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 26
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.