Pearl Harbor, mid-May 1944: American forces are preparing to invade Saipan, an assault scheduled for June 15. rehearsals, at Maui, are rocky. The lST (landing Ship, Tank) feet returns to Pearl, about to sail west. but catastrophe strikes and the navy suppresses the news. What happened? Why? author Gene Eric Salecker reveals the answers in The Second Pearl Harbor. “I saw it mentioned in a Samuel Eliot Morison book and thought, ‘What is this?’” Salecker explains. “after some research, I contacted the lST association. Soon I had a dozen phone calls and three dozen emails from veterans who couldn’t wait to tell their story.”
Who participated in the rehearsals for Saipan?
The 2nd and 4th Marine Divisions were to be the invasion force. The 4th Division was green; the 2nd had invaded Tarawa, but had plenty of green replacements. Some of the XXIV Army Corps Artillery was supporting them. There were 47 LSTs and 10 APDs—high speed destroyer transports. In all, 71,000 men. Admiral Chester W. Nimitz and Rear Admiral Harry W. Hill especially wanted to rehearse the 4th Marines and the LST captains, many of whom were fairly young and fairly new.
The practice landings didn’t go well.
They sure didn’t. Bad weather the night before meant high seas, which swept three LCTs—Landing Craft, Tank, smaller troop-carrying vessels placed atop LSTs by cranes and chained down to be piggybacked to Saipan—overboard. A couple dozen Marines and sailors who had been sleeping on or underneath those LCTs drowned. Two LCTs had been con verted into gunboats and were carrying boxes of mortars. You had LSTs bumping into each other, amtracs rolling out, bow door chains snapping.
On May 19, the vessels returned to Pearl Harbor’s West loch.
That’s the very shallow part of Pearl, perfect for fat-bottomed vessels; battleships and such were in East Loch, where the Japanese attacked. There was—and is— an ammunition depot at West Loch. The ships arriving from Maui were to get cleaned up, repaired, refitted, and refueled. Half the crews and most of the Marines got shore leave while the LSTs were reloaded with amtracs and DUKWs (“ducks”) for Saipan, as well as munitions. Most of the navy’s fuel vessels were in Europe for the Normandy invasion, so the Saipan LSTs doubled as ammo and fuel vessels—a dangerous mix. Each LST had between 80 and 100 barrels of aviation fuel intended for Higgins boat and duck engines, which ran more smoothly on that higher octane blend. Many of those fuel drums had been dented or punctured or had spigots on them or were half-full. There’s the danger: it’s not the gasoline that explodes, it’s the fumes. The LSTs were tied up in rows at tares—piers constructed of telephone poles— right next to each other, with just a rope bumper between. LST decks that weren’t carrying an LCT were loaded with jeeps, trailers, and trucks with canvas tops, with Marine shelter halves strung between them.
What set disaster in motion?
Admiral Hill decided gunboat LCTs were a dumb idea, and ordered the mortars removed from the final one, LCT- 963, atop LST-353, at Tare 8. Black munitions handlers from the 29th Chemical Decontamination Company of loaded the mortar ammo to a truck on the LST elevator, lowered that truck, then brought on the next truck. The entire time, these guys were dropping shells and smoking, cases were breaking, but there was no problem. It was a tranquil Sunday afternoon.
Until 3:08 p.m. on May 21.
There was a huge explosion at the bow of LST-353. Everyone on the other LSTs saw debris and body parts landing on their decks. A stiff wind spread debris that set fires on decks all over the bay.
How did men react?
LST crews started ringing fire bells and fighting flames; they put out most of the original fires. But there was a second, even larger explosion—so big it knocked people over. Men started abandoning the ships near LST-353, hopping from ship to ship to reach land or dropping of the fan tail into the water. As vessels tried to get out, guys in the water were sucked into the screws and ground to pieces. Now explosions were almost constant; aviation fuel drums were starting to pop. LST-39, next to LST-353, caught fire, came unmoored, and drifted toward the ammo depot, where men had been unloading a munitions ship and two barges holding thousands of rounds. Tree PT boats arrived, ready to torpedo LST-39.
Did they launch torpedoes?
Luckily, no: think of the explosions! Fire boats arrived and the PT boats backed of to rescue people. Meanwhile, three burning abandoned LSTs broke away from Tare 8 and drifted toward other vessels.
Then came the third explosion.
That was LST-353. Any ships that had been hesitating took that blast as the signal to get out. Most headed through a narrow channel that got jammed. Some ships turned around into an area west of the depot until they ran aground. Those crews sat and watched the whole thing— including three burning LSTs, each a football field long, drifting toward the depot. It was getting dark, and the sky was filled with black smoke from gasoline burning on the water—but the flames were lighting the area. Guys had to swim through the fire or underneath it. LST-69, which was exploding at Tare 9, hit LST- 480, which caught fire and exploded.
How long did the fires and explosions go on?
All night. They set up generators and lights for men fighting fires aboard beached vessels. Fire-fighting boats put out the gas burning on the water. There were about a dozen fire tugs, a submarine tender, and many rescue vessels. Finally, about 5 a.m., the big dangers were past.
How bad was the damage?
Six LSTs were lost; two were too badly damaged to go to Saipan. Eight 155mm howitzers were lost, as was all the Marine equipment—rifles, knapsacks, shelter tents. Officially, there were 163 dead or missing, with 396 injured, but every guy I interviewed said that it was more like 1,000 to 2,000 casualties.
The feet was about to leave for Saipan, 3,800 miles west. yet the navy still set sail in only 24 hours. How?
Other LSTs waiting to be worked on were refitted quickly. LSTs intended for Guam got transferred to the Saipan feet. Eleven LSTs replaced the eight lost ships. Of more than 700 amtracs and amphibious tanks aboard the LSTs, the navy lost only 17. Every Marine in the landing force got brand new stuff, including rifles—which meant men had no way of sighting their M1s on the rolling seas before Saipan. There was a shovel shortage; Marines had to share with their buddies. The feet set sail 24 hours late, but made up the time en route and managed to invade Saipan on schedule.
By the next day the navy had set up a court of inquiry.
Of course, the close eyewitnesses were all dead. But after 16 days of investigation, the court reached the conclusion that the incident started when one of the men with the 29th dropped a mortar shell. However, people who saw the initial explosion say no. The navy report mentioned careless smoking around aviation fuel; that’s what I—and most of the men I interviewed—believe did it.
For decades, the navy suppressed reports of the disaster. Why?
Initially, the aim was to maintain the secrecy of the invasion, which makes sense. Men were told not to talk or write home about the disaster. Guys who were there couldn’t talk about it to buddies who weren’t. But then the navy didn’t release any information until 1960, and the incident was forgotten. Some guys were still afraid to talk when I approached them. I had to dig and dig to get information about the court of inquiry. Remember, that part of Pearl Harbor is of-limits to civilians because it’s still a navy ammunition depot; there’s a plaque beside the depot, but unlike the USS Arizona memorial, nobody can see it. The episode just fell through the cracks of history.
Originally published in the February 2015 issue of World War II. To subscribe, click here.
