Bauer, Harold "Joe": Bio: Decision at Gaudalcanal - Page 1/1
Created on 2005-01-21
Title: Bauer, Harold "Joe": Bio: Decision at Gaudalcanal By: Eric Bergerud Date: 1998-07-18 1534 Flashback:Orig. Multipage Version Hard Copy:Printer Friendly
On October 18, 1942, Marine COL Harold "Joe" Bauer was
informed another Japanese air raid was inbound to
beleaguered Guadalcanal from the Imperial bastion at
Rabaul. The target was Henderson Field, home of the "Cactus
Air Force" and objective that was at the center of the
entire Guadalcanal campaign for both sides. As long as the
American Marines and soldiers could hold Henderson, US
aircraft could protect a build-up on Guadalcanal that would
mean certain victory in the months ahead. Ultimately a US
victory at Guadalcanal meant a US triumph in the South
Pacific.
Knowing this, the ships and air fleets of the Japanese
Combined Fleet, supported the Japanese Army's own build-up
on Guadalcanal whose target was the Marine perimeter around
Henderson Field. If the Japanese could seize the air strip,
the strategic situation would be reversed. Their planes
could protect a land build-up and the US garrison would be
starved into humiliating submission. Whoever held the crude
little airstrip on the "Canal" would win what had developed
into a massive air, sea and land campaign.
Bauer knew well the harsh and perilous conditions existing
for the pilots of "Cactus Air Force." In a previous tour on
Guadalcanal as commander of Marine squadron VMF 212 he had
become an ace. On the day of his arrival for his second
tour he shot down three Val dive bombers over Henderson -
an act that led to the award of a Congressional Medal of
Honor. No wonder the flinty, tough and brilliant MG Roy
Geiger, who commanded air forces on Guadalcanal, made Bauer
head of fighter operations. Deeply respected by his men,
who often called him "Coach", Bauer gave startling
instructions during the short briefing on 18 October. After
a short pep talk Bauer told his pilots, "When you see
Zeros, dogfight 'em."
In retrospect Bauer's instruction appears as an
unremarkable urging on the part of a pugnacious combat
commander. At the time, however, it was a significant
reversal of policy and an excellent illustration that the
Americans, after nearly a year of war, were beginning to
understand the dynamics of fighter combat.
Prior to Bauer's instructions Allied fighter pilots in the
Pacific had usually fared poorly against Japan's crack Zero
formations. We can see now that Japanese numerical
superiority and Allied command paralysis probably had more
to do with early Imperial victories than the inherent
qualities of Zero fighter. However, by the time the
Guadalcanal campaign began in August, 1942, many American
pilots believed that their Wildcats, P-40s or P-39's were
seriously outclassed by the Zero. Their commanders also
assumed, correctly, that the Japanese would hold numerical
superiority in most theaters. Consequently when Henderson
Field opened for business and Japanese and the almost daily
Japanese air attacks came in from Rabaul, some 500 miles
distant, American commanders decided to emulate the tactics
employed by the Air Marshall Dowding during the Battle of
Britain.
Joe Foss' flight of VMF 121 at Guadalcanal
At this stage of the war, fighters had little importance
beyond their ability to either protect or destroy bombers.
(By 1944 this had dramatically changed and fighter-bombers
had become fearsome weapons in their own right.) The Marine
air commanders on Guadalcanal, very much like the British
before them, instructed their fighter pilots to avoid enemy
fighters whenever possible and make overhead attacks on the
fast but fragile Japanese "Betty" bombers that carried the
load for Imperial forces during Guadalcanal.
If forced into an encounter by Zero escorts, Marine
fighters were expected to head for a cloud or employ the
one advantage the Wildcat held over the nimble Zero - it's
ability to dive for home at very high speed. The Marines
counted on the inherent advantages of the defense to
counter Japanese numerical superiority. Australian
coastwatchers and radar allowed Wildcats to scramble and
attack with a slight altitude advantage. Also, any American
pilot who managed to bail or land a badly damaged fighter
was available for further service: Japanese pilots in
similar circumstances were almost certainly lost.
Many Betty bombers and some Zeros died in these encounters,
but the Japanese quickly devised countermeasures to disrupt
the simple American techniques. Japanese bombers attacked
at very high altitude - 22,000 to 24,000 feet was typical,
arrayed in an intricate "vee of vee" formation. It was a
poor defensive formation which left at least one of the
outside "Vee" elements vulnerable to attack and one of the
bombers inside the unfortunate "vee" a particularly
inviting target. However, because the Betty was almost as
fast as a US fighter at high altitude, Marine fighters
rarely had time for more than one run.
To make matters worse, the slow climbing Wildcat barely had
time to reach the 27,000 foot altitude necessary to make
their single overhead pass.(1) Also, if a Zero could engage
a Wildcat for the briefest of time, the American pilot
probably would not make his pass at all. Even if the
American decided not to "dive out", the slightest misstep
by a Wildcat pilot in such thin air could lead to a spin
which meant, at minimum, that regaining attack altitude was
impossible. Worse, a spin left a fighter vulnerable to Zero
attack or might lead to a crash.
Initially Japanese escorts, which usually lacked radios,
found the bomber formations difficult to cover. However,
they soon began to proceed bomber attacks with one or two
fighter sweeps designed to catch Wildcats on their climb.
If the Japanese could force the Americans down, the bombers
could attack unimpeded. If more fortunate, the Zeros could
"bounce" vulnerable Wildcats and inflict serious losses.
Avoiding Zeros was keeping US fighters in the air, but they
were losing their ability to stop Japanese attacks.
Bauer's move was extremely aggressive. Combat loss,
mechanical fatigue, and accidents made operations a
sinkhole for aircraft on both sides. Geiger informed
Halsey, overall US commander, that Wildcats and Dauntless
attrition rates were 50% every ten days. Not far down the
road the US war machine could match these numbers, but in
October the cupboard was nearly bare. Why, then, would
Bauer want to "up the ante" just when it looked as though
the US was nearing the end of the resources at hand and the
climatic land and air battles for Guadalcanal were just
about to begin? First, Bauer realized that fighter combat
in WWII was not a joust between individual aircraft. He
believed that if US airmen would stick with a wingman, or,
better yet, operate in the famous "finger four" formation
that tactics could trump the technological superiority the
Zero had in a dogfight. In a one on one engagement the Zero
certainly had the upper hand.
As the great Marine ace at Cactus Joe Foss remarked, "if
you were alone and saw a Zero at the same altitude you were
flying, you were outnumbered and it was time to get out."
Bauer himself once quipped that "The Zero is faster than
the Wildcat, can out-climb it, can turn inside it and do
maneuvers the Wildcat will never match. Aside from that, we
have a better plane.." Bauer's comments show that he knew
that a Zero was very vulnerable in a fight between
formations. He told his men in late October "Be an
aggressor. Have complete faith in your armor and confidence
in your ability to shoot down the enemy when you get him in
your sights."
Bauer counted on tactics and chaos to equalize the odds.
Tactically, Bauer was a great believer in the "scissors."
There were many variations of the scissors with the complex
"Thatch Weave" the most famous and probably most rare. All
shared a basic concept. If a pilot believed that either he
or his partner was about to be hit from the rear, he turned
toward his wingman. The wing reacted by also turning toward
his partner. This left a pursuing fighter in a quandary: he
either had to break off the attack or face a head-on pass
by the second defender.
Furthermore, Bauer knew that once a fighter engagement
began, the rule-book went out the window. All planes had
blind spots. No pilot, regardless of skill, could track all
of the action. By simply "mixing it up" Bauer knew that his
men would inevitably get opportunities to fire at
unsuspecting Zeros at close range. Obviously, however, his
pilots would be vulnerable to counterblow. (2)
In Bauer's eyes this was a worthwhile exchange. The Zero
was a wonderful aircraft but proved a poor fighter. Its
legendary maneuverability, rate of climb, astounding range
and excellent speed resulted from its very low weight. It
is often noted that the Zero lacked armor and self-sealing
fuel tanks, valuable features found in the Wildcat. Just as
importantly, however, was the structural weakness of the
Zero's airframe. A very few American .50 caliber rounds
could cause structural failure which in turn caused
explosion.
Exactly the opposite was the case for the Wildcat. Like all
US aircraft the F4F was extremely rugged. The light armor
provided for the pilot was proof against the Zero's .30
caliber machine guns. The inherent strength of the aircraft
made it far less prone to structural failure. Consequently,
barring some very bad luck, a Japanese pilot had to clobber
a Wildcat with his .20 mm cannon to bring it down. If a
small portion of a Wildcat's bullet stream struck home, a
Zero would probably die.
This math spelled doom for Japan in the Pacific theater. It
is rarely appreciated how difficult it was in World War II
for one fighter to hit another. Gunsights were crude, guns
often jammed and if yaw, pitch or roll were even slightly
different than the pilot believed, the bullet stream would
miss. If the enemy was evading, the problem multiplied.
Consequently, most planes were struck from very close
range. Joe Foss, like so many WWII aces, urged his men to
fire at point-blank range.
Men of Marine Fighting Squadron 212
Nevertheless most rounds missed under the best of
circumstances. Over Pacific skies, the small percentage of
American rounds that struck home meant a torched Zero.
Incidental fire from a Japanese fighter meant American
mechanics would have to patch some holes. As crack Japanese
pilots died off, and as Americans introduced superior
aircraft such as the P38, Corsair and Hellcat, the Pacific
air war became a route.
Over Guadalcanal Bauer's change of tactics paid off
quickly. The battle of October 18 at least four Zeros and
three Bettys went down at the cost of two Wildcats (both
pilots rescued.) Two days later the Marines won another
engagement which claimed the life of Ota Toshio, a leader
of the vaunted Tainan Air Group and the top Japanese ace
(34 claimed kills) to die in the Guadalcanal campaign.
On October 25th the Japanese launched one of their largest
attacks against Cactus which included 82 aircraft of all
types. Fourteen, including eleven Zeros, were destroyed by
the Marines at the cost of two fighters. During this period
pilots like Joe Foss and Jack Conger added significantly to
their kill totals. More important was the trend that
developed. Prior to mid-October the Zeros usually bested
the pilots at Cactus. After this time until the end of the
Guadalcanal campaign in January 1943, the pilots at Cactus
normally came out on top.
The Japanese lost over 600 aircraft at Guadalcanal and far
worse was to come over the Solomons in 1943. However, Joe
Bauer did not live to see his decision fully vindicated. On
November 14, 1942, in the midst of a savage three day naval
battle that destroyed any Japanese hopes for victory at
Guadalcanal, Bauer insisted on accompanying Joe Foss on a
strafing run against Japanese transports. As an operational
commander Bauer was not expected to fly, but his fighter
pilot instincts overcame protocol. Minutes later Bauer shot
down his last Zero. Simultaneously struck by anti-aircraft
fire coming from a Japanese destroyer, Bauer crashed. Foss
saw Bauer swimming near the shoreline of Guadalcanal and
rushed back to Henderson for aid. Bauer, however, was never
seen again.
1.Some accounts talk of engagements at 30,000 feet. I am
skeptical that such altitudes were often obtained
considering the low horsepower, poor blower and crude
oxygen systems possessed by the F4F. Interviews I have done
with Cactus pilots support these doubts. The Zero was
likewise straining to fight at 25,000 feet for the same
reasons.
2. In theory the Japanese could have countered with similar
tactics but failed to do so. Japanese fighter tactics were
based a very loose three plane "vee", called a "shotai",
that would switch to a line-ahead attack formation when the
flight leader signaled with wings and hands. To a degree
the very slack Japanese formations reflected the Zero's
lack of a reliable radio.
More importantly, however, the prewar Japanese doctrine had
stressed an unheard of level of training. The shotai's
leader and his wingmen developed an instinctive knowledge
of what each other would do. Early in the war this doctrine
brought spectacular results. However, as combat and
inevitable operational losses mounted, the shotais lost
cohesion. As was so often the case in the Pacific, the
Japanese were extremely slow to react to doctrinal errors
and American tactical superiority accompanied eventual
numerical and technological superiority.