“The boat was caressed by a gentle ocean breeze and the sound of water lapping at its sides. Only one of the PT 109’s three 1,500-horsepower engines were engaged; the rest were idling to cut down on the boat’s telltale wake, which also allowed the crew to better hear the approach of the PT’s nemesis, Japanese floatplanes. According to [Lieutenant John F.] Kennedy, visibility ‘was poor – the sky was cloudy – and there was a heavy mist over the water.’ Suddenly, Ensign Ross, the night-blind night lookout on the bow of PT 109, sensed an immense shape less than 1,000 yards away, and closing rapidly…”
- William Doyle, PT 109: An American Epic of War, Survival, and the Destiny of John F. Kennedy
The Second World War was probably the most cataclysmic event in human history. Despite the untold number of books covering this globe-spanning tale of death and destruction, there are countless millions of stories that have gone untold or been forgotten.
The sinking of the PT 109 on August 2, 1943 could easily have been one of those events that slipped through the crack of memory. Only two men died, along with the loss of a single Patrol Torpedo Boat. Unlike many similar events playing out across the world, however, this one just happened to include a future President of the United States: Lieutenant John F. Kennedy.
The implicit question in William Doyle’s PT 109 is whether we remember the loss of the PT 109 because Kennedy later became president, or if Kennedy became president because of the loss of the PT 109.
According to Doyle, it is definitely the latter.
Indeed, Doyle begins his book by laying out an argument that Kennedy would never have reached high office without his naval exploits. It’s a bit of a stretch, considering how many factors – including extreme wealth, a hyper-ambitious father, stunning good looks, a sweaty Richard Nixon, and a few stolen votes in Illinois – helped play a role in JFK’s extremely close victory in 1960. Nevertheless, in such a squeaker of an election, Kennedy’s wartime heroics cannot be discounted.
Besides, whether or not it gained Kennedy the presidency, the travails of the PT 109’s crew is dramatic enough to stand on its own, regardless of its political ramifications.
In PT 109, Doyle provides a thorough examination of this relatively miniscule event, and its outsize impact on subsequent American history. It is a good book, kept well clear of greatness by workmanlike prose and some rather loose editing that allows for too much repetition, too many banalities, and a book that manages to overstay its welcome, despite being less than 300 pages of text (the post-sinking sections, including Robert Kennedy’s visit to Japan, are especially anticlimactic).
After making his pitch about the PT 109’s importance, Doyle provides a brief biography of Kennedy up until World War II, which focuses heavily – perhaps relentlessly – on his romantic escapades, an extremely tired angle of JFK’s life that his been covered to the point of obnoxiousness. Once that throat clearing – blessedly short – is out of the way, Doyle segues to the patriarch, Joseph Kennedy, and his machinations to get his son into the war via the Motor Torpedo Squadron.
As described by Doyle, Joe Kennedy’s string-pulling was a classic bit of overkill. After all, it’s not like JFK, a Harvard grad and an experienced sailor, couldn’t have made it into the Navy on his own. Alas, I suppose you don’t become filthy rich and immensely powerful by leaving such things to chance. In any event, Joe’s actions are striking, especially today, when wealthy elites are not exactly known for joining the military. Of course, Kennedy pere assumed that his son would be out of harm’s way. That did not turn out to be the case. Once in the service, JFK made sure that he was sent into combat. Thus, to the extent that influence was exerted, it was to put Kennedy into danger, rather than keep him clear of it.
Doyle is admirably clear-eyed about the efficacy of America’s Motor Torpedo Squadrons. This is important, because if you’ve ever watched an old WWII movie, especially those made during the war itself, you can be forgiven for thinking that PT boats singlehandedly defeated Japan. Sleek, small, and fast, there was a romance about them that helped sell a lot of war bonds. The reality, however, was that they were utterly misused in attacking Japanese capital ships, where they failed to do any damage (partially due to faulty torpedoes). In fact, as Doyle notes, of the three confirmed capital ships sunk by PT boats, one was American.
In short, the deployment of the PT boats during the Solomon Islands campaign was an exercise in courage over logic, and in showiness over substance. Such was the case at the Battle of Blackett Strait.
With Japanese destroyers said to be sailing through the strait, four PT divisions – about fifteen boats – was sent on an interdiction mission. The attack was bungled, with some vessels making uncoordinated strikes, while others, such as the PT 109, caught on the outskirts of the engagement, not even aware of what was happening. Early in the morning, with Kennedy cruising on just one engine, the Japanese destroyer Amagiri rammed the PT 109, nearly splitting her in half. Two of Kennedy’s men were killed, the rest left clinging to wreckage.
For me, the most fascinating aspect of the sinking is JFK’s culpability. He was criticized at the time – and ever since – for his actions in allowing his fast, maneuverable craft to be sliced in two. Doyle, who clearly adores Kennedy, does not neglect the controversy, and though he provides mitigating evidence for JFK’s actions, it’s hard not to draw the conclusion that he was negligent in allowing the PT 109 to be sunk.
Despite his mistakes, Kennedy certainly rose to the occasion after the sinking. He directly saved one man’s life, and over the next several days, performed numerous feats of distance swimming that boggle the mind. Say what you will about JFK – and he seems to draw strong opinions from all sides – but he did everything he could to get his men rescued, and they remembered him for it the rest of their lives.
Overall, two things about PT 109 really stand out for me. The first is Doyle’s enormous research into this subject. The second is his inability to weave that research into a top notch narrative.
Starting with the positives, Doyle has done his digging. He has scoured both American and Japanese archives, discovered a “lost” firsthand account written by JFK himself, and interviewed just about everyone who was still alive in 2015, when this was published. This includes perspectives from Japanese sailors aboard the Amagiri, and Lieutenant Commander William “Bud” Liebenow, the PT skipper who picked up Kennedy behind enemy lines.
Unfortunately, Doyle does not seem to know quite what to do with all the material he compiled. This is demonstrated by a tendency to repeat himself, and to directly quote his interview subjects, even when they are not saying anything particularly pertinent. Take, for instance, Doyle’s interview with Secret Service Agent Clint Hill. Despite having no firsthand knowledge about Kennedy’s time on the PT 109, Doyle presents a paragraph-long quote from Hill about how JFK’s “wartime experience” effected his foreign policy decisions. To be blunt, the quote is filled with generalities, prosaic observations, and anodyne phrasing that tell you absolutely nothing of substance – except telegraphing to the reader that Doyle did his homework. These superfluities give PT 109 an odd bagginess, hurting its pacing and flow. More than that, it takes up space that could have been used for more serious discussions (for example, much of the debate about JFK’s fault in the sinking takes place in the endnotes, when it should have been in the body of the text).
PT 109 falls into that confounding category of history books that fail to make much of an impression, either positively or negatively. It is not glaringly bad, but it is also not memorably good. If I were grading it like an elementary school teacher, I would say it “meets expectations.” I learned what I wanted to know when I started, but I had to wade through a lot of needless tangents to get there. This will end up on the back of one of my bookshelves, an oddly forgettable title about an unforgettable American saga.