“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 hanger 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.