When you are a beachmaster you are a lot of different things: a human measuring stick, a clay pigeon, a traffic cop, a walking information bureau, and, most important of all, a sort of invasion usher who shows the… heavy landing craft where to sit down on an enemy beach… Since charts and reconnaissance information seldom tell all that needs to be known about an enemy beach, somebody has to wade in ahead of the landing craft and get the dope.
— Lt. Matthew Cantillon (USCGR), The American (May 1945)
Part I
Robert Steel “Red” Hoyle was born in Mulberry, Arkansas, on November 26, 1905. His initial military service was in the U.S. Army, where he served in a junior medical role from 1923 to 1925, including at sea aboard the U.S. Army Transport Chateau Thierry. He left the Army and, on December 19, 1925, he enlisted in the Coast Guard in New York City. He would spend nearly all the first 16 years of his career at sea.
Hoyle initially served with the U.S. Coast Guard Destroyer Force, which was part of Coast Guard Prohibition enforcement operations informally known as the Rum Patrol. The Coast Guard Destroyer Force pursued this thankless unpleasant duty of interdicting the smuggling of alcohol into the U.S., often utilizing run-ragged former U.S. Navy destroyers. While in the Destroyer Force, Hoyle was stationed in New England and served on several old Navy destroyers transferred to the Coast Guard, including the Argus, Beale, Paulding, Monaghan, and Herndon.
Hoyle’s service in the Destroyer Force was formative in turning him into a leader and master of his craft. Seaman First Class Hoyle was on board the Paulding during its attempted rescue of Coast Guard patrol craft CG-238 in 1927 during a gale off Cape Cod. Unfortunately, the 238 sank with the loss of all hands before help could arrive and the Paulding sustained significant damage, nearly sinking twice through two days of heavy weather. Hoyle’s performance was described as “daring” and he was among several crewmembers commended by Commandant Frederick Billard.
Apart from one incident where he was fined $18 for being absent without leave, Hoyle was considered a stellar sailor and quickly advanced to Boatswain’s Mate First Class by 1928, and Chief Boatswain’s Mate by 1931. As a Chief, he briefly acted as Officer-in-Charge of the 75-foot patrol craft CG-190. He attained various credentials in the Merchant Marine and was repeatedly recommended for appointment to Warrant Officer, although without apparent success. At some point he also gained reasonable fluency in Spanish and acquired the nickname “Red.”
Chief Hoyle was aboard the Herndon in January 1932, when it collided with the merchant ship Lemuel Borrows in thick fog 50 miles off Montauk Point. Herndon was seriously damaged and had to be towed back to port. Hoyle was commended a second time for performance under pressure by Commandant Billard. By 1941, Hoyle was tired of destroyers and looking for new challenges, writing in a transfer request, “I have served sixteen years on the New England coast and desire a change of duty to the west coast.”
Hoyle’s career took an unusual turn when he became involved in U.S. government efforts to bolster the U.S. Merchant Marine in anticipation of involvement in World War II. He was assigned to the U.S. Maritime Service, serving as an instructor first at the Maritime Service Training Station at Fort Trumbull, Connecticut, and then aboard the training ship USS American Sailor.
In March 1941, beginning at the Coast Guard Yard in Baltimore, Hoyle helped outfit and commission the American Sailor and sailed it to California. He was still serving on board in December 1941, when the U.S entered World War II following the surprise attack on Pearl Harbor by the Japanese. He immediately volunteered for action, requesting service on a “cutter or combat transport, preferably the latter. My reason for this request is that I desire combat duty.” Overall, he had enjoyed the Merchant Marine training assignment, writing “On the whole this has been an excellent assignment. There has been only one fault. The war ruined our cruising.”
While it may have ruined Hoyle’s cruising, the war also brought a rapid expansion of the Coast Guard with new opportunities. His technical proficiency and leadership ability were brought to the attention of Headquarters, and he was granted a temporary commission as Ensign in February 1942. Hoyle was now a “mustang,” the unofficial term for a commissioned officer who had previously served as an enlisted member.
Ensign Hoyle got his wish for action. In July 1942, he was assigned to the recently completed amphibious transport ship USS Arthur Middleton, which was crewed by U.S. Navy and Coast Guard personnel. The Navy formally commissioned the Middleton on Sept. 7, 1942. Hoyle’s wartime service would test the mettle of his leadership and seamanship, honed during the rough seas of the early Coast Guard of the 1920s and 30s.
While most famous for aircraft carrier battles and amphibious assaults on tropical islands, the Pacific Theatre of World War II spanned from Artic to Antarctic. Hoyle and the Middleton’s baptism of fire would take place in the remote Aleutian Islands of what was then the Territory of Alaska.
The Aleutian Campaign is a forgotten footnote of World War II, but it featured the only enemy occupation of incorporated American territory. The far western Aleutian Islands of Kiska and Attu were invaded and occupied by the Japanese military, and Japanese carrier aircraft even bombed Dutch Harbor on the island of Unalaska.
The Aleutian Campaign was miserable for all involved. The harsh Alaskan terrain and weather, especially seasonal darkness, were sometimes a greater hazard than enemy forces. This became clear on Jan. 12, 1943, when the Middleton arrived at Constantine Harbor, Amchitka Island, to offload troops and supplies for a base to counterattack Japanese-held islands. Things were progressing when a “williwaw” hit, beginning a period of awful weather that wrecked boats, landing craft, barges, and threatened the safe mooring of ships.
Ensign Hoyle was an eye of calm in midst of chaos; receiving a citation that read: “As Beach Party Commander…. under adverse weather conditions he demonstrated fortitude, cooperation and good seamanship. He directed the salvaging of landing boats damaged by weather. He contributed materially to the success of the initial landing operations and subsequent beach activities.”
In the evening, high winds forced the Middleton to drag anchor and run aground. The crew continued unloading. Next, the Navy destroyer USS Worden was seriously damaged by striking an underwater obstruction, eventually wrecking in the surf and rocks. Despite the horrible weather, the Middleton’s crew successfully rescued most of the destroyer’s company without any causalities of their own, but with the loss of a boat.
The Middleton remained aground until April 6th, continuing to unload supplies and salvage equipment. Amchitka Island was not occupied by the Japanese, but there was the constant threat of enemy air attack with Japanese planes frequently overhead. On one occasion, at least two bombs were dropped within 100 yards of the grounded ship. The heavy weather continued to make operations dangerous, but the crew got the Middleton unstuck by blasting rocks beneath the hull with explosives and then patching the holes.
On April 9, 1943, the Middleton’s assignment in the Aleutians Campaign was complete. The ship was towed to Dutch Harbor for temporary repairs, then to Bremerton, Washington. While his ship was patched up, Hoyle attended training on landing craft at the Amphibious Force Training Command in San Diego. Permanent repairs to the Middleton were complete by September 9, 1943. The ship’s next deployment would be as far from the artic conditions of Alaska as imaginable as the Middleton entered the Pacific Campaign in earnest.
Part II
His devotion to duty and efficient performance of duty saved many lives and contributed immeasurably to the smooth flow of reinforcements and supplies which led to the ultimate success of the operation. His conduct throughout was in keeping with the highest traditions of the naval service.
— LTJG robert Hoyle, Silver Star Medal Citation, Adm. C.W. Nimitz (USN)
Hoyle had coordinated landing activities at Amchitka, but with no enemy land opposition. Now he would be filling the role of a Beachmaster under fire. Logistics is the great enabler of strategy and U.S. victory in the Pacific hinged on it. Regarding amphibious operations, Marine Corps novel writer W.E.B. Griffin described the logistical cargo loading of a transport ship for an amphibious assault as, “A chess game that cannot be won.” Beachmasters like Hoyle and his team would establish order, or at least mitigate chaos, as countless men, machines, and logistical preparation hit far-flung Pacific beaches, often through poorly charted waters under heavy enemy fire.
World War II amphibious assaults have been immortalized in popular memory by the first act of the film “Saving Private Ryan.” Not every landing was that horrific, but Marines or soldiers disembarking landing craft (many crewed by Coast Guardsmen) into murderous enemy fire conveys a sense of the conditions in which Coast Guard Beachmasters operated. These unknown Coast Guard personnel usually landed just after the first wave of troops. They would spend days ashore sometimes in snake-infested foxholes surviving on field rations before being relieved. Their mission was not to engage the enemy like “combat troops;” but many would see the service’s most intense combat of the war. Their units faced snipers, mortars, and artillery fire even after the fighting had moved off the beach. This was reflected in their uniform patch, shared with their Navy Amphibious Forces counterparts, which featured a Thompson sub-machinegun. Coast Guard Lieutenant Matthew Cantillon described the Beachmaster and his Beach Party: Each beach party consists of 17 to 35 men and includes a hydrographic section, a communications section, a medical section, and a boat-repair section... He continued,
When a beachhead is firmly established, the navy beachmaster continues to function as a sort of shipping agent for all sea-borne traffic. He goes out in a small boat to escort new echelons of landing craft to their slots, and, in co-operation with the Army’s amphibian engineers, helps direct the unloading of supplies and equipment. Also, through his medical officer, the beachmaster is responsible for the prompt evacuation of the wounded to hospital ships. He continues these duties for several days or weeks until the beachhead becomes a permanent installation and is taken over by a Port Director.
The Middleton sailed from San Francisco, enroute to New Zealand via Fiji. After training and onloading materiel, it headed north to the Gilbert Islands (known today as Kiribati) as part of Operation Galvanic. The islands were heavily fortified by the Japanese and, unlike the earlier amphibious assault on Guadalcanal, the landings were expected to be heavily opposed. This series of actions is commonly known as “The Battle of Tawara,” although the most intense combat took place on the island of Betio, which is part of the larger triangle of islands called Tarawa Atoll. The Middleton was part of the Southern Attack Force, a formation of the 116 battleships, aircraft carriers, minesweepers, destroyers, attack transports, and other vessels. The landings commenced on Nov. 20, 1943.
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The assault on Tarawa was the first large-scale opposed landing conducted by the U.S. in the Pacific and it quickly devolved into a bloody debacle. Preparatory naval gunfire had been somewhat effective, but lack of synchronization with the landings enabled the Japanese to bring effective fire on the attacking troops and landing craft. While amphibious tractors could make it over the coral reefs to the beach, many conventional landing craft could not, forcing their Marines to wade through hundreds of yards of water while fully exposed. Casualties were heavy and the beaches were chaos. It was within this mess that the Coast Guard and Navy beach parties had to operate.
The Middleton launched its first landing craft and began ferrying Marines towards their assigned beach. Despite the reef and enemy fire, Hoyle and his Beach Party made it ashore mid-morning with two officers and 43 enlisted men. Arriving during the bedlam of the first day, they would remain ashore for the next five. Hoyle took charge as Beachmaster and, through it all, remained unscathed while two of his officers were wounded.
As was typical for the Pacific War, enemy troops fought tenaciously. Combat between Japanese troops and the Marines was savage. There was no quarter amongst the shell-cratered sand, blasted palm trees, and pillboxes as the Marines cleared the island with rifles, flamethrowers, tanks, and bayonets. While Hoyle and his men were enmeshed in this hell of a very small island, Marine Colonel David Shoup, later awarded the Medal of Honor, sent his famous mid-action battle report: “Casualties—many: percentage dead—not known: combat efficiency—we are winning.”
Hoyle had survived Tawara, but his war was far from over. His aptitude as a sailor and Beachmaster drew repeated praise from his commanding officers and other superiors, and he was repeatedly recommended for meritorious promotion. “I have witnessed many beachmasters in action and training, and to my observation, the work done by this officer was the best I have seen,” wrote Navy Captain D.W. Loomis, Commodore of Transport Division 20. These early requests for promotion were denied, but Hoyle would not have long to wait. In January 1943, he advanced to Lieutenant junior grade in and full (but temporary wartime) Lieutenant a year later.
Not surprisingly, former Chief Petty Officer Hoyle was popular with the enlisted men. Ken Wiley, a Middleton landing craft coxswain nicknamed “Lucky Thirteen,” described Hoyle as “liked and respected by everyone.” Hoyle and his Beach Party crew became known as “Red’s Raiders” and saw action next during the Battle of Eniwetok in the Marshall Islands.
The Battle of Eniwetok consisted of amphibious assaults on the islands that made up Eniwetok Atoll. The atoll is a group of coral islands surrounding a large, deep lagoon, of which Eniwetok Island is the largest. The atoll’s other islands are Engebi and Parry. One of the most famous photographs of the war in the Pacific, of an exhausted, begrimed Marine private with a “thousand-yard stare,” was taken on board the Middleton after the fighting on Engebi. Now a full lieutenant, Eniwetok would be Hoyle’s finest and toughest hour as a Beachmaster.
Not every American amphibious assault in the Pacific was a bloodbath. Some were executed with considerable strategic acumen and tactical guile. Ironically, these are less well known in part because they lack the gory glory of battles like Tarawa, Peleliu, and Iwo Jima. Today, the Battle of Eniwetok is considered a successful minor action in the island-hopping campaign that enabled U.S. military power to ultimately envelop Japan. That he was in one of the lesser known, “minor” actions of the war would have been small consolation to Hoyle as he stood exposed on the beaches of Engebi and Parry Islands. For this combat action, Hoyle received the Silver Star Medal and his assistants at Engebi, RM3 Malcolm Anderson and RM3 Russell Alsen, were awarded Bronze Star Medals. Issued by Commander in Chief of the Pacific Fleet, Admiral Chester Nimitz, his Silver Star citation belies the battle’s supposed insignificance:
For conspicuous gallantry in action against the enemy at Engebi and Parry Islands, Eniwetok Atoll, Marshall Islands, where he landed with the assault waves on the 18th and 22nd of February, 1944, under devasting enemy fire, and without regard for his personal safety, he immediately and continuously exposed himself to enemy fire in order to perform his duties as beachmaster. He was constantly walking or standing in upright position on the beach, even when all other troops were in prone or protected positions, and was thus able to successfully direct and control his beach part, the landing and retraction of boats and evacuation of the wounded. At Parry Island, he quickly gained control of the mass of landing craft and, by his cool courage, quick decisions, skillful direction and inspiring leadership he succeeded in swiftly evacuating wounded and clearing the beach for operation. Many of the causalities were wounded in his presence as he performed his duties. On both Engebi and Parry Islands, he, acting on his own initiative, made his way through heavy enemy fire to replay urgent messages to the Landing Team Commander.
On February 25th, with islands secured and mission accomplished, the Middleton embarked its personnel, wounded Marines and some Japanese prisoners of war, and sailed for Pearl Harbor. During the return trip, the transport’s crew suffered through an outbreak of dysentery and the ship towed a disabled Landing Ship-Tank (LST) back to Pearl Harbor. Following replenishment and training, the Middleton played a decoy role in the invasion of enemy-held Saipan, launching empty landing craft to confuse the Japanese about the location of the amphibious landings. Diversion accomplished, the ship sailed for the actual landing area and offloaded troops and supplies to the beaches. All the while, there were Japanese air attacks, including kamikazes, and the threat of suicide boat attacks.
A different kind of battle arose when the Middleton crossed the Equator. As one of the saltiest men aboard, Hoyle served as the traditional “King Neptune” for the line crossing festivities. However, the initiated “shellbacks” were greatly outnumbered by the uninitiated “pollywogs,” who mutinied with firehoses and seized control of the ship. As King Neptune, Hoyle was escorted to the bridge, where he gracefully conceded defeat on behalf of the shellbacks.
In October 1944, Hoyle and the Middleton were back in action for the invasion of the Japanese-occupied Philippine Islands. This time, they would be landing Army troops as part of the reconquest of the islands, beginning at Leyte Gulf. The people of the Philippines greeted the Americans as liberators and the Coast Guardsmen were happy to be back in a U.S. commonwealth. Hoyle’s fluency in Spanish was probably an asset in working with the Philippine people.
Hoyle’s acumen for small unit tactics was on par with his skills as Beachmaster. After landing troops near Dulag, the Middleton began shuttling personnel and materiel from forward bases to other landing locations. Hoyle led a group of Middleton’s boats up a river to locate the staging area for enemy troop transport barges and construction of suicide boats. He later supervised a boat operation that transported Marines to locate and neutralize a covert airstrip where Japanese aircraft refueled for nightly harassment attacks. The Marine unit’s commander later stated, “Lt. Hoyle, my hat is off to you and your men. Please accept a hearty ‘well done’ from the Marine Corps.”
The Middleton would continue to serve in the Philippine Campaign, and later at Okinawa, but Hoyle would not. After two and half years, five major amphibious assaults, and thousands of nautical miles steamed, he was authorized leave to the U.S. He departed the Middleton in New Guinea on Oct. 31, 1944, and returned to San Diego with souvenirs of Japanese uniforms and equipment, including a bayonet.
Finally, back in the U.S., Hoyle was temporarily assigned to the Coast Guard’s Captain of the Port office in San Diego. He again volunteered for combat duty, writing “I like the phase of amphibious warfare conducted by [amphibious assault transports] better than any other. Further, I have had two and a half years experience as Beach Master and am thoroughly grounded in this type of naval warfare.” His request was granted. He returned to the Arthur Middleton in San Francisco and joined the crew in preparations and training for combat, now with the more unpleasant prospect of participating in the invasion of the Japanese mainland. Fortunately, the Empire of Japan surrendered before it became necessary, ending World War II.
Hoyle likely remained on board the Middleton during its postwar operations in the Pacific. With the service transitioning back to peacetime, he was assigned to the cutter Perseus in 1946. He continued to receive high praise for his performance as Executive Officer and acted as Commanding Officer while the captain was ill. Reduced in rank as part of the post-war drawdown, he reattained the rank of temporary lieutenant on March 13, 1948. In a report, his captain summed up Hoyle as a “really good sea-going officer.”
Unfortunately, Hoyle’s promising postwar career as a commissioned officer was cut short in 1949. He was forced to medically retire due to a serious heart condition, possibly caused, or at least aggravated by, the intense combat stress he had endured. He lived as an invalid in San Diego before passing away on January 19, 1960, at the age of 54. He was interred at Fort Rosecrans National Cemetery in San Diego.
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During his 23 years in the Coast Guard, Robert “Red” Hoyle attained mastery of his craft as a Boatswain’s Mate, cutting his teeth in the Prohibition and pre-war Coast Guard. When the Second World War came, he commissioned and applied his 18 years of seagoing experience to the challenges of amphibious operations in the Pacific Theater, seeing extensive combat alongside Navy, Army, and Marine Corps forces while serving as a Beachmaster on an attack transport. His legacy shines as an example of Coast Guard acumen, interservice partnership, and as a distinguished member of the long blue line.
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