1943

Chapter 13

Halsey was back, standing on the weather deck off the bridge of the Essex as he watched the battleships arrive from the south. He stood tall and proud, full recovered from his illness, just as the fleet he now commanded had made a remarkable recovery. There beside him were the Lexington and Yorktown, risen from the dead in the shape and form of two more Essex class flattops. The cruisers and destroyers were farther out, but the Admiral wanted the battleships in nice and tight. He had been on the short range radio a moment earlier.

“Looks a little busy out here,” came Fletcher. “Where’s the valet parking?”

“Pull ‘em right in close,” said Halsey. “You can park one right next to each of the three carriers.”

There were North Carolina, South Dakota and Washington, three fast battleships, and the only heavy ships in the fleet that could run with the carriers. They were beautiful ships, their architecture foreshadowing the long sleek lines of the Iowa Class that was now under construction. Fletcher had been operating them independently in the Fiji Group, occasionally pounding Tavua field in the north. Now Halsey wanted them near. They were fast at 28 knots, they had excellent endurance, with a range over 17,000 nautical miles, and they had guns—lots of them. There were 20 x 5.5-inch dual purpose guns, and 15 quad 40mm Bofors—sixty guns. The nine 16-inch guns wouldn’t fire at planes, but there were there to back up Halsey’s cruisers if that ever became necessary. And to thicken the flak stew further, the two Light AA Cruisers San Diego and San Juan arrived with the battleships.

‘Knock ‘em Down Halsey’ was ready for a brawl. They were calling him the ‘Knuckle Swinger’ back home, though his battles often were painful and the source of much anxiety when they would hit the headlines. He had lost the Lexington at Pearl Harbor, bravely challenging an enemy he had no business attacking at that time, though he did not know that then. He had fought hard at the Koro Sea, and lost the Hornet, but he hurt the Japanese even worse.

It was Fletcher’s debacle in the Coral Sea that saw both Saratoga and Yorktown go down that was the real wound inflicted on the fleet. For that, Fletcher had been moved to the battleships, but Halsey never said anything more about the stinging defeat to Fletcher. He would never hit a man when he was down—unless he was Japanese. So Halsey always gave as much as he took in the ring, and always fought his heart out. That’s the way the public saw it, and after Doolittle and his raids into the Marshalls, they had come to love the man. The US had been back on its heels for too long after Koro Sea reduced the fleet to just two carriers. Spruance had kept them safe, as Nimitz wanted. Now, with those three new carriers and a host of new planes to go with them, Halsey was going to attack.

He knew Operation Push on Viti Levu was jumping off on January 7th, so he wanted to take the 1st Marine Paras and 8th Marine Regiment out to sea and surprise the Japanese with an attack on the New Hebrides. The island Nimitz and King had fingered was Efate, centrally located and with good airfields that could be rapidly improved. Halsey was going to give it to them.

To coordinate the attack, he would link up with Spruance in TF-12 to complete the cast of his new ensemble. That would add Enterprise and Hornet to the show, and the two new hybrids, Gettysburg and Vicksburg, would join Shiloh to escort in the transports. The initial rendezvous would be here off the waters of Funafuti in the Ellice Islands. Then the whole group would head for the New Hebrides, with more raw carrier air power than any other operation the US had mounted in the war.

On the other side of the equation, Yamamoto and Ugaki had been planning the development of Japanese power in the lower Solomons. They had Tulagi, and the Raider battalion that took it from them in the old history was busy on Viti Levu. So Now the Japanese were in the process of shipping in aviation support and airfield construction units to get a working airfield at Tulagi. At the same time, a small detachment would be landed amphibiously on Guadalcanal to secure that island, as additional sites had been located and approved for airfields.

That would be a bigger operation than it seemed, for the Japanese were lacking in most essential equipment to adequately build and maintain airfields. They had very few fuel trucks to send from Rabaul, and almost no bulldozers or earth moving equipment. Instead it was pick and shovel work to build a new field, and raw manpower and horses were used on the fields for labor and hauling.

If local labor could not be rounded up and put to work, the garrison troops would have to do the job, and it was hot, sweaty, backbreaking work in the tropical sun. If the troops took to working in the evening or morning to avoid that merciless sun, it was mosquito time, and few avoided bouts of Malaria in the Solomons, though on Fiji that disease was not a problem. Now, in the Monsoon season, the rains could quickly turn an unpaved or reinforced field into a quagmire, and the Japanese would lose more planes to crash landings than to combat in the early days.

Yet in spite of the difficulties, the operation was not aimed at securing Tulagi and Guadalcanal, and two transport groups were already outbound from Rabaul. To cover that operation, Yamamoto had mustered his carrier power into two groups. Carrier Division 1, with the Fleet Flag on Yamato, would bring Kaga and Akagi to the lower Solomon Sea. Meanwhile, Carrier Division 3 under Hara, the victor of Ceylon, would take the outside passage north of the Solomons with Taiho, Tosa, and the light carriers Junyo and Hiyo. Both forces then intended to rendezvous as they approached the Santa Cruz Islands, make a quick strike at the small field at Ndeni, and then return to Rabaul.

Yamamoto had no idea that the US was now planning a major offensive. He and Ugaki were still working out how to transfer in fighter support to Noumea and begin to build up air power at Nandi and Tavua, not knowing the US was intending to launch an all-out attack on those fields. They were aware that the 1st USMC Division had been relieved, noted the arrival of the 25th Infantry in its place, but still believed the Americans incapable of mounting any offensive that could seriously bother two crack Army divisions like the 38th and 48th. As for the impending US attack on Efate, the possibility never entered their minds.

On the 10th of January, the two sides suddenly became aware of each other’s presence. Halsey had been observing radio silence, so there was no SIGINT to tip off Yamamoto that something was up, but a long range naval search patrol out of Buin had stumbled across the US Fleet and reported carriers. That got the Admiral’s attention immediately, particularly since a patrol from Nandi had also reported two groups of US ships to the north of Fiji and moving west. The only thing west of that position was the New Hebrides, and the position of the reported US carriers looked suspiciously like a covering operation.

His own operation had just concluded. Japanese troops were landed safely at Lunga on Guadalcanal, and the aviation support elements had arrived at Tulagi. The Light Carrier Junyo was given the honor of sending its dive bombers to attack Ndeni in the Santa Cruz Islands, which was soon to be the target of the next Japanese move southeast once sufficient air operations capability had been established at Tulagi. Now these disturbing sighting reports were cause for some concern.

A signal was sent to Nandi on Fiji, where the Kawaguchi Detachment was slowly approaching the harbor, even as the land battle there drew nearer to that vital outpost. Commander Kanihira was to remain ready to abort his operation and immediately take his valuable transports and troops southwest on a roundabout return journey to Noumea. Then Yamamoto called for Ugaki and asked him to bring in the Captain and XO of Takami.

“Why do you summon those officers?” asked Ugaki with a frown.

“I know you think of them as junior officers, and beneath our considerations here, but I find their insight useful. Besides, I have a mission for their ship. They have long range search capability with those helicopters. I want them to verify this carrier contact.”

“Why not send our own planes?”

“Because their aircraft can be stealthy, and also have radars, while our own planes must visually sight the enemy. If they in turn are spotted, then the Americans will know we have carriers within range.”

As Fleet Admirals will always have the last word in any such discussion, Ugaki relented and summoned Harada and Fukada to Yamato. When they had arrived, Yamamoto explained the situation and told them what he wanted.

“You will detach from Carrier Division 3 and assume the role of a forward picket. Approach the location of this sighting and use your helicopters to determine the true composition of the enemy, if they are present as reported.”

“How far forward do you want us,” asked Harada.

“As far as necessary to accomplish this task. I will leave that to your judgment. In the meantime, I intend to take the Kido Butai west of the New Hebrides. If you can ascertain the location of the enemy, I am prepared to strike.”

“Will we remain in range of support from your carriers?”

“That I cannot guarantee. I would prefer to conceal the position of the Kido Butai as long as possible.”

“You believe the enemy plans a raid into the New Hebrides?”

“That is quite possible, but your reconnaissance will hopefully give us a clearer picture.”

“Very well, we will depart immediately.”

That was that, but Fukada had some misgivings that he did not voice at the meeting, wary of Ugaki’s disapproving stare. “We’ll be in harm’s way, that’s for sure,” he said to Harada as they boarded the launch to return to Takami.

“That’s the commitment we made when we decided to approach these men and offer our service. So now, like good little vassals, we do what this ship was built to do. Takami is as good a forward picket as anyone might find in this war.”

“They have to know where the Kido Butai is right now,” said Fukada. “Yamamoto just tipped his hat with that raid on Ndeni.”

“We don’t know what they know,” said Harada. “That raid could have been accomplished by a single light carrier, just as it was. Junyo sent only 15 planes in for that attack, and they busted up the airfield there pretty good just the same. That carrier could have attacked from anywhere in a 250-mile radius of that island.”

“True, but if the Americans are out there in force, they should take that raid as a wakeup call.”

“Then let’s go find them.” Harada was eager to get back to the ship.

Halsey knew more than Harada realized that hour. The coast watchers on Ndeni had observed both the approach and withdrawal of the planes that raided that island, which narrowed down the location of the enemy carriers that sent them.

“But it was just a pin prick,” said Captain Duncan on the Essex. “Word is they got hit with no more than fifteen to twenty planes.”

“Where there’s smoke, there’s fire,” said Halsey. “I want the scout carriers up that way to have a look. We’ve got ten fat transports heading our way, packed to the gills with supplies and the 8th USMC Regiment. I want them delivered in one piece, and with no surprises. Vice Admiral Morton is the convoy master. I think we’d better tell him that if we can confirm enemy carriers, we may have to hold off on Efate until we show them the door.”

That was going to send Captains Gorton and Herndon on the Vicksburg and Gettysburg northwest to have that look, and their high flying fighters would stand in for the long range radars that Takami would bring to the same duty they had been assigned.

That night Takami sailed southeast into harm’s way. The SH60J/K Seahawk was up off the deck before dawn, and looking for trouble. In little time they had a contact, several flights of airborne contacts starting to coalesce over a small surface contact bearing 230, just two discrete ships.

“What would a carrier be doing out there with no more than a single ship in escort?” said Harada.

Fukada was leaning over Lieutenant Ryoko Otani’s SPY 1 station as the data came in from the Seahawk. “It’s the contacts further south that I’m worried about,” he said. “They look a whole lot more dangerous. If I had to take a good guess here, I’d say the Americans are going to hit our bases in the New Hebrides.”

“I’ll pass that on to Yamamoto,” said Harada. “In the meantime, the ship will come to battle stations, and air alert 1. If that is a lone carrier to our southwest, it will be looking our way soon.”

It was two lone carriers, Vicksburg and Gettysburg, and they were fanning out their search planes to have that look. Yet Halsey was suspicious of a Japanese approach through the nice open sea lane between the Santa Cruz Islands and the New Hebrides. He had already ordered Spruance to send out a small strike group and look the area over. If nothing else, it would be a good live training mission. So not more than thirty minutes later, just after dawn, Otani had some more bad news.

“It looks like Commander Fukada was correct, sir,” she said. “I’ve got four airborne contacts heading our way now, and right on the heading he expected.”

That wasn’t news Harada wanted to hear. “How in the world did they find us out here, nothing has come close enough to spot us.”

“Who knows sir,” said Fukada. “But we’re right where I’d be looking for trouble if I were the Americans. This was route one for the Kido Butai if it was to continue south after hitting Ndeni. Yamamoto was cagey to sidestep west of the New Hebrides like that. For my money, the Americans could be taking a good guess with that package.”

“Yes,” said Harada. “Well I don’t want to see it delivered. Let’s see if we can discourage them. Do we have the range yet with our SM-2s?”

“Not yet, sir. I make it another ten minutes at the current closing rate.”

“Then we hit them as soon as they cross our max range line. Two SM-2s, nothing more. I doubt if they’ve seen anything like our missiles before. It might shake them up.”

It did.

The thin streaks of the missile contrails caught the rosy dawn and were impossible to overlook. Hiroko Shiota was tuning in to listen to any chatter from the incoming planes, and they were dumfounded, and quite alarmed, particularly when the leading flight of F4F Wildcats became the intended targets of those SM-2s.

Missile shock had been a weapon Karpov had used on his WWII era enemies from the very first, but as it had also happened before, a diligent US pilot decided to connect the dots. Something had come out of the northwest horizon, trailing that long white contrail, something fast, mean, and deadly. But if they followed that trail it might lead them to whatever had fired of that little 4th of July party. It was his Dauntless from the small group of six off Vicksburg that would finally see a lone ship on that empty horizon, and his wing mates were just mad enough to want to get even for the loss of those fighters.

Chapter 14

“Damn,” said Harada under his breath. He looked at Fukada. “I was afraid this might happen.”

“Hell, we can knock them down in five minutes.”

“Yes, well how many SM-2s is that going to leave us under the forward deck?”

As if to answer the Captain, Lt. Hideo Honjo sounded off. “Sir, we expended two of thirty-eight missiles against that initial recon flight, and—”

“I can do the math,” said Harada. “How many bogies?”

“I’m reading 24, and it looks like 12 are up on top cover. Those have to be fighters. The second group is 3000 feet lower, 12 more contacts.”

“Probably the strike package.”

“Why so few?” said Harada. “Didn’t the US carriers pack over eighty planes each?”

“If we were spotted by that recon flight, then they know we’re just a single ship. They wouldn’t empty their flight deck for a lone target.”

“Then we put our missiles on the group at lower altitude,” said Harada. “Maybe if we thin the herd a bit more, we can dissipate this strike without expending much of our defensive capability. We’ll do it in stages. Give me four more SM-2s and we’ll repeat the performance and see if they clap.”

The result was almost preordained—four missiles away, four more planes dead, and another breaking off and making a wide turn, possibly damaged or too shaken up to continue. That was still going to leave seven strike planes, and 32 SM-2s under the deck. The range closed to 40 klicks.

“Fukada, how good are these guys?”

“Anybody’s guess,” said Fukada. “It’s going to be the pilots that will decide that. From the altitude they’re flying, I’d guess these are dive bombers, and they’ll come in right on top of us. If even one gets a bomb on us it won’t be pretty.”

“Alright, I’ll knock down two more and thin out the odds. Then we’ll see what the close in systems can do.”

Harada was even reluctant to expend those last two SM-2s, thinning their inventory to just 30 missiles, and the 12 SM-3s. Yet he did cut the odds in half, because after those last two missiles went up, only four planes had the stomach to stay in the hunt.

The US pilots had seen the uncanny accuracy of the rockets, watched them swerve and home in on wildly dancing planes trying to avoid them. It was more than shocking to hear the explosions and know that one man after another that you had breakfast with wasn’t going to be there for chow the next time you found the mess hall. The four that braved the experience to make their dives were going to meet something different.

The Phalanx could elevate through 80 degrees and it knocked down two. The last two let their bombs fly early and bugged out, hitting nothing but seawater. Thankfully, the other twelve planes were fighters, just as Otani had suggested. They broke off and turned for home.

“No problem,” said Fukada. “We probably could have held those last two missiles and let the R2-D2s chew them up.” US Navy sailors often called the Phalanx that because of the cylindrical shape of the weapon mount, with its characteristic domed top. Fukada had picked up the slang in the Bars at Yokohama, drinking with American sailors. To hear him use the terms reminded Captain Harada of those days, when the US was an ally, and longtime defender of the new Japan that was built after the war. Here they were, fighting for the Imperial Japanese Empire now, yet most harbored misgivings about the world they might be living in if Japan were to win this war.

Harada still had profound doubts about that prospect. The miracles under his forward deck were running thin.

“That was twelve planes,” said Harada. “I’m standing here wondering if we’d be having this conversation if they threw sixty at us.”

No one said anything.

“Alright, come about to 020. Feed all present contact info to Yamamoto, and we’re off north. We’ll scout out towards the Duff Islands to make sure there’s nothing sneaking in north of the Santa Cruz Islands.”

It started on the morning of the 11th of January. The Americans had gathered their forces near the Ellice Islands, the wink of the two new scout carriers on the lanterns flashing through the morning haze. Gettysburg and Vicksburg had come all the way from Pearl, bigger versions of the Shiloh Class, with two dozen planes each, and 8-inch guns forward where the Shiloh had 6-inchers. That ship was also at hand with Antietam, to escort the Marine Para Battalion serving as a raiding unit for the planned operation in the New Hebrides.

The Vicksburg group was just the scouting and escort element of the American fleet. They would be tasked with feeling the way towards the New Hebrides to look for enemy carriers, the one threat Halsey was there to deal with if necessary. Behind that small task force, 8th Marine Regiment under Colonel Hall had boarded transports in Pago Pago four days ago and was now also closing on the scene.

It was now clear to both sides that the enemy was near. Planes off the Vicksburg had been the unfortunate group to stumble on Takami, but those off Gettysburg had overflown the many islands, and spotted the carriers that had bombed Ndeni earlier that day.

On the Japanese side, there had been a squadron of 12 Pete float planes at Efate, along with 18 Zeroes, with a number of Kates and Vals that had diverted there months ago in the first big carrier clash, and were never pulled off. One of those planes found TF-11 that morning, and before noon the Japanese sent word to Yamamoto that a strong force composed of carriers and battleships was east of the New Hebrides, and on a westward course. The American scout carriers had also been spotted, and so the travail of Gettysburg and Vicksburg had only just begun.

Carrier Division 1 could not send dive bombers out that far, but the torpedo planes could make the range. Unfortunately, the weather was stormy and looked to be worsening. That was one factor that had favored the two light hybrids, that and the fact that they had both gone to sea with their primary air groups fighter heavy. The US thought of these ships as defensive escorts and long range scouts, and armed them accordingly with 18 Hellcats and six strike planes, which were mostly used in the naval search role.

So the Japanese would come with a fairly light strike group, just 11 Zeroes escorting in 21 Kates, and they would meet 32 fighters alert on overhead CAP. In the tangled fight over the small task force, the US pilots would get only two Zeroes but nail 10 of those 21 Kates. Those that got through made a plaintive run on the Vicksburg, which hit nothing but seawater.

Ten more Kates and eight Zeroes had followed a few minutes later and found an equal number of US Fighters still on the scene. Armed with bombs instead of torpedoes so they could extend their range, the Kates also made an awkward attack from 9000 feet, saw five of their group shot down, and hit nothing.

Aboard Yamato with Carrier Division 1, Yamamoto met with Ugaki to review their options.

“Three sightings are now confirmed,” said Yamamoto. “One reports only two ships, but one must be a carrier, as it attacked our picket.”

“What happened?” asked Ugaki, curious as to whether Takami could survive an attack by an American carrier.

“Takami prevailed, though they report no more than two dozen enemy planes were detected. Your advice to use the torpedo planes in a long range bombing role was clever, but it ultimately failed. Those pilots are not trained in that role. I know you believed it imperative that we launch the first blow, but we should have waited and hit them with a better coordinated strike.”

The weather looks too bad for further operations today,” said Ugaki. “We can close the range tonight, and be ready to strike at dawn. Shall we move west above the New Hebrides?”

Yamamoto thought for a moment. “They know we are here, as the strike on Ndeni and this skirmish with Takami would lead them to believe that is exactly what we are doing. So I intend to take a more indirect approach. We will sail south instead, and remain west of the New Hebrides. We also have a few planes left on Efate, so I think we will rendezvous there, perhaps 50 miles west of that island. When we attack, I will order those land based planes to lead the way. That may confuse the Americans even more, particularly when our main strike comes in like Donryu, behind that first wave.”

Donryu meant “Storm Dragon,” and it would be a good description of what a massed attack from all the Japanese carriers might look like.

“Very well,” said Ugaki. “I will see that the orders are given. But what if the Americans do move north?”

“We shall see,” said Yamamoto, knowing that this chess came had to be played out one move at a time.

The same question was now in front of Halsey, and he would answer it for reasons very similar to those that had brought Yamamoto to his decision. The two American strike groups had lingered in the north near the gap between the New Hebrides and Santa Cruz Islands, but no major battle developed. There had only been the inconsequential Japanese sniping at the US scout carriers, which came to nothing.

“What do you make of this,” asked Captain Duncan on the Essex. “The Japs are playing things fairly cool up here.”

“I don’t like it,” said Halsey. “I’ve been standing out on the weather deck for the last four hours with this big fat white helmet on to give them something to aim at, but we haven’t seen a single plane. That business with the Vicksburg group was a little odd too. Rockets? Hansen reported they started taking down his planes before they ever got anywhere near the ship that fired them. So they had to be radar controlled, and that is good reason to be worried out here. How’d the Japs come up with this dog and pony show?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” said Duncan. “You figure that was an advanced picket?”

“That’s what it looked like, a lone ship out like that, but there was nothing behind it. So now I’m starting to think the Japs are up to something else. They either intended this operation against Ndeni as nothing more than a nuisance raid, or they have other fish to fry—down south.”

“Ndeni isn’t anywhere near the top of our list now,” said Duncan. “I can see that they might want to hit the place, but not with the number of carriers we had a line on yesterday. So you figure they went south?”

“That’s their main beat,” said Halsey. “Every time they sortied in the last three months it was to cover the supply runs out of Noumea into Fiji. Things are heating up on the ground over there now that MacArthur has taken over. That man won’t waste any time getting himself a headline, and he’s got a bone to pick with the Japs after the Philippines. So I think we’ll move south as originally planed and stand west of Efate to wait for the Marines.”

Duncan’s question echoed that of Ugaki. “What if they do come through the north channel behind that picket?”

“We’ll still be able to hit them from where I plan to be. We’ll proceed with our original operation, and see if they want to do anything about it. If they did come south, then they’ll be west of the New Hebrides, that much is clear, and I think that’s where they’ll stay. In fact, our job is to keep them there, and out of the waters between there and Fiji.”

“What if we head south and nobody shows?”

“Then we do what we came here to do—put those Marines ashore at Efate. After that I’m going to visit Noumea, and then pound the Japs on Fiji for good measure.”

That night both sides moved south on roughly parallel tracks, and as it happened, both Yamamoto and Halsey were in the vanguard. Hara’s Carrier Division 3 had been up near Ndeni for the raid, then rendezvoused with the Tosa, battleship Fuso and two heavy cruisers. That force had planned to finish the job at Ndeni, but the sudden detection of enemy carriers scuttled that operation. Instead Yamamoto decided to reinforce Hara with that additional carrier as both divisions headed south, but Hara was over 100 miles behind.

As for Halsey, he led the Spruance group by about 50 miles, and the two scout carriers were even farther north after that encounter with the strange lone picket with those disturbing rocket flak weapons. That was going to bring the principles into direct confrontation on the 14th of January, like two rams butting heads. Halsey would pit his three new Essex Class carriers against Yamamoto’s Carrier Division 1, composed of the venerable Kaga, Akagi and Soryu.

The Japanese threw the first punch, their long range Kate torpedo bombers out on patrol spotting the US fleet and getting a report off before the American CAP ended that sortie. At the same time, several Dauntless search planes passed north of New Caledonia and spotted the Japanese west of Efate. Three were shot down, but Lieutenant Commander Hamilton got off his report before he died—spotted three Jap Carriers, course and estimated speed to follow. That last data never came in, but knowing his flight patrol pattern, the US had a good idea where he was when he made the sighting. That got the hair on the Captain’s necks up, and they threw every plane they had into the great skies, keeping their fingers crossed.

As it happened, they were the closest task force to the little action then under way east of Efate, and so they threw up a probing raid that might have been stronger had the information on the location of the American carriers been more refined, or the weather a little better. As it was, several squadrons of Kates veered off course in the heavy cloud cover, and they would all be late to the party.

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.

Now both sides would work to turn over the recovered planes, and get more in the air while the daylight lasted. The action had taken over an hour, and it was not until 01:30 that both sides would begin recovery. Then the process began: lifting planes from the hangars to the flight deck, spotting them, placing chocks, recovering and launching planes assigned to CAP, inspecting ordnance loads, warming up the engines, final briefing for the pilots, and finally, about 45 minutes later, the second strike was ready. This time it would be much weaker. Kaga reported it had to suspend flight operations, and could not even receive its incoming planes, which had to be diverted north toward Carrier Division 3, with another nine ordered to land on Efate.

Soryu was still operational, and Akagi unscathed, but they could not get enough planes up to matter against the US defense. The inverse, however, would not be true. Halsey had been appalled at the losses, but was determined to throw everything he had left at the enemy for one more strike. He would turn over 29 Dauntless dive bombers, 17 Avengers and a light escort of 13 Hellcats, and with the enemy defense scattered, they managed to hit the Cruiser Maya and put one 500-pound bomb on the Soryu. Yamamoto’s second wave again came up empty handed, and that was to be the battle.

The Admiral conferred with Ugaki after the last of the American planes had been beaten off a little after 03:30. “We have taken hits, but what is wrong with our pilots today?”

“The weather,” said Ugaki. “Many of the squadrons were unable to find the target, and two could not even find their fighter escorts. Those that did attack reported much stronger defenses over the American fleet, and very thick flak. They have a new fighter, and it is very good. And they are learning, but do not be overly concerned. The damage to Kaga and Soryu is not as bad as it might appear. Neither ship is in any danger of sinking.”

“Unfortunately, the damage to our squadrons is what I now worry about,” said Yamamoto. “Kaga reports the fires will prevent operations for at least another two to three hours, and we do not have enough strike planes left to stay here and continue the fight. I must order this Division back to Rabaul at once.”

“But what about Hara? He still has four carriers to the north.”

“They may continue south, but their first priority will be to cover our division as it moves to Rabaul. I cannot allow the enemy to find and strike this task force again.”

“But sir, the enemy has also suffered. The last wave reported that enemy fighter screens were much lighter.”

“Did they report any hits on the American carriers?”

Ugaki was silent, seeing that a sullen expression had settled on the Admiral. “We should have waited for Hara to close up before we attacked, but that would have meant we had to forfeit the advantage of striking the first blow. Unfortunately, we did not hurt our enemy today, and there were reports of at least four other enemy carriers that have still not been engaged. No. This battle is over. I will move to Rabaul and concentrate on getting Kaga and Soryu back in fighting trim as soon as possible. Hara will not be permitted to face the entire American fleet alone. Order him to follow us once we get northwest of his position.”

“What about the Kawaguchi Detachment from Noumea?”

“Has it landed at Nandi?”

“It was completing unloading operations an hour ago,” said Ugaki.

“Then get those transports back to Noumea, but they should travel well south. We will not be here to contest or cover the normal transit route from Noumea to Fiji.”

Ugaki had a very frustrated feeling, for it was obvious that they had suffered a setback here, though he would not allow himself to speak the word defeat. What if the enemy remained on station, he thought? That would allow them to claim a victory here, though Yamamoto is taking great pains to see to the safety of those two wounded carriers out there. He knows the future war effort depends on them.

“Very well,” he said. “I will see Hara receives the proper orders. At least our intended objectives were fulfilled here. We struck the American airfield at Ndeni as planned, and successfully covered the transport of Kawaguchi’s troops to Fiji.”

“Yes,” said Yamamoto, “and now I wonder how soon it will be before we begin planning their withdrawal.”

There was an uncomfortable interval, for the Admiral had used a word seldom spoken by the Japanese. They had no word for retreat, though it was clear that Yamamoto was not speaking of a redeployment. He meant what he had said.

“Withdrawal? I can see the wisdom in protecting our carriers now,” said Ugaki, “but the issue on Fiji is far from being settled.”

“Is it?” said Yamamoto. “Kawaguchi’s troops were intended to bolster the garrison on New Caledonia. The Army already has two of its best divisions at Viti Levu, but they still need reinforcements. MacArthur has assumed command of those operations, and the Americans now have three divisions in the Fiji group. Who knows when they will bring more troops to that battle. And let us not forget that these divisions relieved their Marines, and they will still have those troops in reserve. Quite frankly, I believe Operation FS has already failed.”

“What?” Ugaki was not willing to concede that, or even seriously contemplate it. “With Kawaguchi’s troops landed on Viti Levu, the Army should be able to counterattack.”

“Do not humor me, Admiral,” said Yamamoto. “I have read the reports of the ground action there. Our airfield at Tavua is already under enemy artillery fire, and they also managed to flank that position through the highlands to attack the field at M’ba. This leaves us with only one operational airfield at Nandi, and intelligence reports that the Americans have three good airfields operational—two of them on Vanua Levu where we have not landed a single soldier. They have over 100 fighters over those islands now, and how many planes are left at Nandi?”

Ugaki knew the answer to that, but said nothing. When the US Carriers moved in, Ugaki had ordered their better Zero Squadrons to move to Noumea. Now there was only a small group of fighters left at Nandi, and they were mostly flying the obsolete AM5s. All the D3As that had been based there were pulled off—just a few planes that remained after trying to get at Suva through those thick American fighter patrols.

Yamamoto had put his finger squarely on the real wound that was promising to be fatal where Fiji was concerned. The Americans had control of the airspace over those islands, and only the arrival of the IJN carriers could contest it. That move had just been checked and repulsed by the American fleet, and both men knew what this meant. Yamamoto was willing to voice it, Ugaki was not, but he understood, deep down, the truth in what his commanding officer was saying.

“We are overextended,” said Yamamoto. “It will now become a question of whether or not we can continue to sustain the army troops already committed to the Fiji operation. The Army is already complaining that we have not sent our battleships to pound the enemy airfield at Suva. Soon they will have much more to complain about.”

“Then we must order our fighter squadrons back to Nandi.”

“Should we? How many landed safely at Noumea? The report I read stated that no more than eighteen planes remain in that group. Where will we find the planes to contest the numbers the Americans now have?”

“We have two squadrons at Tulagi—eighteen more planes there. And there is another squadron at Buin that could be moved.”

“That would make 45 planes,” said Yamamoto, “half as many as the Americans are reported to have.”

“We have three more squadrons at Rabaul.”

“True, but have you tallied our losses? Those planes will be needed to fill out the squadrons on our carriers. I do not mean to sound like a defeatist, but we must be very cautious now. We were lucky there was not more damage done to our ships, but we must also rebuild our strike squadrons. Those planes are in very short supply. We have plenty of Zeroes at Truk, but very few strike planes in reserve.”

“There is a big group of D3As at Koepang on Timor. They were sent there to make sure the Allies could not reach Darwin from the Indian Ocean through the Timor Sea. We could transfer them to Combined Fleet.”

“That is a good start,” said Yamamoto, but Timor is nearly 2000 air miles from Rabaul.”

“I will handle the transfer,” said Ugaki. “They can move to Amboina first, then make the jump to New Guinea.”

“But we have not developed many airfields along the east coast of that island.”

“The field at Hollandia is sufficient, and then they can move to Lae.”

“Lae? Saburo Saki called that airstrip nothing more than a glorified mud hole. He told me the fighters there were losing planes to accidents on landing during training runs, which is why we ordered all those planes to Port Moresby, Buin, and Tulagi.”

“Correct, but we could simply send one of the carriers north to hover off Hollandia and pick up these planes.”

It was evident to both men that the logistics of rebuilding the shattered strike wings would now take some careful planning if the Kido Butai were to remain a potent force. All of Hara’s strike planes were in good shape, but those of Carrier Division 1 had been badly depleted. When the fires prevented Kaga from recovering her strike wave, she turned northwest with no more than six planes.

The grim reality that both men were now facing was the dwindling numbers of planes and carrier trained pilots. A third of the superb force Japan had opened the war with were now dead. Even the planes Ugaki was thinking to transfer from Timor were second line pilots, with very good morale but only modest combat experience. The great shock of this action had been the fact that the Americans had so quickly replaced their losses, clotting the skies with new planes and pilots at an alarming rate. Yamamoto knew that Japan could never hope to match the tremendous industrial production of the U.S.

As for Operation FS, the Army was in the Fiji Group for one reason, to build or control airfields that could insure control of the airspace around those islands. This had already failed, as Yamamoto clearly pointed out. The carriers the Admiral was so carefully husbanding now existed for only one purpose, to bring aircraft to a given place and control airspace, and to deny that to the enemy by attacking their carriers. It was all about the planes. None of the garrisons on any of the islands that had been seized mattered. It was all about the airfields those islands could provide.

“Get me hard numbers on planes remaining at sea,” said Yamamoto. “Then start looking for replacements. If necessary, we can recall the Ozawa group from Singapore, and the two light carriers we left at Sasebo. I will want your report before we reach Rabaul.”

Ugaki’s pencil would be very busy the next two days, and it was grim reckoning. As he tallied things up, he was slowly beginning to see the shadow that had darkened Yamamoto’s vision, and the reason for his caution. Hara was in good shape with 180 planes, but Carrier Division 1 had been reduced to 71. He looked all over the South Pacific, slowly finding and transferring planes to Navy command. There were those 32 D3As from Timor, 22 more in Saigon, 9 in Manila, 14 at Kobe with another 13 B5Ns. That was 90 more strike planes, enough to restore the Kido Butai to near full strength, but there was almost nothing left behind them. Another battle like the one just fought would leave the Navy woefully short of striking power, or so he now believed.

Here I am scrounging for planes, he thought bitterly, and all to replace aircraft that these strangers from another time boasted they would protect. Now where is that damn picket ship, he wondered? Yamamoto should not have detached that ship as he did. It was too far north to be of any use today. But it was just a single ship, and how many of those rockets remain? I will have to ask that question as well, as I am sure the Admiral will want to know.

He reached for his code book, still getting used to the new cyphers that had been instituted at the urging of the interlopers aboard Takami. Minutes later he had drafted a special message to the Chief of the Imperial Naval General Staff, Admiral Osami Nagano. He was the one man senior to Yamamoto, and the only man who could authorize what he was now requesting—the Shadow Fleet.