NIGHT ATTACK

Bay of Plenty Beacon, Volume 6, Issue 42, 26 January 1943, Page 7

NIGHT ATTACK

Official War Correspondent.

Aboard a Motor Torpedo Boat,

December 2S

Death is riding on wings of white sea spray to-night towards any ship the enemy maj* try to snealc through Solomons waters to supply his beleaguered ground forces on Guadalcanal. We arc riding with it in a fierce little, ship that is all guns and high-powered motors and fat torpedoes. This is one of the "monsters with flapping wings"—the motor torpedo boats of the United States Navy— for which the Japanese learned a healthy respect in the Battle of the Philippines. He is learning more about them here as they sweep the calm but. sinister sea that lies between his' - bases and Guadalcanal. Their swift stabs in the night have sent at least three enemy ships of war to the bottom and have damaged several others. Fast, elusive and powerfully armed, the torpedo boats are a constant thorn in the enemy's side. They roam with impunity acrosk his slender, fast dwindling supply line, and when they strike they strike hard, and often are gone before the Jap knows what has hit him. Our search for targets to-night has; been in vain. Perhaps the night is too bright, and clear for the enemy to risk any more of his ships;;,'he has found these waters filled with danger in much poorer visibility than this. But it is. stilll exciting to feel the ship surge forward at every light .touch on her throttles, her bow riding high and, lier wake churning behind; to listen to the radio chatter between aircraft and shore stations and other boats; and to creep close in t.o- the Japanese beach head—a venture that seems to emphasise our mastery of this stretch of sea. It's exciting, too, to sit in the. open cockpit with the blue-eyed, young navy lieutenant in command and hear what might have happened tonight—what really did happen not so many nights ago to this same ship and this same crew. He gives us a picture, of the squadron heading out from its base into a night far blacker than this; all that can be seen of the boats is the dim white trail of foam behind each stern. The icrews arc tensely on the alert, and the officers in the cockpits constantly swing their binoculars around the horizon. The enemy is known to be attempting desperately to get supplies through under cover of night by destroyer and even, submarine, and it is> almost certain he will try to make full use of this blackness. Suddenly the two-Avay radio crackles and words come —clear, cool, urgent. One of the boats has sighted something, a black, uneven shape, just distinguishable against, a less black sky. And there are more than one —there are seven, and they are destroyers, and they are Japanese! They steam in a right column, in line astern, past Savo Island, a mere five miles off the coast of Guadalcanal*. Our torpedo boat moves silently in lor the kill. The noise of the engines has dropped from a roar to a murmur, and her white Avako fades. She picks out. the leading enemy ship for her own. The young skipper plans his attack with coo! | deliberation, for the Japanese destroyers steam on unaware, of the ambush. From an extreme range, two torpedoes hurtle one after the other into the black Avatcr. Our boat swings quietly away, and the creAv Avatches with- suppressed excitement. Two sudden red flashes . . . and then a fury of flame and explosion that means the violent death of the enemy ship. The Japanese did not know Avhat hit them that night. They did not know Avhat to shoot back at. When the rest of our pack of torpedo boats had, crept, in and struck, scoring three more hits, the enemy broke and ran in confusion. Dawn is spreading its pale light oA T cr the glassy sea. The radio crackles again, and avc hear the voice of the squadron commander in the leading boat: "I'm hungry—• let's go!" And we race home to a better breakfast than the. Japs on Guadalcanal avill ca t ci* get.