Neptune's Inferno_ The U.S. Navy at Guadalcanal Part 12

When the power died, the final range reading shown by the fire-control radar in the forward main battery director, which electrician's mate Bob Tyler saw on a plotting board in the interior communications room, was shocking. The distance to the director's last target was just 450 yards.

Pounding on the forward bulkhead, McKinney got a return knock, and by shouting found out that several of his shipmates were in the dark as well. Damage-control doctrine forbade them from opening the hatches. Doing so could compromise the watertight integrity of the gravely damaged ship. The question, as on all dying vessels, was whether the doctrine still applied-whether the collective enterprise of fighting as a crew had given way to the pursuit of individual survival. It was anybody's guess whether Captain Jenkins had ordered them to abandon ship. Through the thin steel overhead, McKinney could hear men choking and coughing and more undetermined noises, and he would have many measureless moments in which to think about such things.

Around this time, the foundering Atlanta Atlanta was taken under fire by a heavy cruiser, about thirty-five hundred yards abaft her port beam. Mustin attempted to return fire with the only turret that was responsive on the intercom, turret seven aft, which had to be fired manually. But her crew stood down when the light of their target's own gun discharges revealed her to be a friendly vessel. Lloyd Mustin recognized the flash of her smokeless powder and the deliberate cadence characteristic of American eight-inch gunfire. The U.S. cruiser's gunners were all too adept. A series of heavy hits shivered the was taken under fire by a heavy cruiser, about thirty-five hundred yards abaft her port beam. Mustin attempted to return fire with the only turret that was responsive on the intercom, turret seven aft, which had to be fired manually. But her crew stood down when the light of their target's own gun discharges revealed her to be a friendly vessel. Lloyd Mustin recognized the flash of her smokeless powder and the deliberate cadence characteristic of American eight-inch gunfire. The U.S. cruiser's gunners were all too adept. A series of heavy hits shivered the Atlanta Atlanta's forward superstructure and decks.

Jenkins was with Admiral Scott, standing on the starboard bridge wing looking north, where the battle seemed to have drifted, when there was "some alarm on the port side," Lloyd Mustin said. "Captain Jenkins went around the catwalk to the port side to see what was going on. When he came back, there was no starboard bridge wing." Seven large sh.e.l.ls had pierced the Atlanta Atlanta just below the bridge deck. The four-inch armor plating protecting the pilothouse couldn't stop them. They penetrated and exited forward. The bulkhead door flew from its hinges and slammed into Jenkins from behind, but he was spared the worst of this violent shock to the pilothouse, which killed sixteen of the twenty men stationed there. just below the bridge deck. The four-inch armor plating protecting the pilothouse couldn't stop them. They penetrated and exited forward. The bulkhead door flew from its hinges and slammed into Jenkins from behind, but he was spared the worst of this violent shock to the pilothouse, which killed sixteen of the twenty men stationed there.

Robert Graff, riven with shrapnel in his legs, hips, arms, hands, and face, the biggest of the pieces about the size of a walnut, crawled from the port signal bridge into the pilothouse, over innumerable bodies, and continued through to the starboard signal bridge. There was a huge hole in the bulkhead there. Graff thought he might climb through it and let himself down to a gun platform, then the main deck. He didn't remember how he got there, but he would never forget something he realized in the pilothouse along that way: that one of the officers he had crawled over was high ranking and familiar.

My G.o.d, they got Scott, Graff thought. Graff thought.

"I remember a quick twinge of sadness as I crawled by him. I remember thinking, Oh, s.h.i.t, that's a terrible loss. Oh, s.h.i.t, that's a terrible loss."

Lieutenant Stewart Moredock, Scott's operations officer, saw his admiral take his last steps. He would dredge up this memory later, after his recovery from his injuries, recalling how Captain Jenkins had approached him, saying, "Let's get below. There's nothing we can do up here." Unable to find a ladder to the main deck, Moredock, the only one of Scott's staff to survive, hugged the bridge railing and swung his body over. With his right hand broken he found he couldn't hold his entire weight with his left, and he plummeted down, falling some twenty feet into a gun tub. "I hit, I'm pretty certain, a bunch of dead bodies on that gun emplacement," Moredock said. "I heard the noise of their, you know, their lungs, whatever. It was a shattering kind of feeling."

The dead were everywhere but they registered only faintly, the sight of their scattered remains too horrific to bear, though indelibly seen in the periphery, like dim stars. Robert Graff, in a state of shock as he sought a way down to the main deck, said, "I don't know where I thought I was going. Talk about being on autopilot. What did I think I was going to gain by going to the main deck? Maybe to find a live human being." As the thought continued to reverberate with him-My G.o.d, they got Scott-he felt the need to express it to someone, but found n.o.body left alive to talk to.

For years no one would speak comfortably about what had happened that night, or how. Lloyd Mustin was among the first to suspect it. He saw it as it was happening in a blinding incandescent flash of nitrocellulose powder. This "illuminated the firing ship brilliantly and unmistakably," Mustin said. "It was as easy to recognize the San Francisco San Francisco in the flash of her own guns as it would have been at high noon in San Francisco Harbor." in the flash of her own guns as it would have been at high noon in San Francisco Harbor."

Norman Scott and his staff and so many men had been cut down by Callaghan's flagship, which was, it seems, firing on an enemy target beyond the Atlanta. Atlanta. Scott had learned in the Battle of Cape Esperance what happens when ships get caught between friends and enemies at night and lose track of each other with no ready means of identification. Visibility was poor owing to the heavy smoke. Flames and the flashes of muzzles constricted the pupils. Scott had learned in the Battle of Cape Esperance what happens when ships get caught between friends and enemies at night and lose track of each other with no ready means of identification. Visibility was poor owing to the heavy smoke. Flames and the flashes of muzzles constricted the pupils.

According to a San Francisco San Francisco signalman, Vic Gibson, watching from the signal bridge, the signalman, Vic Gibson, watching from the signal bridge, the Atlanta Atlanta was caught in a crossfire. "We were firing at such close range that the sh.e.l.ls leaving our guns were going right through the superstructure of the was caught in a crossfire. "We were firing at such close range that the sh.e.l.ls leaving our guns were going right through the superstructure of the Atlanta Atlanta and the j.a.p sh.e.l.ls were doing the same from their direction." In the confusion, the and the j.a.p sh.e.l.ls were doing the same from their direction." In the confusion, the San Francisco San Francisco had simply lost track of her. "Probably she drifted into our line of fire-an almost perfectly flat trajectory at that range," Lieutenant Commander Bruce McCandless wrote. "Perhaps something like that was inevitable in the wild, free-swinging brawl that resulted when the two formations merged." had simply lost track of her. "Probably she drifted into our line of fire-an almost perfectly flat trajectory at that range," Lieutenant Commander Bruce McCandless wrote. "Perhaps something like that was inevitable in the wild, free-swinging brawl that resulted when the two formations merged."

The best evidence of whose sh.e.l.ls. .h.i.t her lay spattered around the Atlanta Atlanta's boat deck: a mess of green dye powder, the telltale color that Callaghan's flagship used to aid in spotting her sh.e.l.l splashes. Mustin found that another salvo from the San Francisco San Francisco had struck the port side five-inch waist mount, still trained forward from its engagement with Abe's lead destroyers. That salvo penetrated the mount from left to right, smashing the breech, slicing one of the guns away, and killing nearly everybody inside. The back was blown loose. It stood leaning against the superstructure. There was no doubt these were eight-inch sh.e.l.ls. "You could measure them with a ruler," Mustin said. The only other ship firing eight-inch ordnance that night was the had struck the port side five-inch waist mount, still trained forward from its engagement with Abe's lead destroyers. That salvo penetrated the mount from left to right, smashing the breech, slicing one of the guns away, and killing nearly everybody inside. The back was blown loose. It stood leaning against the superstructure. There was no doubt these were eight-inch sh.e.l.ls. "You could measure them with a ruler," Mustin said. The only other ship firing eight-inch ordnance that night was the Portland, Portland, but her dye loads were orange. In the but her dye loads were orange. In the Atlanta, Atlanta, from behind the hatchway that led forward from his damage-control station, Bill McKinney, the electrician's mate, heard banging and shouting. Men were saying that their belowdecks compartment had been breached, that flames were visible, and that blood was running down into it. They needed to get out fast. "I continued to try our phones without success," McKinney wrote. "Our very large compartment was a factor in the ship's buoyancy, and I did not dare open the watertight door forward. I did take a peek through the escape scuttle in the large double hatch covering above and leading to the sick bay pa.s.sageway immediately above us. The s.p.a.ce above was full of thick, yellow smoke." from behind the hatchway that led forward from his damage-control station, Bill McKinney, the electrician's mate, heard banging and shouting. Men were saying that their belowdecks compartment had been breached, that flames were visible, and that blood was running down into it. They needed to get out fast. "I continued to try our phones without success," McKinney wrote. "Our very large compartment was a factor in the ship's buoyancy, and I did not dare open the watertight door forward. I did take a peek through the escape scuttle in the large double hatch covering above and leading to the sick bay pa.s.sageway immediately above us. The s.p.a.ce above was full of thick, yellow smoke."

Donning a rescue breather, McKinney left through the topside hatch and, joined by a sailor named Daniel Curtin, climbed the ladder into the scuttle above. "The smoke was so thick that the beam of our battle lantern did not extend for more than two feet. We stumbled over the body of the sailor who had been coughing and choking earlier. I wondered if we could have saved him."

AS THE BATTLE LOST coherence in the minds of its partic.i.p.ants, an order came over the TBS that left Laurance DuBose in the coherence in the minds of its partic.i.p.ants, an order came over the TBS that left Laurance DuBose in the Portland, Portland, his gunnery officer, Commander Elliott Shanklin, and every turret officer and gun captain mistrustful of their own ears: his gunnery officer, Commander Elliott Shanklin, and every turret officer and gun captain mistrustful of their own ears: "Cease firing own ships. Cease firing own ships. Cease firing own ships "Cease firing own ships. Cease firing own ships. Cease firing own ships.... "

The message was from Callaghan. The Portland Portland had just fired a pair of nine-gun salvos at a cruiser that could not be positively identified when the perplexing order came. Captain DuBose asked his admiral, had just fired a pair of nine-gun salvos at a cruiser that could not be positively identified when the perplexing order came. Captain DuBose asked his admiral, "What is the dope, did you want to cease fire?" "What is the dope, did you want to cease fire?"

From Callaghan came, "Affirmative." "Affirmative." That response, doc.u.mented in the That response, doc.u.mented in the Portland Portland's radio log, seemed to refute the idea, floated later, that an order meant only for the San Francisco San Francisco got accidentally transmitted to the whole group. Clearly the flagship, like the got accidentally transmitted to the whole group. Clearly the flagship, like the Portland, Portland, had just fired on a ship of uncertain nationality that made the order necessary. It was identified in records only as "a small cruiser or a large destroyer." Murky identifications were unavoidable in the night and smoke. It very well could have been the had just fired on a ship of uncertain nationality that made the order necessary. It was identified in records only as "a small cruiser or a large destroyer." Murky identifications were unavoidable in the night and smoke. It very well could have been the Atlanta Atlanta.

The gunners on the San Francisco San Francisco were firing at shadows. Said Edgar Harrison, a fire controlman on a five-inch director, "We fired at so many targets, what I was doing was have my trainer train on shadows. I'm running the range dial on the computer, and I could see the red-hot bullets go out, then I changed the range up and down until the bullets were disappearing into the shadow. Then I'd check fire and find another target." were firing at shadows. Said Edgar Harrison, a fire controlman on a five-inch director, "We fired at so many targets, what I was doing was have my trainer train on shadows. I'm running the range dial on the computer, and I could see the red-hot bullets go out, then I changed the range up and down until the bullets were disappearing into the shadow. Then I'd check fire and find another target."

In the Helena Helena's chart house, Ray Casten kept a close eye on the PPI scope as he did navigational piloting and managed the dead-reckoning plot. "I watched, almost transfixed, as our ships interleaved with those of the enemy," the young officer would write. "I actually counted a total of twenty-six blips within the 5,000-yard sweep radius on our PPI scope. Would anyone, could anyone, ever believe this? Even when Captain Hoover asked where our ships were, I was only able to inform him of apparent concentrations." Amid the confusion of the interlaced formations, it was left to individual captains to decide who was friend and who was foe. Most of Callaghan's captains, if they ever heard the cease-fire order, ignored it, having arrived at their own diverging views of the priorities of life and death.

30.

Death in the Machine Age HE MUST HAVE SMOKED TWO PACKS OF CIGARETTES THAT NIGHT. Pacing the decks of his flagship, gray brows beetling, nerves afire, he found himself hardly able to stand it, knowing that his fleet was in action and he was not. The bustling pace of Noumea by day had quieted down, leaving Halsey's imagination in overdrive as his watch officers in the Argonne Argonne brought him the radio intercepts. There would be little or no sleep for him or his staff that night. brought him the radio intercepts. There would be little or no sleep for him or his staff that night.

To be a commander in the machine age was to suffer the barrier of distance and live in immediate ignorance of the outcomes of battle. With the Enterprise Enterprise in the war's early months, he had awaited the returns of his air groups in the Marshalls and the Gilberts and off Honshu. The stakes then were nothing like they were now. He pa.s.sed the time poring over charts in Flag Plot, walking the decks, and smoking, and conferring with his staff, and diverting himself, when he could stand no more, with the trashiest magazines in the wardroom, and smoking, always smoking. "I drank coffee by the gallon," he wrote. The men of his South Pacific Forces were at a moment of decision. All that the dispatches could tell him, again and again, was that another battle was under way. Which way it was going was anyone's guess. in the war's early months, he had awaited the returns of his air groups in the Marshalls and the Gilberts and off Honshu. The stakes then were nothing like they were now. He pa.s.sed the time poring over charts in Flag Plot, walking the decks, and smoking, and conferring with his staff, and diverting himself, when he could stand no more, with the trashiest magazines in the wardroom, and smoking, always smoking. "I drank coffee by the gallon," he wrote. The men of his South Pacific Forces were at a moment of decision. All that the dispatches could tell him, again and again, was that another battle was under way. Which way it was going was anyone's guess.

The action was more cinematically enthralling for the young men watching from Guadalca.n.a.l's northern sh.o.r.e. It was a diversion from their life in a diseased, death-ridden combat zone. As far away as Aola Bay, almost fifty miles east of Savo Sound, "The concussion could be felt as it came in on the airways, and the explosions seemed to rock the ground under our feet," recalled a U.S. Army infantryman on Guadalca.n.a.l. "One could see the bellows of black smoke over the battle scene, shooting high into the air; at night these smoke clouds were capped with red flames."

A marine, Robert Leckie, wrote, "The star sh.e.l.ls rose, terrible and red. Giant tracers flashed across the night in orange arches.... The sea seemed a sheet of polished obsidian on which the warships seemed to have been dropped and been immobilized, centered amid concentric circles like shock waves that form around a stone dropped in mud." From Tulagi's hills, "all you could see were the tracers and the muzzle flashes, and the hits. But you didn't know who was getting hit," a sailor wrote. Tracers looked like glowing red blobs, moving slowly through s.p.a.ce to their target, then crashing into larger flashes and fires when they struck. There was a three-beat delay before the wave of thunder arrived over the water.

Infantrymen who had fought bitterly for months were often callous. The novelist James Jones, an Army soldier who arrived later, developed a perverse outlook. Having resolved that he would die, he could root for death's reign everywhere. "Consciously or unconsciously," Jones would write, "we accepted the fact that we couldn't survive. So we could watch the naval battle from the safety of the hills with undisguised fun. There was no denying we were pleased to see somebody else getting his. Even though there were men dying. Being blown apart, concussed, drowning. Didn't matter. We had been getting ours, let them get theirs. It wasn't that we were being s.a.d.i.s.tic. It was just that we had nothing further to worry about. We were dead."

CALLAGHAN'S AND ABE'S heaviest ships, the "base units," came to grips just before 2 a.m. Tracking four enemy ships in column to her northeast, the heaviest ships, the "base units," came to grips just before 2 a.m. Tracking four enemy ships in column to her northeast, the Helena Helena asked Callaghan, asked Callaghan, "Can we open fire if we have targets?" "Can we open fire if we have targets?" The task force commander replied, The task force commander replied, "Advise type of targets. We want the big ones." "Advise type of targets. We want the big ones." That's exactly what he got. According to John Bennett, the That's exactly what he got. According to John Bennett, the San Francisco San Francisco was closing with three formidable opponents: a cruiser abaft her starboard beam, the was closing with three formidable opponents: a cruiser abaft her starboard beam, the Hiei Hiei approaching forward of her starboard beam, about twenty-two hundred yards away, and the approaching forward of her starboard beam, about twenty-two hundred yards away, and the Kirishima Kirishima about three thousand yards sharp on the starboard bow. According to Bruce McCandless, "The duel about to begin in which flagship fought flagship was like something out of the past.... The action was brief but violent," as the about three thousand yards sharp on the starboard bow. According to Bruce McCandless, "The duel about to begin in which flagship fought flagship was like something out of the past.... The action was brief but violent," as the Hiei Hiei and and San Francisco San Francisco approached on opposite courses. approached on opposite courses.

With Ca.s.sin Young designating targets for the gunnery officer, Lieutenant Commander William W. Wilbourne, McCandless swung the helm left to unmask the after turret. As the San Francisco San Francisco's eight-inch turrets roared, the Hiei Hiei's great turrets answered in kind. "Two four-gun salvos. .h.i.t the water short of us, bursting on impact and projecting vivid greenish pyrotechnics-incendiaries," McCandless wrote. Wilbourne had little more to do than close his firing key and pray. In close and brutally fast was his only chance, given that his salvos had 20 percent the throw-weight of her enemy. "Had anyone timed our loading crews that night, he doubtless would have seen some new records set." The crew of the San Francisco San Francisco's turret three was operating in local control after the destruction of the after control station by the Betty that afternoon. From twenty-two hundred yards, it was hard to miss. The San Francisco San Francisco lashed out with all three turrets, battering the lashed out with all three turrets, battering the Hiei Hiei all along her length. The turret officer in turret one shouted over the voice tube to his crew, "We just put a nine-gun salvo into the side of a j.a.p BB!" At this range not even a battleship's armor was proof against cruiser fire. The all along her length. The turret officer in turret one shouted over the voice tube to his crew, "We just put a nine-gun salvo into the side of a j.a.p BB!" At this range not even a battleship's armor was proof against cruiser fire. The San Francisco San Francisco would claim "at least eighteen hits" on the would claim "at least eighteen hits" on the Hiei. Hiei. From amidships, near the From amidships, near the Hiei Hiei's waterline, came a blast that "caused plates and wreckage to fly about," the San Francisco San Francisco's action report would state. Stationed on a five-inch mount on the starboard side of the San Francisco, San Francisco, Cliff Spencer was awestruck. "With a paG.o.da-like superstructure, the big ship was so close she looked like the New York skyline. As our stream of sh.e.l.ls. .h.i.t, you could see men or debris flying off the [searchlight] platform, it was that close.... When my vision returned I looked out upon the battle scene to starboard.... The magnitude of the battle was almost unbelievable." Cliff Spencer was awestruck. "With a paG.o.da-like superstructure, the big ship was so close she looked like the New York skyline. As our stream of sh.e.l.ls. .h.i.t, you could see men or debris flying off the [searchlight] platform, it was that close.... When my vision returned I looked out upon the battle scene to starboard.... The magnitude of the battle was almost unbelievable."

As the time approached 2 a.m., life in Savo Sound was a violent blur, with ships up and down the line fighting for their lives. To the northwest, beyond the maelstrom's center of gravity, the battered Cushing Cushing endured another blizzard of steel as Abe's rear destroyers, the endured another blizzard of steel as Abe's rear destroyers, the Asagumo, Murasame, Asagumo, Murasame, and and Samidare, Samidare, swung past her. The swung past her. The Cushing Cushing's skipper, Butch Parker, would describe this night "just like a barroom brawl with the lights out."

Despite some claims to the contrary, the U.S. destroyers likely never got their torpedoes effectively into play. Opportunities to fire them occurred at such close range that the weapons seldom had time to arm. The destroyer O'Bannon, O'Bannon, last in the van, spied the last in the van, spied the Hiei Hiei close on her port bow, burning but still roaring salvos over the mast of the American destroyer at unknown targets behind her. Commander E. R. Wilkinson loosed four torpedoes, the third of which coincided with the battleship's complete envelopment "from bow to stern in a great sheet of flame." The close on her port bow, burning but still roaring salvos over the mast of the American destroyer at unknown targets behind her. Commander E. R. Wilkinson loosed four torpedoes, the third of which coincided with the battleship's complete envelopment "from bow to stern in a great sheet of flame." The Sterett Sterett claimed a pair of torpedo hits on the claimed a pair of torpedo hits on the Hiei Hiei as well, but j.a.panese records, which chronicle gunfire damage in detail, suggest that the damage went unnoticed. Very possibly these claims arose from the battering the as well, but j.a.panese records, which chronicle gunfire damage in detail, suggest that the damage went unnoticed. Very possibly these claims arose from the battering the Hiei Hiei was taking from the was taking from the San Francisco San Francisco around this time. around this time.

As burning particles from the Hiei Hiei fell on the fell on the O'Bannon O'Bannon's forward decks, Captain Wilkinson, deeming the j.a.panese battleship "killed" and finding that no further targets offered, ordered the rudder right until his destroyer was on an easterly course. Swinging the helm again to avoid the shattered Laffey, Laffey, the the O'Bannon O'Bannon pa.s.sed through waters dotted with U.S. sailors. Wilkinson's crew tossed life vests, some fifty of them, to the men in the water as they pa.s.sed. As the pa.s.sed through waters dotted with U.S. sailors. Wilkinson's crew tossed life vests, some fifty of them, to the men in the water as they pa.s.sed. As the O'Bannon O'Bannon steamed away to the east, "attempting to locate either definite targets or definite friends," five unidentified vessels-probably the steamed away to the east, "attempting to locate either definite targets or definite friends," five unidentified vessels-probably the Cushing, Sterett, Atlanta, Hiei, Cushing, Sterett, Atlanta, Hiei, and and Akatsuki Akatsuki-were seen burning or exploding in her wake.

It was the San Francisco San Francisco that had the full attention of the j.a.panese heavy ships now, the that had the full attention of the j.a.panese heavy ships now, the Hiei Hiei to starboard and the to starboard and the Kirishima, Kirishima, less vividly noticed, moving across to port. It would be estimated that the less vividly noticed, moving across to port. It would be estimated that the San Francisco San Francisco took some forty-five sh.e.l.l hits, twelve of them major-caliber. One fourteen-incher struck the barbette of turret two, opening its seams, and shattered the flood-control panel. This activated the flooding system in the forward magazine and the lower handling room. The crew in the turret stalk, believing the ship was sinking, began pouring out of the top of the turret, into the open air and a storm of flying metal. Airbursts from fourteen-inch anti-personnel and incendiary rounds were shattering. What they did to people in topside stations was unspeakable. Wherever a sh.e.l.l struck armor, the projectile broke up, denting the plating and smoking up the paintwork. The airbursts hurled incendiaries and fragments in all directions. "Seemingly everywhere," Bruce McCandless wrote, "we found short lengths of what looked like gas pipe about an inch in diameter. A few contained unburned incendiary, a mixture of powdered aluminum and magnesium, with fuzes at both ends.... This stuff was responsible for many of our casualties and much of our damage." The crews on the starboard secondary battery were cut down virtually to a man. "The smell of burning flesh.... These are recollections that will last my life," Bennett said. "That's something you don't get over." took some forty-five sh.e.l.l hits, twelve of them major-caliber. One fourteen-incher struck the barbette of turret two, opening its seams, and shattered the flood-control panel. This activated the flooding system in the forward magazine and the lower handling room. The crew in the turret stalk, believing the ship was sinking, began pouring out of the top of the turret, into the open air and a storm of flying metal. Airbursts from fourteen-inch anti-personnel and incendiary rounds were shattering. What they did to people in topside stations was unspeakable. Wherever a sh.e.l.l struck armor, the projectile broke up, denting the plating and smoking up the paintwork. The airbursts hurled incendiaries and fragments in all directions. "Seemingly everywhere," Bruce McCandless wrote, "we found short lengths of what looked like gas pipe about an inch in diameter. A few contained unburned incendiary, a mixture of powdered aluminum and magnesium, with fuzes at both ends.... This stuff was responsible for many of our casualties and much of our damage." The crews on the starboard secondary battery were cut down virtually to a man. "The smell of burning flesh.... These are recollections that will last my life," Bennett said. "That's something you don't get over."

An armor-piercing projectile bulled into wardroom country, where the ship's executive officer, Mark Crouter, was convalescing after his legs had been burned in the afternoon air attack. He had insisted on remaining on board. This decision cost him his life. The sh.e.l.l killed him where he lay. This third-hitting salvo from the Hiei Hiei was costly. Four fourteen-hundred-pound projectiles crashed into the was costly. Four fourteen-hundred-pound projectiles crashed into the San Francisco's San Francisco's bridge and forward superstructure, smashing the chart house and propelling the navigator, Commander Rae Arison, over the port side of the superstructure. He made two complete turns in the air before crashing three decks below onto the barrel of a five-inch mount. The impact broke both of his legs. The gun captain, to the considerable surprise of both men, caught Arison and pushed him aside-toward a ladder that led downward. Helpless now, Arison slipped down the ladder and fell onto the deckhouse, facedown in a sizable puddle of water that had welled in a dished-in section of the deck. From his new vantage point, through the tears of pain in his eyes, Arison could see that everything above him was on fire. He struggled to reach a morphine ampule on his belt but discovered he couldn't bear to use his fractured right arm. "That failure," he wrote, "kept me alive, for had I reached it and taken an injection I would have most likely pa.s.sed out and would then have drowned in the water in which I sat." The constant struggle to reach that ampule kept him conscious and, he thinks, saved his life. Twice he tried to hail pa.s.sing crew for aid, but couldn't make a sound, because a fragment in his neck was pressing on his larynx. bridge and forward superstructure, smashing the chart house and propelling the navigator, Commander Rae Arison, over the port side of the superstructure. He made two complete turns in the air before crashing three decks below onto the barrel of a five-inch mount. The impact broke both of his legs. The gun captain, to the considerable surprise of both men, caught Arison and pushed him aside-toward a ladder that led downward. Helpless now, Arison slipped down the ladder and fell onto the deckhouse, facedown in a sizable puddle of water that had welled in a dished-in section of the deck. From his new vantage point, through the tears of pain in his eyes, Arison could see that everything above him was on fire. He struggled to reach a morphine ampule on his belt but discovered he couldn't bear to use his fractured right arm. "That failure," he wrote, "kept me alive, for had I reached it and taken an injection I would have most likely pa.s.sed out and would then have drowned in the water in which I sat." The constant struggle to reach that ampule kept him conscious and, he thinks, saved his life. Twice he tried to hail pa.s.sing crew for aid, but couldn't make a sound, because a fragment in his neck was pressing on his larynx.

This blast caught hold of Cliff Spencer, too. "One instant I was fine and the next I was blasted through the air for about twelve feet, fetching up on the amidships ladder rail, hanging head down, draped over the railing," he wrote. "Groggy and disoriented, my first thought was, 'I'm hit.' I tried to right myself and as I did I felt a sharp blow as shrapnel from below hit me in the lower back. When I put weight on my right foot, the ankle wanted to turn. I reached down and felt that a portion of my right heel had been sliced away as if with a large knife." He moved numbly forward toward the radar room, was. .h.i.t again, then found a shipmate from the Marine detachment, Allen B. Samuelson, calling for him from within the wreckage of a gun mount. Spencer saw that a gun recoil spring had impaled him through the neck, "giving the impression of a grotesque bow tie." Samuelson asked him for a life jacket. "I rea.s.sured him we were not sinking and told him that I would be right back with a life jacket."

On the bridge, Bruce McCandless, stunned, ears ringing, wondered where everyone had gone. Quartermaster Harry S. Higdon called out from the helm, "I've lost steering control, sir!" and spun the useless wheel to demonstrate. Making eighteen knots, the heavy cruiser, the helmsman found, was locked into a left turn. The new exec, Joseph Hubbard, contacted Central Station and instructed his first lieutenant, Lieutenant Commander Herbert E. Schonland, to shift steering and engine control to Battle Two, the after control tower that had been soaked in flames when the Betty bomber struck it that afternoon. "Hardly had this been accomplished," McCandless wrote, "when a sh.e.l.l plunged through the roof (overhead) of Battle Two, laying waste to this place for the second time in twelve hours, killing Hubbard and the men around him." Schonland ordered the ship's steering and engine control shifted to the conning tower.

Concussed and in shock, McCandless managed to tell Schonland that he didn't know where Captain Young and Admiral Callaghan were. He said he appeared to be the only officer alive on the bridge. That meant Schonland was the ship's senior officer. McCandless asked, "What are your orders?" As damage-control officer, Schonland had plenty to do belowdecks. Several holes in the hull were shipping water, flooding the second deck, located near the waterline. The valves that were used to flood the magazines were a problem, too. A sh.e.l.l hit up forward had killed the damage-control party and ruined the control panel used to open and close the valves. Stuck open, the valves let the water flow. The magazines filled and kept on filling. Soon water was pouring through the ventilation system and flooding other forward compartments. Additional water pumped aboard by firefighting crews added to the problem.

The San Francisco San Francisco had at least twenty-five fires, but the remedy was shaping up to be worse than the disease. The ship faced a serious stability issue. Every time she turned, the water on board rushed the other way, throwing a ma.s.sive amount of weight into the side of the ship on the outside of the turn. The "free-surface effect" of all this water could capsize the ship. Schonland realized that if he went to the bridge to take command, there would be no officer below who understood the delicate flooding situation. He instructed McCandless to "carry out the admiral's orders." If McCandless needed help, he said, he would come as soon as he had the stability problem in hand. had at least twenty-five fires, but the remedy was shaping up to be worse than the disease. The ship faced a serious stability issue. Every time she turned, the water on board rushed the other way, throwing a ma.s.sive amount of weight into the side of the ship on the outside of the turn. The "free-surface effect" of all this water could capsize the ship. Schonland realized that if he went to the bridge to take command, there would be no officer below who understood the delicate flooding situation. He instructed McCandless to "carry out the admiral's orders." If McCandless needed help, he said, he would come as soon as he had the stability problem in hand.

McCandless went down to the heavily armored enclosure below the bridge, joining two quartermasters, Higdon and Floyd A. Rogers, who took turns going aft to the smoke-filled central steering compartment to relieve the faltering steersman, whose job was physically onerous. Through the horizontal slits in the eight-inch armor of the conning tower, McCandless kept a close lookout ahead, keeping the ship in the open water between Savo Island and Guadalca.n.a.l. Spying the coast near Lunga, he decided that if it became necessary to beach the ship, he would be sure to do so in the American-controlled sector. As he proceeded along, he imagined himself to be straightening out his battle line, re-forming the a.s.sembled power of Task Group 67.4 behind the flagship. Behind the San Francisco, San Francisco, the the Portland Portland was advancing into the mix with Abe's battleships, too. The light cruiser was advancing into the mix with Abe's battleships, too. The light cruiser Helena Helena was blasting away at anything her gunners could find. The was blasting away at anything her gunners could find. The Juneau, Juneau, behind her, leading the rear destroyers, lashed into targets near and far with five-inch fire. For all practical purposes, though, the task force had ceased to be a cohesive unit. behind her, leading the rear destroyers, lashed into targets near and far with five-inch fire. For all practical purposes, though, the task force had ceased to be a cohesive unit.

CLIFF SPENCER, having promised Allen Samuelson a life jacket, went to a life jacket locker, opened it, and found a man hiding inside. "This locker is too thin to protect you!" he hollered, and the marine displaced, only to be killed elsewhere minutes later. Retrieving a pair of life jackets, Spencer went to find Samuelson, stepping around the dead. When Spencer found him again and handed him the jacket, the marine clutched it to his chest and, as Spencer put it, "quietly pa.s.sed from this vale of tears." Standing over the dead man, experiencing his first twinges of survivor's guilt, Spencer wrote, "In his final moments he was not in pain. The life jacket I gave him gave him comfort, and he just slipped away."

Then his right hand took an impact that felt like a baseball bat. Spencer saw that his thumb was blown back, leaving "mangled red meat where my hand attached to the wrist." A sergeant in his detachment, John Egan, was rallying survivors to get the silenced five-inch guns back into action. Seeing that Spencer would be of little help, Egan directed him to sickbay. As Spencer descended several ladders, the last one was ripped away and he fell in a heap to the quarterdeck. When he recovered his senses, he looked around and saw that all but one man from the gallery of five-inch mounts had been cut down. The lone survivor was a chief fire controlman, wounded but still standing. "His headset wires were cut off just below his chin and he was bleeding from the ears and nose," Spencer wrote. "He shouted the order repeatedly for his non-existent crews to 'fire.' He appeared to be dying on his feet and I knew he could not even hear me, let alone help me."

Lurching aft on one good leg over razor-edged debris, Spencer stepped over and around the human forms, careful to soften his path by treading on their sleeves and pant legs. One fallen sailor, thus disturbed, shouted, "Get off of me you SOB. I ain't dead yet." Spencer hid behind a searchlight platform as a j.a.panese destroyer appeared to port, firing with small arms. As tracers and small rounds ricocheted off bulkheads, he was. .h.i.t again. He cried and tried to pray. From a dark corner of the ship, he heard another sailor sobbing. Recognizing the voice, he found it was someone he knew well and hailed him by name. "I'm no coward," the sailor said. "I just don't know what to do!" Spencer gave him a job. "He cut off most of my undershirt and wrapped it around my right hand.... He then half carried me down to the mess hall for treatment, talked to me while we sloshed our way forward through the starboard pa.s.sageway, giving me encouragement every step of the way. Let me tell you, that sailor was no coward." In sickbay, a corpsman patched his hands and feet with large wound compresses, gave him two morphine syrettes, and sent him to the machine shop to convalesce. "I hobbled and waded through water and over fire hoses to the shop and went through the metal screen door. I hobbled over behind a large lathe, thinking it would protect me from any sh.e.l.l blast to port, and popped myself with a syrette." Under the influence of the morphine, named after the Greek G.o.d of dreams, Spencer laid his head on a life jacket and escaped from the nightmare.

WHEN JACK BENNETT reported to the reported to the San Francisco San Francisco's bridge, having seen most of the gun crews he was supervising cut down by gunfire, McCandless departed the conning tower. "Leaving Higdon at the forward slit and Rogers steering, I went back up to the navigation bridge to have another look for Captain Young and get him into conn where he could exercise command of his ship if he were still alive."

To a young officer whose training had never prepared him for the vertigo and shock of this butchery, restoring his captain to command must have seemed like a sensible way to set right a careening universe. McCandless found that his head had stopped a few small pieces of shrapnel. The ringing in his ears would not quit, but he was crisply alert to his surroundings. "Against a midnight-blue backdrop brilliant starsh.e.l.l flares drifted down to go out in the sea," he would write. "Red, white and blue tracers interlaced. Searchlights stabbed the darkness; the Hiei Hiei put a cl.u.s.ter of three on us, only to have them shot out by a hail of automatic weapons fire from half a dozen ships. Guns flashed yellow flame. Sh.e.l.l hits kicked up hot red sparks, often a flash; misses threw up splashes. Aboard the put a cl.u.s.ter of three on us, only to have them shot out by a hail of automatic weapons fire from half a dozen ships. Guns flashed yellow flame. Sh.e.l.l hits kicked up hot red sparks, often a flash; misses threw up splashes. Aboard the Hiei Hiei a shower of luminous snowflakes rose above her masthead and fell like a waterfall. a shower of luminous snowflakes rose above her masthead and fell like a waterfall.

"The navigation bridge was a weird place indeed in the intermittent light of gunfire," McCandless continued. "It had been hit several times more during my brief absence. Bodies, helmeted and life-jacketed, limbs, and gear littered the deck. The siren was moaning and water was raining down through holes in the deck above from the ruptured water-cooling system of the forward 1.1-inch quads. I could not identify Captain Young in my hasty search of the navigation bridge, but left convinced that neither he nor anyone else up there would take further part in this action." He would not. Nor would Admiral Callaghan or any of his staff. On the starboard side of the flag bridge, McCandless found all of them. A battleship projectile had struck the underside of the navigation bridge from slightly abaft the beam and burst directly overhead. Littering the deck were the bodies of Callaghan and three lieutenant commanders on his staff, Louis M. LeHardy, Damon M. c.u.mmings, and Jack Wintle. A fourth, Emmet O'Beirne, was unconscious but alive, the only survivor among the senior staff.

While making this grim discovery, McCandless stepped into a jagged hole in the deck, fell through, and stuck fast. As he wriggled free, he found himself looking out through another sh.e.l.l hole in the port bridge screen. Through it he could see a j.a.panese destroyer just a few hundred yards away, racing down the port side on a reverse course, firing into his ship. "Her first shots. .h.i.t the forward part of the bridge just as I arrived on its after end, but she conveniently shifted to our port five-inch battery, which had taken her under fire. In this mutual mayhem one of our open mounts was. .h.i.t directly, the others were swept by a storm of fragments. But one gun, firing in local control under chief boatswain's mate John McCullough, with the last round it got off, caused a large explosion on the destroyer's stern that looked like depth charges going off."

Around this time McCandless reached Schonland on the battle telephone and confirmed that Schonland was the senior surviving officer. With this fragile chain of command, the ship was, according to McCandless, "fighting by departments, each headed by a lieutenant commander. Schonland, in command, would keep us afloat and right side up; Rodney B. Lair would run the engineering plant, which was virtually intact; Wilbourne and Cone controlling our main and antiaircraft batteries, respectively, would engage any enemy ships they could identify; I would essay the role of navigator; and Dr. Edward S. Lowe would attend to the wounded.

"We had good interior communications (despite a shortage of talkers) over the sound-powered battle telephones, but because of indoctrination and training, little coordination between departments was necessary: officers and enlisted men a.s.sumed leadership, saw things that needed to be done and got about doing them without waiting to be told. This is not the best way to run a ship, but it is surprising how far the momentum of a well-trained outfit will carry when its leaders are cut down."

31.

Point Blank THAT NIGHT THE TORPEDO MARKSMANSHIP OF THE j.a.pANESE HAD been practiced to the usual high professional standard. Long Lances gutted the been practiced to the usual high professional standard. Long Lances gutted the Laffey Laffey and the and the Atlanta. Atlanta. Now the hull-busting weapons found the middle of the American line. Now the hull-busting weapons found the middle of the American line.

It was nearly 2 a.m., barely fifteen minutes since first contact. Captain DuBose of the Portland Portland had settled on a northerly course. He was blowing salvos at a target on his starboard beam when a torpedo, probably fired by the had settled on a northerly course. He was blowing salvos at a target on his starboard beam when a torpedo, probably fired by the Yudachi, Yudachi, bubbled in and struck aft on the starboard side. The blast chewed into the cruiser's fantail, leaving a rough, semicircular bite about sixty feet in diameter. The blast destroyed eighteen compartments, sheared off the inboard screws, and disabled turret three by heaving it from its roller path. A large piece of hull plating, torn out, extended into the sea and scooped a cataract of water, forcing the ship into a sharp right turn that the jammed rudder was helpless to correct. As the ship began circling, nothing the helmsman did with the rudder or the engines could straighten her course. bubbled in and struck aft on the starboard side. The blast chewed into the cruiser's fantail, leaving a rough, semicircular bite about sixty feet in diameter. The blast destroyed eighteen compartments, sheared off the inboard screws, and disabled turret three by heaving it from its roller path. A large piece of hull plating, torn out, extended into the sea and scooped a cataract of water, forcing the ship into a sharp right turn that the jammed rudder was helpless to correct. As the ship began circling, nothing the helmsman did with the rudder or the engines could straighten her course.

After the Portland Portland finished staggering through her first clockwise circle, the finished staggering through her first clockwise circle, the Hiei Hiei appeared at four thousand yards dead ahead. As his ship came right, Lieutenant Commander Shanklin's forward eight-inch turrets engaged, firing four salvos as they trained left through the cruiser's swing to the right, planting an estimated ten to fourteen hits into the ship. As flames washed through her superstructure, the appeared at four thousand yards dead ahead. As his ship came right, Lieutenant Commander Shanklin's forward eight-inch turrets engaged, firing four salvos as they trained left through the cruiser's swing to the right, planting an estimated ten to fourteen hits into the ship. As flames washed through her superstructure, the Hiei Hiei boomed in return, hitting the boomed in return, hitting the Portland Portland with a pair of fourteen-inch bombardment projectiles that squandered most of their force by exploding on contact with the armor instead of penetrating. with a pair of fourteen-inch bombardment projectiles that squandered most of their force by exploding on contact with the armor instead of penetrating.

An exact chronicle of events was beyond anyone's reach now, although a collage of impressions was indelible and immediate to all within the tempest. DuBose saw an unidentified large ship sundered by a great blast. He saw the San Francisco San Francis...o...b..rning. The burning. The Helena Helena steamed by close aboard to starboard, drawing clear, her six-inch batteries fast-cycling at targets in the dark. Chick Morris was caught in the spell of what the engines of naval war had wrought. "Other ships, blazing just as brilliantly, rushed through the night like giant torches held aloft by invisible swimmers. It was a picture too vast for the imagination, and even when it was over no man could quite put the flaming bits of the puzzle together or be sure of what he had seen." steamed by close aboard to starboard, drawing clear, her six-inch batteries fast-cycling at targets in the dark. Chick Morris was caught in the spell of what the engines of naval war had wrought. "Other ships, blazing just as brilliantly, rushed through the night like giant torches held aloft by invisible swimmers. It was a picture too vast for the imagination, and even when it was over no man could quite put the flaming bits of the puzzle together or be sure of what he had seen."

The Hiei, Hiei, fires raging all through her now, drew abeam the fires raging all through her now, drew abeam the Juneau. Juneau. The j.a.panese battleship was "wallowing there like a wounded monster, spouting a h.e.l.l of flame, but still very much in action," the The j.a.panese battleship was "wallowing there like a wounded monster, spouting a h.e.l.l of flame, but still very much in action," the Juneau Juneau's Joseph Hartney would write. "Her searchlights flashed on, fingered across the 2,000 yards of water and seemed to waver and then clamp down on us." Hartney swiveled his fifties at the light. "I felt nothing now. I was just part of the gun that was bouncing in my hand." The antiaircraft cruiser's five-inch batteries slashed into the enemy warship. The tracers looked from afar like "a bridge of red-hot steel between us and the target."

The trio of j.a.panese destroyers from the disengaged side of Abe's formation entered the mix after the Hiei Hiei and and Kirishima Kirishima cleared their lines of fire to the south. The cleared their lines of fire to the south. The Asagumo, Murasame, Asagumo, Murasame, and and Samidare Samidare sighted strange ships burning everywhere. The sighted strange ships burning everywhere. The Murasame Murasame jabbed with the jabbed with the Juneau, Juneau, trading salvos and loosing a spread of eight torpedoes. trading salvos and loosing a spread of eight torpedoes.

A torpedo caught the Juneau Juneau in the belly, on the port side near the forward fire room. Joseph Hartney felt his ship leap and shake in the air and fall back down, heavier on the water than before, listing to port. The explosion ruptured internal bulkheads and buckled the deck. The fire-control system serving her eight twin five-inch turrets failed. Oil fumes leaked up from within. Her chief engineer thought her keel was broken. in the belly, on the port side near the forward fire room. Joseph Hartney felt his ship leap and shake in the air and fall back down, heavier on the water than before, listing to port. The explosion ruptured internal bulkheads and buckled the deck. The fire-control system serving her eight twin five-inch turrets failed. Oil fumes leaked up from within. Her chief engineer thought her keel was broken.

The stricken cruiser veered toward an unidentified j.a.panese ship whose duress was similar. Seeing her sailors leaping from her burning decks and struggling to escape her fire-eaten pa.s.sageways, Hartney called it "a weird, unforgettable pageantry that Dante himself could not have dreamed up." When a lookout shouted a warning of a collision, the quartermaster in the after control station, on a quick order from the exec, evaded in time. The Juneau Juneau's reward for ducking the impact and opening the range again was another fusillade of gunfire into her superstructure. One of her stacks took a hard hit, casting the ruins of its searchlights from their platform onto the deck below. A fourteen-incher smashed into the mess hall triage, killing all the wounded there and their attendants. In the tangle of remaining steel plating, it was difficult to distinguish bulkhead from deck from overhead.

Throughout the American squadron, a hundred small catastrophes played out. The Portland, Portland, torpedoed and circling; the torpedoed and circling; the San Francisco, San Francisco, shattered but game. The shattered but game. The Atlanta, Atlanta, a leaking, burning wreck; the a leaking, burning wreck; the Juneau, Juneau, torpedoed and drunk in the keel; the torpedoed and drunk in the keel; the Laffey Laffey sinking; the sinking; the Cushing, Cushing, still afloat but a lost cause; the still afloat but a lost cause; the Sterett, Sterett, in a crossfire and burning. On the in a crossfire and burning. On the Laffey, Laffey, whose propellers had been shorn away with the rest of her fantail, her hull nearly broken in two, a brief argument ensued between Captain Hank and his engineering officer, Lieutenant Barham, about whether the ship could be saved. "Chief, just get me going and I'll get you out of this," Hank said. But the engineer recommended abandoning ship. Barham asked for permission to let boats over the side, the least he could do for crew who had already gone over the rail. The captain approved. As Barham left to see about that task, Hank pa.s.sed the order to abandon ship. Soon thereafter the fires reached a powder magazine. The eruption tore loose the deck, and shattered steel filled the air. "My first reaction was one of surprise-it was as if an old and trusted friend had suddenly hit me with a baseball bat," Tom Evins remembered. This catastrophe was the last the ship would suffer. Hank was never seen again. whose propellers had been shorn away with the rest of her fantail, her hull nearly broken in two, a brief argument ensued between Captain Hank and his engineering officer, Lieutenant Barham, about whether the ship could be saved. "Chief, just get me going and I'll get you out of this," Hank said. But the engineer recommended abandoning ship. Barham asked for permission to let boats over the side, the least he could do for crew who had already gone over the rail. The captain approved. As Barham left to see about that task, Hank pa.s.sed the order to abandon ship. Soon thereafter the fires reached a powder magazine. The eruption tore loose the deck, and shattered steel filled the air. "My first reaction was one of surprise-it was as if an old and trusted friend had suddenly hit me with a baseball bat," Tom Evins remembered. This catastrophe was the last the ship would suffer. Hank was never seen again.

Such catastrophes were often private experiences for their victims, unwitnessed by ships even in close proximity. As Bruce McCandless would write, "That these disasters could occur within such a short distance of the flagship and not be observed from her bridge seems incomprehensible; that this was the case testified to the intensity of the firestorm about the flagship herself." Whenever things looked bad, the one thing Admiral Nimitz liked to remind his staff was that "the enemy is hurting, too." And he was.

Once the Hiei Hiei finished her pa.s.s against the finished her pa.s.s against the Helena, Helena, Abe's flagship had grappled with virtually the whole American line. Her entire superstructure was a conflagration, fiercely lit from within. That vast steel complex, towering over the two sleek and angular twin-mounted fourteen-inch turrets on her forecastle, looked to Jack Cook, one of Captain Hoover's Marine orderlies, "like a huge apartment building completely engulfed in flames. It was the most amazing sight I ever saw." Any number of U.S. ships could take credit for the result. Enough of them had crossed the battleship's path to make most all claims plausible. Among witnesses the predominant emotion seemed to be awe, not joy. These molten ruins had recently been proud, striving, and human. On a night like this, it was difficult not to relate to the enemy's plight, even as one celebrated it. In the midst of his 1898 victory at the Battle of Santiago de Cuba, the U.S. admiral Jack Philip said: "Don't cheer, men. Those poor devils are dying." Such a situation called for the right combination of satisfaction and solemnity. Abe's flagship had grappled with virtually the whole American line. Her entire superstructure was a conflagration, fiercely lit from within. That vast steel complex, towering over the two sleek and angular twin-mounted fourteen-inch turrets on her forecastle, looked to Jack Cook, one of Captain Hoover's Marine orderlies, "like a huge apartment building completely engulfed in flames. It was the most amazing sight I ever saw." Any number of U.S. ships could take credit for the result. Enough of them had crossed the battleship's path to make most all claims plausible. Among witnesses the predominant emotion seemed to be awe, not joy. These molten ruins had recently been proud, striving, and human. On a night like this, it was difficult not to relate to the enemy's plight, even as one celebrated it. In the midst of his 1898 victory at the Battle of Santiago de Cuba, the U.S. admiral Jack Philip said: "Don't cheer, men. Those poor devils are dying." Such a situation called for the right combination of satisfaction and solemnity.

The idea that fast battleships like the Hiei Hiei and the and the Kirishima Kirishima would sweep the seas of heavy cruisers like the would sweep the seas of heavy cruisers like the San Francisco San Francisco and the and the Portland, Portland, one-third their size, turned out to be unfounded, at least in a battle fought at hull-sc.r.a.ping ranges where heavier armor was no significant advantage. It was probably the one-third their size, turned out to be unfounded, at least in a battle fought at hull-sc.r.a.ping ranges where heavier armor was no significant advantage. It was probably the San Francisco San Francisco that inflicted the that inflicted the Hiei Hiei's most consequential wound, a two-meter-wide hole in her starboard quarter that quickly flooded the steering room and shorted the steering engine. With generators short-circuited, the j.a.panese battleship lost use of her turrets and her hydraulic steering. The secondary battery was disabled by the destruction of its control tower. Despite the battering the Hiei Hiei took from some fifty eight-inch and eighty-five five-inch hits, there was little underwater damage and not much flooding aside from the breach of the steering room. took from some fifty eight-inch and eighty-five five-inch hits, there was little underwater damage and not much flooding aside from the breach of the steering room.

Around this time, Admiral Abe, struck in the face by shrapnel and probably concussed, must have been operating on reflexes and adrenaline, for he would remember nothing of the battle after he was. .h.i.t. Sometime around 2 a.m., distracted by his wounds and flinching at the ferocity of the American gunfire, and perhaps even believing he was facing a superior force, Abe decided to cancel the bombardment of Henderson Field. He ordered a general withdrawal.

In their flooding compartment, the Hiei Hiei's steersmen labored by hand and muscle to keep the ship navigable. Because they could not turn as sharply as the Kirishima, Kirishima, which started her reversal of course from a position on the which started her reversal of course from a position on the Hiei Hiei's port quarter, the Kirishima Kirishima turned inside the flagship's arc, remaining concealed behind Abe's burning ship while she came to a homeward course at high speed. As the action drew away from the turned inside the flagship's arc, remaining concealed behind Abe's burning ship while she came to a homeward course at high speed. As the action drew away from the Portland, Portland, Captain DuBose was disoriented. "In the confused picture of burning and milling ships it became impossible to distinguish friend from foe." Gunners on the destroyer Captain DuBose was disoriented. "In the confused picture of burning and milling ships it became impossible to distinguish friend from foe." Gunners on the destroyer Samidare Samidare mistook the mistook the Hiei Hiei for a U.S. ship. Her commander was preparing a torpedo spread when a correct identification was made, but not before the battleship had fired her secondary battery at the for a U.S. ship. Her commander was preparing a torpedo spread when a correct identification was made, but not before the battleship had fired her secondary battery at the Samidare Samidare in turn. in turn.

Callaghan's ships never drew a good front-sight bead on the Kirishima. Kirishima. Her only damage by direct fire was a single eight-inch hit on the quarterdeck. In parting, the j.a.panese battleship's after turret lofted a last salvo at the Her only damage by direct fire was a single eight-inch hit on the quarterdeck. In parting, the j.a.panese battleship's after turret lofted a last salvo at the San Francisco, San Francisco, a pair of fourteen-inchers fired straight back over the fantail. The a pair of fourteen-inchers fired straight back over the fantail. The Kirishima Kirishima would escape to fight another day. The would escape to fight another day. The Hiei Hiei would have a longer residence in Savo Sound. would have a longer residence in Savo Sound.

AS THE HELENA HELENA Pa.s.sED Pa.s.sED the circling the circling Portland Portland and raced after the and raced after the San Francisco, San Francisco, her main battery directors located a target to starboard, receding at about nine thousand yards. Less than half a minute later, the unidentified vessel opened fire on the her main battery directors located a target to starboard, receding at about nine thousand yards. Less than half a minute later, the unidentified vessel opened fire on the San Francisco San Francisco. It was a destroyer. Instantly, Hoover turned slightly to bring his five turrets to bear. The object of the light cruiser's continuous-automatic fury was Captain Tameichi Hara's Amatsukaze. Amatsukaze.

Hara had committed a cardinal sin of naval tactics. "Sh.e.l.l drunk," as he described himself, he neglected to order his searchlight off after taking the San Francisco San Francisco under fire. Suddenly under a terrible barrage, Hara's ship reeled. He ordered his gunners to check fire, his searchlight operator to douse the light, and his deckhands to lay a smoke screen. "I hunched my back and clung to the railing. The blast was so strong, it almost threw me off the bridge. The detonations were deafening. I got sluggishly to my feet, but my mind was a complete blank for several seconds. Next, I felt over my body, but found no wounds." Hara was a lucky one. His ship took some three dozen hits from the under fire. Suddenly under a terrible barrage, Hara's ship reeled. He ordered his gunners to check fire, his searchlight operator to douse the light, and his deckhands to lay a smoke screen. "I hunched my back and clung to the railing. The blast was so strong, it almost threw me off the bridge. The detona