Neptune's Inferno_ The U.S. Navy at Guadalcanal Part 4

[image](Photo Credit: P.2)Dead sailors rose from out of the deep, Nor looked not left or right, But sh.o.r.eward marched upon the sea, And the moon was a riband of white.A hundred ghosts stood on the sh.o.r.e At the turn of the midnight flood.

They beckoned me with spectral hands, And the moon was a riband of blood.

-from "Iron Bottom Bay" by Walter A. Mahler, chaplain, USS Astoria Astoria

9.

A New Kind of Fight ON AUGUST 10, AT HIS HOUSE NEAR PEARL HARBOR, ADMIRAL NIMITZ hosted a dinner party with his staff in honor of a visiting dignitary, the commander of the New Zealand Air Force. He would not learn until much later that the inefficiencies of his guest's own service branch contributed to the b.l.o.o.d.y fiasco in the Battle of Savo Island. Even if there were cause to blame him, the toast Nimitz lifted that evening to the common cause would probably have sounded the same. As the Pacific Fleet commander related it to his wife, Catherine, "We drank a c.o.c.ktail toast to our Marines in the Solomons, who despite losses have done magnificently. I can sleep better tonight than I could for several nights past, although I am well aware we are not out of the woods yet." hosted a dinner party with his staff in honor of a visiting dignitary, the commander of the New Zealand Air Force. He would not learn until much later that the inefficiencies of his guest's own service branch contributed to the b.l.o.o.d.y fiasco in the Battle of Savo Island. Even if there were cause to blame him, the toast Nimitz lifted that evening to the common cause would probably have sounded the same. As the Pacific Fleet commander related it to his wife, Catherine, "We drank a c.o.c.ktail toast to our Marines in the Solomons, who despite losses have done magnificently. I can sleep better tonight than I could for several nights past, although I am well aware we are not out of the woods yet."

After the debacle off Savo, Nimitz was showing his knack for understatement. What Admiral Turner would call "a fatal lethargy of mind" still gripped his fighting surface fleet. After eight months of war, in which his carrier fleet had enjoyed striking successes learning its trade under fire, the surface forces still were not battle-ready. Cruiser captains were not focused on the kinetic realities of wartime. So long as the carriers were deemed too precious to risk, the campaign would hinge on getting the surface forces of the Pacific Fleet ready to win battles. Paradoxically, the problem was their overconfidence. According to Admiral Turner, the surface forces at this time were "obsessed with a strong feeling of technical and mental superiority over the enemy. In spite of ample evidence as to enemy capabilities, most of our officers and men despised the enemy and felt themselves sure victors in all encounters under any circ.u.mstances." Complacency and timidity were first cousins as contributors to defeat.

And the problems were not just psychological. They were systemic as well. The radio links between units and commands were almost always unreliable. The fruits of the wide web of air searches, performed by PBY Catalinas and B-17s operating from bases on New Caledonia, the New Hebrides, Santa Cruz, and Malaita, withered under pressure from bad weather, the shortcomings of human senses, poor coordination, and the vagaries of radio reception. Though the physical reach of the search planes was impressive-PBYs from Malaita could easily reach Rabaul, 650 miles away-aircraft from MacArthur's Southwest Pacific Command could not communicate directly with South Pacific Area naval units.

Coverage of the Slot on the afternoon of August 8 was a particularly egregious failure. Turner had asked the commander of land-based area air forces, Rear Admiral John S. McCain, to supplement MacArthur's patrol coverage of the critical waterway. As it happened, McCain's aviators were blocked by bad weather from flying the missions, but his message to that effect did not reach Turner until nearly midnight on the ninth. Had he known that his eyes in the sky could not fly, he might have alerted Crutchley, Bode, and Riefkohl to the possibility of a naval attack that night. He might also have requested that Fletcher use his carrier planes to fill the gaps in the search net.

Too often, fighter pilots could not communicate with the ships vectoring them, nor sometimes with one another. Bomber pilots couldn't contact the troops they were flying to support. Search aircraft could not communicate with ships. Squadron commodores could not reach the ship captains under their command. There was no network. In the narrow windows of time in which ignorance was costliest, all too often the components of SOPAC were fatally out of touch.

As his screen was dying off Savo, Turner found he was unable to reach directly the only flag officer on screening duty that night, the capable Norman Scott. The TBS radio in Turner's flagship, the McCawley, McCawley, was partially shorted, and was effective only to about eight miles. Getting to Scott required him to go through Riefkohl on was partially shorted, and was effective only to about eight miles. Getting to Scott required him to go through Riefkohl on Vincennes. Vincennes. Turner couldn't raise Ghormley, either. According to Ghormley, Turner's radio frequency "could not be heard by the Commander of South Pacific Force. It is doubtful if all unit commanders of Task Force 61 could hear more than fragments of the blind transmissions on that frequency." Ghormley could not hear Fletcher, either, and though the Turner couldn't raise Ghormley, either. According to Ghormley, Turner's radio frequency "could not be heard by the Commander of South Pacific Force. It is doubtful if all unit commanders of Task Force 61 could hear more than fragments of the blind transmissions on that frequency." Ghormley could not hear Fletcher, either, and though the McCawley McCawley's communications suite had been bolstered with the addition of sixteen field radios, Turner could not regularly monitor Fletcher's frequency.

Plain bad luck joined wholesale system failure in plaguing the Americans. When the New Zealand Air Force search plane transmitted its sighting report at 10:25 a.m. on August 8, the radio station at Fall River was shut down, under air attack. After the pilot, Bill Stutt, landed the plane, he learned that his transmission had gone unreceived. He sped by jeep to the operations hut and delivered it in person. It sat there for nearly two hours before being sent to Southwest Pacific headquarters in Brisbane, and languished there for another three and a half hours before being routed to Canberra for area broadcast, and to Pearl Harbor for relay to the fleet. Turner did not learn of this important sighting of unidentified ships until the evening of the attack.

Waiting for Ghormley to approve his request to withdraw, Fletcher was still standing by with the carrier task force, some 150 miles from Savo Island and well within striking range of Mikawa. When the approval came and the carriers finally did turn south at 4:30 a.m. on the ninth, Fletcher knew nothing of the opportunity. Long into the morning as his carriers withdrew, Admiral Fletcher "was completely uninformed regarding the surface actions in Ironbottom Sound during their progress," according to his subordinate Kinkaid. "Had timely and accurate information of the surface actions been received," Kinkaid wrote, "it is possible that the carrier air groups could have made the dawn air attack on the j.a.panese cruiser force which Mikawa so greatly feared." The carriers hadn't yet flown. They simply never learned that an enemy was near. Mikawa got away with his kills.

Among Vandegrift's men on Guadalca.n.a.l, adverse a.s.sessments of the Navy's fighting spirit were not hard to find in the coming weeks. It wasn't just marines who had doubts. Few were satisfied with the way the carriers were being employed. "The way these carriers operate seemed chicken-hearted as h.e.l.l to me," the Atlanta Atlanta's Lloyd Mustin, now a lieutenant commander, wrote on August 8. "Ended the day down off San Cristobal, pretty G.o.dd.a.m.n far from Tulagi for fighter support, if you ask me. I wonder when we will ever get the nerve to really go after go after these b.a.s.t.a.r.ds, seek them out to destroy them." A line lieutenant from the these b.a.s.t.a.r.ds, seek them out to destroy them." A line lieutenant from the Wasp, Wasp, Thomas R. Weschler, said that his captain, Forrest Sherman, "was always trying to get Admiral Noyes's attention about the kinds of things Admiral Noyes ought to be thinking about"-including reversing Fletcher's decision to withdraw from Savo Sound after the battle of August 9. As the tactical commander of the carrier force, Noyes held an almost superfluous position given that Fletcher flew his flag in a carrier, too. Noyes seemed hesitant to embrace a leadership role. According to Weschler, "Three times during the night, Captain Sherman said to Admiral Noyes, 'I recommend you tell Admiral Fletcher that we should turn around and go back in there. They need our support.' But Admiral Noyes never sent a single one of those messages forward." Weschler, who would serve as an aide to Vice Admiral Arleigh Burke and ascend to three-star rank himself, was unimpressed with Fletcher's deputy. "I always thought Admiral Noyes was sort of afraid of his own shadow.... He'd walk up and down the quarterdeck, in greens, wearing his aviation pigskin gloves, and that's really the only time I ever saw him. I always had the impression of him as being sort of a mannequin, rather than really being a flesh-and-blood naval officer who was in the thick of decisions and ready to take over and set the course." Thomas R. Weschler, said that his captain, Forrest Sherman, "was always trying to get Admiral Noyes's attention about the kinds of things Admiral Noyes ought to be thinking about"-including reversing Fletcher's decision to withdraw from Savo Sound after the battle of August 9. As the tactical commander of the carrier force, Noyes held an almost superfluous position given that Fletcher flew his flag in a carrier, too. Noyes seemed hesitant to embrace a leadership role. According to Weschler, "Three times during the night, Captain Sherman said to Admiral Noyes, 'I recommend you tell Admiral Fletcher that we should turn around and go back in there. They need our support.' But Admiral Noyes never sent a single one of those messages forward." Weschler, who would serve as an aide to Vice Admiral Arleigh Burke and ascend to three-star rank himself, was unimpressed with Fletcher's deputy. "I always thought Admiral Noyes was sort of afraid of his own shadow.... He'd walk up and down the quarterdeck, in greens, wearing his aviation pigskin gloves, and that's really the only time I ever saw him. I always had the impression of him as being sort of a mannequin, rather than really being a flesh-and-blood naval officer who was in the thick of decisions and ready to take over and set the course."

It was clear how far the fleet needed to go to beat the j.a.panese at a game the Americans thought they owned. The Navy entered the war with a xenophobic professional chauvinism prevailing at almost every level. They would have to overcome it in order to learn how to fight: to exploit new technologies; to change the way crews lived and worked aboard ship; to procure ordnance that actually exploded. More fundamentally, a spirit of "battle-mindedness" was needed in its commanders. Those who had been born with a fighter's instinct would need little help. But for the majority of officers and men who had never experienced the sudden violence of ship-to-ship combat before, the Battle of Savo Island was a deeply unsettling lesson.

The U.S. Marines had won the initial draw at Guadalca.n.a.l and strung a tight defensive perimeter around the airfield. A thousand miles to the west, the j.a.panese had beaten MacArthur to New Guinea. With the parallel Navy and Army campaigns now joined in earnest, the critical points of contact with the enemy were established along 9 degrees South lat.i.tude. The lines of battle in the South Seas had been drawn.

FOR SOME OFFICERS, the hurdles to clear en route to getting their ships ready to fight were quite simple. One was no more complicated than getting the kids from Georgia off the battle telephones. The terse lingo of command had to run smoothly through a ship's lines of communication. Regionally accented speech could block the instant recognition that a fighting crew needed in a sc.r.a.p. Commander Joseph C. Wylie, the executive officer of the destroyer the hurdles to clear en route to getting their ships ready to fight were quite simple. One was no more complicated than getting the kids from Georgia off the battle telephones. The terse lingo of command had to run smoothly through a ship's lines of communication. Regionally accented speech could block the instant recognition that a fighting crew needed in a sc.r.a.p. Commander Joseph C. Wylie, the executive officer of the destroyer Fletcher, Fletcher, recalled that after the influx of patriotic volunteers to the fleet had taken place, only one in five of his men had ever been to sea before. Among them was a group of kids from the backwoods of the Peach State who had managed to sidestep boot camp altogether. They were fine and useful behind a squirrel gun, hunting in their native swamplands. In fights on larger waters, they were liable to foul things up. "We had to be very careful to have all or none of the Georgia boys on the telephone circuit, so that they could understand each other and we could understand them," Wylie said. "There were a lot of special arrangements we had to make." recalled that after the influx of patriotic volunteers to the fleet had taken place, only one in five of his men had ever been to sea before. Among them was a group of kids from the backwoods of the Peach State who had managed to sidestep boot camp altogether. They were fine and useful behind a squirrel gun, hunting in their native swamplands. In fights on larger waters, they were liable to foul things up. "We had to be very careful to have all or none of the Georgia boys on the telephone circuit, so that they could understand each other and we could understand them," Wylie said. "There were a lot of special arrangements we had to make."

One of them involved the communication of relative bearings. Typically these are given in terms of an imaginary compa.s.s circ.u.mscribing the ship. Zero degrees is dead ahead, 180 degrees astern. "These kids had never heard of that and we didn't have time to teach them. So we used clock bearings like the aviators had adopted.... If it was out on the starboard side, three o'clock, do you see?"

One winter in Manila in the mid-1930s, Wylie walked into the wardroom of his ship, the heavy cruiser Augusta Augusta (Captain Chester W. Nimitz commanding), and encountered a "fist-banging argument" between two of the ship's up-and-coming young officers. At issue was what it took to become skilled at rifle or pistol marksmanship. One officer, Lloyd Mustin, said that only someone born with a special gift could learn to do it well. The other, a marine named Lewis B. Puller, said, "I can take any dumb son of a b.i.t.c.h and teach him to shoot." Mustin would go on to become one of the Navy's pioneers in radar-controlled gunnery. Puller would ascend to general, the most decorated U.S. Marine in history. Gesturing to Wylie standing in the doorway, Chesty Puller declared, "I can even teach him." (Captain Chester W. Nimitz commanding), and encountered a "fist-banging argument" between two of the ship's up-and-coming young officers. At issue was what it took to become skilled at rifle or pistol marksmanship. One officer, Lloyd Mustin, said that only someone born with a special gift could learn to do it well. The other, a marine named Lewis B. Puller, said, "I can take any dumb son of a b.i.t.c.h and teach him to shoot." Mustin would go on to become one of the Navy's pioneers in radar-controlled gunnery. Puller would ascend to general, the most decorated U.S. Marine in history. Gesturing to Wylie standing in the doorway, Chesty Puller declared, "I can even teach him."

A ten-dollar bet ensued. The next time the Augusta Augusta's marine detachment found time to do their annual qualifications at the rifle range, Wylie was Puller's special guest. And by the end of the experiment, he was the proud owner of a Marine medal designating him an expert rifleman.

The experience helped Wylie understand both native gifts and teachable skills and predisposed him to work with the rural kids under him. Now he could smile when the sighting of an aircraft approaching at a distant but undetermined range came through the Fletcher Fletcher's bridge phones as, "Hey, Cap'n, here's another one of them thar aero- aero-planes, but don't you fret none. She's a fur piece fur piece yet." Wylie was a good enough leader to appreciate what the recruits from the countryside brought to the game. "They were highly motivated," he said. "They just came to fight." yet." Wylie was a good enough leader to appreciate what the recruits from the countryside brought to the game. "They were highly motivated," he said. "They just came to fight."

Back home, a great gathering was still under way. The stately pace of a global war allowed time for the majesty of a ma.s.s mobilization to build. Few of the untraveled young men who made their first venture west ever forgot its impressions. A Pullman car clicked and rolled through the slash pine and swamps of the South, and then into other terrain. "The moon rose, but still there were only the pines, a light here and there, a crossing bell, headlights of a car, then darkness again," a new second lieutenant with the 1st Marine Division wrote. Bored but too anxious to sleep, recruits in dining cars played cards into the night. Others, foreheads leaning on windowpanes, watched the nighttime landscape roll unendingly past. From Augusta to Atlanta, then Birmingham, St. Louis, to the high plains, across the Rockies, and toward the Pacific's great frontier.

Nimitz's successor as chief of the Navy's personnel office, Rear Admiral Randall Jacobs, lamented that "The Nation has pa.s.sed through an era of soft living and rampant individualism" that resulted in a "staggering" rate of rejection among new recruits for physical shortcomings. But the flood tide was rising. On December 7, the Navy had 325,095 personnel, plus more than 70,000 marines. Two years later the fleet's muster rolls would carry more than 2,250,000 names, and the Marine Corps 391,000 more.

Routed to training centers in San Diego or Michigan, finding their ships at Norfolk or Mare Island, shaking down and running speed trials off Maine or Puerto Rico, the new recruits made their homes in ships that would steam to victory, and carry kids and men and admirals alike to their death. A navy was still in the making, its day of triumph unknown, the men who were forming it yet unformed themselves, but motivated and carrying west. As Marine Corps aviator Samuel Hynes would observe, "They go to war because it's impossible not to. Because a current is established in society, so swift, flowing toward war, that every young man who steps into it is carried downstream."

Standing in its rolling surge, directing traffic, was Bob Hagen. A newly minted ensign himself, Hagen was a.s.signed to duty as a service school selection officer at Great Lakes Naval Training Station. He and his enlisted helpers sorted wheat from chaff, a.s.signing recruits to advanced training based on their tested apt.i.tudes. Giving six lectures a week to thousands of boots, he explained what water tenders did, and gunner's mates, and yeomen. The tests would determine whether a kid saw colors well enough to be a signalman, or discerned tones sharply enough to be a radioman. Hagen and his staff collated the results and reviewed each applicant's preferences. Those with the highest scores were routed to specialty training that filled the Navy's most acute needs. Now and then a mandate would come down from on high. Once Hagen was told to find men to be pharmacist's mates. Then the call came to fill out some newly forming construction battalions. Kids who had come of age on farms driving trucks found themselves in demand and quickly wore the chevrons of senior petty officers.

Hagen's commanding officer was out of the office on the day that five tall youngsters were ushered in before him. "I thought I was in a forest," Hagen said. "These big oak trees, they were all over six feet, probably." They told him they had all been promised duty in the same ship. Their names rang a bell with Hagen, because the paper in his hometown of San Francisco had carried news of their enlistment. The five boys were from Waterloo, Iowa, the sons of Alleta and Tom Sullivan. George and Frank were four-year veterans already. Discharged before Pearl Harbor, they reenlisted after the attack and lobbied to serve together with their three younger brothers, along with two pals from their hometown motorcycle club. Ahead of their arrival at Great Lakes in January, George wrote the Navy Department, "As a bunch, there is no-body that can beat us.... We would all do our best to be as good as any other sailors in the Navy.... We will make a team together that can't be beat."

Five brothers serving on the same ship seemed like an awful idea to Hagen. With all the finesse of a twenty-two-year-old who was quite sure of his judgment, he sent the Sullivans away, saying he couldn't help them. "I didn't think much of it," Hagen said, "but a couple of days later my boss came up with smoke coming out of both ears." The commander told Hagen that the Navy's well-publicized promise would be honored. All branches of the service were hungry for recruits. The Sullivan boys held all the cards.

"Well, this doesn't make very good sense to me," Hagen said. The commander turned on his uppity ensign and said, "Hagen, do what you are told to do in the Navy. You are twenty-two years old and you don't have to think."

The Sullivans were mediocre students, standing apart in Iowa's Protestant cornrows largely by virtue of their Catholicism. But with their wicked talent for pranks and an untroubled outlook that seemed out of step with the Depression that had limited their prospects, they were more at home at the pool hall than in catechism. At home they were toughs, sons of a hard-pressed Irish railroad worker. They kept the east side of Waterloo "straight and clean," said one resident. "Police didn't go in our area much, but the boys took care of everything." Their impulse to enforce justice had been triggered anew by the attack on Hawaii. The j.a.panese had killed one of their own there: a kid named Bill Ball from Fredericksburg, just forty miles up U.S. 63. Every family had its Bill Ball, a personal loss inflicted by an alien enemy an ocean away. The Sullivans resolved to deal with the j.a.panese like they had their rival thugs on Adams Street. "I guess our minds are made up, aren't they fellows?" the oldest brother, George, said. "And when we go in, we want to go in together. If the worst comes to worst, why we'll all have gone down together."

At Pier Two in the New York Navy Yard, they found their new home, the USS Juneau. Juneau. She was a sleek light cruiser of the new She was a sleek light cruiser of the new Atlanta Atlanta cla.s.s, lightly armored but fitted with a formidable array of antiaircraft guns. The first four cla.s.s, lightly armored but fitted with a formidable array of antiaircraft guns. The first four Atlanta Atlantas would all fight in the Solomons. At the commissioning, the Sullivans were celebrities, posing for the wire services in b.u.t.toned-up peacoats and flat caps. On liberty at Jack Dempsey's lounge on Broadway, they were photographed with the heavyweight champ. The Juneau Juneau's captain, Lyman Knute Swenson, was ambivalent about the publicity, the benefits of which were fleeting and dwarfed by the risk of a concentrated tragedy. But celebrity was an intoxicant, for the brothers and the armed service alike.

Departing the Navy yard, the camouflage-dappled Juneau Juneau steamed around the Battery and headed up the Hudson River for the Iona Island ammunition depot, where she would load her magazines for battles unknown. steamed around the Battery and headed up the Hudson River for the Iona Island ammunition depot, where she would load her magazines for battles unknown.

BOB HAGEN'S OWN first shipboard a.s.signment after his tour at Great Lakes was over was the first shipboard a.s.signment after his tour at Great Lakes was over was the Aaron Ward, Aaron Ward, a new destroyer headed to the Pacific. Commander Orville F. Gregor was reputed to be the dictatorial type. Hagen's new duties as a.s.sistant communications officer included filling a new job that few officers, not even the a new destroyer headed to the Pacific. Commander Orville F. Gregor was reputed to be the dictatorial type. Hagen's new duties as a.s.sistant communications officer included filling a new job that few officers, not even the Aaron Ward Aaron Ward's captain, yet understood-the job of radar officer.

The idea of aiming a pulse of radio energy at a target and measuring its range and compa.s.s bearing by the nature of the echo had the potential to revolutionize the ancient art of ships putting ordnance on target. Radar, or "radio detection and ranging," was first put into practice by the Royal Navy. The technology came to the United States eventually through the Naval Research Laboratory and the Ma.s.sachusetts Inst.i.tute of Technology, in partnership with engineers in private industry, Bell Labs and RCA earliest among them. Two opposite misconceptions impeded its introduction. The fleet's Luddites clung to the idea that because radar had not figured in World War I's Battle of Jutland, which was the textbook case study at the Naval Academy and the war colleges, it must not be terribly important. Against them railed evangelists who believed radar was, as a historian of the technology put it, a "magic box on which one need only press the b.u.t.ton and the battle was won."

The first officers to be selected for MIT's fire-control course had helped design the technology for naval use and knew its potentials and limitations. Alfred G. Ward, who would join the battleship North Carolina, North Carolina, had helped develop electric-powered, servo-controlled guns. Lloyd Mustin, the debate opponent to Lewis "Chesty" Puller and range instructor to Joseph Wylie, had conceived of gyro-stabilized antiaircraft guns. As a graduate student in MIT's electrical engineering program, he and Lieutenant Commander Rivero of the had helped develop electric-powered, servo-controlled guns. Lloyd Mustin, the debate opponent to Lewis "Chesty" Puller and range instructor to Joseph Wylie, had conceived of gyro-stabilized antiaircraft guns. As a graduate student in MIT's electrical engineering program, he and Lieutenant Commander Rivero of the San Juan San Juan helped develop the computer that calculated how far an antiaircraft gunner had to lead his target to hit it. As the a.s.sistant gunnery officer on the helped develop the computer that calculated how far an antiaircraft gunner had to lead his target to hit it. As the a.s.sistant gunnery officer on the Atlanta, Atlanta, Mustin would have ample time to refine his theories. As the first radar officer at the Bureau of Ordnance, Rivero had the job of routing new radar sets from the factory to whichever ship was on hand, in port for overhaul or repair, to receive it. Mustin would have ample time to refine his theories. As the first radar officer at the Bureau of Ordnance, Rivero had the job of routing new radar sets from the factory to whichever ship was on hand, in port for overhaul or repair, to receive it.

Installing technology was one thing. Encouraging warriors to discover a second-nature knack for using it was another. The Navy was slow to move beyond the period of high secrecy that surrounded the research. "There wasn't any real training program," Rivero said. "That's one mistake we made. We didn't think that far ahead."

In 1942, the att.i.tudes of most line officers toward this fledgling technology spanned the full range of know-nothingdom, from raw ignorance to well-considered dismissal. Hanson Baldwin regarded the typical naval officer of the day as "a narrow man, with fixed and una.s.sailable ideas of politics, life, and society; too often-though master of the details-he cannot see the woods because of the trees." The problem ran straight to the top. "Our flag officers and senior captains are old compared with those of other navies; far too many of them suffer from nervous or heart disabilities; to stand the great strain of heavy responsibilities they should quite clearly be ten years younger." As Kelly Turner admitted, "Neither I nor any of my staff knew anything about radar, except by reputation." By the time the technology reached the fleet, a more capable version, the SG or "Sugar George" microwave surface-search radar, was already making it obsolete and ensuring the continued puzzlement of officers responsible for tactical action. The SG's shorter wavelength-10 centimeters as opposed to 150 in the SC search set-gave it better resolution. Coupled with a motorized rotating receiver and a new cathode display known as a Plan Position Indicator (PPI), it generated a more visually intuitive, 360-degree overhead view centered on the transmitting ship. But technology advanced much faster than training or tactical doctrine did.

The officers in Bob Hagen's ship, the Aaron Ward, Aaron Ward, were slowly learning the foibles of the strange new piece of equipment in their chart room. The destroyer's SC radar required its operator to point the antenna manually by turning a hand wheel. Its "A scope" displayed any contacts located on that particular bearing as spikes on an were slowly learning the foibles of the strange new piece of equipment in their chart room. The destroyer's SC radar required its operator to point the antenna manually by turning a hand wheel. Its "A scope" displayed any contacts located on that particular bearing as spikes on an xy xy axis, where axis, where x x denoted range and denoted range and y y the strength of the signal and hence the size of the object. If there were many targets to track, the radar officer would be a busy man, slewing the transmitter back and forth to acquire them and plotting the data by hand. When the machinery failed, it required an inordinate amount of time for radiomen and electricians to put it back in order. In one respect it outperformed hopes: Because the boxy receiver-indicator console drew a lot of power and acc.u.mulated its heat, it offered a handy surface on which to keep a coffeepot warm. the strength of the signal and hence the size of the object. If there were many targets to track, the radar officer would be a busy man, slewing the transmitter back and forth to acquire them and plotting the data by hand. When the machinery failed, it required an inordinate amount of time for radiomen and electricians to put it back in order. In one respect it outperformed hopes: Because the boxy receiver-indicator console drew a lot of power and acc.u.mulated its heat, it offered a handy surface on which to keep a coffeepot warm.

Untroubled with new technology to master, the j.a.panese had refined the task of optical target spotting to lethal effect. After Mikawa's masterly performance in the Battle of Savo Island, Admiral King's staff could do little else but marvel: "It is to be hoped that we will profit by their example and in the future turn against them the lessons they have so ably taught us."

Admiral King saw the need to relearn his trade from the ground up. He understood that in the art of war, amateurs talk tactics but professionals talk logistics. Ernest King was a professional. "The war has been variously termed a war of production and a war of machines," he wrote. "Whatever else it is, so far as the United States is concerned, it is a war of logistics. The ways and means to supply and support our forces in all parts of the world-including the Army of course-have presented problems nothing short of colossal and have required the most careful and intricate planning. The profound effect of logistics on our strategic decisions are not likely to have full significance to those who do not have to traverse the tremendous distances in the Pacific. It is no easy matter in a global war to have the right materials in the right places at the right times in the right quant.i.ties."

The path from Noumea northward into the southern Solomons had an important waypoint in the New Hebrides, at the base of Espiritu Santo, about 625 miles south of Guadalca.n.a.l. On August 10, Ghormley designated it as a strongpoint for the support and reinforcement effort. Espiritu Santo, even less developed than Noumea, offered plenty of s.p.a.ce for expansion: wharves, cargo piers, airstrips, and anything else the 6th and 7th construction battalions would find the means to build. Rear Admiral McCain immediately saw its value as an airfield site; he directed the construction and ordered a five-thousand-foot runway cut ino the coconut plantation and jungle. Ghormley rerouted to Espiritu all of the equipment-a tug, two barges, a pontoon wharf, and ship-mooring buoys-once earmarked for the occupation of Santa Cruz, an original objective of Task One that was canceled in favor of landings on Guadalca.n.a.l. He directed construction of a large wharf with a timber crib st.u.r.dy enough to support a heavy crane, several piers for the rapid handling of light cargo, and a second channel nearer the airfield. The focal point of the entire logistical apparatus, of course, was the island that was the newest and most hazard-ridden property of the U.S. Marine Corps.

On August 12, a McCain staffer landed on Guadalca.n.a.l in a PBY Catalina patrol plane, went ash.o.r.e for an inspection, and declared the unimproved twenty-six-hundred-foot airstrip on a broad gra.s.sy savanna fit to receive fighter aircraft. Later that day, the airfield was named in honor of the well-loved commander of a Marine bombing squadron, Major Lofton R. Henderson, shot down and killed while attacking the carrier Hiryu Hiryu on June 4, the decisive day off Midway. Without carrier aircraft to cover them, and with the airdrome at Espiritu Santo still just "a gleam in Ghormley's eye," the men on Guadalca.n.a.l would have to establish their very own air corps to defend themselves. It would soon be known as "the Cactus Air Force." on June 4, the decisive day off Midway. Without carrier aircraft to cover them, and with the airdrome at Espiritu Santo still just "a gleam in Ghormley's eye," the men on Guadalca.n.a.l would have to establish their very own air corps to defend themselves. It would soon be known as "the Cactus Air Force."

Marine engineers co-opted steamrollers, tractors, and other abandoned j.a.panese a.s.sets to make the airfield serviceable for heavier strike aircraft such as Dauntless dive-bombers and Avenger torpedo bombers. Caches of ordnance and ammunition were buried along the perimeter of the strip. The violently variable weather made it difficult to operate. "It was dry and would raise a cloud of dust that you could see a mile," Ernest M. Eller, one of Admiral Nimitz's staffers, said. "It would block out any other plane coming along. An hour later it would rain, and you would sliver in just as if you were in a mud hole. Then the hot sun would dry the field within another hour or two." As often as not in the early days, pilots would have to contend with j.a.panese sniper fire as they taxied or made their approach.

They were bitter about the Navy's abandonment of them, and would tell stories ever afterward about how they persisted despite it. Well within extended range of the j.a.panese base at Rabaul, the marines had to contend daily with raids by j.a.panese bombers. The hara.s.sment did not end, not by day or by night. j.a.panese mortarmen and the odd artillery piece, too, worked long hours making their lives miserable. The small contingent of j.a.panese on Guadalca.n.a.l had fled to the hills when the Americans landed. They would serve mainly as a hara.s.sing force while awaiting reinforcements from Rabaul.

The pattern of fighting through June 1942 had suggested that carriers would play the deciding role in the naval war against j.a.pan. What kind of fight this South Seas campaign would become remained an open question. Carriers would be important, but after the Battle of Savo Island it was clear that the "gun club" didn't need disbanding yet. Admiral Ghormley knew in his bones the power of the battleships. His career was rooted in the big-gun fleet. He had served in the Nevada, Nevada, the the Oklahoma, Oklahoma, in a prominent staff job in the Battle Force, and then in the in a prominent staff job in the Battle Force, and then in the Nevada Nevada again as her commander. again as her commander.

The fight that was taking shape in the southern Solomons was going to be neither a single, climactic World War Istyle daylight slugfest nor a repeat of Midway, a dance of search planes and long-range naval air strikes. The South Pacific Forces would draw strength from a foundation of supply and reinforcement built far south of the point of contact with the enemy. And the point of the spear that dueled with the enemy would be the surface fleet-destroyers, cruisers, and battleships, aided by aircraft, whose job would be to seize control of the seaways from the enemy. Neither the Navy nor the Marines had fought a war like this before. Its finer points would be developed, tested, and adjusted on the fly over time.

On August 12, Captain Samuel Jenkins, skipper of the Atlanta, Atlanta, called together his officers and shared the story of what had happened four nights before, of how in the fog-swaddled night near Savo Island, flares, then searchlights, then plunging fire left a powerful squadron of U.S. heavy cruisers burning and helpless. As the called together his officers and shared the story of what had happened four nights before, of how in the fog-swaddled night near Savo Island, flares, then searchlights, then plunging fire left a powerful squadron of U.S. heavy cruisers burning and helpless. As the Atlanta Atlanta made circles with the carriers north of Noumea, the inactivity bothered those who felt the ache for revenge. The fight for Guadalca.n.a.l had only begun. At least one report reached SOPAC suggesting that as many as forty j.a.panese destroyers were based at Rabaul. "There is going to be a b.i.t.c.h of a night session up here, some dark night, with torpedoes in the water as thick as flies," Lloyd Mustin confided to his diary. made circles with the carriers north of Noumea, the inactivity bothered those who felt the ache for revenge. The fight for Guadalca.n.a.l had only begun. At least one report reached SOPAC suggesting that as many as forty j.a.panese destroyers were based at Rabaul. "There is going to be a b.i.t.c.h of a night session up here, some dark night, with torpedoes in the water as thick as flies," Lloyd Mustin confided to his diary.

It was intolerable to battle-minded men that the aircraft carrier task force that was ostensibly covering the landing force and its escorts should forgo a sunrise counterattack on Mikawa on August 9. With more tempting targets available to the j.a.panese-transports and cargomen vulnerably shuttling between the Solomons and Noumea-Mustin considered the idea "completely fantastic" that j.a.panese planes would be able to fly all the way down from Rabaul for a long-shot strike against carriers that were well defended and seldom precisely located. He didn't think much of the fighting spirit of his superiors. "They're so G.o.dd.a.m.ned scared their lousy carriers will get hurt that the whole effective Pacific Fleet hauls a.s.s at the mention of a few j.a.p planes," Mustin wrote. "We have no high commanders capable of playing ball in the same league with many of the j.a.ps," he continued. "I wish to G.o.d Wild Bill Halsey were back here to put a little fire, drive, and action into things."

The Enterprise, Saratoga, Enterprise, Saratoga, and and Wasp, Wasp, each of them irreplaceable in the near term, spent several days cruising the Coral Sea, four hundred miles southeast of the Solomons, taking turns drinking from the oilers each of them irreplaceable in the near term, spent several days cruising the Coral Sea, four hundred miles southeast of the Solomons, taking turns drinking from the oilers Platte Platte and and Kaskaskia Kaskaskia. Their screen, including the Atlanta, Atlanta, stayed faithfully by in their defense. stayed faithfully by in their defense.

Wags in the Royal Navy were said to joke that if they ever came to blows with their cousins on the other side of the Atlantic, "all their fleet would have to do to insure victory would be to remain safely at ease in port for six weeks; at the end of that time they could sally forth to find an American Navy exhausted by its own frenetic maneuverings." The frenetic idling was never greater than in the early days off Guadalca.n.a.l. As Admiral Ghormley occupied himself with the puzzle of supplying Vandegrift's men, and as the carriers burned fuel and refueled north of Noumea, a week pa.s.sed then another without further appearances by the Imperial j.a.panese Navy.

Finding planes to send to Henderson Field had been no easy thing given the jealous way Fletcher's carriers and Ghormley's island bases husbanded their aircraft, but on August 20, word spread through General Vandegrift's perimeter that air reinforcements were finally on the way. Nimitz directed their deployment to the South Pacific as soon as the pilots designated to fly them finished their training. Ferried from Fiji by the escort carrier Long Island, Long Island, two squadrons of Marine Corps pilots made a short two-hundred-mile hop to the island and landed amid cheers. Fresh from flight school and with scarcely a carrier landing among them, they included nineteen F4F Wildcats under Captain John L. Smith (Marine Fighting Squadron 223), and a dozen SBD Dauntlesses under Major Richard C. Mangrum (Marine Bombing Squadron 232). two squadrons of Marine Corps pilots made a short two-hundred-mile hop to the island and landed amid cheers. Fresh from flight school and with scarcely a carrier landing among them, they included nineteen F4F Wildcats under Captain John L. Smith (Marine Fighting Squadron 223), and a dozen SBD Dauntlesses under Major Richard C. Mangrum (Marine Bombing Squadron 232).

Marines driving jeeps raced the planes down the runway as they arrived. "Our planes had come at last!-only thirty-one, but in that joyful moment they seemed to darken the sky," a photographer, Thayer Soule, wrote. General Vandegrift, a reserved, even-tempered southern gentleman, was giddy. The arrival of the planes rated as "one of the most beautiful sights of my life." With tears welling in his eyes, Vandegrift greeted Mangrum as he climbed down from the c.o.c.kpit of his Dauntless, saying, "Thank G.o.d you have come."

"That night we went to bed early and slept well," Soule wrote. "The fleet that had sailed away so long ago had not forgotten us after all." The preceding two weeks had seemed long indeed. The coming twenty-four hours would be longer still. For the j.a.panese chose that moment, the night after the pilots landed, to make their first concentrated stab at evicting the defenders of Henderson Field.

10.

The Tokyo Express CABLING JOSEPH STALIN TO APOLOGIZE FOR MISSING A CONFERENCE in Moscow, President Roosevelt acknowledged the urgency of the Eastern Front and declared, as politics seemed to require, that "our real enemy is Germany." As Soviets reeled before the a.s.saults of the Wehrmacht, and the transatlantic convoys meant to save them withered under U-boat attack, FDR made the case for hope in the Pacific. "We have gained, I believe, a toe-hold in the Southwest Pacific from which the j.a.panese will find it very difficult to dislodge us." The j.a.panese Army's first concentrated attempt to do so began taking shape on the night of August 19, when a detachment of shock troops under Colonel Kiyonao Ichiki snuck ash.o.r.e some fifteen miles east of Henderson Field. in Moscow, President Roosevelt acknowledged the urgency of the Eastern Front and declared, as politics seemed to require, that "our real enemy is Germany." As Soviets reeled before the a.s.saults of the Wehrmacht, and the transatlantic convoys meant to save them withered under U-boat attack, FDR made the case for hope in the Pacific. "We have gained, I believe, a toe-hold in the Southwest Pacific from which the j.a.panese will find it very difficult to dislodge us." The j.a.panese Army's first concentrated attempt to do so began taking shape on the night of August 19, when a detachment of shock troops under Colonel Kiyonao Ichiki snuck ash.o.r.e some fifteen miles east of Henderson Field.

The commander who carried Ichiki's men to the island was a destroyerman who would become famous for running j.a.pan's fast resupply and reinforcement missions by cover of night, soon to be referred to as the "Tokyo Express": Rear Admiral Raizo Tanaka. He had studied the difficult novelties of amphibious operations. Without either surprise or a strong softening-up by naval or air bombardment, he "foresaw grave difficulties in my task and knew that we would suffer heavy losses." He deemed his orders to bring down the Ichiki detachment "utterly unreasonable." But he was underappreciating the extent of the j.a.panese command of the night. Under cover of darkness, Tanaka arrived with six destroyers off Taivu Point and put Ichiki ash.o.r.e with nine hundred men.

Once a.s.signed to seize Midway Island, Ichiki's 28th Regiment was a veteran outfit whose experience and success would work against them now. As a company commander serving in China, Ichiki had helped instigate the infamous Marco Polo Bridge Incident in July 1937, a clash between j.a.panese and Chinese troops that some historians would identify as the first hostility of World War II. His intelligence service had warned him that frontal attacks on Guadalca.n.a.l might be costly. But Ichiki's reputation preceded him, and that reputation, and the recklessness it inspired, would lead to his fall. Some called it "victory disease." Ichiki expected a quick victory. As he advanced boldly on the Marine positions, he regarded them as easy marks.

Vandegrift knew enemy reinforcements had landed after one of his patrols routed an enemy probe and recovered their doc.u.ments and diaries. Where their main strength lay no one knew, but the appearance of j.a.panese first-teamers was an alarming sign. Until Colonel Ichiki's arrival, the marines had contended in most instances with poorly equipped labor battalions, or "termites" as they called them. Now experienced j.a.panese a.s.sault troops were out there somewhere. It worked on men's nerves.

The night had a hundred ways to provoke a sentry to a startled fusillade: the rustling of lizards and crabs through the undergrowth; the birds whose calls sounded like wood blocks smacking together. Vandegrift's largely unseasoned men had to cure themselves of the impulse to promiscuous firing. To keep their positions concealed, they learned the rigors of field discipline: discipline with their triggers, with their mess equipment, with their sanitation and patrol doctrine. They cultivated the patience to remain still and silent until the need came to uncork a sudden, lethal attack.

Late in the night of August 20, near a tidal lagoon that Martin Clemens and his scouts had christened Alligator Creek, Marine sentries heard movements, a buildup of some kind. Soon thereafter, in the first dark hours of the following day, a green flare burst overhead, then, spilling out of the brush and across the sandbar in Alligator Creek, came an a.s.sault force of two hundred Imperial Army shock troops.

Vandegrift's riflemen were ready. Supported by well-placed anti-tank guns firing exploding canister rounds, and with carefully drawn lines of interlocking fire, Colonel Pollock's 2nd Battalion, 1st Marine Regiment, stopped Ichiki cold. The j.a.panese a.s.sault faltered then collapsed as artillery and mortar fire ripped into them. Admiral Tanaka likened the attack on the fortified position to "a housefly's attacking a giant tortoise." A counterattack by Colonel Clifton B. Cates's 1st Regiment reserve began the rout. Lieutenant Colonel Lenard B. Cresswell's 1st Battalion led the destruction of the trapped j.a.panese unit. Enveloped near the mouth of the lagoon, Ichiki's men died by the score under attack by four Wildcats from Henderson, whose machine guns were a welcome addition to the order of battle for the marines. A trio of Cates's tanks rolled in that afternoon. "We watched these awful machines as they plunged across the spit and into the edge of the grove. It was fascinating to see them bustling amongst the trees, pivoting, turning, spitting sheets of yellow flame. It was like a comedy of toys, something unbelievable, to see them knocking over palm trees, which fell slowly, flushing the running figures of men from underneath their treads, following and firing at the fugitives," the correspondent Richard Tregaskis wrote. By 5 p.m., about sixteen hours after it had started, most of the j.a.panese force, more than eight hundred men, lay dead, for thirty-four marines killed and seventy-five wounded. j.a.panese prisoners numbered just fifteen. Only a few escaped back into the jungle, no doubt to tell sober tales of the Marine Corps' proficiency with ma.s.sed defensive firepower. Observing vacantly as the disaster unfolded, Ichiki himself appears to have been a suicide, last seen by one of his men walking straight toward the American lines.

At first Major Mangrum, the dive-bomber squadron commander, missed the significance of the affair. "We thought it was just a Fourth of July celebration about a mile and a half from us, and went on to sleep. We found the next day that our Marines had killed some 830-odd j.a.ps over there, and then we figured that it was really somebody shooting at somebody!" The stout performance of Vandegrift's men enabled Mangrum to get about his own work without delay. His pilots flew four-plane patrols all the next day to acquaint themselves with the area. August 20 and 21 were a boost to marines who had been largely unsupported by U.S. airpower for two weeks. Boasting their first victory in close-quarters fighting and now in possession of an air force all their own, they readied themselves for the struggle ahead with hopeful and defiant hearts.

When news of the Army's failure reached Truk, it "shook Yamamoto," wrote one of his destroyer captains, Tameichi Hara. Meeting in his cabin aboard the super battleship Yamato Yamato with task force commanders Vice Admiral Chuichi Nagumo and Vice Admiral n.o.butake Kondo, Yamamoto directed the Combined Fleet to gather its considerable a.s.sets and head south to confront what was clearly a significant commitment of American force. He drew up a complex and powerful order of battle. Down from Truk, into the seas east of the Solomons chain, would steam four separate combat task forces: a Striking Force under Nagumo with the large carriers with task force commanders Vice Admiral Chuichi Nagumo and Vice Admiral n.o.butake Kondo, Yamamoto directed the Combined Fleet to gather its considerable a.s.sets and head south to confront what was clearly a significant commitment of American force. He drew up a complex and powerful order of battle. Down from Truk, into the seas east of the Solomons chain, would steam four separate combat task forces: a Striking Force under Nagumo with the large carriers Shokaku Shokaku and and Zuikaku Zuikaku and their escorts; Rear Admiral Hiroaki Abe's Vanguard Group, with the battleships and their escorts; Rear Admiral Hiroaki Abe's Vanguard Group, with the battleships Hiei Hiei and and Kirishima, Kirishima, three heavy cruisers, a light cruiser, and six destroyers; the Diversionary Group, consisting of the light carrier three heavy cruisers, a light cruiser, and six destroyers; the Diversionary Group, consisting of the light carrier Ryujo, Ryujo, a cruiser, and two destroyers; and the Support Group, with the old battleship a cruiser, and two destroyers; and the Support Group, with the old battleship Mutsu, Mutsu, a seaplane tender, and four destroyers. a seaplane tender, and four destroyers.

Clinging to an unreb.u.t.table belief that the destroyed landing force under Colonel Ichiki would somehow yet seize the airfield, the 17th Army decided to send down the remaining fifteen hundred men of Ichiki's regiment. An additional thousand j.a.panese marines-a Special Naval Landing Force-were embarked in three transports escorted by eight destroyers of Admiral Tanaka's Destroyer Squadron 2. The j.a.panese carriers would operate east of the Slot, sweeping the seas of their American counterparts, then turn in support of Tanaka's landing force. This j.a.panese force nearly rivaled in combat power the group sent to seize Midway. Neither side had a firm idea where the other's carriers were. Fletcher and his flattops were steaming about 250 miles southeast of Guadalca.n.a.l, staying beyond range of enemy air attack, where they could refuel when necessary and send air search patrols over the Slot to supplement the work of the longer-range PBYs and B-17s. Scout pilots flying from Henderson Field faced maddening technical difficulties. One day their radio communications were in perfect tune two hundred miles out from base; the next day they were utterly garbled or silent within twenty miles.

Effectively, two parallel but separate naval campaigns were developing. The seas immediately around Guadalca.n.a.l would be the setting for a campaign of surface fights between light forces for control of the seas. Farther out to sea, generally to the north and east of the Solomons, a less geographically constrained campaign would be fought as the roaming aircraft carrier forces made themselves selectively available to duel, striking with their planes but never coming within sight of each other.

On the night of August 21, the marines on Guadalca.n.a.l were witness to a quick, fiery encounter between light naval forces in Savo Sound. On that night the destroyers Blue Blue and and Henley, Henley, having brought two cargo ships into Guadalca.n.a.l, caught an enemy destroyer, the having brought two cargo ships into Guadalca.n.a.l, caught an enemy destroyer, the Kawakaze, Kawakaze, bent on intercepting the U.S. cargomen, which had been sighted that afternoon. Before the American duo knew anything was awry, the bent on intercepting the U.S. cargomen, which had been sighted that afternoon. Before the American duo knew anything was awry, the Kawakaze Kawakaze had put six torpedoes in the water. The radar set on the had put six torpedoes in the water. The radar set on the Blue Blue had only just revealed the enemy's presence about three miles away when the American ship was racked by a torpedo. The blast removed most of her stern, killing nine men and leaving her to be scuttled the next night. had only just revealed the enemy's presence about three miles away when the American ship was racked by a torpedo. The blast removed most of her stern, killing nine men and leaving her to be scuttled the next night.

But Admiral Yamamoto had much more than destroyer skirmishes to worry about. The a.s.signment to send his carriers against a U.S. island airdrome when the American carriers were unaccounted for must have given him an unsettling flashback to June, when he had tackled a similar dual threat, Midway and three enemy carriers, and paid a heavy price. If Yamamoto's carriers met the Americans again, it would be a rematch between the commanders Fletcher and Nagumo, who had traded blows eleven weeks earlier off Midway.

11.

A Function at the Junction GHORMLEY SUSPECTED YAMAMOTO WAS SENDING A POWERFUL welcoming party to greet the newly ensconced aviators at Henderson. An intelligence report from Nimitz's headquarters ventured a "rough guess," based on aircraft and submarine reconnaissance, that a heavy j.a.panese striking force of carriers and battleships could arrive in the area around August 24. This guess had the virtue of being right on the money. Ghormley warned Fletcher, "Indications point strongly to enemy attack in force on Cactus area 2326 August. From available intelligence...presence of carriers possible but not confirmed.... Important fueling be conducted soonest possible and if practicable one carrier task force at a time retiring for that purpose." welcoming party to greet the newly ensconced aviators at Henderson. An intelligence report from Nimitz's headquarters ventured a "rough guess," based on aircraft and submarine reconnaissance, that a heavy j.a.panese striking force of carriers and battleships could arrive in the area around August 24. This guess had the virtue of being right on the money. Ghormley warned Fletcher, "Indications point strongly to enemy attack in force on Cactus area 2326 August. From available intelligence...presence of carriers possible but not confirmed.... Important fueling be conducted soonest possible and if practicable one carrier task force at a time retiring for that purpose."

On the morning of the twenty-third, a search plane flying from Ndeni, in the Santa Cruz Islands, sighted Tanaka's southbound transports. Pilots from Henderson Field and from Fletcher's flagship, the Saratoga, Saratoga, winged out to intercept but failed to find them. With this, Fletcher thought that the momentum toward battle had dissipated. That evening, with no targets in sight and with the fleet intelligence summary misleadingly placing Nagumo's carriers at Truk, he followed Ghormley's recommendation and sent the winged out to intercept but failed to find them. With this, Fletcher thought that the momentum toward battle had dissipated. That evening, with no targets in sight and with the fleet intelligence summary misleadingly placing Nagumo's carriers at Truk, he followed Ghormley's recommendation and sent the Wasp Wasp and her escorts south to refuel. Hundreds of miles to the north, the powerful j.a.panese task forces were making tracks in his direction. and her escorts south to refuel. Hundreds of miles to the north, the powerful j.a.panese task forces were making tracks in his direction.

The next morning, McCain's PBY Catalinas found what they were looking for: j.a.panese carriers. The light carrier Ryujo Ryujo was 280 miles northwest of Fletcher's position. Although he was deprived of the was 280 miles northwest of Fletcher's position. Although he was deprived of the Wasp, Wasp, Fletcher would have his rematch with Nagumo. More than two weeks after the disaster of August 9, the third major aircraft carrier battle of the war was in the offing. Fletcher would have his rematch with Nagumo. More than two weeks after the disaster of August 9, the third major aircraft carrier battle of the war was in the offing.

The Americans and the j.a.panese were well practiced in the new business of carrier combat, from the tricky dance of reconnaissance to the difficult ch.o.r.eography of flight and hangar deck operations, with ordnance gangs and plane handlers muscling their planes into the cycle: load, spot, launch, strike. When planes were fortunate enough to find targets, attacks succeeded or failed on individual pilot skill, the effectiveness of defenses and fighter interception, shiphandling, and, always and ever, luck.

Fletcher deployed his two carriers in separate groups ten miles apart. The Enterprise Enterprise steamed at the center of a protective circle four thousand yards across that included the battleship steamed at the center of a protective circle four thousand yards across that included the battleship North Carolina, North Carolina, the heavy cruiser the heavy cruiser Portland, Portland, the the Atlanta, Atlanta, and six destroyers. The and six destroyers. The Saratoga Saratoga was screened by the heavy cruisers was screened by the heavy cruisers Minneapolis Minneapolis and and New Orleans New Orleans and five destroyers. and five destroyers.

A large burden of any carrier commander was deciding when to strike. At 9:35 a.m., having Ryujo Ryujo but suspecting larger quarry in the area, Fletcher declined to launch his attack. At 11:28 a.m., a second sighting of the but suspecting larger quarry in the area, Fletcher declined to launch his attack. At 11:28 a.m., a second sighting of the Ryujo Ryujo arrived. Only two hours later, when aircraft from the arrived. Only two hours later, when aircraft from the Ryujo Ryujo appeared on the appeared on the Saratoga Saratoga's radar, bound to strike Guadalca.n.a.l, did Fletcher order the flagship's strike planes to launch. He threw most of his air group after the Ryujo, Ryujo, thirty SBD Dauntless dive-bombers and eight TBF Avenger torpedo bombers. Soon the Catalinas were reporting more carriers, sixty miles northeast of the thirty SBD Dauntless dive-bombers and eight TBF Avenger torpedo bombers. Soon the Catalinas were reporting more carriers, sixty miles northeast of the Ryujo. Ryujo. Thereafter a flood of sighting reports deluged Fletcher. There were three distinct groups of enemy ships within 225 miles-two carrier groups and a cruiser vanguard. Fletcher knew j.a.panese snoopers had likely sighted him. Nagumo received a sighting report just after two, and an hour later his aviators from the Thereafter a flood of sighting reports deluged Fletcher. There were three distinct groups of enemy ships within 225 miles-two carrier groups and a cruiser vanguard. Fletcher knew j.a.panese snoopers had likely sighted him. Nagumo received a sighting report just after two, and an hour later his aviators from the Zuikaku Zuikaku and and Shokaku Shokaku were loaded and airborne. On the wing, in reciprocal directions, flew the opposing strike groups that would decide the outcome of the day. were loaded and airborne. On the wing, in reciprocal directions, flew the opposing strike groups that would decide the outcome of the day.

After 3 p.m., fliers from the Enterprise Enterprise found the found the Shokaku Shokaku and delivered a hit and a near miss: minor damage. Less than an hour later, planes from both U.S. carriers located the sacrificial lamb, the and delivered a hit and a near miss: minor damage. Less than an hour later, planes from both U.S. carriers located the sacrificial lamb, the Ryujo. Ryujo. They dove down and struck. When they departed, the j.a.panese carrier was heavily damaged and stuck circling, a ma.s.s of flames. They dove down and struck. When they departed, the j.a.panese carrier was heavily damaged and stuck circling, a ma.s.s of flames.

The counterstrike arrived quickly. Just past four, the North Carolina North Carolina's air-search radar detected bogeys at 180 miles. The new sets indicated not only the range and bearing of targets but also their alt.i.tude. The arrival of the enemy provoked a general scramble of all available F4F Wildcats. After the loss of the Yorktown Yorktown at Midway, each carrier's allotment of fighters was upped from twenty-three to thirty-six, at a corresponding cost to torpedo bomber strength. And so Fletcher's two carriers put fifty-three Wildcats into the skies. "Old at Midway, each carrier's allotment of fighters was upped from twenty-three to thirty-six, at a corresponding cost to torpedo bomber strength. And so Fletcher's two carriers put fifty-three Wildcats into the skies. "Old Lexington Lexington and and Yorktown Yorktown had never been half so well protected," Samuel Eliot Morison wrote. had never been half so well protected," Samuel Eliot Morison wrote.

The j.a.panese formation absorbed the first runs from the American fighter planes, then bore in against the Enterprise Enterprise and her escorts. A twenty-millimeter gunner on the and her escorts. A twenty-millimeter gunner on the Enterprise Enterprise saw a glint of sun on a metal wing and indicated the direction of the plane with a torrent of tracers. saw a glint of sun on a metal wing and indicated the direction of the plane with a torrent of tracers.

The radio frequency used by the combat air patrol was a frenzy of voices. American pilo