The third Friday in December is recognized as “Underdog Day.” Respectfully, I believe it should be observed on October 25th every year. Currently, the day is known for various observances around the world, including such things as Constitution Day in Lithuania, Republic Day in Kazakhstan, and as the feast day of Saints Crispin and Crispinian in Catholicism. This last was made famous as St. Crispin’s Day by Shakespeare. I would add Underdog Day to that list. I’m talking true underdogs, as in those who deserve acknowledgment, a tip of the hat, even admiration for their efforts in the face of overwhelming odds. Let me elaborate…
October 25, 1415. The Battle of Agincourt. Forces under Henry V of England met in battle a French army, nominally under the leadership of Charles d’Albret, Constable of France. The accepted given numbers of the relative forces vary. Generally though, we see from 5,000 to 8,000 or so for the English, and somewhere around 30,000 for the French, with some estimates as high as 60,000. These numbers make for staggering odds in and of themselves. Additionally though, the English, comprising mostly of lightly armored archers, had been marching a circuitous route through France, through heavy rain, while trying to forage for food and stave off illness. The French, on the other hand, were mostly knights and men-at-arms. Sources say that the night before the battle, Henry offered to return the spoils he had garnered “in all but the humblest of terms,” essentially offering to surrender to the superior French force. The Constable would not hear of it. He intended to attack and defeat the English completely. The result? A crushing defeat for the French instead.
Henry placed his army in such a way as to force the heavily armored French to charge across a long muddy field flanked on both sides by woods into a bottleneck, while archers poured arrows into them from their front and both flanks. While at first the fire was indirect, it was effective. Once the French men-at-arms came closer, the archers, with their heavy draw-weight longbows and bodkin points, were able to fire at individual targets, piercing their armor. The vast majority of the French chivalry was on foot, slogging through mud in their armor. By the time the surviving French arrived at English lines, they were exhausted, weighed down by their armor, and in chaos from the fire of the English archers. As these at the front fell back, they created more chaos and confusion for those following behind. Eventually, the archers engaged the French hand to hand along with the English knights, using short swords, axes and other implements. Being lighter and more agile than their exhausted enemy, they easily overwhelmed them. At the end, somewhere around 100 English were killed, while upwards of 10-15,000 French, including Charles d’Albret, lay dead, and Henry was victorious.
October 25, 1854. The Battle of Balaclava. British light cavalry charge into the mouths of Russian artillery. Unfortunately, the underdog doesn’t always win, despite their best efforts. This is one of those cases. Made famous by “The Charge of the Light Brigade,” by Tennyson, this battle saw the destruction of perhaps the best light cavalry in Europe due to incompetence, arrogance and miscommunication. Probably the biggest problem confronting the British was that the officers gained their rank due to their status in the aristocracy, not because they were competent, proven field commanders.
On this day, upon seeing British artillery pieces being captured by Russian troops, the overall commander, Lord Raglan, gave very vague orders to “prevent enemy carrying away guns.” This order, if more precise, might have rendered a victory. As it was, the officer relaying the message, one Captain Nolan, was possibly the worst possible choice. Nolan was an extreme advocate of cavalry, in a day and age when they were rapidly being rendered obsolete. The Cavalry commander, Lord Lucan, was unable to see the situation as Lord Raglan did from his position. When he asked for clarification, Nolan reportedly gestured toward the Russian artillery, saying “There is your enemy, there is your artillery, My Lord.” It is impossible to know why he did so, as Nolan was killed shortly after by artillery while riding across the line, waving his sword. Some say he may have done so because he realized the misunderstanding and the debacle that was about to occur.
As for the cavalry, the Light Brigade, under Lord Cardigan, did indeed charge, over a mile, into artillery and rifle fire. They actually reached the artillery, but were so decimated they were unable to press the attack, and were not supported by other troops (notably the Heavy Brigade), causing them to return under attack as well. In the end, numbers vary, but of over 600 who rode into the “Valley of Death,” nearly half were killed, wounded or taken prisoner.
Battle off Samar. The smallest ships in the U.S. Navy attack the largest ships the Japanese have to offer. The stakes are simple: The survival or destruction of the men, troop carriers and supply transports landing on the beaches of Leyte. Task Unit 77.4.3, with the radio call sign “Taffy 3,” consisted of 6 escort carriers, 3 destroyers, and 4 destroyer escorts, along with the carrier aircraft intended to help support landings at Leyte and perform anti-submarine patrols. On the morning of this day, the ships of Taffy 3 were off the island of Samar, in the Philippine Sea. In previous encounters, the Japanese force, referred to as the “Center Force,” consisting of 4 battleships, 6 heavy cruisers, 2 light cruisers, 11 destroyers and a number of aircraft, was thought to have been turned into retreat by the powerful U.S. Third Fleet. The Third Fleet was then lured after a decoy fleet, leaving Taffy 3 as the northernmost of three such task units guarding the landings on the beaches of Leyte.
U.S. forces couldn’t have been more wrong about the Center Force being in retreat. The ships of the Center Force opened fire on Taffy 3 at around 7:00 a.m. from in excess of fifteen miles. Among those firing on Taffy 3 was the battleship Yamato, with 18” guns. The Yamato, along with her sister ship, were the two largest battleships ever built. To give an idea of her size, the Yamato alone displaced as much as all the ships of Taffy 3, combined.
On the day one of Taffy 3’s destroyers, the USS Johnston, was commissioned, the skipper, Lt. Cmdr. Evans quoted John Paul Jones, saying “This is going to be a fighting ship. I intend to go in harm’s way, and anyone who doesn’t want to go along had better get off right now.” Seeming bravado from a man put in command of a “tin can?” It wasn’t. The ships and planes of Taffy 3, with the destroyer USS Johnston in the lead, attacked the Japanese with everything they had, and sometimes with nothing at all. That is not an exaggeration. 5” guns, the biggest any of Taffy 3’s ships had, torpedoes, anti-aircraft guns, bombs, machine guns, depth charges meant for submarine attacks, and at least one .38 caliber revolver fired by the pilot of an aircraft were used to attack the Japanese fleet. When American pilots had nothing else, they made mock bombing and torpedo runs on the Japanese ships, just to confuse them and draw their anti-aircraft fire from other aircraft that might be armed. The ferocity of the American attack convinced the Japanese commander that he was facing the screening force for major fleet elements. Having lost tactical control due to the attacks, he had no choice but to withdraw.
The Americans suffered heavily, with two carriers sunk (one by kamikaze), two destroyers and one destroyer escort sunk, 23 aircraft lost, and all of the ships damaged. The Japanese lost 3 heavy cruisers with 3 more damaged and one destroyer damaged. But it was the Japanese that turned tail. Oh, and Lt. Cmdr Evans? The USS Johnston was sunk, surrounded by enemy ships, but only after putting up a fight worthy of any combat vessel. The Johnston received numerous decorations for her actions, including a Presidential Citation. According to several survivors, she was even saluted by a Japanese ship’s captain as she went down, a sign of tremendous respect by Japanese standards. Lt. Cmdr Evans received the Medal of Honor, posthumously.
So, on this day, take a moment and lift a glass or give a salute to the underdog. They deserve nothing less.