Sea of Fire

Chapter 31

It would be no easy matter to take a big unit like the 1st USMC Division and get it off the transports, unpacked, sorted out and ready for combat, but there was very little time to get that done. PBYs out of Suva had spotted the approach of the Japanese carriers, and all those troops and supplies had to be unloaded before they got there. The transports had orders to immediately put to sea as they were emptied, and return to Pago Pago, and the docks and quays at Suva were a beehive of activity.

One thing that sped the process along was the fact that all regiments arrived ‘tactically loaded,’ with the proper heavy equipment packed on the transport with the correct combat troops. That said, 1st Marine Div was heavy, with four regiments and a fifth still enroute. It took Vandegrift several days get to get his regiments grouped properly and ready to move.

“Where have you been?” said an Army Corporal. “We’ve been out here facing down Tojo for over a month!”

“Yeah?” said a sour faced Marine. “We’ve been puking our guts out on those goddamned transports, all the way from Pearl. But that’s no matter. Move aside, greenback, the USMC is here.”

Vandegrift was watching from a high perch on the weather deck of President Jackson, where he had been looking over the operation. Yes, the Marines were here, and he was leading them in. Now it was time to meet with General Patch of the Pacifica Division. Later that day, the two men met ashore.

“My division is now strung out all along the southern coast of the island,” said Patch. “Except for the regiment I sent you to help unload those ships. The Kiwis put up a tough fight, and they’re presently screening the main road out west at Nayawa.” He pressed a weathered brown finger on the map to indicate the position. “That’s the mouth of the Singatana River. The only road inland into the high country follows that river north from Nayawa. Now I’m backstopping that position with the 132nd Regiment. The other two are positioned all along Queens Road on the southern coast. There are only a few decent landing points there, but they have to be held. We’ve already invested time to get some additional airfields located there, one at Korolevu about 20 klicks east of Nawaya, and a second at Deuba, about 35 klicks further east. They’ve been hitting the main field north of Suva, so we think this will help as dispersal fields.”

“Unless the Japs shell the hell out of those fields from the sea. They’re right on the coast.”

“Couldn’t be helped,” said Patch. “The jungle comes right down to the water’s edge in places, and terrain can rise steeply from the coast. That area is the only place with clearings suitable for an airfield. Besides, the Navy is here, aren’t they? They gave you folks a ride in.”

“Let’s just hope they stick around,” said Vandegrift. “Alright, where do you want my men?”

“North of Suva,” Patch pointed again. “See these two roads? One swings out near the airfield at Nasouri, and then follows the Rewa River up through Kasavo. The one on the left here moves through the lowland and then hits some fairly thick jungle. It becomes little more than a trail at that point, but you can still move vehicles on it. It’ll run along a tributary of the Rewa River until it reaches the village of Vunindawa here, then it bends east and joins the other road. So you can move two regiments up that way, one on each road. Then establish your CP right there where they meet.”

“Any idea what the Japs have up there?”

“Sakaguchi Detachment—about one regiment in strength. There’s a battalion of Fiji Commandos watching that road as it continues along the river north from the junction. Your first order of business will be to get up there and make contact with that unit.”

“Fiji Commandos?”

“Yup, recruited by the Kiwis from the locals here on the island. From what I hear they’re one tough outfit. They know the jungle, and the island itself, like the back of their hand. They can be your eyes and ears up there. I’ve also put together a wild bunch of my own, and I had them training with this Fiji group. We call them the Alamo Raiders. They can help you out on point as pathfinders. What I want you to do is to take your division up north and recapture Tavua. That’ll put you in a position to push for Nandi from the northeast. When you’re ready, I’ll bunch up my division here on the southern coast and we’ll push from this end.”

“What about the high country in the center of the island?”

“It’s tough going up there, but that doesn’t mean the Japs won’t use it. The thing is this—if we make a big push for Nandi like this, they’ll simply have to fall back to defend it. If they lose that, it’s over for them here, and they damn well know it.”

It seemed as good a plan as any that could be devised, so Vandegrift got started that day, ordering his 1st and 5th Marine Regiments to move out on those roads. The heavy equipment was still being unloaded, but he could at least get his rifle companies moving, and they had mortars and M1 machineguns. A few 75mm guns had come on the transports, but the bigger 155mm guns and the sound and flash ranging equipment used in counterbattery fire had been in another convoy, and would not arrive for several days.

Yet the fact that a functioning port had been ready to receive them saw the division land with a good deal more supply than it ever had in Fedorov’s history on Guadalcanal. It was an easy landing, and the division found itself fairly well equipped. Soon they were on those roads, with the 7th Regiment on the left, and the 5th on the right.

While this was going on, two battalions of the Sakaguchi Detachment were already moving south. They had swept through the northeast segment of the island, finding it unoccupied, and now thought to swoop down on Suva from the north. The first battalion found the road, and ran right into 1/5 Marines just as it was about to emerge from the heavier jungle into a highland meadow. There followed a very sharp engagement, with the Japanese thinking they would simply storm the enemy unit as they had all others.

The Marines deployed from march, rushing in platoon sized groups to fan out on either side of the road at the edge of the jungle. The BAR teams were already putting out suppressive fire, and they kept the Japanese heads down until the M1 teams could get their machineguns set up. Following their usual tactics, the 2nd Battalion of Sakaguchi’s troops immediately moved to their left, intending to flank the Marine position astride the road. Unfortunately, they were going to run directly into the jungle savvy commandos of the Fiji Battalion, which had been placed there to protect and screen that flank and road.

The commandos were very wood crafty, and knew how to lay low in unseen positions in the thickets of the jungle. They waited for the Japanese patrols to begin slipping through their lines, then, animated by a strange bird call made by their CO, they leapt up like ghouls and began taking the three and five man groups of Japanese infantry by surprise. It was knife work for a while, before the first shots of alarm rang out, then the chatter of a machine gun.

The Japanese finally realized what was happening, and organized for a strong infantry attack at near battalion strength. This was able to drive the commandos back, but they simply melted into the jungle, evaporating like mist in the heavy treeland. When the Japanese began to organize an advance the action started again, with small groups of commandos striking an unwary platoon, then melting away.

Off to the west, Sakaguchi’s 1st battalion finally pushed back the Marines, the veteran infantry advancing fearlessly, until one Marine corporal, stopped, picked up a machinegun and just refused to give any more ground. That bought just enough time for the battalion to pull itself together, and soon the position was further bolstered by yet another full battalion of leathernecks deploying from road column. The enemy attack was stopped like a tide breaking on the shore. This time the defenders held the line, and soon it was Colonel Leroy Hunt who was prepping his men for a counterattack. Hunt put in his whole regiment, and on his left, the 7th Marine Regiment was coming up the interior road and meeting a stubborn defense from the 4th Yokosuka SNLF battalion.

The Japanese were as tenacious on defense as they were in attack, and it took a good deal of firepower to force those men to retreat. Some simply refused, dying to a man in their positions and forcing the Marines to take down every last machinegun that had been set up on defense. When Vandegrift moved his division headquarters up country to get a better feel for what was happening, he looked over the captured position and made an astute observation that every officer on his staff never forgot.

“Looks like the enemy was trained to go to a place, stay there, fight and die. We train our men to go to a place, fight to win, and to live. I can assure you, it is a much better theory.”

That was what the men of the Sakaguchi Regiment would have to do if they were going to hold in the north, fight and die. When reports reached Tavua that his men had encountered strong enemy resistance, he realized that he had very little in reserve. There was a single engineer battalion, with two of its three companies watching the northeast coast and the third on the airfield near Tavua trying to get it ready to receive friendly aircraft. The 2nd Yokosuka SNLF had been ordered to reconnoiter the highland, and now it was necessary to recall it and have it march quickly to Tavua to stand as a reserve.

Something had just happened there on the main island of Viti Levu that no one fully realized that day. There, at the edge of that jungle in the Fiji highlands, the men of the Sakaguchi Regiment had been met, held, then pushed back by the sheer muscle and firepower of two full Marine Regiments. A third regiment, the 1st Marine under Colonel Cates, was now also coming up in support. It was May 1st, May Day, the day the restless coursing lines of war flowed up and receded at the edge of that jungle, yet no man on either side really appreciated how significant that was. The tide, at least on the ground, had turned.

Out on the Solomon Sea, the Japanese were slowly approaching, returning to challenge the naval and air superiority Halsey had imposed over the Fijis for the last week. No news had come from Fiji of late. The only news that would be sent home on Showa Day would be that of Japan’s latest acquisition. He had shepherded the Shoji Detachment down from Buka and instead of landing on Guadalcanal as first planned, they had taken it to Espiritu Santo in the Santa Cruz Islands. As there was no other enemy activity in the lower Solomons, airfield construction Regiments would be dispatched immediately from Rabaul to both Lunga on Guadalcanal and Luganville on Espiritu Santo. That would complete the missing link in the long chain of islands stretching from Rabaul to Noumea. It was a masterful stroke, and even if the Fiji operation were to fail, the occupation of those islands, linking the Solomons to the New Hebrides, was of great strategic significance.

Thus far the US had enjoyed naval superiority in the Fiji Group after the initial landing, but the Japanese carriers were returning, intending to reach the scene by the first of May. As the American carriers had been spotted operating north of those islands, it was Yamamoto’s intention to confront them directly. On the last day of April, he was in position to sweep east, hoping to find and punish the last of the enemy carriers… But Halsey was not there.

True to his plan to try and keep the main Fiji Islands between his carriers and the enemy, Halsey swung south. If Suva Bay were the center of a clock, The Japanese were at 12:00 and the Americans at 06:00 at dawn on the first of May. A lone Kate off the Akagi saw what he thought were carriers and cruisers to the south of Kandavu Island, which sat about 50 nautical miles below the main Fiji group. The wizened Admiral Chuichi Nagumo had arrived from Japan to take over carrier operations in Yamamoto’s group, and the sighting was enough for him to order an immediate strike from Akagi and Soryu.

All the dive bombers had been prepping for a ground strike against Suva, mostly armed with fragmentation bombs. To stop that process and rearm the planes with armor piercing bombs would take at least 30 minutes, so Nagumo sent his torpedo bombers instead, a total of 34 B5Ns, many armed with bombs and a few others with torpedoes. They were escorted by 22 Zeroes, but the strike ran into a very thick CAP defense, with all of 40 Wildcats up on defense, and they were enough to hold the enemy at bay. Many of the planes were forced to break formation and turn back. A few Kates got down into their torpedo runs, mostly focusing their attack on the Enterprise as Halsey watched from the weather deck. He was impressed by the dogged approach made by the enemy, even with his own fighters right on their tails. The enemy got torpedoes in the water, but lost twelve planes and scored no hits.

Suspecting an enemy surface group was nearby, Halsey had detached two cruisers, the Cleveland and Honolulu, with destroyers Ward and Phelps to sweep the Kandavu Channel ahead of his carriers. They were also found in this strike, but Nagumo’s only consolation for the loss of so many torpedo planes was a single hit on the Cleveland by a Kate that had been armed with bombs that day. The first enemy punches had been parried, and now it was time for the US carriers to throw some lead the other way.

The previous night, Combined Fleet had doubled down on the order that sent cruisers into that channel on Showa Day. With the carriers at hand, Ugaki deemed the risk acceptable this time and ordered two small surface action groups to sweep those same waters south of the islands. The first was composed of heavy cruisers Haguro and Myoko, and the 15th Destroyer Division with Kuroshio, Oyashio, Hayashio, and Natsushio. It was entering the Kandavu channel between Viti Levu and the Kandavu island, the most direct passage to Suva and the big Allied airfield at Nausori at the southeast corner of the island. That was the objective for Captain Sakiyama on the Haguro, to take his cruisers in and put that airfield out of action by bombardment. Yet like Captain Mori’s ill fated sortie a few days earlier, he would never get there.

A patrol of two SBDs off the Enterprise spotted the enemy cruisers heading east into the channel, and Halsey immediately went after them. 36 Wildcats accompanied the initial strike, which was made by 44 SBDs and 14 TBDs, a heavy blow that encountered no more than 9 A5M Claudes off the airfield at Nandi. The nimble fighters had to dodge craters to get airborne, but they managed it, only to get into a hail storm of F4F Wildcats. Seven were shot down, and the strike wave blew right on through to hit those cruisers.

When they were done destroyer Oyashio had taken a direct hit, with heavy fires amidships, Myoko was struck once, a near miss that mostly hit the ship’s belt armor, but the heavy cruiser Haguro got smashed. The Dauntless pilots put no less than six bombs on the cruiser, riddling it with concussion and fire. The coup de grace was a single torpedo hit that would end the ship’s misery. Haguro had once been fated to be the last major Japanese warship attacked and sunk in the war, but not this time around.

Two hours later, a second strike arrived overhead with 24 SBDs and 8 TBDs off the Wasp. They found only one cruiser remaining, put a bomb on Myoko, and sunk a pair of destroyers, Hayashio and Natsushio. It was only the weather that prevented Halsey from destroying this entire group, for heavy thunderstorms popped up in the late afternoon, and the planes were called home.

That afternoon, Hara’s carriers and most of the Vals off the Nagumo group pounded Allied ground positions on the main island, but did little real harm. There were now 40 Aircobras ready at Suva, joined by over 36 Wildcats that had been flown in from Pago Pago, more than enough to put up a substantial air cover over that island. The battle for Fiji was now beginning in earnest, and Bull Halsey was determined to hold the line. He had taken one punch, and given the enemy a bloody nose in return, but the worst of this fight was yet to come.

Chapter 32

Displeased with these results Yamamoto summoned Nagumo, to Fleet HQ aboard Yamato to discuss the situation. Nagumo bowed deeply, an apologetic expression on his face, but Yamamoto did not summon him to berate him. Nothing was said of the loss of Haguro, for this time it was Ugaki who had ordered those ships in. Yet Nagumo knew that silence was weighty, and he could hear the displeasure when Yamamoto finally spoke.

“Given that your orders were to strike the enemy ground facilities,” he said. “I can see why your dive bombers were not ready for anti-ship operations. Now that the enemy carriers have been discovered south of the islands, we must make them our primary targets. They apparently sought to avoid a direct clash with us here, but we must engage them. It is most unfortunate that the use of our B5N Torpedo bombers to make a long range attack as level bombers leaves us very few for these more important naval operations.”

Silence. Nagumo nodded slowly, understanding that Yamamoto was now expressing his real concern in the matter. Before he could think what to say, the Fleet Admiral simply asked him another question. “Given this situation, how do you propose to operate?”

“I considered moving east and then south,” said Nagumo, “following the route the Americans must have taken and cutting their line of communications back to Samoa. Now, with our cruiser group retiring to Noumea, I think it best to move counterclockwise around these islands, and swing down toward Nandi.”

“Agreed,” said Yamamoto. “We must also not forget the transports carrying the Tanaka Regiment and headquarters and artillery for the 48th Division. A move in that direction would put us between the enemy carriers and those transports, allowing us to cover their approach.”

“Under the circumstances,” said Nagumo. “The transports should be held near Noumea with the fleet oilers until we settle affairs with these enemy carriers.”

“That would also be a wise precaution. Very well, Admiral, we move as you suggest tonight, and should be steaming off Nandi Bay in the pre-dawn hours tomorrow. The enemy carriers are now our first priority. No further strikes against ground targets should be planned until they are dealt with.”

That was what the Admiral had summoned him here to convey, Nagumo knew, and the burn of shame was on his neck, in spite of the subtle and diplomatic way in which the Fleet Commander had conducted this meeting, allowing him to lay out his plans before making that last final remark, almost as if it were an afterthought. But he knew what Yamamoto was really saying—get it right this time, reserve the torpedo planes for the enemy carriers, and cease fruitless bombing runs against ground targets. He berated himself inwardly, while outwardly, his face remained set in stone.

Search operations from the carriers should have detected the enemy move south, he thought. The fleet needed to be ready for any contingency… But that airfield at Suva must be hit again before we leave, and very hard this time.

It occurred to Nagumo that he possessed just the tool necessary to accomplish this task. Two groups built around heavy cruisers had attempted to run the Kandavu Strait, and each time they had been intercepted by American carriers lying in wait. This time the attack would be well timed, and it would be conducted by the fast battlecruisers Kongo and Kirishima. A night raid would be necessary, minimizing the possibility of both discovery in the strait on approach, or any effective enemy reprisal by air. And come dawn, when the bombardment group was withdrawing, his carriers had to be ready to provide the necessary cover.

We cannot be here indefinitely, thought Nagumo. Each mission we fly finds empty chairs in the briefing room. As skilled and determined as we are, attrition in war is inevitable. It kills planes, and the pilots in them, and it sinks ships.

He looked at the charts compiled by staff officers. Akagi had no more than 51 planes ready for operations. There were 45 on Soryu, and another 53 on Zuikaku. The two light carriers mustered a combined total of 40 planes. So the Kido Butai now had a total of 189 planes available. At Pearl Harbor we had twice that number, he thought. We have not yet fully engaged the remaining American carriers. Yes, many of the men off Shokaku made it safely to Noumea. Several of those Chutai have been moved to the New Hebrides airfields, and they can transfer to the carriers as needed. Before we leave here, I must make certain the American carriers can no longer pose any serious threat to our continued operations.

That was what Yamamoto seemed to press upon him—get the enemy’s mobile striking power. Their fixed base assets could come later, and perhaps the Army could solve that problem in the long run. Yet bringing the enemy to heel would prove more difficult than he thought. The Fiji Island group was a vast area, with the main island surrounded by hundreds of small islets and coral reefs everywhere. When Nagumo moved south to get into position to strike the last reported position of the enemy, his reconnaissance planes soon reported that the Americans had swung north again, cleverly placing the main islands between their position and the Kido Butai. The two sides seemed to be circling those islands like two Samurai warriors, swords ready and just waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike.

Two days passed with little more than sniping between long range CAP patrols on either side. Frustrated, Nagumo moved north again to the 12:00 position on the clock face, with the Americans last reported at 03:00. It was then that his enemy would do something most unexpected, and it would set the scene for all that would follow.

“God damnit!” Halsey was clearly not happy. “Here we just get into position to take these bastards on, and look at this!” He handed Enterprise Captain Murray the latest signal from Pearl. Nimitz had his spoon in the soup again.

Murray took the message, reading it aloud: “Given latest intelligence of enemy carriers moving east, imperative you cover underway operations embarking 112th Base Force from Pago Pago to Savuii Island in Samoa Group. Do not engage enemy carrier group and withdraw east at earliest opportunity.” He looked up at Halsey, who was still venting steam, arms crossed on his barrel chest, eyes dark with his displeasure.

“They’ll pound that airfield at Suva all day if we pull out now,” said Halsey. “Damnit, if Nimitz wanted to run this operation, then why didn’t he take the Con himself out here?” He fretted, scratching a reddish rash on his arm and elbow.

“You read the Fleet OP PLAN order from Admiral King,” said Murray. He could recite it almost verbatim now: “Inflict maximum damage on enemy by employing strong attrition tactics. But do not accept such decisive action as would be likely to incur heavy losses in our carriers and cruisers.”

“Well we can’t beat them if we don’t fight them,” said Halsey. “Alright, I’m ordered to cover that silly transport operation, and so that’s what I’ll tell Fletcher to do.” Halsey had found his only way out of the corner.

“Fletcher?”

“He’s senior to Reeves on the Wasp, so I put him back in the saddle with Taffy-18. He can take Wasp and Shiloh east and screen that damn sealift operation, but by God, I’m going to keep my fighters in range of Suva, come hell or high water.”

“Well we might just end up getting both,” Captain Murray warned. “You’re going to split up the Task Group and then wait here for the whole enemy force to come at us? That last sighting report had them coming due east. It looks like they mean business.”

“Well I mean business too,” said Halsey with a scowl, “but we won’t stand here with our chin out. We’ll do the same thing we pulled two days ago, and swing south. They had to pull most of the Wildcats off Suva and post them to isolated bases when those Jap battleships made a run at the place. Now they’ve nothing more than those obsolete Army Aircobras. Hell, they even moved the PBYs back to Pago Pago. That’s where we’ll be fighting this battle next if we don’t stop them here. So we swing south, but stay in range of Suva so I can cover the field with a few Wildcats.”

“And what if they hit us with everything they have? We could lose both Enterprise and Hornet, and that would leave the Fletcher Group the only flat top we have worth mentioning.”

“That’s a risk we’ll have to take.”

“A risk you’ll have to take… Aw, hell, I didn’t mean it that way. Admiral, sir, my men will back you 110% out here, but I just hope to God you know what you’re doing.”

Halsey gave him just the hint of a smile. “Funny you should mention that,” he said, “because He and I were discussing this situation just last night, and the lord on high tells me he has our back this time. Come about, Captain. Give me 180 South and ahead full. You get the flags up for Mitscher with this, and I’m off to send Fletcher his marching orders east. He’s about to comply with Fleet Order 140, Fifth of May, 1942. I have business elsewhere.”

Halsey was dividing his force in the face of the enemy attack. One day historians might squint and say he was brash, and acted stupidly, but not today, not on the 5th of May, 1942. Most of the men who would analyze and second guess the fighting Admiral were still waiting to be born.

They came out of the north, flying right through tall rising columns of thunder storms to get there. The weather had been so bad in the pre-dawn hours of May 5th that Halsey only had four Wildcats off each of his two carriers up on patrol, and all they could think of was getting out of that turbulence and seeing if they could land in that mess. Heavy seas move a flight deck around quite a bit. You could time a wave set better for takeoff, and even use that to good advantage when the bow would fall away and help a plane get airborne, but landing was a hazardous affair. That deck could suddenly swing up when you didn’t expect it, and smack your plane right in the belly.

The Japanese were up in spite of the storm, and out to bring a little thunder and lightning to their enemy. Nagumo’s search planes had seen the American fleet late the previous day. Yet morning searches noted one group heading east, another bearing south. Nagumo considered that the withdrawing unit might be no more than bait, and resolved to strike south, keeping his carriers close to the Fijis.

It was a very good guess, and Admiral Hara’s 5th Carrier Division led the way, with Zuikaku, and light carriers Zuiho and Shoho. They would open the action with 21 B5N torpedo planes led by Lt. Yoshiaki Subota, the cream of what was left in the fleet for that plane type after Nagumo’s disastrous use of the torpedo bombers to conduct that long range strike earlier. Another two Chutai of D3A Dive Bombers was led by Lt. Tamatsu Ema, the heavyset bearded wonder of the dive bomber squadrons. His plane was clearly evident in the lead, its scarlet tail impossible to miss. His second Chutai was one plane light, but its Chutachio, Lieutenant Hayashi, had boasted he would make up for the missing plane personally.

The men were in high spirits that morning, in spite of the weather, and the gloom that had enfolded Hayashi the last few days dissipated now that the adrenaline of battle was flowing in his blood again. Those odd dreams of rockets in the sky no longer bothered him. It was only lightning now, and the occasional rumble of thunder, which seemed to set the scene for him perfectly. They were the Thunder Gods now, he thought. They were out to avenge the loss of their sister ship, Soaring Crane.

In spite of the bad weather, the raid was detected on radar about 77 miles out, some 30 minutes before they would get over Halsey’s carriers. Even with that lavish grace period, Enterprise got no more than three additional Wildcats up to join the CAP patrol, three planes off Hornet also scrambled, and more were being spotted, but that group would fly off in the wrong direction and fail to find the Japanese when they bored in on Halsey’s position.

The Big E was well out in front, and actually entering a squall line when the strike came in, which left Hornet and her closest escort, the cruiser San Francisco, as the most visible targets. The D3As came in first, with orders to strike the closest escorts to give Ema’s torpedo bombers the best chance to put their thunderfish to work. Hayashi would prove true to his word and draw first blood when he put a 250 KG bomb on San Francisco, right behind the aft stack. Not to be outdone, Ema came in right after him and scored yet another hit amidships, starting heavy fires there. Now the way was clear for Subota, as San Francisco had to fall out of its screening position for the carrier when the ship lost power and slowed to 20 knots.

Subota would lose only two BN5s on the run in, with two more damaged by flak and forced to abort, but the other 17 would all make the attack over those wild seas. The torpedoes, however, had a very rough run into the target, many lost and diverted from their intended course in the batting waves. One would run true and get a torpedo hit on the Hornet that penetrated the belt armor and caused significant damage just aft of the island. The high white wash of seawater clearly marked the hit, and Hayashi could see it as he looked over his shoulder after recovering from his dive through a hail of flak. The Thunder Gods had announced their presence, and he clenched his fist, eager to get back to Zuikaku and rearm for a second strike.

But fate had other plans for him that day, and they were now churning in the mind of a self-proclaimed Fighting Fool, Admiral Bull Halsey. When he got the news, Halsey scratched his neck, where a bright red rash was plaguing him again that morning.

“Is Hornet still underway?”

“Yes sir, her speed is good and the flight deck looks clear.”

“Good, thank God we got our boys up before this squall line hit us. They ought to be getting close to the other fellow by now. Why haven’t we heard anything?”

It was a special agony there in the close confines of the main bridge, one eye on the mission board where he was taking in the names of the men he had just set out into that storm, and one ear on the overhead intercom, listening for any sound that could tell him what they were doing. The ceiling above him was a morass of grey cables, all hooking in to some piece of equipment or another, and then snaking off in thick bundles to vanish into the grey guts of the ship. One coiled near the Captain’s Command Announcing System, where many a “now hear this” had been shouted over the last years of duty. Ten red lights sat in two rows of five, each with a thick black switch that would be flipped to activate any of those stations, the Open Bridge, Secondary Conn, Damage Control, Pre-Flight Briefing, AA Stations and more. Now those lights sat dark, the switches all set to the vertical off position.

Halsey’s orders had been given, the men and planes and ships all set in motion by his bawling commands, and now he could only stand there, waiting, listening, eyeing that Mission Board and wondering how many of those men would make it safely back to the ship. This was the hardest part of the job for Halsey, and the skin ailment that had been brought on by all the stress of these last months was making the wait even worse. They had opened a can of ‘Peerless Coffee,’ a Bay Area special that had been roasted there since 1924. Halsey picked up three cans before they left the west coast, but now, as the weather loosened up a bit and Enterprise came into the clear, he looked to see the cruiser San Francisco burning in his wake.

That ship was supposed to be in Puget Sound for an overhaul, he thought. Well, she’s damn well going to need it now. Look at those fires—my fires. This all happened because I got on that Squawk Box and made it so. Was Murray right? Was I a fool to send Fletcher off with Wasp and Shiloh like that, and then slip off myself to thump my chest with the Japanese?

Only time would tell….

Chapter 33

Hornet was already skewered by a torpedo hit, though all accounts had her still ‘Haze Grey and Underway.’ San Francisco was having a harder time suppressing those fires but TF-16 was already out for some payback, though they were having difficulty finding the Japanese 5th Carrier Division to the north. The thunderheads that had fringed the action against Halsey’s group had been moving north during the long hour it took to spot and launch the strike, another hour would pass as the squadrons formed up and moved north, their blue wings dark against the glowering sky.

Lieutenant Grey Davis of VF-6 had the first flight in the vanguard, with Firebaugh, Runyon, and Packard off his wingtips. There were three other flights in the escort, making 16 F4F Wildcats in all. Behind them came Lieutenant Ray Davis with VB-6 and there were 29 SBDs in that formation, and another 26 from VB-8 off the Hornet. No torpedo bombers were included in the strike. Halsey had seen their performance in drills, and was not happy with either the pilots or the torpedoes they were carrying, which had a tendency to misfire, run high and wide all too often, or to even fail to detonate for those lucky enough to score a hit. He would lead with his dive bombers, and hold the torpedo planes for a possible second wave.

While the Americans searched north through the gloom, Hara’s recovery operation had gone remarkably well. The real front of the storm had not yet reached his carriers, though winds were rising from the south. The relatively calm waters there enabled smooth flight deck operations. The Japanese had the advantage of knowing the exact heading to take back to their carriers, and they got there before most of Halsey’s planes could determine where the enemy was. Then came the break-neck effort to get fresh planes ready for action, a job the crews on the hangar deck had been doing even while the recovery was still underway.

Hayashi leapt from his plane and immediately headed below to check on progress, delighted to find there was already another squadron of D3As ready to be lifted up to the flight deck. He wanted one of those planes, unwilling to wait for his own plane to be turned around and prepped again for action. It was his enthusiasm for the action that saw both he and Ema back on the flight deck half an hour later, each having pulled rank to commandeer planes to get airborne again as soon as possible. They would get at least twelve D3As off Zuikaku, each man taking two Shotai of three planes. Unwilling to wait for the rest of the groups to be spotted and rise again for action, Ema got permission to look for the strike groups coming south from Carrier Division 2.

Word had been flashed to Nagumo that the American carriers had been found, and already attacked. He had 33 D3As up, and the 12 planes off Zuikaku would make that 45. They would be joined by only 4 B5Ns in that second strike, all that was ready on the Shoho. The remainder would still be some time arming and fueling. Four Shotai of A6M2 Zeroes would escort this strike in, and hoping to surprise the Americans again by coming from a different direction, Ema suggested they make a wide loop to the east around some thunderheads before turning south.

It was that spur of the moment decision by a single man that gave Halsey’s carriers just those few minutes more that they needed to get the last of his strike airborne and on its way. They would eventually find Carrier Division 5, and King Kong Hara was in for a very harrowing day.

The SDB was a sturdy, reliable plane, with decent range, and capable of lifting over 2000 pounds of ordnance. The planes were now carrying 1000 pound bombs, twice as heavy as the 500 pound bombs delivered by the Japanese dive bombers. Of the 55 SBDs up that day, only three would be taken down by the relatively light Zero escort, which had enough to do in trying to fend off the 16 American Wildcats. 11 more of the Dauntless dive bombers would take damage from both fighters and enemy flak, but of the 52 that were still flying, most all would get those 1000 pounders in the air, and today they were going to be very good.

The American flyers knew their back was now against the wall. They had lost Lexington at Pearl, Saratoga and Yorktown went down in the Coral Sea, and they knew the enemy had already put a torpedo into the Hornet. They had to turn the tide soon or the war would simply slip from their grasp. They simply had to hurt the Japanese now, and they did.

The Lucky Crane saw her luck run out that day, with three successive flight deck hits and a whole lot of whooping and shouting when the US pilots saw the tall columns of dark smoke broil up from the carrier. Halsey’s wait was finally over when the radio was suddenly alive with the heated calls of his pilots. One voice cut through it all, and finally put a smile on his heavy face. “Hot damn! Look at that Jap carrier burn!”

The SBDs were going to get 10 hits that day, an astounding 20% of what they carried to the fight. Two more would hit Zuikaku, wrecking elevators, igniting ready ammo, blasting away three planes on the fiery deck, and putting that carrier completely out of business, with a ten degree list to starboard. Zuiho took two hits, the second setting off her Aviation fuel storage bunker with a resulting explosion that literally wrecked the ship. The last three got Shoho, putting heavy damage on that carrier and shutting down the small flight deck. The ship would not survive, her list too heavy to stop by counter flooding, her fires simply uncontrollable.

In one fell swoop, Hara’s 5th Carrier division was literally destroyed as a viable fighting force. King Kong himself was wounded in action from bomb splinters that flayed the bridge on Zuikaku. It had been his unlucky fate to see his carrier division savaged again, and this time the Lucky Crane would be fortunate if it could even safely reach the nearest friendly port at Noumea. With shock and shame consuming him as he watched Shoho roll over and die, he sent a signal to Nagumo informing him of the damage. “Shoho lost, remainder of division carriers have suffered heavy damage and must withdraw.”

When that news reached the bridge of Akagi, there was an audible hiss from one of the junior officer’s quick intake of breath. One minute they were filled with jubilation. The American carriers had been found, hit by Hara’s pilots, and a second strike was already in the air. The next minute 5th Carrier Division was stricken from the rolls of active combatants.

Nagumo’s expression was cold and stoic, yet one man noticed the small tremor in his white gloved hand, his jaw tight, eyes narrow. The outcome of this battle was now riding the thunderheads with his dive bombers.

The second strike, mostly from Carrier Division 1 was over the American task force a little after noon, the skies still slate grey, and a light rain beginning to fall. They did not yet know what had befallen their brothers with Carrier Division 5, and if they had it would have probably made them just a little more rash, a little more determined, but a little less effective with anger clouding over the stony calm a good dive bomber needed to ply his craft.

They were going to be very good that day as well. Pensacola took the first hit, very near the wound she had suffered the previous January. It seemed the enemy was rubbing salt there, but the scrappy cruiser was not seriously hurt. The chopping recoil of the flak guns punctuated the hour for Halsey now, drowning out the last of the chatter he had been listening to over the radio set. He knew enough to realize his flyers had hurt the enemy, but now he ran outside to the weather deck just in time to see two bombs straddle the Enterprise, one striking very near the bow, its explosion close enough to score the metal with the claw marks of shrapnel.

The second bomb was close amidships, the belt armor taking the brunt of that near hit. Big E would get off easy that day, for those were the only two bombs that would touch her. Hornet’s luck was not so good. That ship was going to take four more bomb hits, the after elevators useless, and a deck fire there impeding any further flight deck operations. One struck near the island, the concussion nearly blasting open the lower hatch and shaking the bridge some 50 feet above. Another did the real damage when it penetrated the flight deck, plunged down into the hangar deck and even blew through that as well. The explosion took out two TBDs that had just been refueled and armed, and the fires were severe.

That hit shook the ship so hard that the temporary hull patch the engineers were working on to seal off that earlier torpedo hit was shaken loose and the sea rushed in again, sweeping three men away and flooding two more compartments before they could seal off those hatches. Soon that water would begin to overwhelm the pumps, and Hornet was settling heavily into the water, listing to port and smothered with thick black smoke. Mitscher was almost certain that the carrier had been struck a fatal blow, and began passing the word for the crews to make ready to abandon ship. It wasn’t the steel ship he was worried about any longer, but the 3000 men that were riding its burning back.

It was going to cost that strike wing a single Zero, six Vals, one of the four Kates, and thirteen other Vals damaged by flak in that attack. That was a small price to pay for the Hornet, and Halsey’s only solace was the fact that he had hit all three carriers in that first attack, and Big E was still alive and well. His boys would return, many having to divert to Suva from VF-8 and VB-8 off the Hornet. Then he would work like a madman to get those planes turned over and ready to go again. Enterprise would manage to get 31 SBDs up again, but with only six Wildcats in escort. This time they side swiped the burning Carrier Division 5, and followed a small flight of planes that were heading north. There they found Carrier Division 1, and right there between the two flattops was the biggest battleship they had ever laid eyes on.

The weather was terrible, with the same row of thunderstorms that had swept over the US task force earlier, but down they came. Only one would get lucky enough to do any serious harm, and it was Akagi that would shake with that hit, which set off aviation fuel on the hangar deck and started a hot fire that was serious enough to halt operations. Soryu wasn’t touched, but the tremor in Nagumo’s hand was visibly noticeable now, and he hid it in his jacket pocket. The realization of what had just happened was only too evident. Carrier Division 5 was gone. Most of the surviving planes were diverted to the pot marked airfield near Nandi on the main Fiji Island, but there was not enough aviation support there to sustain operations indefinitely. Akagi had her nice new refit spoiled by that hit, though Nagumo believed the ship could be made operational within a few hours.

Yet in those hours, there was only Soryu out there as the single operational carrier in the Kido Butai. The Blue Dragon was all that remained.

Even Thunder Gods fall.

Lieutenant Hayashi learned that the hard way when his battered D3A finally reached Nandi. He was down off the plane, seeing soldiers from a Naval infantry battalion pushing a B5N aside to clear the small portion of the runway that was still functional. That set his mind on finding his good friend Subota, and he ran off toward a small group of torpedo bombers, hoping to find him there. What he found instead was the terrible news that his comrade was seen in a bad tail spin dive, right at the edge of a thunder storm.

His eyes wide, a frantic look on his face, Hayashi turned and ran back to his dive bomber, pushing a sergeant aside and climbing up, heedless of the man’s shouts that the airfield could not be cleared for his takeoff. He tried to turn his engine over. He’d get out there and find Subota. It was the only thing to do, but the plane simply sputtered and died, its fuel exhausted. He had been lucky to make that landing safely, and his D3A wasn’t going anywhere until it could be serviced.

Hayashi felt the wave of despair sweep over him, his eyes glassy. He imagined Subota’s plane going down in that wild sea, imagined him alone out there at the edge of that storm, watching the lightning, hearing the raucous boom of the thunder, feeling the hard cold rain on his face. It would be a fitting death, but even as he thought that, he bent forward, both fists at his forehead, and leaned heavily on his flight panel, the tears streaking the char of smoke on his face. The Marine Sergeant saw him there, and said nothing more. He took off his cap, rubbed his chin, and strode away.

The Blue Dragon was all that remained….

That was the one burning thought in Yamamoto’s mind as soon as the battle ended. What if he had listened to that truculent officer from Takami and watched those rockets savage this American attack? No, he had decided to fight this battle on even terms, but the losses the Kido Butai had sustained were very heavy relative to the damage he inflicted on his enemy. He knew they had sunk at least one American fleet carrier, but for that they traded Zuikaku. Admiral Hara sadly reported that he did not think they could save the ship. Shoho was also gone, leaving only Zuiho still afloat, but out of the war for at least four months or longer. Hara’s group was a broken sword.

At least Akagi was not seriously hurt, and could probably be fully operational in a few days. Yet now so many questions crowded his mind wanting answers. Could he adequately cover the delivery of the Tanaka Regiment to Nandi with only one fully operational carrier? His fuel reserve was now at 55%, and he could not linger here for very much longer. What about all those planes and pilots that had diverted to Nandi and Tavua? They would have to hold their own for a time until Army planes relieved them, but it would not be wise to leave those experienced carrier-trained pilots there on the islands. A look at his plane inventory found him with only 141 planes at sea including five B5Ns stranded on the Zuiho, unable to take off.

And what of the enemy? If we have sunk only one enemy fleet carrier here, he thought, where were the other two? They were undoubtedly further east near Samoa, but for how long? This American Admiral was aggressive enough to divide his task force in the face of the storm, and yet he held his own against the full might of the Kido Butai. That is very disturbing. And what might come of the operation in the north? Will Takami be able to protect the northern fleet from this Russian Sea Demon? What might happen to Kaga and Tosa?

All these questions created a reasonable doubt that he could continue operations now. Without any discussion, he ordered the carriers to withdraw west. They would rendezvous with a tanker and refuel.

Nagumo bowed solemnly, but said nothing when he received the order. He knew the calculus that must be running through Yamamoto’s mind now, and his own instincts would be to do the very same thing. They must move west now, refuel, assess the condition of Akagi, and sort out the shattered naval squadrons into some reasonable order. Perhaps further operations could be contemplated at that time, but not today—not on the 5th of May, 1942.