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Journalist and historian Thomas writes with a knowing feel for the clash of cultures as he follows four men through the naval war of 1941-1945 in the South Pacific: Admiral William ("Bull") Halsey, the macho, gallant, racist American fleet commander; Admiral Takeo Kurita, the Japanese battleship commander charged with making what was, in essence, a suicidal fleet attack against the American invasion of the Philippines; Admiral Matome Ugaki, a self-styled samurai who was the commander of all kamikazes and himself the last kamikaze of the war; and Commander Ernest Evans, a Cherokee Indian and Annapolis graduate who led his destroyer on the last great charge in the Battle of Leyte Gulf, the biggest naval battle ever fought. From new documents and interviews with American and Japanese veterans, Thomas was able to piece together and answer mysteries about the battle that have puzzled historians for decades.--From publisher description.… (more)
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Thomas focuses his book on four naval officers, two American and two Japanese: Admiral William Halsey, Commander Ernest Evans, Admiral Takeo Kurita, and Admiral Matome Ugaki. In the remote chance that anybody here is unfamiliar with the Battle of Leyte Gulf, the US invaded the Japanese-held Philippine Islands in 1944, starting with the island of Leyte. American possession of the Philippines would cut Japan off from its main source of oil in Indonesia, so the Japanese military felt compelled to act and devised a typically complex plan. Two Japanese fleets would move on Leyte from the west, one through straits south of the island and the other to the north; a third force, of aircraft carriers (useless because they had few aircraft and fewer capable pilots), would act as a lure to draw most American warships away to the northeast, allowing the Japanese to envelop and destroy the invasion forces.
As it happened the plan almost “worked” (worked is in quotes because it’s not clear what would have happened even if everything had gone according to plan). The southern Japanese force was annihilated coming through Surigao Strait. The northern force under Kurita (with Ugaki commanding the battleships) was badly beat up during its approach and the Americans thought it was in retreat; in fact Kurita temporarily withdrew then turned back. Halsey, in the meantime, found the Japanese decoy force and headed for it, leaving San Bernadino Strait undefended. Kurita debouched from the Strait and discovered an American task force of escort carriers and destroyers, intended to support troops ashore and not to fight capital ships, under his guns. Commander Evans launched his destroyer, USS Johnston, in a death ride against the Japanese, trying to distract them long enough for the escort carriers to escape. The American destroyers scored torpedo and shell hits on several Japanese vessels, but lost the Johnston, the destroyer Hoel, the destroyer escort Samuel B. Roberts, and the escort carrier Gambier Bay; in a decision forever subject to second-guessing, Kurita broke off and headed toward an (imaginary) reported American fleet. Halsey, in the meantime, was astonished by desperate pleas for help. Boosted by an unfortunately worded message from Admiral Nimitz (in Washington) he broke off pursuit of the Japanese carriers and headed back toward the Philippines.
Thomas’ oral histories are the high point of the book. He’s handicapped because all the principles were dead; Halsey in 1959, Evans in 1944 (battle casualty at Leyte Gulf), Kurita in 1977, and Ugaki in 1945 (in a kamikaze attack after the Japanese had surrendered). Thus he’s reduced to interviewing the secondary participants – Japanese and Americans who were junior officers and enlisted men during the battle. Many of the interviews are compelling and evocative, and probably trustworthy when it comes to personal details about the officers involved – Halsey hated being called “Bull”, Kurita practiced archery on the deck of his flagship, etc. Alas, though, politically correct hindsight is apparent; Halsey is portrayed as a racist, borderline alcoholic, overly aggressive, fixated on the destruction of the Japanese carriers, and Kurita comes across as a gentle, contemplative but indecisive and fatalistic sort who would have been more suited for a Zen garden in a monastery than commanding a fleet. Well, everybody was pretty racist in the 1940s – not least the Japanese – and Kurita’s withdrawal has been criticized by armchair admirals ever since the battle. All of Thomas’ first, second, and third hand interviewees reported that they had tried to warn Halsey of the dangers of leaving San Bernadino strait open but, somehow, their messages never got through or were disregarded; not surprisingly nobody can be found who was enthusiastic about going after the decoy force – at least, not now. Similarly, Thomas’ Japanese sources go out of their way to say how surprised they were to witness American bravery and how gentle Kurita forbade shooting American sailors in the water; again perhaps thoughts that they first had long after the battle.
The accounts of Evans and Ugaki seem like afterthoughts; they receive much less space than Kurita and Halsey and are a little strange to put in opposition – Ugaki was an admiral in charge of a battleship division while Evans was a destroyer commander. I suppose the link is that they both “went down with their ships”, so to speak, although in Ugaki’s case it’s not clear that an illegal suicide attack should be compared to Evans’ actions with the Johnston
Thomas’ technical accounts of the battle are adequate; he uses maps adapted from James Hornfischer’s Last Stand of the Tin Can Sailors, which are probably as good as can be expected under the circumstances (considering the actual participants certainly didn’t have a good idea of where they were, where the other ships in their fleet were, or where the enemy was). Ironically, while Thomas is perfectly willing to criticize the participants’ character and personality, he refuses to speculate on the outcome of their decisions – i.e., what would have happened if Halsey had left a fraction of his force behind, or if Kurita had pressed his attack. Leyte Gulf probably has more opportunity for “what ifs” than any naval battle in WWII – even Pearl Harbor or Midway.
I don’t want to seem too critical; this is actually quite a good book. The portrayals of Halsey and Kurita are useful as reminders that American WWII heroes smoke, drank, swore, womanized and said things about their enemies that offend modern sensibilities; and that many Japanese officers were not brutal demons. Still, it ended up with Halsey in Tokyo Bay on the deck of the Missouri, not Kurita in the Potomac on the deck of the Yamato.
Mr. Thomas does a good job getting
Great book! I did enjoy Mr. Thomas' "John Paul Jones" more. But if you are interested in the Pacfic war during WWII then you should take a look at this book.
Thomas is at his best when describing the interplay between commanding officers on both sides. His ability to reconstruct the decision-making process on both the American and Japanese sides, dissecting and critiquing it as he goes, is impressive. His assessments of the personalities of the men involved, particularly the Americans, are judicious and measured, taking full account of the complexities of directing complex military operations under less-than-ideal conditions. The reconstructions of eve-of-battle debates in the American and Japanese wardrooms is detailed and, for anyone interested in naval warfare or the art of command and leadership, riveting. Thomas' analysis of the extent to which a horrendously inefficient communications network shaped American officers' conduct of the battle was, for me, a revelation.
The reconstruction of the battles--Leyte, like most 20th century fleet actions, was a series of smaller battles occurring one after the other--is nearly as good, especially when Thomas takes a leaf from Cornelius Ryan and Walter Lord and tells the story as a mosaic of recollections by individual survivors. The scenes aboard Japanese ships were, for me, more compelling because the details were less familiar. Most people who will pick up this book already know something about the American navy's role in the Pacific War. Sixty years on, the experience of Japanese sailors is still a mystery to many on this side of the Pacific, and Thomas makes a commendable effort to redress it.
The least successful part of the book is the big picture. Thomas seems to want to use the long run-up to Leyte to establish strategic background for the battle and the characters and backgrounds of his four principals, but trying to tell the story of three-and-a-half years of war through the intersecting lives of four individuals produces (perhaps inevitably) a patchy and slightly disjointed narrative in the early stages of the book. Unless you already have the outlines of the Pacific War firmly in your mind, the four stories are unlikely to gel into a complete picture of the pre-Leyte war in the Pacific. His narrative of the battle as a battle suffers from a similar inability to knit dozens of intersecting storylines and scores of vignettes together into a clear overall picture. The technological "changing of the guard" from battleships to carriers is illustrated by example, but never discussed in broad terms--a shame, since Leyte provided a "last hurrah" for the battleships nearly four years after air power had supposedly rendered them obsolete.
I enjoyed Sea of Thunder thoroughly, and recommend it unreservedly to anyone interested in 20th century naval warfare generally or the Pacific Theater of WWII in particular. That said, it's probably not the first book I'd recommend to someone looking for an introduction to the war in the Pacific, or a clear, concise overview of its greatest battle.