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~~BUTCH~~
by Paul J. Frisco
1998
At a time this country was in desperate need of heroes, some newspapers called him “Mr. Indestructible”.
Queen Wilhelmina of the Netherlands made him a Knight Of The Order Of Wilhelm, Fourth Grade. However, no one dared address him, Sir Edward.
To the officers and men with whom he served, especially during the early months of war, he will always be, “The Captain”, never the “Old Man” or “Skipper”. And the “Sir” they used whenever the need to speak with him arose, came easily and with respect.
He was a naval officer, graduated with the class of 1925 from the academy. Whose exploits, during a short period of his life, added more than a few lines to the history of the war in the Pacific. It is a story told with reference to a naval hero of another time, the crew that served with him, and the ship they sailed into battle one November Night in 1942.
When war came on 7 December 1941, this genial but rugged warrior of the sea was captain of a four stack destroyer, attached to the Asiatic Fleet, at Manila. Although his ship was a carry over from World War 1 and outdated, he was ready to take the conn and sail in harm’s way. He did not have long to wait. Within hours of the Pearl Harbor debacle he and his fellow Americans were subjected to a series of devastating air attacks. Naval installations at Manila, Cavite, and Subic Bay were dealt severe blows and the planes at Clark Field were caught on the ground and destroyed.
From the moment of dropping their bombs upon the unsuspecting U.S. Fleet at Oahu, followed by subsequent raids at various points of the Pacific, the Japanese seemed invincible. Its imperial forces prowled the seas; a juggernaut that brought defeat and humiliation to those who opposed them. We think of Captain Parker, the courage and determination he displayed; epitomizing those who stood as he did to resist and stem the tide.
During those terrible early days, Wake Island fell, Guam soon after, and Luzon was invaded. The Japanese pushed hard and decisively to carve out an empire of immense proportions and to annihilate the forces opposing them. England also suffered, losing two of her proudest battleships: Prince of Whales and Repulse, off Singapore, which were about to be overpowered by soldiers coming down the Malay Peninsula. General MacArthur, with his headquarters relocated to Corregidor, positioned his troops to make their stand within the mountains and jungles of Baatan.
For six months the Japanese roamed the seas, masters of their destiny. Interceded by sporadic and loosely coordinated resistance they moved southward as they sought to devour the Dutch East Indies for the rubber, tin, oil and natural resources needed to sustain their war effort. Next would be the taking of Midway, the Solomon, New Guinea, then Australia.
American and Allied forces were being badly mauled in their efforts to stop the Japanese sweeps. Theirs was a war to stall, upset the enemy’s time-table; give their countries time to assemble the men and weapons with which to fight wand win. Meanwhile, the Asiatic Fleet, reduced to two cruisers and four W.W.I destroyers, was driven south until they were operating out of Java. With Captain Parker in command of one of the “old tin cans”, they became part of a battle group that was nothing more than a ragtag collection of American, British, Dutch and Australian ships. Though brave and game, they were often out numbered and out gunned. Time and again they dared to venture fourth, made their fight on the waters of the Java Sea, to blunt the Japanese advances. It was here that Commander Parker first gained prominence as a true fighting man of the sea.
Originally captain of U.S.S. Parrot, when war came, Parker was to win the first of three Navy Crosses. Displaying all the attributes of one who trained all his professional life for the opportunity to fight in defense of his country he proved more than worthy of the responsibility entrusted upon him. He fought his ship in a series of surface actions against the ever advancing Japanese. Beginning with the Battle Of Lombok Strait his courage and tenacity showed a real sense and feel for battle. In one of the heaviest surface engagements of that time, he was awarded his first Navy Cross. By skillfully maneuvering among enemy ships his crew was able to concentrate their fire upon troop transports. Thus preventing the landing of Japanese troops.
Within weeks he was awarded a second Navy Cross for his actions. Commanding a division of destroyers, he engaged a superior naval force at Badoeng Strait. Defying all the odds, he positioned his ship so as to train it’s big lights on the Japanese in order to better sight and fire at their targets.
Incredibly, Captain Parker followed this effort by earning a Silver Star for the tenacious way in which he fought a powerful strike force during the Battle Of The Java Sea. A night action in which U.S.S. Houston and a number of Allied ships were lost and sunk. This action also earned a P residential Unit Citation for the destroyers and the men under his command.
Despite the heroics of men like Parker, the gallant way in which American and Allied units fought, the Dutch East Indies collapsed. They were too few, facing overwhelming numbers. However, the lessons learned, fighting the best that Japan could muster, was not lost. Those like the Captain, who were out there from the beginning, met the enemy, fought him toe to toe, and survived, were all a precious commodity. What they saw and experienced was of profound value in the formulation of new strategies and tactics. Some men were ordered to Pearl Harbor and Washington. While others were promoted to command of the new fleet destroyers coming off the ways, many were reassigned to command or rotated to existing vessels, filling billets of rapidly expanding Navy.
The war in the Pacific was its most critical point. American forces, still reeling from the effects of continued and relentless attacks, suffered further setbacks. After the Japanese occupied Singapore and the East Indies, Corregidor fell, and with it all of the Philippines. The focus now shifted to the Solomons, New Guinea, and Australia. There, the Navy, battered and weakened, drew a line, said, “Enough," and held on.
Then, a miracle!
On a Thursday morning at 1023, 4 June 1942, as in answer to many a prayer, the U.S. Navy achieved its first victory over Japan and Midway.
The turning point had reached. There would still be a long way to go. With many battles to be fought, ships sunk or damaged, and many men would be killed or wounded. The confidence to do the job began to find it’s way into every man’s psyche.
Commander Parker, recalled from the Java area, wanted another ship and crew to fight the battles still ahead. Early in October, 1942, he got his wish. He was given command of U.S.S. Cushing, DD 376. While not one of the new Fletcher class destroyers, it carried the name of one of the most honored men in naval history, William Barker Cushing.
If ever a man and ship were suited to on another it was Captain Edward Nelson Parker and U.S.S. Cushing, DD 376. Destined to have a life of but five weeks together, they sailed from Pearl Harbor to the southwest Pacific. En route, he instituted a rigorous program of training exercises. Every day he worked the crew until they were honed into as cohesive a fighting unit was possible in such a short time. Though there was more than just a sprinkling of regular navy, few aboard had seen action. Many others, fresh from boot camp or training school, were on their first voyage to find the war, have their chance at the Japanese. They sailed with apprehensive eagerness to every new horizon.
Their baptism of fire came during the Battle Of Santa Cruz. Stationed to the inner anti-submarine screen for the carrier Enterprise they were subjected to heavy and continuous air attacks.
All hands performed well, good enough to be credited with one definite and four probable enemy planes shot down. They also managed to rescue 20 pilots who had to ditch into the water. To a man, each felt that this is what they had to come to do, to fight the Japanese, and to make a contribution. Their spirits were revived when they were ordered into the maelstrom that was Guadalcanal.
Guadalcanal, guardian to Iron Bottom Sound -- waters insatiable for the devouring of ships and men while daily battles raged within her malaria ridden jungles.
Guadalcanal, mother to the Tokyo Express -- nightly excursions of Japanese troop ships and men-o-war to reinforce its army and destroy the American wherever they may be found.
Guadalcanal, where the circumstance of war sent Captain Edward Nelson Parker, U.S.S. Cushing, and crew to fulfill their destiny.
It began with the escorting of transports, filled with men and supplies, on 10 November 1942. It was a desperate attempt to reinforce the marines struggling to hold and keep Henderson Airfield from falling back into Japanese hands. The effort went slowly with the methodical caution such worked entailed. Then, the pace quickened as word was passed the Japanese were going to strike a massive counterblow to the American landings. They were coming down “the slot” with a force of battleship, cruisers, destroyers, and troopships. Their mission was threefold: land their own troops to bolster their cadres ashore, bombard the airfield and the marines, find, engage, and sink whatever U.S. ships they came upon. In response to this threat Admiral Halsey managed to scrape together a task group of thirteen ships, which included U.S.S. Cushing. At last, Captain Parker and his crew were about to get a crack at the vaunted Tokyo Express. Through stopped and stymied in their efforts to drive the Americans off the island to retake Henderson Airfield, the Japanese navy was a potent force. One that ran a solid list of accomplishments in its encounters against enemy men-o-wars.
Commissioned in 1936, Cushing, with a crew of 12 officers and 192 enlisted men, would be the smallest ship in the formation. However, with a captain considered to be one of the ablest ship handlers in the navy, aboard a destroyer named for a man of courage who knew no fear, it was only fitting they would be stationed at the van of this hastily drawn battle force. Parker was also one of the few men who had met the Japanese in night actions and survived. He stood on the bridge determined to maintain the tradition of their name sake. The men manned their battle stations believing in their purpose, their captain, and themselves. What they were about to face and endure would be the greatest adventure and challenge of their lives. Santa Cruz had been the whetting of their appetite for meeting with the enemy. The confidence gained there flowed within every man -- tempered by a modicum of doubt and fear.
Like as serpent of the sea, the American column snaked its way through the blackened waters off Guadalcanal in single file. Searching, hoping to lure the Japanese formation as it came into firing range -- capping the “T”, every fleet commander’s dream. Meet the enemy broadside, with every gun on every ship able to bear and fire into a fast charging naval force that could only bring their forward guns into action. That was the plan, crossing the enemy’s “T”.
Through the closing hours and minutes of that dark night, with all ships at general quarters, waiting the inevitable enemy, men stood at their battle stations, ready for what was to come. Captain Parker maneuvered Cushing at fleet course and speed, leading destroyers: Laffey, Sterett, O’Bannon; cruisers: Atlanta, San Francisco, Portland, Helena and Juneau; followed by destroyers Aaron ward, Barton, Monsen, and Fletcher. Each tick of the second hand seemed to make the night darker.
What Cushing and Task Group 67.4 were about to confront was a Japanese force of Battleships: Hiei, Kirishima; cruiser Nagara and eleven destroyers. Fourteen ships in all. While the difference in number of ships was one, the advantage in firepower was with the enemy; as was the effectiveness of their long range torpedoes.
As midnight passed and the first seconds of 13 November 1942, clicked on, the thirteen ship American column and the Japanese strike force, in a two group formation, sailed inexorably closer to one another. visibility was poor as the night was ink black. Like two wrestlers maneuvering for an opening in their opponent’s defenses, every ship moved slowly, warily, looking to shoot first -- hurt the other fellow badly. The tension grew with every turn of each ship’s screws. There, on the water of Iron Bottom Sound, within that area bound by Guadalcanal, Savo and Florida Island, the die was cast. All guns would fire and battle joined.
Typical of the times, the U.S. Task Group was created by contingency. There was no time for well planned strategy or tactics to be fully developed; operations set in motion only after every flaw could be detected and resolved. Expediency was the prevailing guideline for both offensive and defensive actions. This is not to detract from the leadership, the officers, or men aboard every ship that sailed that night. It was a force composed of varied types and classes that had never before sailed as a cohesive fighting group. Some of the officers, men and ships were being thrust into their first battle. Like a team of all-stars, each was good, but untested as a unit. None was accustomed to the ways of their team-mate’s style of play. Given time to train and practice together they might have been molded into a well coordinated and tight-knit battle group, but, there was no time. The contingencies of war did not allow that luxury, not in those harried early months. The ships, culled from various duties, were pressed into service to meet the threat coming down “the slot”. Many of the officers and men were new to one another. The task group commander, a brilliant officer with an impeccable record, had all the ingredients but one; he lacked combat experience.
Perhaps that is why U.S.S. Cushing with Captain Parker aboard, was placed in the van of Task Group 67.4. Parker was a true battle hardened veteran of the sea and one not cowed by the performance and impressive accomplishments of his enemy. He could be counted on to know and understand his mission, keep a cool-head in pursuit of achieving the objective -- stop the Tokyo Express.
Lookouts scanned the black sea and skies for whatever was moving toward them. While some ships had radar, its capabilities were not yet fully understood, appreciated, or trusted. Surprisingly, Cushing, despite its position, had neither FD or SG radar. While the former was installed at Pearl Harbor it was found to be ineffective. Permission was sought and given to have Laffey utilize their set and O’Bannon’s SG unit had to also serve Cushing. Ships with fully operational radar systems numbered less than the fingers on one hand they were situated among the long drawn single column formation. It would be up to those at their screens, and the look outs, to sight the approaching enemy.
The Japanese were not without their problems. They had no radar and had to rely on visual optics for locating the enemy. During those heady first six months of war they had proven that they were masters of this difficult art. However, they were confronted by an unknown. What would they be up against? Although it had all gone well, each new action found the U.S. Navy to be more bold, aggressive, and willing to engage in surface actions.
When the battle began, it did not follow the plans of either side. As had happened many times in the past, there was hesitation on the part of the task group commander to act. When a radar sighting of enemy’s ships was reported he gave no order to fire when the request was first made. He wanted assurances that what they saw were indeed Japanese ships. He did not want to fire on friendlies.
At 0004, Parker reported ships bearing off his starboard bow. Still, no order came to unmask torpedo tubes and guns. Thus, Cushing, as well as other ships directly behind, were deprived of an opportunity to shot first under favorable conditions. The Japanese were still very much groping, searching for something to lash out and strike. It should be noted with destroyers, Yadachi and Harusame at the van of their flotilla, maintained a heading that would have them sail across the Cushing’s bow. But, much worse, the Japanese trailing ships would slice through Task Group 67.4 and split their column should they continue on their plotted courses.
Parker, in accordance with the division commander who rode Cushing, recognized the threat to their single file formation. After seeing the two lead enemy destroyers cross his bow and still waiting for the release to fire his torpedoes and guns, felt he could wait no longer. The element of surprise was rapidly being lost. Voice communication over the TBS was chaotic and a shambles. Orders and requests were intermingled into a meaningless prattle unidentified voices. Time had run out. Something had to be done. Believing in the doctrine that the best defense is a strong offense, the redoubtable Parker executed a turn to the left into the on-coming Japanese formations. Surprise and pandemonium were immediately achieved. It is not certain who fired the first salvo. As if in unison, all guns were released to fire at will at targets of opportunity with instructions from the group commander, “To get the big boys. Get the big boys”.
Cushing, now too close to Japanese ships to let go its torpedoes, open up with their guns; everything that could shoot. The same was true of Laffey, Sterett and the others. Bedlam and uncertainty caused a breakdown of all prescribed formation by both sides. All the planning and any semblance of a well-coordinated surface engagement deteriorated into an all out melee. Some have called it, “A bar-room brawl with all the lights turned out”. One in which blows are thrown and received from all directions. Now it was shells being fired from every caliber gun that could be brought to bear. Just for good measure, there were also the torpedoes. It was impossible to tell friend from foe. Ships were so close that they fired at point blank range. Misses were rare.
DD 376 found itself among a number of Japanese ships, absorbing fire from several sources. Captain Parker continually maneuvered to gain good target set-ups. Suddenly, out of the blackness came battleship Hiei, her guns trained and firing. Despite the cascade of shells falling on his ship, he ordered a spread of torpedoes be fired at their tormentor. It was believed they found and struck Hiei but this has never been confirmed. Talk to any many who survived the night and he will tell you Cushing’s torpedoes struck their target. Oh, but what a price they paid.
Despite the carnage being rained upon them and the growing number of killed and wounded the crew of Cushing kept at their battle stations. Like their captain, They did what they could to stay in the fight, inflict damage to the enemy. No man flinched. Their ship was struck often and with devastating effect. Still the Captain and his men fought with every weapon at their disposal, even to firing 20 millimeter anti-aircraft shells at any Japanese ship that came near. They fought with dedicated fury to avenge those who lay dead or wounded, and Pearl Harbor They fought also to erase the humiliation put upon their comrades during the inglorious days of Japanese victories. They also fought to survive and win. Unfortunately, their bravery and determination would not be enough.
U.S.S. Cushing, DD 376, not only had to do battle with enemy destroyers, it found itself standing toe to toe with a battleship and a cruiser. Something that no textbook commander would ever advocate. It just couldn’t be done. Yet, with Parker’s daring and determination showing the way, his crew, like those on all the other American destroyers, were doing it. In the process they were being pummeled. It wasn’t long before the power system was severely damaged and headway lost. Her ordeal was not yet over. Dead in the water, they were subjected to a furious concentrated barrage from Cruiser Nagara, who greatly reduced the effectiveness of Cushing’s guns. Yet, there were those who stayed with their guns and fired manually. There were two torpedoes still in its tubes. The men tried to unleash them towards the enemy, but to no avail. The firing mechanisms were jammed from the many hits taken. The bridge in shambles and fires raged throughout the ship.
There were other battles being fought aboard DD 376; having nothing to do with weapons of war. in the makeshift emergency room set up to tend the wounded, Lieutenant James E. Cashman, (MC), maintained a firm and steady hand to stench free flowing blood of those with wounds too horrible to describe. Wounded himself, without regard for his personal well being, he administered to a never ending line of injured sailors. It was a scene and night he would never forget. His mission was “Save as many of our boys as possible."
Lieutenant (Junior Grade) Seymour D. Ruchamkin concentrated all his energies to fighting fires and minimizing damage. Despite a heavy downpour of shells, he disregarded his own safety for the safety of the man and ship. Without hesitation he led a group of damage control men below decks to douse the fires there. He was never seen again.
On the bridge, maintaining his station close to Captain Parker, stood James Charles Watkins, Chief Signalman. He had no guns to fire, could not retaliate against an enemy that was trying to destroy him. Suffering severe wounds, he refused to be evacuated for treatment and continued to carry out his duties. Like his captain, he was an inspiration to every man on that bridge. It cost him his life.
There were others who were heroic. Men whose names have never been noted. They all performed with the bravery, courage, and tenacity of their captain and those who were cited. Once in battle, especially on a ship, events occur with cascading rapidity. There is no time to pause, or to think and prepare you response to the enemy’s action. Salvos fall one after the other like leaded rain. Each drop carrying lethal doses of TNT. It is war at its most violent and savage, and on that night the cannonading on both sides was murderous. The Cushing was being battered.
When once he refused a request to abandon ship and chose to keep fighting his ship, he now had to face reality. With nothing to fight back, men dying and wounded, Captain Parker, with great reluctance, gave the order to abandon ship. Every man had done all that he had been asked. They had given all they could. Faced with the real possibility the fires would soon ignite the magazines, killing or maiming many more men, Parker gave the order. The ship's life would end here, at the bottom of Iron Bottom Bay. Even as they were going over the side into the water Cushing continued to absorb a fearsome pounding.
Is it possible that the spirit of Captain William Barker Cushing manifested itself within the persona that was Captain Edward Nelson Parker? Destining all that was happening to his men and ship, the dire straits he found himself, he chose to remain on board. Not to die, in the manner of his Japanese counterparts, but to be certain all had left the ship when ordered, particularly the wounded. Also, to determine for himself that Cushing indeed was in its last extremity.
The fierce battle did not let up. Ships were struck time after time. Some were sunk or stopped dead in the water. The screams of men hit by shells of shrapnel were muted by the sounds of explosions and torn metal. Blood and debris were strewn across many a deck, American and Japanese. If man was meant to destroy one another, it came to fruition on that black night of hell. With Cushing and others reduced to burning hulks, waiting to sink it was left to those still afloat to continue the battle.
What happened next, in the midst of the wildest free-for-alls waged at sea, was one of those rare moments of war. It was also one of the finest testaments of a man’s concern for his shipmates, especially his captain. With Cushing dead in the water, fire threatening its magazines, and abandoned except for Parker, EM/1 Class Ernest R. Johnson, after having tone into the water when ordered, returned to his ship. He climbed aboard to render what assistance he could to his captain. With a furious battle erupting all about them, the two men searched for survivors still aboard and ways of saving their stricken ship. They found two wounded men and managed to put them into a nearby boat. Any attempts to salvage the Cushing proved impossible. Only then did Captain Parker give his last order aboard U.S.S. Cushing. The two men then joined their shipmates in the water.
True to the indomitable spirit of Captain William Barker Cushing, the DD 376 did not surrender to its mortal wounds easily. She continued to stay afloat with fires raging out of control, drifting with the currents. Not until 1700 of that same afternoon did the magazines blow and sink the ship in the waters off Guadalcanal with many who died still aboard her.
The Naval Battle Of Guadalcanal, 12-13 November 1942, had a pronounced effect on the way Japan would use her capital ships for the remainder of the war. While they still clung to the concept of “all out surface engagement," no longer would they sortie their capital ships so randomly. Not until the First Battle Of The Philippine Sea would they venture fourth, seeking a major surface action.
In addition to subsequent loss of all their objectives at Guadalcanal on that night of horrors, the Imperial Navy of Japan lost battleship Hiei, two destroyers, and sustained heavy damage to battleship Kirishima. Also lost were a cruiser, Nagara, and several destroyers, with a loss of many lives and wounded men. Most importantly, they lost the island and would be on the defensive for the duration of the war.
Captain Parker, Captain of U.S.S. Cushing DD 376 for a period of five weeks, was awarded his third navy Cross. In addition, a number of officers and men were cited and awarded medals for their bravery and devotion to duty while under intense enemy fire. Along with the others mentioned earlier, Ernest R. Johnson, EM/1 Class, was given the Silver Star. Indeed, there were many who were cited for the manner in which they fought their ship that night; some who lived and those who died. A grateful President Roosevelt, with the approval of the Chirfs of Staff, conferred the coveted Presidential Unit Citation upon the ship, it’s offciers and men.
And what of Captain Edward Nelson Parker?
He continued to serve his country with distinction. Sometime during the year 1957 he lost a leg to cancer. Yet, refused to give in, becoming an invalid. He remained in his beloved Navy, and served wherver assigned, until his retirement with the rank of Vice Admiral.
He is gone now. While his name is not readily known by the public and those within the Navy, believe this: to those who knew him best, called him “Butch”, he epitomized the best in destroyer command and service. And to the officers and men who served with him, he will always be, “The Captain”, never the “Old Man” or “Skipper”.
©1998 Paul J. Frisco
Used with permission.