protection by naval power, were now exposed to the full force of Japanese attack. It is true that some resistance could be offered by the shore batteries and mine-fields, but that these could long withstand a determined onslaught by such forces as the enemy would be certain to bring against them, no one in Washington believed. Tragedies have often been foreseen before they actually occurred, but the feelings they evoke are none the less poignant on that account. The bad news from the Far East sent a wave of grief over the United States. For the time being little heed was paid to the peril which menaced the Philippines. The country was thinking of those thousands of gallant seamen who had gone to their doom, fighting to the last against tremendous odds, with the old flag still flying as the waters closed above the torn and battered hulls of their ships. But the first thrill of horror was succeeded by a stern resolve to see this struggle through to the bitter end. However protracted the war might be, however costly in blood and treasure, it would be waged with the combined might of the whole nation until the sword was struck from the enemy’s grasp and he was forced to sue for peace. And it was in that spirit that the American people waited for further details of the tragedy of Manila, which to them, if not to their leaders, had come like a bolt from the blue.
CHAPTER III
United State Asiatic Squadron attacked by superior Japanese fleet — Majority of the American ships destroyed — Japanese prepare to invade Philippines — United States preparations to receive them
IT is clear from the private letters of Rear-Admiral Ribley, made public after his death, that he fully recognised the desperate situation in which his squadron would be placed if it had to await attack by the Japanese fleet. In a letter dated March 3, 1931, he wrote:
I have been ordered to concentrate at Manila, to assist the land defences in repelling the Japanese invasion which is momentarily expected. We have had no news from home since yesterday, as all radio messages taken in are incoherent and unreadable, and the cable went out of business last night. Consequently we do not know if war has been declared; but apart from this interference with our communications, which can only be the work of the Japanese, there is something in the air which tells us the fight is about to begin. Of course, with our handful of old ships we cannot do much against Japanese dreadnoughts, but we shall sell our lives dearly. I do not take my orders to mean that I am to remain in Manila Bay itself. That would be to repeat the suicidal blunder of the Spaniards in 1898. So the whole squadron is to leave as soon as we have coaled, which I expect will be about noon to-morrow. I shall then cruise off the coast and await developments. Our aircraft should give us early warning of the enemy’s approach. If he is accompanied by troop transports, we shall try and sink as many of these as we possibly can before going under. But I am afraid he will not bring troops along until he has disposed of our squadron. If only we had a couple of fast, well-armed ships, we might make a fight for it, but as things are we are in a tight corner; but at any rate we will keep the flag flying to the last.
In modern naval warfare there is not much room for the “fighting chance’’ which in former days sometimes enabled brave men to win victory in the teeth of fearful odds. The fleet which has the best ships and the heaviest guns is practically certain to win once battle has been joined, provided its officers and men are up to the average standard of efficiency. Courage of the highest order, dauntless resolution, superlative seamanship — all these qualities count for little against a crushing preponderance of material. It should therefore have been obvious to Admiral Morrison, the Chief of Naval Operations, that in ordering the Asiatic fleet to remain in the Philippines he was dooming it to