68 planes came in a little after 11:00, 37 Vals escorted by 23 Zeroes, but only one squadron of eight Kates. Halsey was waiting for them. He had decided to put up a very thick defensive CAP, and there were all of 67 US fighters assigned that morning, 60 percent of his total fighter strength. It was the heaviest defense the Japanese had ever encountered in their many duels with the fighting Admiral, and it would only get stronger. It wasn’t just the numbers of planes involved, but also the kind of planes being flown. The Essex Class had been given the new F6F Hellcat, and the plane was about to get its first real field test against the Japanese Zero.
In all that action, a few hot shot pilots off the American carriers started making a name for themselves. Ensigns Hammond, Gilbert, Wars and Long each got three kills. Rice got four. Five of those kills were enemy fighters, and then the defenders took down twelve Vals and a single Kate before the attack finally came in on Halsey’s carriers. Then it was white knuckle time, hands on the gunwales, guns elevated and the sky pocking up with dark roses of fire.
Chapter 15
The Japanese pilots were good, all still veterans of the many actions they had fought since Pearl Harbor, but the flak they were now facing was more intense than any they had ever encountered. When the war started, ships like the original Yorktown went to sea with an AA suite composed of eight 5-inch guns, a single quad 1.1, and two dozen .50 caliber machineguns. The new Yorktown was much better armed, with the same number of 5-inch guns, but a suite of eight quadruple 40mm Bofors, and 46 more 20mm cannon. It was more than three times the firepower of the old ship, and there were three flattops down there throwing all that lead skyward—and three battleships, one assigned to each of the Essex Class carriers on close escort.
North Carolina was riding shotgun for Essex, and that was a good name for the flak that ship could add to the fight. She had 15 of the dual purpose 5-inch guns, and by this time, her old, unreliable 1.1s had been replaced by 15 new quad 40mm Bofors, making 60 individual guns in that suite alone. Added to that, the ship had another 48 of the 20mm Oerlikon 20mm guns. All three of these gun types would end up being the best of their class for overall AA performance at sea during the war. It wasn’t just the numbers that had gotten so much better. The US also had installed better search and fire control radars.
The Japanese came in, one Shotai after another, but there were only 32 strike planes left, and as good as they were, they did not score a single hit on the American fleet. There were several close calls, one very near the Essex, but Halsey was gratified that the attack had been beaten off with no damage to his ships.
Then, one by one, small groups of enemy torpedo bombers that had gone astray in the heavy weather were finally drawn in to the action. Four of six were shot down in the first group; five of fourteen in the second small wave. Not a single torpedo found a ship’s hull, and Halsey was exhilarated. It was good hunting that day for the Fly Boys, and they were in high spirits when the skies finally cleared and they made it back to the carriers.
The enemy had taken the first swing, missing wildly, and got cut up with some good stiff jabs from his CAP as he tried to get inside. Now it was time to counterpunch. The American strike had launched 45 minutes earlier, and it was over the Japanese fleet at about the same time this action occurred.
Halsey had thrown 67 Dauntless dive bombers and 25 Avenger torpedo bombers at his enemy, though the escort was fairly light, only 21 Hellcats. The Japanese had twice as many fighters up on CAP from Carrier Division 1, and the Long Range CAP from Hara’s group was also vectored in to put all of 84 Zeroes in the air.
The fighters swirled above, getting only two of those Zeroes and losing three of their own, then the remaining Zeroes fell on the American strike squadrons and inflicted a good deal of carnage. They would kill 17 dive bombers, damaging 23 more, and kill eight Avengers with damage on five others, heavy losses to pay for the privilege of getting close enough to deliver ordnance on the enemy. But the US flyers had a little luck that day. None of their torpedoes ran true from the few that were launched, but the surviving dive bombers came falling from the sky, the enemy carriers below looking like great fat whales that had breached the surface for air, leaving long white wakes behind them.
Down they came, the trapeze swinging the bombs forward from the centerline of the planes. The first fell close to Kaga, a wash of foamy white seawater laced with shrapnel erupting from the port side of the ship. The deck crews in white uniforms and caps shirked when it hit, but the worst they received was that sea spray. One man’s arm was streaked red with blood where an errant bit of shrapnel had scored him, but he ignored the wound, dragging out a fire hose in the event something did more damage.
Something did.
Both Kaga and Soryu would be hit amidships that day. The hit to Kaga was the hardest blow, the AA crews on a triple 25mm gun ducking when it struck, erupting on the deck in the midst of three fighters parked for ready CAP. The angry orange fireball erupted, sending a hail of deck planking in all directions, blowing the wing off one plane and sending its propeller spinning wildly up into the air. The explosion blew through the flight deck, where another flock of green winged Kates were clustered. The sudden roar of the explosion and brilliant yellow heat coming through the deck above sent service and ordnance crews running from the scene. Then the real damage was done.
The explosion ignited the carts and sleds bearing ammo and torpedoes for those planes, and now a second explosion billowed from the side of the ship beneath a column of thickening black smoke above. Heavy fires raged from the deck wound, and one man came running from the edge of the flames, one arm missing, his back on fire, his eyes wide and mouth open with voiceless terror. Three other men were down, screaming from the pain of severe burns. Another was completely immolated, his limp body being consumed by flames fed by the spilled and burning aviation fuel that had ignited in the wings of those fighters.
Off by the island, a waiting pilot stood stunned in shock, slack jawed, slumped against the cold metal of a hatch that was painted red with his own blood. A fragment had grazed his head, slicing off a portion of his scalp. He would live, though he had come within a few millimeters of cold unconscious death. Now all he could do was stare in numbed shock at the scene on the flight deck. The living were dragging the wounded, and the flaming bodies of the dead, from the edge of those searing fires. High above, a flight of three Zeroes were swooping in hot pursuit after those dive bombers, but one veered off and overflew the ship, shocked to get a bird’s eye view of the carnage.
Yamamoto had been on the weather deck watching the attack, even as his own ship was straddled by a pair of 100 pound wing mounted secondary bombs that missed by no more than 50 yards. He grimaced when he saw the secondary explosion billow up from the Red Castle, the black smoke thick above the wound. The last time Kaga had been hit, the damage was done by a single rocket off the mysterious Siberian raider, Mizuchi. This time the enemy wore a more familiar face.
The attack quieted at least one fear he had held—that the Siberians would give the Americans their rocket weapons. Captain Harada and his Executive Officer might have told him that was not possible, but he had never asked them about it. Yet to see Kaga burning was a most uncomfortable feeling, for he had no idea how bad the damage was at this point.