Through all of that second day, Tex drifted across the vast debris field. Nauseous and dehydrated, he finally lost consciousness. Awakening, he saw the sun dropping in the western sky. His left hand had swollen up to almost twice its normal size.
Late that afternoon, he again heard the sound of an aircraft engine, and looked up to see the same PBY coming back from its long flight in search of the retreating Japanese fleet. The pilot brought it down on the calm sea, and taxied right up to his raft. A crewman was standing in the open hatch. He gently helped Tex inside.
Once in the air, they gave him water, but he couldn’t keep it down. When he told the pilot, Lieutenant “Pappy” Cole, that he had seen three Japanese carriers burning, the plane headed straight for Midway. There, the island commander came to the aircraft to confirm what Tex had told the crew.
Tex was put aboard another plane to Hawaii and knocked out with a painkiller. At the naval hospital in Pearl Harbor, the first doctor asked him how he had kept the wounds so clean.
“I kept them soaked in salt water for thirty hours,” quipped Tex with a weary grin.
In the thirty hours he had been in the sea, he had lost more than twenty pounds. After doctors removed the shrapnel from his hand and applied a clean dressing to his leg, he was wheeled back to his room. Tex was lying in bed when the door swung open, and an elderly white-haired officer walked in, followed by a group of staff officers. Tex recognized him right away from his newspaper pictures. It was Admiral Chester Nimitz, the commander-in-chief of the Pacific Fleet.
When Tex tried to come to attention lying down, Nimitz said, “Relax, son. How do you feel?”
Tex told him he was doing fine. Commander Ernest Eller, one of Nimitz’s staff officers, was amazed that the young man could be so open and cheerful after everything he had just gone through.
“I’d like you to tell me what you saw out there, son,” said the admiral. “Do you feel up to telling us about it?”
Tex told him everything that had happened from the time Lieutenant Commander Waldron sighted the Japanese carriers until he was shot down. When he told about seeing the three carriers being hit, the admiral questioned him closely about it.
“You’re sure those three carriers sunk, son?” he asked.
“You don’t have to worry, Admiral,” Tex assured him. “From the way those ships were burning, they had to be going down.”
WESTERN PACIFIC
JAPANESE CRUISER NAGARA
ADMIRAL CHUICHI NAGUMO
Aboard the Nagara, Admiral Nagumo’s staff was worried that their commander might commit suicide before the ship reached its home-island port of Kure. They took turns watching him while the Nagara continued to retreat across the gray, rain-swept sea.
Farther to the west of the Nagara, Nagumo’s superior officer, Admiral Isoroku Yamamoto, was steaming home aboard his own flagship, the battleship Yamato. The man who had planned a decisive victory over the Americans in the Pacific had instead presided over a deciding defeat.
After receiving the radio message that uncontrollable fires were consuming the Akagi, the Kaga, and the Soryu, Yamamoto had lapsed into stony-faced silence. When word arrived that the Hiryu had been sunk, he retreated to his flag quarters. Along with the rest of the high command, he reached the home islands determined that no word of the appalling disaster should reach the Japanese people.
On June 10, the Japanese radio networks trumpeted a great naval victory over the United States. The announcement was preceded by the playing of the “Battleship March,” a song the Japanese people had come to associate with every grand military triumph.
The radio networks reported that the Japanese Imperial Navy had emerged victorious in a titanic battle near Midway in which two heavy American carriers had been sunk at the loss of only one Japanese ship and thirty-five combat planes. The triumph was celebrated throughout the home islands by an ecstatic nation.
When the crews of Nagumo’s striking force arrived at Kure Naval Base, they were confined to their ships. Leaves were forbidden, and contact with anyone ashore was prohibited.
The shell-shocked survivors of the four lost carriers were disembarked at a remote pier at Yokosuka under armed guard and then taken in a convoy to the base hospital complex, where they were placed in segregated buildings and guarded around the clock.
Wounded officers were treated no differently. They were all sent to locked wards in various military hospitals. None were allowed visitors, not even their wives and families.
Commander Mitsuo Fuchida, the heroic leader of the Pearl Harbor attack, was no exception. Still weakened from appendicitis and with both his ankles broken, he was secretly removed at night from the cruiser Nagara on a covered stretcher. He recovered from his injuries in total isolation.
Sitting alone each day in his hospital room, Fuchida concluded that the catastrophic defeat at Midway was probably the turning point of the war. If so, the capitulation of the Japanese Empire was only a matter of time.
SATURDAY, 6 JUNE 1942
USS HORNET
FLAG BRIDGE
On June 6, the remaining ships of the Japanese Imperial Navy retreated out of striking range, ending the Battle of Midway. The fight to save the careers and reputations of the senior officers aboard the Hornet had just begun.
Stanhope Ring’s calamitous mission on the morning of June 4 had resulted in the deaths of twenty-nine of the thirty men in Waldron’s Torpedo Eight. All ten pilots from the Hornet’s fighter squadron were still missing. Although Rodee’s squadron had come back intact, three Dauntlesses from Johnson’s squadron had also been lost.
Of the fifty-nine planes that left the Hornet to attack the Japanese fleet on the morning of June 4, John Waldron’s squadron had been the only one to locate and attack the Japanese carriers, and that was solely because he had disobeyed a direct order from Commander Ring.
If the thirty-four dive-bombers from the Hornet had followed the same course Waldron did, the combined air groups from the three American carriers might well have sunk all four Japanese carriers on the first morning of the battle.
Instead, the fourth Japanese carrier, the Hiryu, had escaped the morning attack and subsequently launched a counterstrike against the Yorktown, pounding it with three five-hundred-pound bombs and two air-launched torpedoes.
On the afternoon of June 4, there had been a good opportunity for Mitscher to make amends for the failure of the morning mission. After the Hiryu was sighted, Admiral Spruance ordered his two carrier commanders to mount a combined strike against the last Japanese carrier in the striking force with every available dive-bomber.
“Prepare to launch attack group immediately, information later,” Admiral Spruance radioed the Enterprise and the Hornet at 1510. The two carriers then received a follow-up communication from Spruance indicating the location and course of the Hiryu.
As these messages were being received, firefighting crews aboard the Yorktown were fighting to save the ship. The carrier was in no condition to launch a retaliatory strike.
At 1542, the Enterprise launched twenty-five Dauntlesses to go after the Hiryu.
Thirty minutes later, the Hornet began launching its own dive-bombers. They were delayed because Mitscher decided to first land the planes from Ruff Johnson’s squadron, which had just arrived from Midway Atoll.
Sixteen of Mitscher’s Dauntlesses had lifted from the flight deck when two of the pilots suddenly signaled that they were having mechanical problems. As the two planes came in for emergency landings, half the Hornet’s dive-bombers were still aboard the carrier, waiting to take off on the attack mission. The pilots included Ring and both his squadron commanders.
As soon as the two malfunctioning planes were safely down, Mitscher ordered the Hornet to be turned out of the wind, ending the launch. It was another major foul-up. By the time it was discovered that Ring and his senior pilots were still on the flight deck, it was too late to launch them.
Mitscher’s staff scrambled to find out who the
senior pilot was among the fourteen planes already in the air. Lieutenant Edgar Stebbins, an engineer officer in one of the squadrons, was ordered to lead the mission against the Hiryu.
By the time Stebbins found the last Japanese carrier, it had already received four direct hits from the Dauntless pilots of the Enterprise and was a blazing inferno. Looking around for another target, Stebbins spotted an escort vessel and proceeded to lead an attack on it. Fourteen bombs were dropped in the face of antiaircraft fire. All of them missed. The pilots returned to the Hornet.
That night on the bridge, Mitscher and his senior staff reviewed the Hornet’s performance. By every measure, including Mitscher’s own, the first day had been a complete fiasco. In his own assessment, he had “failed to deliver.”
It was hard to believe that so much could have gone wrong. While the air groups from the Enterprise and the Yorktown had succeeded in destroying all four Japanese carriers, the Hornet had never scored a hit.
When the sun rose on June 5, the four Japanese carriers were at the bottom of the Pacific. With them had gone three thousand sailors, two hundred fifty-eight combat planes, and more than a hundred of the empire’s finest pilots. It had been an almost unbelievable victory.
There were still plenty of targets left, however. Fragmentary sighting reports suggested that two Japanese battleships were maneuvering somewhere to the northwest. Admiral Spruance waited through most of the day for a sighting report before committing his remaining combat planes to go after them. The sighting finally came that afternoon.
Due to the projected distance to the enemy battleships, Spruance ordered that all the dive-bombers be armed with five-hundred-pound bombs instead of thousand-pounders to increase their range. The thirty-two Dauntlesses launched from the Enterprise were armed accordingly.
Another thirty-two Dauntlesses were launched from the Hornet. Commander Ring led the first element of eleven planes, all of them armed with five-hundred-pound bombs. Walt Rodee led the second element. Seven of his planes had been armed with one-thousand-pound bombs.
After a long, fruitless search pattern, Ring turned his element around to head back to the carrier. On the return flight, he encountered the Japanese destroyer Tanikaze, and led an attack on it. Ten of his eleven planes released their bomb loads, although none scored a hit. Commander Ring was unable to release his own bomb. It was still lodged in the bomb bay when he returned to the Hornet.
The second element of the Hornet attack group, led by Walt Rodee, was forced to curtail its mission when the seven Dauntlesses carrying one-thousand-pound bombs ran short of fuel. Afterward, Mitscher’s staff falsely reported to Spruance that all of the Hornet’s Dauntlesses had been armed with five-hundred-pound bombs.
Upon landing back aboard the Hornet, Commander Ring complained to his plane captain that when he had attempted to drop his own bomb, it wouldn’t release. Ring declared that he had kept pressing the button on his throttle handle but the bomb wouldn’t drop.
Several of the Hornet’s dive-bomber pilots were on the flight deck to hear his complaint. Ensign Roy Gee, who flew in Ruff Johnson’s squadron, was astounded when he heard about it, because that button did not release the plane’s bomb. The button was used to transmit voice on the radio when a pilot was flying in formation.
Commander Ring apparently hadn’t known that the bomb release mechanism was forward of the throttle, and was also unaware that there was an emergency lever to use if his bomb release failed.
Word of the incident quickly spread through the Hornet’s ready rooms. That same evening, Ring requested that Ensign Clay Fisher, one of his wingmen on the June 4 mission, come to his stateroom to explain to him exactly what he needed to do to drop a bomb in the future.
Aboard the Enterprise, Admiral Spruance was informed that Rodee’s squadron of dive-bombers had returned before the Enterprise group, and Spruance demanded to know why. After requesting an explanation from Mitscher’s staff, Spruance was informed that seven of Rodee’s dive-bombers had been carrying thousand-pound bombs, contrary to orders. Spruance was already displeased that the Hornet’s dive-bombers had completely missed the enemy fleet the day before; now his opinion of Mitscher plummeted.
When dawn arrived on June 6, time was running out for Mitscher to redeem himself. A last opportunity presented itself later that morning as the three-day battle came to a close.
On June 5, two Japanese cruisers, the Mogami and the Mikuma, had accidentally collided with one another. The Mogami’s bow had been sheared off and the Mikuma began trailing a massive oil slick. They were the only significant enemy forces left to attack.
At 0800, Mitscher launched twenty-five dive-bombers under the command of Stanhope Ring. The air group commander found the crippled warships as they were making their retreat to the northwest.
Ring led the first element of dive-bombers in the attack on the Mikuma. Although he successfully managed to release his bomb this time, it missed the ship, as did the bombs in the rest of his element. Two of his Dauntlesses were shot down in the attack.
The Hornet’s second element finally hit pay dirt, scoring two direct hits on the second cruiser, Mogami. Unfortunately, there were no secondary explosions, and the Japanese crew was able to extinguish the fires after the Hornet air group departed. Arriving shortly afterward, thirty-one dive-bombers from the Enterprise put five hits into Mikuma, which sank later that day.
Mitscher launched a second strike of twenty-three dive-bombers as soon as the planes from the first strike could be fueled and rearmed. Later that afternoon, they found the Mogami and its escorts, scoring one hit on the cruiser and another on a destroyer before the two enemy ships escaped.
That attack was the last air action in the Battle of Midway. What would soon be recognized as the pivotal victory in the Pacific War was over. Late on the afternoon of June 6, Admiral Spruance ordered his forces to retire eastward toward Hawaii. Back at Pearl Harbor, Admiral Nimitz anxiously awaited his commanders’ reports detailing everything that had occurred during the battle.
After a long and gallant effort to save the Yorktown, the carrier finally rolled over and sank one day later. By then Admiral Spruance had already concluded that if Mitscher’s dive-bombers had found the fourth Japanese carrier on the morning of June 4, the Yorktown might not have been lost.
How could Pete Mitscher and his staff account for what had happened to the Hornet air group on the morning of June 4? Navy regulations were very specific on the subject of filing After Action Reports. The Bureau of Aeronautics required that After Action Reports “be filled out by a unit commander immediately upon landing after each action or operation in contact with the enemy.” Commander Ring was required to file one along with each one of the four squadron commanders. They were supposed to accompany Mitscher’s report on behalf of the carrier.
Ultimately, Mitscher and his staff decided that only one After Action Report from the Hornet would be submitted to Admiral Nimitz. It was prepared by the staff and signed by Mitscher. The report never stated the actual course his air group had flown on the morning of June 4.
“The objective, enemy carriers, was calculated to be 155 miles distant, bearing 239 degrees T. from this Task Force . . .” were the exact words in the report. The Hornet air group had followed “the prescribed bearing.”
In section six, the following line was incorporated in the report:
AFTER SEARCHING THE PRESCRIBED BEARING THE SQUADRONS TURNED SOUTH TO SEARCH IN THE DIRECTION OF ENEMY ADVANCE. AS IT TURNED OUT, HAD THEY TURNED NORTH, CONTACT WOULD PROBABLY HAVE BEEN MADE.
Hornet Air Group, June 4, 1942
An accompanying map was prepared and included with the report. The map purported to show the courses flown by each of the four squadrons of the Hornet air group.
None of the officers and men who had actually witnessed the air group departing to the west or returning from the west would see the report. It would be classified secret as soon as it arrived at Nimitz’s headquarters in Pearl Harbor.
According to the map, John Waldron hadn’t led his men southwest after breaking away from Ring, but to the northwest. The map indicated that Pat Mitchell’s fighter squadron had turned north instead of east back toward the Hornet after McInerny led them away from the group.
And north of Midway was where the PBYs would begin searching for them.
FLOATING IN THE CENTRAL PACIFIC
HORNET FIGHTER SQUADRON EIGHT
MAC MCINERNY
If he ever made it back to civilization, the Navy was going to court-martial the hell out of him, thought McInerny as he floated in a raft next to his friend Johnny Magda. They might even accuse him of cowardice. After all, he had disobeyed orders and led the fighter squadron away from the group while the mission was still under way.
In the three and a half hours he had been in the air on the fourth, the only trace of a Japanese ship Mac had seen had been the smoke to the south of Ring’s group when he had led the fighters away from it.
So far, they were in pretty decent shape. Between them, the two pilots had two canteens of water along with a small supply of dry rations that had been stored in the survival kit in each raft. The only fly in the ointment for Mac was what would happen to him after they were rescued.
Miles to the northeast of them, Lieutenant Commander Pat Mitchell drifted in the same calm sea with Stan Ruehlow and Richard Gray. They had gone the farthest of the ten planes in the squadron before running out of gas. In crash-landing, Stan Ruehlow had banged his head on the gun sight and split his forehead open. The wound was bleeding badly and he was in a lot of pain. He finally went to sleep after vomiting up seawater and blood.
Mitchell’s life raft had gone down with his plane, and the three of them had to make do with the two rafts they still had. Dick Gray was the biggest man of the three. He took one raft, and the two smaller men shared the second one. Occasionally, one of them would switch off with Gray so that they could all sleep more comfortably.
A Dawn Like Thunder Page 17