The Pacific War was a test of will, of stamina, and of strategy, with the sea encircling Guadalcanal as the battleground for some of the most savage naval combat in world history. The battle for this distant chain of islands was much more than a struggle for ground—it was a struggle to keep lifelines open, to determine the war’s outcome, and to preserve the lives of thousands of marines and seamen.
The Japanese started constructing an air base on Guadalcanal in July 1942, and the Allies quickly realized it posed a threat to vital shipping routes between the United States, Australia, and New Zealand. The U.S. countered with a daring amphibious attack to seize control of the air base, later named Henderson Field.
This was followed by several months of bitter combat on land, sea, and in the air. Heavy jungle, poor country, and tropical disease contributed to the difficulty of the campaign, and the waters about it acquired the ghostly name Ironbottom Sound, ship by ship going down to the bottom. Guadalcanal also marked the shape naval warfare was to take.
Aircraft carriers, radar, and night fighting were the reasons. The USS Washington, a North Carolina-class battleship, was the symbol of the new age. With her mighty 16-inch guns and sophisticated technical radar, she was the heroine of a great duel.
On the night of 14-15 November 1942, during the Naval Battle of Guadalcanal, Washington, commanded by Vice Admiral Willis A. Lee Jr., engaged the Japanese warship Kirishima.
With fire guided by radar, Washington bombarded Kirishima with over twenty 16-inch and over forty 5-inch shells, sinking her to the ocean floor in the only one-on-one battleship sinking of the Pacific War. The battle was a turning point, showing the killing potential of sophisticated naval machinery. But at ghastly cost did these victories come.
The seas off Guadalcanal became a man and ship graveyard by the thousands. The USS New Orleans, for example, had her bow ripped off by a torpedo during the campaign. Due to the resourcefulness and obstinacy of her crew, the wrecked vessel was jury-rigged with improvised repairs and crept to safety.
Years afterward, the bow reappeared off the Solomon Islands—not as driftwood of history but as a tribute to the 183 who were killed in the raid. It’s a reminder that history isn’t guns and ships alone—it’s justice brought to the lives and losses of men who never came home. Above the war and strategy, the human moments arise.
The loss of the USS Lexington during the Battle of the Coral Sea, months before Guadalcanal, is an example of sailors’ toughness and companionship. Survivors recalled the field chaos, grief of losing their vessel, and even moments of humor, like enjoying ice cream upon getting on ships to escape.
Human moments during tragedy provide one with perspective and remind us that the history of war is very individual, one built by a succession of individual acts of heroism, hope, and resilience. The Pacific wars and the history of Guadalcanal are still alive today with an uncomfortable presence.
Rediscoveries of the bow of the USS New Orleans and Lexington wreckage brought historians, family, and the public into contact with the very real human cost of war. These wars were so much more than metal and cannon wars—they were spirit wars, mind wars, and will wars, and they left a legacy that has had resonance over centuries and continues to assist us in how we remember the losses of our ancestors.