Ghormley, Pacific fleet commander, responded to Vandergrift by sending a convoy carrying the 164^th Infantry Regiment. The covering force consisted of the aircraft carrier Hornet, the battleship Washington, and the newly formed Task Force 64, made up of 4 cruisers and five destroyers, under the command of Admiral Norman Scott, aboard the USS San Francisco, Everett’s ship.

Scott’s ambition had long been to disrupt the previously invincible Tokyo Express. He had studied Japanese night tactics, and had worked out a plan of his own for night battles, utilizing the torpedoes of his destroyers and the fire power of his cruisers to the best advantage, and giving the ship captains under him the authority to fire on their own initiative. He had also given his ships nighttime firing practice. On the night of October 11, as he was preparing for the arrival of the convoy carrying the 164th Regiment, he got a chance to test his plans.

At 1600 hours (4:00 PM) an enemy convoy was sighted northwest of Guadalcanal heading down the “Slot,” the channel through the Solomon Islands used by the Japanese navy to supply their troops. Admiral Scott rushed to head them off. He arranged his ships across the channel with the cruisers in the middle and destroyers at both ends. His plan was for the destroyers to fire their torpedoes at the large ships, and also to illumine any ships in range of the cruisers’ big guns. It was a beautiful plan, but what followed was a comedy of errors.

The Battle of Cape Esperance, Oct. 11, 1942

At 2330 hours, thirty minutes before midnight, Admiral Scott received a report that three enemy ships had been sighted coming from the northeast. His original plan had been to turn north following the coastline of Savo Island heading toward the Japanese convoy reported earlier, but instead he now ordered his column to turn back to the Southwest, so as to interpose his task force between the two Japanese groups. This is where the confusion began. As the lead ship in the column, the Destroyer Fahrenheit, began its turn, the crew of the San Francisco, Scott’s own ship, began to turn too instead of remaining in formation, and the rest of the column followed them, leaving the three destroyers behind.

At about the same time they received the order to turn, three of the cruisers saw a blip on their radar to the northwest, but they didn’t report it, assuming that was the reason for Scott’s decision to turn. After about fifteen minutes, the entire column of US ships had reversed their direction, and the three destroyers in the lead had managed to sail between the cruisers and the enemy ships.

By this time all the ships were picking up the Japanese convoy on their radar, and Admiral Scott, now aware of the confusion about his turn orders, was afraid that the radar blips were coming from his own ships. With no orders, the ship captains began to take the initiative. Captain Taylor of the Destroyer Duncan accelerated his ship directly toward the enemy column. The Destroyer Fahrenheit, followed by the Laffley, chose to complete the turn, positioning themselves for a torpedo attack. The crew of the Cruiser, Helena, who had now been aware of the approaching enemy column for fifteen minutes, were now able to see the Japanese ships with their naked eyes. One of the radar operators quipped, “what are we going to do, board them?” A moment later, the Helena opened fire, shortly followed by a barrage of fire from the other American ships.

The Japanese column was caught completely off guard. In the clear night air they had seen the American ships in the distance, but the Japanese commander, Admiral Goto, believed them to be his own transport ships. As he flashed a recognition signal, his ship was hit by the first American salvo, killing him and disabling his ship’s communications. 

The Battle of Cape Esperance continued for about 35 minutes, and the confusion continued. Shortly after firing commenced, Admiral Scott, worried that he might be firing on his own ships, ordered a cease fire, and radioed Captain Robert Tobin, commander of the destoyers at the head of the column:

“How are you?” he asked, to which Tobin replied that he was fine.

“Are we shooting at you?” Scott asked.

“I don’t know who you are shooting at,” Tobin answered.

Not reassured, Scott ordered Tobin’s ships to flash their fighting lights. Having identified the US destoyers, the battle resumed. The Japanese got the worst of it. Four Japanese ships were sunk, and 565 of their sailors were killed. On the American side, one ship was sunk and 3 damaged, two by “friendly” fire, and 163 men were killed. It was a landmark battle for the US Navy, their first victory in a night battle, and while many mistakes were made, Admiral Scott’s tactics were copied afterward by other naval commanders.  The practical results of the battle were that the 164^th Infantry Regiment was successfully landed on Guadalcanal, and the Japanese supply convoy was turned back.

For any WWII buffs out there, most of the information for this post came from Guadalcanal, by Richard B. Frank. It’s an excellent book, very readable but  detailed. Other sources I used were Freedom from Fear, by David M Kennedy, good for painting the overall picture of the times, the Great Depression and WWII; Eagle Against the Sun, by Ronald H. Spector, a good summary of the military history of the Pacific Theater, and Wikipedia’s article on the USS San Francisco, CA 38.  

Lloyd Zuck

Don told me a lot of stories about his childhood, and there wasn’t one of them that didn’t include Lloyd Zuck. He was my dad’s best friend.  

Lloyd flunked the first grade, but after my dad joined him the next year, he never flunked again. Don said it didn’t have anything to do with scholarship. Lloyd just decided that he and Don were meant to be together.  

Part of Lloyd’s attachment to Don was a need for protection. Lloyd was little and the other kids picked on him because he looked funny and spoke with a German accent.  Lloyd had suffered from cruel teasing during his first year in school, but at the beginning of his second year he met Don, who was not only bigger than the first graders, but the second graders as well.  

After that Lloyd was in hog heaven. He would search out some of the bullies who had tormented him during his first year and then taunt them into chasing him. Then he would run straight to Don, who would whip the whole lot, with Lloyd cheering him on, and adding a few kicks or punches of his own after Don had softened them up.  

I don’t have a picture of Lloyd as a boy, only as a young man, but you can see how he might have been teased as a child.

 

 

                                                 Lloyd Zuck Kelly  

 Lloyd’s real name was Lloyd Kelly, but he was raised by his grandparents and their name was Zuck, so he went by their name. The Zucks spoke German at home, so Lloyd could speak German too, after a fashion. When he was luring Don’s victims to their doom he would hurl insults at them in German. Don said the worst insult Lloyd knew was “du bis frich!” I took German in school and I never figured out what that meant. The closest I got to a translation was “you are a fruit.”  

Lloyd was ornery, and he was always getting into trouble. Maybe that’s what attracted Don to him, besides the need to protect him from the other kids. Lloyd and Don would call the Zoo and ask to speak to Mr. Fox. They would put sand on the railroad tracks on the hill into town and hide and watch while the wheels spun. They explored the neighborhood and learned to swim together, and then there were the skunks.  

Lloyd had a fascination for skunks. He liked to catch them and of course he would invariably get sprayed. His grandmother hated it. She would make him take off his clothes in the yard and then hose him down. She tried to get the smell out of his clothes by soaking them in tomato juice but they still stunk. Lloyd’s crowning achievement was the day he put a skunk in his locker and forced the principal to close down the school. The prank got him expelled for a few days, but it was worth it to Lloyd.  

 

Don felt sorry for Lloyd because he didn’t fit in. He not only spoke with an accent and had a big nose, his grandmother used a bowl to cut his hair so he always looked like Moe of the three stooges. One day Don decided to give him a real haircut. After all, his dad was a barber. Well, Don went to work with the scissors and started cutting, but he had trouble getting the two sides even. He’d cut a little off the longer side and then it would look too short so he’d cut more from the other side. Pretty soon Lloyd looked like a new army recruit. 

 

Don and Lloyd remained friends all through school, and when World War II broke out, Lloyd volunteered for the army. Don was married by that time, and had a son – me. He also worked for Boeing aircraft, the biggest supplier of bombers for the U.S. Air Force, so he got a deferment.  

Lloyd corresponded regularly with Don from the front. I still have a few of his letters. Here’s one he wrote from Sicily in August of 1943. All the letters were censored so it doesn’t say anything about combat, but he hints at it. He didn’t like the place, or the people: 

 

S. Sgt Lloyd C Kelly, HQ Co., 3^rd Btn, 26^th (Regiment?), 1^st Inf. Division

To Mrs. R. B Gunning

Dear Folks,

I received your letter dated Aug. 1. Sure glad to get it. We are still in Sicily, doing nothing now. They sure were doing plenty here at a time. Sure glad to hear Boyd is a captain and Don is doing OK. I bet J.E is sure big. By Don getting these letters I won’t have to write another. What kind of outfit is Boyd in?

They sure aren’t many left of the old school gang. I never have yet saw any one I knew.

This sure is a hot island. They sure are a lot of roomers here about going out of combat. But we had the same before. We all know we aren’t.

These people here are sure dumb. Boy are they dirty. And they aren’t a thing they have that is modern. Hope to hear from you soon. 

Kelly 

 

The next correspondence I have from Lloyd is a Christmas card from 1944: 

 

Dear Don: Sure hope this finds you OK this Christmas. Hope to hear from you soon. Will try to write you a letter as soon as I can. As ever. Lloyd 

 

Also among my dad’s keepsakes is a tiny clipping from the Enid newspaper. It is dated October 27, 1944:  

 

     Staff Sergeant Lloyd Kelly Zuck, grandson of Mrs. H. L. Zuck, former Enid resident, is a member of the First Infantry Division that with the Third Armored Division cracked the Seigfried line east of Aachen.

     Sergeant Zuck has fought with his division in Tunisia, Sicily, and Italy, and participated in the D-Day attack in France. He was wounded in France and awarded the Purple Heart, but is back in action in Germany.

 

The next letter my dad saved was written in March of 1945, shortly before Germany surrendered. The censors must have relaxed a little, either that or Lloyd had just learned better how to give a picture of what it was like for him without giving out tactical information.

 

Feb. 27, 45.

Dear Don and all:

          I received your letter and the picture. Sure was glad to get it. You sure do have a pretty boy (I was three). Tell your wife that I won’t say who he looks like ‘til I see her, and thank her for writing too. To get letters sure does mean a lot over here. Hope she keeps after you to write.

          We are still some place in Germany but where I am at I can see a river. You sure ought to see the towns. They sure aren’t much left, and when we do move in we take everything and toss it out the window. Some of them have good furniture. The place I am in now has new furniture all wrapped up with the tag on it. It went out the window. 3 of the rooms we could not use. The shells took care of that. We have to have a place to stay. So they are no room for the furniture. You can’t get a very good idea unless you are here. And you can’t tell too much either. We were in the woods before we came here.

          Will close for now. Sure hoping to hear from you all soon.

As ever, Lloyd  

 

With this letter Lloyd enclosed a Deutsch Mark, a French Frank and a Dutch Frank. He also enclosed some German propaganda:  

 

First there is a picture of a lonely wife with a list of U.S. servicemen killed in battle on the back of the picture, and a note claiming that the men would have survived if they had surrendered to the Germans.  

                                                 Nazi Propaganda

Next is a picture of an American soldier and his family with a message about how he probably won’t survive.

                                              Nazi Propaganda

 

Next there is a picture of a beautiful blonde, partly undressed, presumably the wife of a G. I., who is enjoying herself while her husband is risking his life overseas.

                                              Nazi Propaganda

 

So Don’s funny looking little friend Lloyd Zuck, who needed protection from bullies in grade school, became a hero during WWII. Not only was he involved in every major encounter of the Allied campaign in Europe, he accompanied his unit into Germany and participated in her final defeat. I expect Lloyd was especially valuable because of his knowledge of German, and he probably got a chance to use the insult he taught Don in grade school, “Du bis frich!” a few times.

 

Don got to see Lloyd after his return from Europe, but they lost touch after that. I hope Lloyd had a happy life. He was a remarkable person. His sense of humor and indomitable spirit certainly enriched my dad's life.