“When a heavy round from a naval rifle hits a ship and explodes, the energy released pulverizes the hardened steel of the shell and swirls up the shattered remnants of surrounding metal decks and bulkheads. All of this metal rushes outward on the edge of a wave of blast pressure that a typical shipboard compartment cannot hope to contain. The sudden and overwhelming ‘overpressure’ turns the compartment itself into a weapon, its remains churning up into a superheated storm of fragmented or liquefied metal. The blast wave’s effect on people is horrific. It collapses body cavities, crushes organs, and blows flesh from bone…”
- James D. Hornfischer, The Last Stand of the Tin Can Sailors
The Battle off Samar on October 25, 1944 is a curious incident to categorize. On the one hand, as James Hornfischer argues, it was the United States Navy’s “finest hour,” a heartening epic of an outgunned and outnumbered force sacrificing their lives for the greater good. On the other hand, it was an embarrassing near-catastrophe borne out of gross tactical negligence that sent a lot of good men to the bottom of the Philippine Sea.
In The Last Stand of the Tin Can Sailors, you will hear a lot about the former, and almost nothing of the latter. As a result, this is a very good book with some serious limitations.
Taking place as a piece of the larger battle of Leyte Gulf – one of the biggest naval clashes in all history – the Battle off Samar pitted a Japanese force of massive battleships (six total), heavy cruisers (six total), and destroyers (eleven total) against a collection of thirteen United States ships, including six escort carriers (small, slow, poorly armored), three destroyers (small, fast, relatively lightly armed, and poorly armored), and three destroyer escorts (relatively fast, poorly armed, and poorly armored) in an old-fashioned surface action reminiscent of the days of Nelson.
The encounter came about as part of a three-pronged push by the Japanese to get their fleet to the landing beaches of Leyte Gulf, to destroy the transports disgorging American troops bent on retaking the Philippines. A Japanese force under Admiral Ozawa feinted from the north, enticing the over-aggressive Admiral William Halsey into giving chase with his fleet carriers and fast battleships. Meanwhile, from the west, two Japanese naval columns attempted to force the San Bernardino and Surigao Straits. The Japanese were stopped dead at Surigao, but the Center Force under Admiral Takeo Kurita managed – with an assist from American bungling – to pop through San Bernardino in such a surprising fashion that they were almost within big-gun range of Task Unit 77.4.3 (Taffy 3) before they were spotted.
With the escort carriers taking fire and unable to outdistance the faster Japanese ships, the destroyers and destroyer escorts of Taffy 3 tried to buy time by making a headlong series of torpedo runs, right into the teeth of the Japanese force (which included the Yamato, the largest battleship ever constructed). After expending their torpedoes, the American ships tried to bang it out with the Japanese, despite the self-evident futility.
Ultimately, two American escort carries were sunk (one by kamikaze, the other by naval gunfire), as well as two destroyers and a destroyer escort. Yet the sacrifice of the destroyers and destroyer escorts (the “tin cans” of the title) bought enough time for the other carriers to escape. It also convinced the fatigued, emotionally spent Admiral Kurita to pull back, even though he was on the verge of a smashing victory.
Roughly the first third of The Last Stand of the Tin Can Sailors is dedicated to setting up the context in which the Battle off Samar took place. This includes the usual strategic overview that you would expect. It also includes, however, a rather detailed look at many of the ships – especially the destroyers and destroyer escorts – and men involved. For example, Hornfischer introduces us to Lieutenant Commander Robert Copeland, a Naval reservist called into action to command the destroyer escort Samuel B. Roberts. By providing an efficient look into Copeland’s background, as well as that of several of his men – both officers and enlisted men – he gives you a pertinent reason to pay attention during the battle to come. While naval warfare can be shockingly impersonal, with violent death flung by huge guns over many miles, Hornfischer makes the results of that warfare painfully intimate.
(Hornfischer also provides a dramatis personae, so that you can quickly reference the ships involved, as well as their commanders. While this won’t help you remember the dozens of enlisted men that are introduced, it is helpful as an abbreviated order of battle).
Just as important to an understanding of the Battle off Samar is Hornfischer’s descriptions of the various ships involved. By explaining the virtues and deficits of destroyers and destroyer escorts, he demonstrates the kind of courage it took for them to dash into the teeth of the Japanese battle group. It’s not simply a matter of big versus small; it is a matter of what a sixteen-inch naval shell can physically do to a destroyer escort’s 3/8 inch steel decks.
The Battle off Samar takes up a majority of The Last Stand of the Tin Can Sailors, and Hornfischer proves himself a master of the battle narrative. The retelling is visceral, forceful, and graphic. Especially well told are the anxious moments as the small U.S. ships make their initial torpedo runs, soaked in the spray of near-misses, waiting for the fatal blow to fall. Hornfischer covers the frantic efforts of pilots – many of them flying with antipersonnel rather than anti-ship ordinance – to harry and distract the large Japanese warships as they sought an angle to catch the American carriers. He describes the brutal gunnery duels, including the ghastly, deformative results of a solid hit.
In some ways, this is an old-fashioned book, highlighting the glory and damn-the-torpedoes heroics of the engagement. Nevertheless, the interpretation that Hornfischer presents is unvarnished and frequently ugly, with torn limbs, battered bodies, and blood running in the scuppers. I only have two minor criticisms of this section. First, it goes on too long. For the sake of comprehensiveness, Hornfischer checks in on just about every American ship, which ultimately tends to bludgeon the reader into exhaustion with repetitious accounts of mangled, sinking ships. Second, Hornfischer occasionally forgets that the exploits of Taffy 3 speak louder than words. In so forgetting, his prose subsequently veers into purple melodrama that is frankly unnecessary to achieve the emotional impact he seeks.
To tell his story, Hornfischer interviewed approximately sixty participants or relatives of participants. These interviews appear to have taken place between 2001 and 2003 (this was published in 2004). Due to actuarial realities (enlisted men being younger than officers), most of the eyewitness accounts come from the lower ranks. While you might lose some of the command perspective, you definitely get a feel for what it was like to be on one of those small, often-doomed ships. (Some of the stories, however, stretch credulity. For instance, the recollection of the pilot who claimed to have emptied his .45 while flying inverted over a Japanese ship requires more corroboration).
The only true shortcoming of The Last Stand of the Tin Can Sailors is that it is not interested in why the Battle off Samar took place at all. The reality in October 1944 was that America had an overwhelming superiority in the air and on the sea. They had, in many ways, assembled the greatest maritime armada ever. On the other side, the Japanese were out of oil; the operation of their planes and ships was greatly curtailed; and they were resorting to suicide tactics to save on fuel and avoid training new pilots.
Yet somehow, despite American advantages and Japanese disadvantages, the Japanese managed to gain local superiority, showing up on Taffy 3’s figurative doorstep with almost no warning. They sank an aircraft carrier with gunfire, which was unprecedented. Even Hornfischer admits – though he underplays the admission – that the sacrifices of the American destroyers and destroyer escorts would not have mattered if Kurita had not lost his nerve. The Battle off Samar was kind of a disaster; only good luck for the Americans and bad decisions by the Japanese kept the disaster from being widespread.
Most students of the battle blame Admiral “Bull” Halsey, who despite numerous blunders ended his career with five stars (while the cerebral Spruance, who won Midway back when the Japanese and U.S. were at parity, gained only four). One is tempted to ponder whether Halsey’s reputation comes more from his drop-the-mic quotes than from his actual abilities. It is a question for which Hornfischer displays zero interest.
The Last Stand of the Tin Can Sailors wants you to think of selfless courage, of gutsy panache. It does not want you to think of the gaffes that made such courage and panache necessary. I found this an unfortunate authorial decision. Brave men died because of the poor judgment of others. They might have died because of one man’s penchant for chasing personal accolades. They deserve to be remembered, which Hornfischer has helped ensure.
They also deserve a reckoning, however paltry.