Masao hesitated only for an instant before obeying. Even so, his momentum carried him over the “carriers” and he had the sickening realization that they were indeed dummies. Where then were the real American carriers? Had the Japanese planes been lured to this site so they could duel with the American planes, or was there a more sinister reason? If it was to be a duel of planes, he was confident that the American fighters were no match for his fellow Japanese, even though so many of the pilots were inexperienced replacements.
The radio crackled again, and this time his commander’s voice was almost frantic. “All planes, return to your carriers. The Americans are going to attack our carriers.”
Stunned, Masao turned and joined hundreds of others as they began to chase the American fighters who, he now realized, had let them slip through on purpose. He could see the American planes gaining altitude and disappearing in the direction of the carriers. He was astonished at the speed of the American planes and the altitude at which they were flying. Perhaps Toki had been correct—the Zero was indeed obsolete.
“The carriers are under attack,” the shrill voice came over the radio, but how, he wondered? The American planes were in sight and still a ways from them. The truth dawned. If they had just attacked the dummy carriers, then where were the real ones? They were now attacking the Japanese carriers, that’s where. He howled his rage and vowed vengeance on the Americans.
Toki stood behind Admiral Nagumo on the bridge of the Kaga and tried to make himself small and unnoticed, and to a large part, he succeeded. The admiral was obviously conflicted as he received the information that the American carriers weren’t in the waters off the Baja as expected. Both the American and Japanese airplanes were now en route to the Japanese carriers, with at least some of the Americans due to arrive ahead of the Zeros.
Toki listened as other staff officers outlined the dilemma. The Japanese planes had already made a long flight to California and now were headed back. They would have some fuel, but not enough to sustain a long fight. Thus, they would have to be refueled, and if the Americans were in the area, that would be both dangerous and chancy. Staffers argued about their options. Some said the Zeros should destroy the Americans using what fuel they had and take a chance on ditching.
Nagumo finally made the decision. All carriers would be ready to receive planes and refuel them as quickly as possible. It had to be done that way. If Japanese planes were forced to ditch, they and their pilots were as good as lost. So too might the carriers be lost without planes to protect them. Nagumo said the ambush was a serious setback but he was confident that Japan’s superior planes, pilots, and sailors would prevail, turning the situation into an opportunity for a decisive victory. After his uncharacteristic optimism earlier, Toki was not so certain. Nothing had gone right this day.
In the meantime, the fleet would prepare to defend itself against the Americans flying in from the east. They would meet a storm of antiaircraft fire that would hold them at bay until the Zeros closing in on them took over. It meant, though, that the carriers would be on their own for at least a little while. Toki found that idea very disturbing.
Toki joined the lookouts peering through binoculars, searching for first sight of the Americans approaching from California. This would be the first time he would truly see combat. Watching as pilots departed and returned wasn’t the same thing. He felt nervous, afraid. Did everyone feel that way, he wondered? At any moment he could be blown to pieces and he decided he didn’t like that at all.
A scream tore him away from his thoughts. A sailor was looking upward and pointing, and not toward the east. No, Toki thought, it can’t be. He heard others saying the same thing out loud, uselessly protesting against the obvious. High above, little dots were becoming larger ones. Enemy aircraft had found the carriers and were falling on them like hawks attacking a rabbit.
Antiaircraft guns were turned upward and began firing maniacally. Many of them couldn’t shoot, however. They’d been poorly positioned and couldn’t aim at a plane diving from above. The lead American dive bomber was hit and fell apart, but the second made it through, dropping its bomb in the ocean a few dozen yards off the Kaga’s bow, raising a spray of water that washed over the deck, sending several crewmen overboard to their deaths. Toki wrenched his eyes away and looked up again. Another bomb was falling and he threw himself onto the deck and curled up. A second later, the bomb struck the flight deck and exploded, causing fuel and ammunition to flame and detonate in a cloud of fire, but fortunately not coming too near him. He got up and could see dozens of men lying prone as flames consumed them.
A second bomb struck the stern, penetrated, and started another conflagration. Japanese planes were prepped belowdecks, which meant that large quantities of fuel and ammunition were stored below. Toki stood up, but an explosion from the guts of the ship threw him against a bulkhead. Finally, he got to his feet and looked to see if the other carriers had been hit. Perhaps Japan and Nagumo would be lucky and only the Kaga had been damaged. No, he sobbed, it would not be. The Shokaku and Junyo were also burning furiously.
An American dive bomber, its bomb gone, flew low and strafed the flight deck, starting more fires. Another explosion, this against the hull, and an enemy torpedo bomber flew insolently over the stricken carrier. The great ship convulsed and began to list.
Lieutenant Harry Hogg’s orders were to fly in the general direction where someone thought the Jap carriers might be. What a great idea, he thought sarcastically. He and his buddies were headed out in the middle of the world’s largest ocean in the general direction of China with the whole Jap air force chasing their asses, and they were supposed to somehow find enemy ships. Worse, he wasn’t carrying a bomb or torpedo. He and the others were supposed to kill the Jap planes protecting their carriers.
I’m going to die, he thought. Either I’ll be shot down or I’ll run out of gas, ditch, and float away. He figured he had more than enough fuel to make it back, but his orders were to find the Jap fleet. There was, he thought, one chance in a million of that happening.
Son of a bitch, he thought, and there they were. At least he could see smoke arising in the west from something that had to be ships. He laughed. Maybe he couldn’t bomb a carrier, but he could sure make life miserable for them.
As he drew closer, he could see several carriers on fire. No sense going after them, he exulted. They were already hurting. Harry spotted a smaller carrier that seemed to be untouched, signaled the others with a wave of his arm, and began a strafing run.
For the first time in his brief career, he fired his guns on an enemy ship. Almost oblivious to antiaircraft fire, he took his Lightning low and quick over the length of the flight deck. Something thudded against his plane and he realized he’d been hit. He checked the controls and everything was working. Well then, he exulted, it was time to do it again. He’d just finished a second run and was relishing the sight of many fires burning on the deck, when he felt a sudden and brutal jolt. None of his controls were working. For that matter, his chest was covered with something wet and sticky. His fading mind was still trying to process this when his shattered plane cartwheeled into the ocean.
Masao grimaced as the twin-tailed American plane died under his guns. The tiny Soryu, the smallest carrier in the attack force at only twenty thousand tons, was in flames, along with her larger sisters. He watched in dismay as other American planes found her and attacked. He gained altitude and looked for a carrier that hadn’t been damaged, but didn’t see one. In a short while he would have to put down and refuel, but where?