Sea of Fire

Chapter 22

Fletcher had initially moved west around Noumea with the intention of fulfilling orders to strike at enemy bases throughout the Bismarck Archipelago, principally Gasmata and Rabaul. It was only a matter of circumstance that he then learned of Operation MO aimed at Port Moresby, and hastened to attempt an intervention. Had he been bolder, and risked a passage directly through the New Hebrides, he might have made a difference in that battle, but his swing well south of Noumea, where the Allies knew the Carrier Hiyo had laid her eggs by drooping off her entire air wing, was an example of the caution he exercised in battle.

Fletcher was a Black Shoe Admiral, schooled in surface warfare, and not one of the old Brown Shoe Admirals born and bred for carrier warfare. When Crace’s ANZAC squadron, consisting of the heavy cruiser Australia, light cruiser Hobart and a destroyer, was ordered to make a beeline for Port Moresby in an attempt to get at the invasion underway there, Fletcher thought he would ride in late to the rescue, until that fateful sighting report of four Japanese carriers that had been multiplied twice over.

In one sense, the sighting would end up being correct. The Black Shoe Admiral would end up tangling with all four Japanese fleet carriers before his sortie ended. When he turned northeast, it wasn’t long before planes off the Saratoga spotted the enemy right where they expected them to be to the northwest. With a predominance of SBD dive bombers in his task force, Fletcher wasted no time ordering a full strike. Yet the man on the other side was no slouch, Admiral Hara, the stalwart bullish figure the fleet came to call “King Kong.”

A big man, broad shouldered, and with a thick neck that simply became his head, Chuichi Hara looked every bit the part. He was out with 5th Carrier Division, which had been carrying the burden of most all fleet air support operations since Pearl Harbor. The damage to Kaga, the loss of Hiryu in that strange missile attack, and the refit scheduled for Akagi had left his division the only force ready to support southern offensive operations. When he first heard the news about Hiryu going down he was profoundly shocked—Hiryu struck by heavy rocket weapon just before planned launch… fires uncontrollable….

He found his eyes lingering on that message… heavy rocket weapon… What in the world could that have been? Yet even as he thought that, he knew something in some hidden recess of his mind that was shouting out a warning. Rocket weapon…

That night he saw them in his sleep, bright fiery tails trailing thin white smoke that caught the last fading remnants of the sun near dusk, and soon became gold, then crimson, as if some great unseen beast had clawed the sky. He remembered awakening in a cold sweat, his eyes wide, then realized it was only a dream, shaking it off and listening to the ship as it rode smoothly through the flat dark sea. Why did that report disturb him so? Was it merely the loss of that ship? No, it was something more, but he could not remember it.

He had successfully covered Operation R as Rabaul was taken without a hitch from the Australians. Gasmata and the rest of New Britain were occupied soon after, and then Lae and Salamaua fell easily. He had then been ordered to the Java Sea to support the landings there, but that terrible eruption had shaken that entire theater and driven even the gods of war to heel. Half the Java Sea was now blighted with ashfall, and passage west into the Indian Ocean was now a hazardous affair. The planned raid there had already been cancelled when the Rabaul operation was accelerated, so Hara had no regrets. He was pleased to be ordered east again into calmer waters, and glad to be supporting the move south into the Solomon Sea.

The Japanese carriers had also spotted the approach of the American task force to the southwest, and they were feverishly preparing to strike this unexpected enemy. Hara would order his dive bombers to lead the attack, three squadrons under Sakamoto, Ema and Hayashi. As they took longer to fuel and arm, he would hold his torpedo bombers for the second wave.

Dawn was just lightening the sky when the first planes roared off the long flight deck of Zuikaku, the Lucky Crane where Hara had decided to plant his flag. He had considered Shokaku, the lead ship in the class, but something about her Captain, Takaji Jojima, irritated him, and he was already too prone to grumble with a bad temper.

It was just our good luck that we saw those carriers, thought Hara. Now we must kill them, as they are undoubtedly here to try and interfere with the MO invasion force. But that will not happen—not on my watch—not with Sakamoto up there now. He always went out onto the weather deck to watch the planes form up, the drone and growl of their engines seeming like a swarm of angry bees to him. The formations circled in place until the last Shotai came up to join them. Then he saw the lead plane in the centermost group dip its wings. Sakamoto was saluting him as the dive bombers started on their way.

He looked at his watch… they would be at least an hour out to the suspected location of the enemy carriers, more than enough time to make his offering to the Thunder Gods looming like shadows in the line of clouds off to the north. His carriers had turned into the wind to launch, but now he would give the order to come about, closing the range on the enemy as the strike proceeded. He bowed to the distant storm as Zuikaku began her long graceful turn. Soon he saw Shokaku come abreast to keep formation, the Soaring Crane looking trim and fast that morning. He breathed deeply, smelling the rain behind him on that wind. It was a good day for battle.

“Archie, how do you like that?” said Fletcher with a broad smile. “Halsey caught a pair of Jap carriers up north and blew them to hell!” He handed the message to Captain Douglas, who looked it over with a nod.

“Tough old bird,” he said. “How’d he get Enterprise and Hornet turned around so quickly. He’s in the Marshalls?”

“Must have chewed on Nimitz a good long while to get him to see through this Midway crap. I never bought it for one second.”

“HYPO sure thought they nailed it,” said Douglas. “I thought they were going to pull us north last week.”

“Not with this MO operation. That was the fly in the ointment. Why would the Japs have a big operation planned for Midway when they were still pushing so hard down here to get into the Solomons? No. As soon as I heard they had something planned for Port Moresby, I realized this Midway thing was nonsense. Nimitz must have realized it too, otherwise he’d still have Halsey on a leash up there.”

“I thought he was waiting for the Wasp?”

“I did too, but now I think they’ll send that ship south as well. Something is brewing out here, and I think we’ve just got wind of it with this sighting. Four Jap carriers? Hell, you know damn well they aren’t heading for Midway if they’re this far south.”

“Right,” said Douglas, “but they’re still pretty far east to have anything to do with this Moresby operation.”

“That’s why I think there’s something more to all this,” said Fletcher. “It wouldn’t surprise me to find out they have troop ships out there bound for Fiji. They were snooping around there with submarines last week.”

“Fiji? Then you think they’re after Suva?”

“It would be a real plum if they ever did manage that.” Fletcher scratched his head, replacing his cap and looking out the narrow window at the flight deck as his dive bombers began to launch. “Our job is to see that never happens.”

“What about Moresby and the raid on Rabaul?”

“Can’t be helped. We’re a day late and more than a dollar short. Now we’ve got four Jap flattops out here, and that trumps everything else. Halsey’s been ordered to get down here ASAP.”

“He won’t be any help for a good long while.” Douglas had just the hint of nerves in his tone. Saratoga was going into her first real fight here, untested and untried. “Let’s hope we get lucky today.”

When Sakamoto saw the enemy carriers below, he smiled. It looked like a very weak escort group, only a few cruisers and destroyers, and there were two easy targets just waiting for his bombs. Ema’s group was on his left, Hayashi on the right, and though he had every right to begin this attack himself, Ema was in the best position, and he signaled that he should have the honor of leading in the strike. He knew Hara well enough to also know the torpedo planes would soon follow, vectored in from the information he had sent back on the enemy position.

Now it was time for the Thunder Gods. He had every dive bomber available from Zuikaku, and two Shotai from Shokaku had mistakenly followed his formation as well. That would now send 33 D3As into this attack, and there was no better plane in the world for naval air strike at this time, and certainly no better pilots. That was the lethal combination that was going to ruin Admiral Fletcher’s day, and inflict a staggering blow to US hopes in the early months of the war.

Ema’s planes were already attacking through a thin AA defense, but more allied guns were getting into the action. He could see enemy fighters trundling down the long flight decks of the carriers to scramble on defense, but no more than 16 would ever get into action before his attack was driven home. With 22 A6M2 fighters escorting his planes, he was confident that most of his men would get through.

Now it was his turn, his wings tipping over as he maneuvered to attack position. One by one the three Shotai he commanded would follow him down, and after that Hayashi would move in support. Even as he began his dive, he was thrilled to see the first bombs from Ema’s group finding targets. The lead enemy carrier was straddled, and one came down right on the forward flight deck in a dark blooming explosion.

The flack thickened around his planes as they fell on the enemy, but Sakamoto was heedless, his mind on only one thing. His fate was now in the hands of the Thunder Gods he served. The line of his descent was now fixed, and his soul would follow it, carrying with it the echoing voices of all his ancestors. The ship in his sights looked like it was Lexington Class, the prominent joined stack section mounted behind a much small conning island forward. The other ship was different… yes… Yorktown Class, with both the conning section and stack joined on one island. He knew now that he was diving on the Saratoga, and he would not fail to deliver his charge, a 500-pound armor penetrating bomb that went right through that long flight deck to wreak havoc when it exploded on the hangar deck below.

Fletcher saw the planes coming, and they did not have enough F4s up on cap. Three had found and met the enemy escorts, four more joining them quickly from the patrols aloft. He had six more up with two ready sections off each carrier, and he could see Yorktown scrambling three more. Down on the flight deck, the blue wings were ready to go with another fighter section from Saratoga, but it would never take off. Sakamoto had just seen to that when his bomb fell right forward of the main conning section on the flight deck. There was a shudder as the explosion rocked the ship, and fragments of the shattered deck clanked against his conning section, followed by thick black smoke.

“They couldn’t have put that one in a worse place,” said Captain Douglas, his face grim and set.

“Thank god we launched the dive bombers half an hour ago,” said Fletcher. “We’re going to take some lumps here, but we put 60 SBDs in the air with a good escort, and they better find those bastards.”

“They’ll find them,” said Douglas, “and they’ll hurt them too. Let’s hope to god we’ve got an operational flight deck here when they get home.”

They could already see the damage control teams rushing to get a hose stream right into that hole in the flight deck. It looked bad, and it was going to get a lot worse. Sakamoto’s bomb would not be the last to hit home. The pilots of the Misty Lagoon were in rare form that day, and it was Hayashi’s group that proved to be particularly lethal.

He dove into the blooming dawn, seeing the line of distant clouds framing the horizon. Hayashi was in the lead, riding his machine with the special brew of adrenaline that only active combat can produce. It was fear restrained by excitement and the sheer will to survive and bring harm to the enemy. It was dedication and bravery, and both came with a heavy dose of mayhem and insanity. There were thirty seconds down, five to pull out, and just before, that single split second on the edge of fate where the bomb releases, swinging down on the trapeze, and whistling into the leaden sky. He had to time that moment perfectly, the effort of synapse, muscle and bone.

All the while he focused his mind on only one thing—the target—ignoring all else. Somewhere, the ten other things he had to do in a dive were all being processed by his brain. His hands and feet moved, applying just the right pressure, at just the right time. Then it was bomb away. Hayashi was going to get his hit. He could hear the explosion, and see the bright tongues of fire leaping up in his wake after he pulled out. His would be one of three other bombs delivered to that carrier that morning, and when they were done, the Saratoga was a flaming wreck.

The fires were burning deep, well below the main flight deck, but it wasn’t until Hayashi had made the climb up to 10,000 feet again that the final blow would be delivered by the N5N torpedo bombers. Matsua had arrived with the 18 planes of the Lucky Crane, and they were going in. Four bomb hits on Saratoga would now get insult added to injury when two torpedoes put the ship into a steep list. Fletcher suddenly had much more to worry about than clearing his flight deck. It was now a question of whether he could even save the ship.

The island was largely intact, but the hangar deck was severely compromised with three separate fires, and he had two gaping holes on his starboard side, and a list that forced him to counter-flood and lose his main magazine in the process. No matter what he did now, Saratoga was out of this fight. Her planes were still out there somewhere, but her war would soon be over. Captain Douglas came running up the stairs to the smoky bridge, his eyes carrying the bad news before he could speak a single word.

“It doesn’t look good,” he said. “We’re still shipping water, and they can’t stop that breach forward. We’ll be down at the bow well over 5 degrees in ten minutes. Admiral, I think we’re going to lose her. You had best consider transferring your flag to one of the cruisers.”

“My God,” said Fletcher as another explosion thundered up. “Look at the Yorktown.”

They stared, seeing the tall column of fire and smoke amidships. Seven bombs had done the work there, and one of them set off the aviation bomb storage magazine. It blew a thirty-five-foot segment of the hull clean off the ship, and now the smoke was so heavy they could barely see the bow of the carrier. “We’re going to lose them both…” Fletcher had a dull, vacant look in his eye. “I knew we were looking for too much trouble coming north like this. Why the hell wasn’t I more careful?” It was too late for caution now.

The ship rumbled with a heavy vibration.

“Sir,” said the Captain. “With your permission, I think we should get the crew off as soon as we can. They’re after the cruisers now. Minneapolis took at least two hits, along with Pensacola. Chester is damn near dead in the water, but New Orleans still has some fight in her. Get on over there, sir. We’ll need you off this ship.”

Fletcher could hardly believe what had just happened to his task force. One minute he was leaning on a hand rail, eyeing the weather report with one ear cocked towards the overhead radio speaker. The pilots were finally getting into the fight at the other end of this affair, out there somewhere to the northwest, but they couldn’t return to this little slice of hell on the sea. If any man among them would live out this day, they would have to get to the Santa Cruz Islands. There was a small landing strip there, and Ndeni was still controlled by the Aussies.

He looked at Captain Douglass, eyes glassy as he spoke. “Get a signal off to CINCPAC if we still can. Tell them what happened and that I’m taking anything that can still float to Brisbane.”

In thirty minutes time, Sakamoto, Ema, Hayashi and Matsua had virtually destroyed Taffy Eleven, and neither Saratoga nor Yorktown would make it anywhere near Brisbane.

Chapter 23

The radar eyes on the Takami had not failed to notice the drama unfolding in the Coral Sea. Fukada seemed very restless on his bridge watch, lingering after Captain Harada had come up to relieve him. He was hovering over the Phased Array readout panels, asking Lieutenant Ryoko Otani one question after another.

“How far off is that mess?” He was seeming multiple contacts, and getting a bit nervous. They were over the last reported position of the Japanese 5th Carrier division.

“That’s right on the edge of our scanning range,” said Otani. “About 170 Nautical miles as I read it.” The SPY-1D could range out 175 nautical miles for airborne contacts at that altitude, and about 45 for low approach vector targets like missiles. Had the planes been higher, the radar could have seen much farther. But they were getting an assist from one of the helicopters, and seeing an event that was actually 290 miles away.

“Too far for our SM-2s,” said Fukada. “But our SM-3s could get out there.”

“What’s all this about?” Captain Harada came over, arms folded, eyes on Otani’s screens.

“A nice little swarm over the 5th Carrier Division,” she explained.

“A launch or recovery operation?”

“Could be a bit of both, but the fact that it came on my screen from the south leads me to suspect the latter.”

“It might also be an enemy strike underway,” said Fukada. “We can’t rule that out.”

“How many bees?” asked Harada.

“I’m reading 97 distinct contacts, but we had six marked as likely CAP patrols earlier.”

“If that is a strike then those carriers would have doubled down on that with a scramble. Did we send a warning?”

“No sir, the reading just came in and the XO and I were just trying to sort it all out.”

Harada looked at Fukada. “So what was that about our SM-3s?”

“I was just commenting that it was the only missile we had that could make the range.”

“Right,” said the Captain. “All twelve of them.” The Takami had a total of 96 VLS cells, and a mix of three different missiles sharing them. The medium range SM-2s got the lion’s share, with 74 missiles that could range out 65 to 100 nautical miles. They had only a dozen of the longer range SM-3, designed to foil ballistic missile attacks at ranges out to 375 nautical miles for the Block IA/B versions, of which there were ten. The last two were block IIA, a very long range missile interceptor that could get out 1350 nautical miles, and with a ceiling of just uner1000 miles.

“Take the S3s off your list for any combat operation we’re likely to see here,” said Harada. “They’re just too damn valuable. I’ll make them the last dozen missiles we ever fire.” The remaining ten silos housed the RUM 139 ASROC anti-sub missile, so in effect, their air defense at range was going to result in no more than 74 kills, and they had already fired three. There were no reloads. Underway replenishment for the Mark 41 VLS system was just not in the cards, and even if they could reload at sea, there would never be a replenishment ship out there to service them.

Harada could see that Fukada was edgy, and spoke again. “I know you’re itching to get into this fight XO, but we have to hold our cards close to our chest here, and play things out sparingly—that is if we want to retain any clout with Yamamoto, let alone for our own defense.”

“I understand that,” said Fukada. “I wasn’t suggesting we fire the SM-3s Captain—just thinking out loud.”

“Fair enough.” Harada looked over at his Comm station, where Hiroko Shiota was back at her post. “Let me know the minute you hear anything,” he said.

Half an hour later, that minute came. “Captain,” said Shiota. “I’m getting something now.” She was running it all through the decryption computer. They had warned Yamamoto that the Americans were snooping on his naval code, but said nothing of the fact that they had the whole thing programmed into their lightning fast decryption module. “Damn if it doesn’t sound like a distress call sir. It reads ‘Soaring Crane has fallen—REPEAT—Soaring Crane has fallen.’ What do you make of it sir?”

Fukada spoke before anyone else. “Shokaku,” he said sullenly. “That’s the Soaring Crane. It looks like we found out what our swarm of bees was. That must have been an American strike after all.”

“Right sir,” said Lieutenant Otani on the SPY-1D. “It’s breaking up now, but this is odd, the contacts aren’t resuming a heading south to their home carriers. At least they aren’t going home the way they came in. They’re headed our way.”

Fukada rushed over. “Show me.”

She pointed out the tracks, overlaid a predictive plot, and it showed about forty contacts heading east. “Where could they be going, sir?”

“The Santa Cruz Islands are right on that same heading,” said Fukada, his eyes shifting from one place to another on the screen. “Mister Ikida,” he raised his voice to get the navigator’s attention.

“Sir?” Michi Ikida turned to acknowledge.

“You have the position on this ruckus Otani’s been watching?”

“Sir, yes sir. I read it at—”

“How far to the Santa Cruz Islands?”

“From the present reading, about 270 standard miles.”

Fukada smiled. “There’s our answer.” He turned to Captain Harada. “Someone must have passed the word that the nest was on fire. Those planes must be trying to divert to Ndeni. There’s a small airstrip there, and that’s still Australian held territory.”

Harada walked over to have a look at Ikida’s plot map. It made sense. “Which means…”

“The Americans got smashed,” said Fukada with a smile. “Hara must have had a strike wave up at the same time and hurt the American carriers, possibly even sunk them. If they were still operational, why would those planes divert to the Santa Cruz Islands? Unless… Could they possibly know of our presence here?”

“I doubt that,” said Harada. “We were snooped by that presumed PBY out of Fiji, but it would be some pretty fancy flying to send one group like this and attempt a double strike.”

“Not that it matters,” said Fukada. “They’ll soon be well inside our SM-2 range when they approach. We can knock them down before they make landfall.”

There was complete silence on the bridge after Fukada said that, and a couple of the junior officers shifted uncomfortably. Then Harada spoke. “I’m not sure I like that idea, Mister Fukada. It just feels a little too much like hitting the other fellow when he’s down.”

“But sir, what if they do know we’re here. What if some of those planes are still carrying ordnance?”

“We’ll know that in time if they approach, but my bet is that they are diverting to those islands.”

“Well, if those planes land safely there, we’ll just have to deal with them again one day.”

“Will we? The way I read it is like this: there’s probably forty or fifty planes left out there, half as many as they came with for this mission. It was their first, am I correct in that?”

“I’m reading about 60 contacts sir,” said Otani.

“And they just got some very bad news from home. Now they’re all probably looking at their fuel gauges and wondering how far those damn islands are, and whether they’ll make it or be forced to ditch and take their chances with the sharks. No, I don’t think I’ll add our SM-2s to the list of things they’re worrying about right now. They’ve done their job, and I’d guess most are no longer carrying any ordnance. They’ll jettison it to conserve fuel, and even then, they’ll be damn near empty if they do land at Ndeni, and I don’t think there will be any air crews waiting to arm and gas up those planes. No, I think their war is over for a while. Who knows how long it would be before the US got anyone out there to see about them. So they aren’t our business here. Like I said, our missiles are just too damn precious. Any combat order I issue will be for a clear and present danger to this ship, or to the task force we are supporting. That’s a standing order.” He looked at Fukada and the others. “So remember it—and while you’re at it, remember the men who died out there today, on both sides. Mister Fukada thinks we lost the Shokaku today. Maybe he’s right, and maybe the other side took a few hard knocks as well. Let’s work this into a signal to Yamamoto and let him know what our take is on this intelligence. If he’s concerned about it, he can strengthen his defensive CAP. Other than that, its steady as she goes.”

Halsey took the message, eyeing it with those aquiline eyes, his brow furrowed beneath his cap. Then his sour expression deepened, and he reached up and threw that cap right on the deck.

“Now what in God’s name is this all about?” He had a mind to say something considerably worse, but given his cap was already on the deck, and the eyes of every officer on the bridge were on him now, he restrained himself. Captain George Murray was standing by his chair, arms folded. “In my ready room,” said Halsey, and he went steaming off, leaving his cap behind. Murry had the presence of mind to stoop and pick it up as he followed. The two men entered the small room off the main bridge, and closed the hatch.

The island of a carrier was much smaller than many would think, with small metal walled rooms, low ceilings, hatches you had to step up and over to get through. The ceiling was a morass of bundled cables, squawk boxes, PA speakers and other oddments. Murray had glanced at the broad Plexiglas status board to make certain nothing was amiss there, but he suspected the source of the Admiral’s anger was not ship’s rotations or anything else that was aboard before that message just came in. He knew what it was—orders—and they were obviously not to Halsey’s liking.

“Will you look at this?” Halsey handed off the message, scowling, watching as Murray looked it over, scratching his head.

“Ellice Islands? Why there?”

“God only knows.” Halsey snatched the message back and read it aloud. “EAM – Withdraw immediately to rendezvous at coordinates to follow. Additional Message to follow. An Emergency Action Message. Funafuti? That’s in the Ellice Islands Group! Well here I was just about to lock horns with Yamamoto and now they want to pull us off east? That next message had better have a damn good reason for this bullshit. What’s Nimitz doing?”

“Steady Admiral. He must know something we don’t know. We haven’t heard a thing from Fletcher for the last six hours, and we know he got into something down south.”

“All the more reason to get down there,” said Halsey, eyes wide, the anger still there.

“Commander, Pacific Fleet wants us somewhere else,” said Murray. “EAM is an order, hard and fast in any book I ever read. Let’s wait this out and see what this next message is all about.” He handed Halsey his cap, a wry smile on his face easing the atmosphere in the cramped quarters.

It wasn’t long before they got that second message, but it didn’t come before CINCPAC sent a request that Halsey confirm his new heading. When it did come, the news was far worse than anything Halsey expected. “Mother of God,” he said this time. “We lost Yorktown and Saratoga—both of them went down in the Coral Sea.…. We’re to move east at once and rendezvous with Wasp and Shiloh. Sweet Jesus, they don’t even know if Fletcher made it to one of the cruisers safely.”

“Did we get off an attack?”

“Apparently. They found the Jap carriers and scored hits on both, but fuel was suddenly a big issue. They all had to divert to the Santa Cruz Islands.”

“Well we can get down there and bring them home,” said Murray.

“Captain, twenty minutes ago you were telling me about orders. No. Anybody that made it to those islands and landed safely will just have to sit there until we sort things out. Right now Nimitz wants us to meet up with Wasp and Shiloh. They left Pearl five days ago and have been heading our way. They’ll have a tanker waiting for us there as well.”

“Nimitz wants to draw another two cards before he makes his next bet,” said Murray.

“Sounds that way. Christ, this is almost as bad as Pearl. To top it off, the Japs got through to Moresby and took the place yesterday. Radio Tokyo made the announcement at 16:00, and rubbed it in real good. The bastards even invited us to try and take another crack at Tokyo and see what happens.”

Murray shook his head. “This is getting serious. We’re down to three fleet carriers now, and the two scout carriers. Antietam is still laid up in Pearl, and after Wasp, we won’t get anything else for a good long while. We just can’t afford to lose another carrier out here. What do you figure Nimitz is scheming on?”

“Fiji,” said Halsey. “HYPO dropped this bullshit about A.F. and Midway, and now they think that’s where the Japs are headed next. They told Halsey an invasion group is already at sea. People have been saying something was up, and I never thought it was Midway from the beginning. It’s right down here—Fiji—that’s what they really want now. They take that, and they’ve damn near cut us off from the boys down under.”

“It’s a big ocean out there,” said Murray. “They can think that, but we’ll just fall back on Samoa. Pago Pago is every bit as good as Suva for a staging point. They’re even shipping in the 1st Marine Division there.”

“Well don’t throw this match just yet,” said Halsey. “If they are planning to hit Fiji, I should be down there as soon as possible. Waiting for Wasp and Shiloh could let them get ashore before we have anything to say about it.”

“Face it, Bill. We just lost Fletcher’s entire group, and Nimitz isn’t taking any chances now. He wants us loaded for bear before he moves anywhere close to the Japs again. They only had four carriers at Truk, and maybe Fletcher got one in that scrap. With Wasp, we can go toe to toe with them on a level playing field. That has to be the plan now.”

Halsey thought for a moment. “If they hit Fletcher that hard it had to cost them something. They would have lost planes, pilots, fuel, munitions, and hell, maybe a carrier too. I’d be willing to bet that was Carrier Division 5 in the Coral Sea, and for my money I’d say they would have to go to the corner before they come out for another round. That’s where we make our move.”

“Then you figure they’ll cover this Fiji operation with those other two carriers from Truk?”

“It’s looking that way. So we may even have the advantage when we handshake with Wasp. Nimitz knew I’d want to get down there and throw punches the moment I heard about this. That’s why the bastard split these orders into two parts. He wanted to make sure he got me out of the ring and heading east before he sent us that news about Fletcher.”

“The old man’s a sly one,” said Murray with a smile. “But it’s better this way, Bill. You want to take this fight south? With Wasp along, we’ll have the muscle. This isn’t over, and we’ve got to play this right. If we lose this one…”

He didn’t have to say anything more.

Chapter 24

When the strike wing finally returned to Hara’s task force they were dismayed to find only one carrier there. Sakamoto’s knowing eye spotted the Lucky Crane, a thin stream of white smoke still trailing from the starboard bow area. He made one fly by pass, seeing the decks were clear and undamaged, and then ordered his men to begin landing.

Hayashi was one of the first down, elated that he had put his bomb right on the enemy carrier, and further pleased by the news that both carriers had been sunk. “But where is Shokaku?” he asked.

“Hit many times,” said the flight crewman. “The ship went down an hour ago, but we were able to get most of her pilots and crew off safely. There are many aboard, so don’t be surprised if we have visitors tonight.”

Hayashi went below to find them, speaking with several torpedo plane pilots with consoling words. They had not had the chance to get airborne before the American dive bombers came in. “They made a clumsy attack,” one man said, a Lieutenant Sato that Hayashi did not recognize. “But there were many planes. We should have had more fighters up. The gunners on Shokaku did their best, but those 25mm guns do not do well against fast moving targets like dive bombers. They are difficult to elevate, track too slowly, and jam all too often.”

“I am sorry for your loss, Sato. How is it I do not know you? I recognize most everyone else here from the Division.”

“Because this is the second carrier the enemy has taken from me,” said Sato sullenly. “I should throw myself overboard, for all I will do here is bring you bad luck.”

“Second carrier? Then you were on the Hiryu?”

“A good ship,” said Sato, with just a hint of nostalgia in his tone.

Hayashi was suddenly very interested. “Tell me,” he said. “Is it true that Hiryu was sunk by a rocket weapon?”

“I saw it with my own eyes,” said Sato, “though I still cannot believe what I witnessed. It was terribly fast, so fast that our gunners had no chance to even take aim at the thing before it struck us. It came from above, then swooped low over the sea. I thought they would get it, but it was impossible. Nothing could have stopped it, and it found the ship as if it had eyes. To this day, I am convinced it must have been piloted, but where the enemy got such a weapon still escapes me. The Siberians? They’ve been under our heel for decades, and now they openly declare war on Japan? That is also unbelievable. Many say the Russians gave them this weapon. We do not know how it is deployed, but some say there is a ship operating up north. You have been here in the South Seas, so you may not have heard, but our sailors have given this ship a name up north. They call it—”

“Mizuchi,” said Hayashi, yet even as he said that he could not remember ever hearing it.

“Yes!” said Sato. “Then you have heard the story once already? The name is well given. I have not seen this ship, but it must be a demon. It struck the Hiryu from well over the horizon with this rocket weapon, and then, when we sent Mutsu and Chikuma up to get after the Siberians, they came back as floating wrecks. I heard what happened—more of these naval rockets. They strike with terrible speed, and set off raging fires that are simply uncontrollable. Whatever this ship is, it is very powerful, very dangerous. But no one has seen it since. I am no coward, but believe me, when I got the news that I was to be transferred to the South Seas Fleet, I was very happy. The farther away from that demon, the better.”

Mizuchi… Hayashi could see a shadow in his mind, something dark and wavering on the sea. It was as if he was up above, ready to strike with his comrades and then he saw himself falling like a stone to attack. The sky was suddenly alive with the strange smoky tentacles of the beast below them. They reached up to find his brothers, striking the planes and smashing them to pieces as they dove—and yes—they were rockets. Now he felt a cold chill settle over him, and an oppressive sense of dread. Mizuchi… death on the sea… his death, but it was a brave death, an honorable death….

He shook his head, almost shivering as he sought to dispel this strange recollection. His better self chided him that he was just being foolish, servicing the fears and rumors that had been circulating through the fleet. But then again, he found it odd that Kaga and Tosa were not assigned to this operation. Then he heard they had been kept in home waters because of the threat posed by the Siberians, something that would have been laughable just months ago. The Siberians? They had no navy at all, but now it seemed that was not the case. They did have at least one good ship, something dark and unseen in the cold waters of the north. Something he had the strangest feeling that he, himself, had encountered in the disturbing vision he had just shaken from his mind… Mizuchi….

Hayashi looked around the briefing room, seeing the faces of all his squadron mates, their cheeks red, smiling, eyes wide as they boasted of the brave attack they had made against the American carriers. They fought well. They were the best of the best, the pilots of the Misty Lagoon, unmatched by any other flyers in the world. He watched them as they boasted, clapping one another on the back, their hands describing the movement of their planes as they recounted details of the attack. And he watched them go, one by one to seek out food and rest. The Lucky Crane was heading north, or so they had learned. They were going back to Rabaul to replenish, and then they would fight again. His men were very eager, and he was proud of them.

He lingered there in the briefing room for some time, hearing the last echoes of the others in the corridor outside. Then a darkness seemed to fall on him, and he saw the empty room, the empty chairs, and that feeling of impending dread returned. What was he thinking? Soon those chairs would all be full again as the men gathered to be briefed on their next strike mission. He would sit next to his good friend Matsua, from the torpedo squadron, and they would discuss tactics after the briefing, just as they always did.

But one day, he thought darkly, those chairs will be empty. Why should it be me that stands here alone to know this? What is this doom I sense all around me now? I must have a case of the jitters from that last mission, though I cannot see why I should be so bothered. No… It was not that, not the mission. I have flown so many others, and never felt any fear worth mentioning. I am no coward. I am not afraid to give my life to strike my enemy, for that is what I came here for. Yet this feeling… it is something more than fear. It is almost as if I can see things that have not yet happened, things that will happen… It is almost as if I can read the book of fate….

He looked around at the empty briefing room, then lowered his head and hastened off to follow his brothers to the mess hall.

Admiral Hara reviewed his orders, a subtle knowing smile the only faint outward sign that he had finally come to terms with what had happened.

We have certainly done that, he thought. Two enemy carriers! Yet for that we pay with the loss of our sister ship. The Soaring Crane will never fly again. Shokaku is gone…

Not possible. The action against the Americans in the Coral Sea has left me with only minor damage here on Zuikaku. The Lucky Crane lives up to its name, but we have lost planes, pilots, and now we need to replenish before I can hope to be of any further use to Operation FS. My torpedo bombers have only six lances remaining. It will be necessary to withdraw to Rabaul.

That explains Yamamoto’s order for me to disengage and move east to the New Hebrides instead of pursuing the survivors from that enemy task force we engaged. He wanted me to join Carrier Division 1 and restore the Kido Butai to its normal full strength of four fleet carriers. Unfortunately, I cannot do so, and I have so informed Combined Fleet Headquarters of that sad fact. The Fiji Operation will now only be supported by Carrier Division 1, but I have at least succeeded in covering Operation MO, and insuring the invasion and occupation of Tulagi and Port Moresby. The latter was a significant victory. If nothing else, this will reinforce my proposal that we should make Darwin our next objective after Fiji is secured.

Yamamoto will continue south, even though we know there are enemy carriers lurking well north of the operational area in the Marshalls. There we paid again, losing both Gozo and Mezu to what was apparently a much stronger enemy task force. That was inevitable. Those two scout carriers could muster no more than 24 planes between them, and at least most of those safely diverted to Kwajalein. Where are those American carriers now? I was ordered to retrace my route near Tulagi on my way back to Rabaul, though I cannot see why. This single carrier could not oppose another strong enemy carrier task force. So Yamamoto will have to deal with that, and I hope he is equal to the task. Akagi has returned to the fleet, and the crews on Soryu have also lost their sister ship to that strange rocket attack up north.

That had been quite the mystery. I have heard fleet rumors, whispers in the intelligence channels, talk about Karafuto—Sakhalin Island. That is why we are not at full strength here. Tosa had to be retained in home waters, and Kaga is still under repair. That, and the unfortunate terror that nearly destroyed the entire 2nd Infantry Division on Java, have forced us to conduct these operations with only four fleet carriers.

The Army was none too happy about the loss of that division, and they have refused to replace it. It was all Yamamoto and Ugaki could do to get them to agree to take the 48th Division from Java and reduce the garrison there to only one division. Now where will I get the force I need for my Darwin proposal? Perhaps I could see if General Nishimura could spare anything from Singapore, but that will have to wait… For now, I must get Zuikaku safely back to Rabaul, repair that small hole in our bow where that last American dive bomber got lucky, and then we will see what the situation is regarding Fiji.

Something tells me I may never lead that Darwin invasion. This may be the last operation we conduct in the south. Come May, we will be looking over our shoulder in the north. We feared a war on two fronts. Yes, I warned Ugaki about it before Pearl Harbor, but he said it was simply too late to change any of the plans. Now look at the situation. We are fighting the British in Burma out west, the Americans here in the south and now the Siberians in the north—a three front war! Ugaki should have listened to me….

That same day the invasion forces made their approach to Fiji, and the pilots of Carrier Division 1 finally got their chance to get into action. Sweeps were conducted by the A6M2 squadrons, finding a surprising number of enemy fighters up to oppose them. But the enemy planes were all older P-39s and P-400s, a variant of that same plane. They had been delivered months ago by the Pensacola Convoy, uncrated and assembled into the 67th Pursuit Squadron. The inexperienced pilots would now get their chance against the Aces of Carrier Division 1, and though a few got lucky with an occasional shot that damaged or downed an enemy plane, they paid a high price.

There had been 42 operational planes available on the airfield near Suva at the southeastern corner of Fiji. By the end of the first day, that number had been reduced to twenty. Then the dive bombers came off the carriers, pounding the field and blasting another six planes on the ground, older Buffalos that had no business in the skies above, even though they had tried to scramble when the air alert sounded. Four were caught on the tarmac, another two gunned to firing wrecks as a pair of Zeroes swooped low to strafe the field as the Buffalos were trying to take off.

Job one for the carrier strike group led by Yamamoto was to neutralize that airfield and any chance that the Americans could use those planes to attack the troop transports. Through all this action, DDG-180 simply provided services as an early warning picket. The Phased Array radar could spot any enemy planes unfailingly, and the information was quickly radioed to Akagi. No missiles were needed, as the Japanese pilots were more than capable in this situation, and the P-39s posed no real strike threat.

There had also been a variant of the SDB-Dauntless Dive Bomber crated up in the Pensacola Convoy, dubbed the A-24 Banshee by the Army Air Force. Yet those planes had been sent to Pago Pago, and were not available at Suva when the attack finally started.

The invasion groups had been well coordinated, and the order Nimitz had sent to Halsey meant that Carrier Division 1 would impose its Steel Reign over the scene on the first three days of the battle. The main objective of the landings was not Suva Bay, but Nandi on the western coast of the main island of Viti Lavu.

Fiji Was a large island, some 95 miles at its widest point and 65 miles top to bottom. It was surrounded by long archipelagoes of smaller islands, with one large sister in Vanua Levu to the northeast. That island was over 110 miles long, but no more than 20 to 30 miles wide, and much less developed. Most of the primary installations were on the big island of Viti Lavu that most associated with the name “Fiji.” The main port and airfield was at Suva, but there was also a port at Nandi and Lautoka, on the northern edge of Nandi Bay.

This would be the main objective of the Japanese landing, for they had determined that there were only two brigades of troops from New Zealand, the 8th at Suva and the 14th at Nandi. It was thought that they could then overwhelm the defense at Nandi to secure a lodgment on the main island, and Nandi Bay offered a good anchorage site for the transports to offload their supplies.

But things had changed in the early months of the war. The arrival of the 132nd Infantry Regiment of the US 23rd Division at Suva had seen the 8th Brigade moved to reinforce Nandi, and so when the Abe Detachment began to storm ashore under the thunder of Yamato’s great guns, they would meet twice the force they expected to find there. The many combinations that ensued in the naval maneuvers had set the scene, but now it was time for the grinding endgame as the invasion itself got underway. As always, no plan ever survived first contact with the enemy, and this one was no different.