William Halsey Jr.

"At the sea south of Japan, the Third Fleet received Nimitz's ceasefire order at 6:14 a.m. on August 15- west of the International Date Line, and thus one day ahead of the United States. Before dawn that morning, Task Force 38 had launched hundreds of warplanes to hit Tokyo- and the first wave was already over the Japanese capital, dropping bombs and firing rockets. The American airmen found Japanese fighter resistance unexpectedly fierce, calling it "the most determined air opposition since the Okinawa operation." Seven U.S. aircraft went down in air combat on the morning of V-J Day, and another two were lost to accidents. The others turned for home, and were back aboard their carriers by eleven o'clock. At noon, the Missouri sounded her whistle and siren for one full minute. Her battle flags and admiral's four-star flag were broken out at the main. Halsey ordered a signal run up: "Well Done." He told the carriers to stow their attack planes on their hangar decks, so that the flight decks could be reserved for defensive fighter operations. The combat air patrol was reinforced. Halsey was not convinced that the peace would stick- and even if the Japanese government really meant to surrender, there was every reason to expect kamikaze attacks by defiant pilots. In a message that prompted hearty laughter throughout the fleet, he ordered the Hellcat and Corsair pilots to "investigate and shoot down all snoopers- not vindictively, but in a friendly sort of way." Halsey's wariness was well-founded. Twenty minutes later, radar scopes detected inbound bogeys. The combat air patrol and picket destroyers shot down eight Japanese warplanes during the next several hours. The last, at 2:45 p.m. on V-J Day, drew the final curtain on the Third Fleet's war: the fleet did not fire another shot in anger."

"...on October 18 we did receive a greatly needed morale boost: a dispatch announcing Ghormley's relief in favor of Bill Halsey. I held nothing personal against Ghormley, whom I liked. I simply felt that our drastic, imperiled situation called for the most positive form of aggressive leadership at the top. From what I knew Halsey would supply this like few other naval officers."

"On November 8 Halsey flew in like a wonderful breath of fresh air. During a tour of the area he showed extreme interest and enthusiasm in all phases of the operation, concurring with my existent positions and future plans. More important, he talked to a large number of Marines, saw their gaunt, malaria-ridden bodies, their faces lined with what seemed a nightmare of years. I believe then and there he decided to get us out as fast as possible. Halsey's fine sense of humor demonstrated itself that evening when he complimented me on the dinner and asked to see my cook, Butch Morgan. Morgan appeared spick and span in clean skivvy shirt and khaki trousers, his red mustache carefully combed. He stood smartly at attention while Halsey effusively praised his cooking. As the admiral went on and on, Butch looked increasingly uncomfortable and began to twist his skivvy shirt and toe the ground. I knew something was coming from him but I wasn't sure what. Finally Halsey stopped for breath, an opportunity Butch exploited with, "Aw, ...., ...., ...., Admiral." I dismissed him as the group dissolved into laughter. The story quickly spread through the fleet and even reached Washington. The next morning Halsey decorated some of my officers and men before I escorted him to the airfield. At the plane he turned and with eyes twinkling said, "Vandegrift, don't you do a thing to that cook.""