STIRRING events affecting the whole course of the war now occurred in the Pacific Ocean. By the end of March the first phase of the Japanese war plan had achieved a success so complete that it surprised even its authors. Japan was master of Hong Kong, Siam, Malaya, and nearly the whole of the immense island region forming the Dutch East Indies. Japanese troops were plunging deeply into Burma. In the Philippines the Americans still fought on at Corregidor, but without hope of relief.
Japanese exultation was at its zenith. Pride in their martial triumphs and confidence in their leadership was strengthened by the conviction that the Western Powers had not the will to fight to the death. Already the Imperial armies stood on the frontiers so carefully chosen in their pre-war plans as the prudent limit of their advance. Within this enormous area, comprising measureless resources and riches, they could consolidate their conquests and develop their newly won power. Their long-prepared scheme had prescribed a pause at this stage to draw breath, to resist an American counter-attack or to organise a further advance. But now in the flush of victory it seemed to the Japanese leaders that the fulfilment of their destiny had come. They must not be unworthy of it. These ideas arose not only from the natural temptations to which dazzling success exposes mortals, but from serious military reasoning. Whether it was wiser to organise their new perimeter thoroughly or by surging forward to gain greater depth for its defence seemed to them a balanced strategic problem.
After deliberation in Tokyo the more ambitious course was adopted. It was decided to extend the grasp outwards to include the Western Aleutians, Midway Island, Samoa, Fiji, New Caledonia, and Port Moresby in Southern New Guinea,† This expansion would threaten Pearl Harbour, still the main American base. It would also, if maintained, sever direct communication between the United States and Australia. It would provide Japan with suitable bases from which to launch further attacks.
The Japanese High Command had shown the utmost skill and daring in making and executing their plans. They started however upon a foundation which did not measure world forces in true proportion. They never comprehended the latent might of the United States. They thought still, at this stage, that Hitler’s Germany would triumph in Europe. They felt in their veins the surge of leading Asia forward to measureless conquests and their own glory. Thus they were drawn into a gamble, which even if it had won would only have lengthened their predominance by perhaps a year, and, as they lost, cut it down by an equal period. In the actual result they exchanged a fairly strong and gripped advantage for a wide and loose domain, which it was beyond their power to hold; and, being beaten in this outer area, they found themselves without the forces to make a coherent defence of their inner and vital zone.
Nevertheless at this moment in the world struggle no one could be sure that Germany would not break Russia, or drive her beyond the Urals, and then be able to come back and invade Britain; or as an alternative spread through the Caucasus and Persia to join hands with the Japanese vanguards in India. To put things right for the Grand Alliance there was needed a decisive naval victory by the United States, carrying with it predominance in the Pacific, even if the full command of that ocean were not immediately established. This victory was not denied us. I had always believed that the command of the Pacific would be regained by the American Navy, with any help we could give from or in the Atlantic, by May. Such hopes were based only upon a computation of American and British new construction, already maturing, of battleships, aircraft-carriers, and other vessels. We may now describe in a necessarily compressed form the brilliant and astonishing naval battle which asserted this majestic fact in an indisputable form.
At the end of April 1942 the Japanese High Command began their new policy of expansion. This was to include the capture of Port Moresby and the seizure of Tulagi, in the Southern Solomons, opposite the large island of Guadalcanal. The occupation of Port Moresby would complete the first stage of their domination of New Guinea and give added security to their advanced naval base at Rabaul, in New Britain. From New Guinea and from the Solomons they could begin the envelopment of Australia.
American Intelligence quickly became aware of a Japanese concentration in these waters. Forces were observed to be assembling at Rabaul from their main naval base at Truk, in the Caroline Islands, and a southward drive was clearly imminent. It was even possible to forecast May 3 as the date when operations would begin. The American aircraft-carriers were at this time widely dispersed on various missions. These included the launching of General Doolittle’s bold and spectacular air attack against Tokyo itself on April 18. This event may indeed have been a factor in determining the new Japanese policy.
Conscious of the threat in the south, Admiral Nimitz at once began to assemble the strongest possible force in the Coral Sea. Rear-Admiral Fletcher was already there, with the carrier Yorktown and three heavy cruisers. On May 1 he was joined by the carrier Lexington and two more cruisers from Pearl Harbour under Rear-Admiral Fitch, and three days later by a squadron commanded by a British officer, Rear-Admiral Crace, which comprised the Australian cruisers Australia and Hobart and the American cruiser Chicago. The only other carriers immediately available, the Enterprise and the Hornet, had been engaged in the Tokyo raid, and though they were sent south as rapidly as possible they could not join Admiral Fletcher until the middle of May. Before then the impending battle had been fought.
On May 3, while refuelling at sea about four hundred miles south of Guadalcanal, Admiral Fletcher learnt that the enemy had landed at Tulagi, apparently with the immediate object of establishing there a seaplane base from which to observe the eastern approaches to the Coral Sea. In view of the obvious threat to this outpost the small Australian garrison had been withdrawn two days previously. Fletcher at once set off to attack the island with only his own Task Group; Fitch’s group were still fuelling. Early on the following morning aircraft from the Yorktown struck at Tulagi in strength. The enemy covering forces had however withdrawn and only a few destroyers and small craft remained. The results were therefore disappointing.
The next two days passed without important incident, but it was evident that a major clash could not be long delayed. Fletcher’s three groups, having refuelled, were now all in company, standing to the north-westward towards New Guinea. He knew that the Port Moresby invasion force had left Rabaul, and would probably pass through the Jomard Passage, in the Louisiade Archipelago, on either the 7th or 8th. He knew also that three enemy carriers were in the neighbourhood, but not their positions. The Japanese striking force, comprising the carriers Zuikaku and Shokaku, with two heavy cruisers in support, had come south from Truk, keeping to the eastward of the Solomons, well out of range of air reconnaissance, and had entered the Coral Sea from the east on the evening of the 5th. On the 6th they were fast closing in on Fletcher, and at one time in the evening were only seventy miles away, but neither side was aware of the presence of the other. During the night the forces drew apart, and on the morning of the 7th Fletcher reached his position south of the Louisiades, whence he intended to strike at the invasion force.* He now detached Crace’s group to go on ahead and cover the southern exit from the Jomard Passage, where the enemy might be expected that day. Crace was soon spotted, and in the afternoon was heavily attacked by successive waves of shore-based torpedo bombers, comparable in strength with those which had sunk the Prince of Wales and Repulse. By skilful handling and good fortune not a ship was hit, and he continued onwards towards Port Moresby, until, hearing that the enemy had turned back, he withdrew to the southward.
Meanwhile the enemy carriers, of which Admiral Fletcher still had no precise news, remained his chief concern. At dawn he commenced a wide search, and at 8.15 a.m. he was rewarded by a report of two carriers and four cruisers north of the Louisiades. In fact the enemy sighted was not the carrier striking force, but the weak escort group covering the invasion transports, which included the light carrier Shoho. However, Fletcher struck with all his strength, and three hours later the Shoho was overwhelmed and sunk. This event deprived the invasion force of its air cover and made it turn back. Thus the transports intended for Port Moresby never entered the Jomard Passage, and remained north of the Louisiades until finally ordered to withdraw.
Fletcher’s whereabouts were now disclosed to the enemy and he was in a serious plight. An enemy attack must be expected at any time, and his own striking forces would not be rearmed and ready for further action until the afternoon. Luckily for him the weather was thick and getting worse and the enemy had no Radar. The Japanese carrier force was in fact well within striking distance to the eastward. They launched an attack during the afternoon, but in the squally, murky weather the planes missed their target. Returning empty-handed to their carriers, they passed close to Fletcher’s force, and were detected on the Radar screen. Fighters were sent out to intercept, and in a confused mêlée in the gathering darkness many Japanese planes were destroyed. Few of the twenty-seven bombers which had set out regained their ships to take part in the battle next day.
Both sides, knowing how close they were together, contemplated making a night attack with surface forces. Both judged it too risky. During the night they once more drew apart, and on the morning of the 8th the luck of the weather was reversed. It was now the Japanese who had the shelter of low cloud, while Fletcher’s ships were bathed in brilliant sunshine. The game of hide-and-seek began again. At 8.38 a search plane from the Lexington at last located the enemy, and about the same time an intercepted signal made it plain that the enemy had also sighted the American carriers. A full-scale battle between two equal and well-balanced forces was at hand.
Before 9 a.m. an American striking force of eighty-two aircraft was being launched, and by 9.25 all were on their way. About the same time the enemy were launching a similar strike of sixty-nine. The American attack developed about 11 a.m., the Japanese some twenty minutes later. By 11.40 all was over. The American aircraft had trouble with low cloud round the target. When they found it one of the enemy carriers headed for the cover of a rain-squall and the whole of the attack was thrown against the other, the Shokaku. Three bomb hits were scored and the ship was set on fire, but the damage was less than it seemed. Although put out of action for the time being, the Shokaku was able to get home for repair. The Zuikaku remained unscathed.
Meanwhile in clear weather the Japanese attack went in against the Yorktown and Lexington. By most skilful manœuvring the Yorktown evaded nearly all attacks, but suffered many near misses. One bomb hit caused severe casualties and started a fire. This was soon mastered and the ship’s fighting efficiency was little impaired. The less handy Lexington was not so fortunate, taking two torpedo hits and two or three bombs. The end of the action found her heavily on fire and listing to port, with three boiler rooms flooded. By gallant exertions the fires were brought under control, the list was corrected, and the ship was soon making 25 knots. The aircraft losses on both sides in this fierce encounter, the first in history between carriers, were assessed after the war: American, 33; Japanese, 43.
If events in the Coral Sea had ended here the balance would clearly have been in the Americans’ favour. They had sunk the light carrier Shoho, severely damaged the Shokaku, and turned back the invasion force intended for Port Moresby. Their own two carriers seemed to be in fair shape, and their only loss up to this point was a fleet tanker, and her attendant destroyer, which had been sunk the day before by the Japanese carriers. But a disaster now overtook them. An hour after the battle ended the Lexington was heavily shaken by an internal explosion. Fires broke out below which spread and became uncontrollable. Valiant efforts to save the ship proved of no avail, and that evening she was abandoned without further loss of life and sunk by an American torpedo. Both sides now withdrew from the Coral Sea, and both claimed the victory. The Japanese propaganda, in strident terms, declared that not only both Admiral Fletcher’s carriers, but also a battleship and a heavy cruiser, had been sunk. Their own actions after the battle were inconsistent with this belief. They postponed until July their advance towards Port Moresby, although the way was now open to them. By then the whole scene had changed, and the stroke was abandoned in favour of an overland advance from the bases they had already gained in New Guinea. These days marked the limit of the Japanese drive by sea towards Australia.
On the American side the conservation of their carrier forces was the prime necessity. Admiral Nimitz was well aware that greater events were looming farther north, which would require his whole strength. He was content to have arrested for the time being the Japanese move into the Coral Sea, and instantly recalled to Pearl Harbour all his carriers, including the Enterprise and Hornet, then hastening to join Fletcher. Wisely, too, the loss of the Lexington was concealed until after the Midway Island battle, as the Japanese were obviously uncertain about the true state of affairs and were groping for information.
This encounter had an effect out of proportion to its tactical importance. Strategically it was a welcome American victory, the first against Japan. Nothing like it had ever been seen before. It was the first battle at sea in which surface ships never exchanged a shot. It also carried the chances and hazards of war to a new pitch. The news blazed round the world with tonic effect, bringing immense relief and encouragement to Australia and New Zealand as well as to the United States. The tactical lessons learnt here at heavy cost were soon applied with outstanding success in the Battle of Midway Island, the opening moves of which were now about to begin.
The advance into the Coral Sea was only the opening phase in the more ambitious Japanese policy. Even while it was in progress Yamamoto, the Japanese Admiralissimo, was preparing to challenge American power in the Central Pacific by seizing Midway Island, with its airfield, from which Pearl Harbour itself, another thousand miles to the east, could be threatened and perhaps dominated. At the same time a diversionary force was to seize points of vantage in the Western Aleutians. By careful timing of his movements Yamamoto hoped to draw the American fleet north to counter the threat to the Aleutians and leave him free to throw his main strength against Midway Island. By the time the Americans could intervene here in force he hoped to have possession of the island and to be ready to meet the counter-attack with overwhelming force. The importance to the United States of Midway, the outpost of Pearl Harbour, was such that these movements must inevitably bring about a major clash. Yamamoto felt confident that he could force a decisive battle on his own terms, and that with his great superiority, particularly in fast battleships, he would stand an excellent chance of annihilating his enemy. That was the broad plan which he imparted to his subordinate, Admiral Nagumo. All depended however on Admiral Nimitz falling into the trap, and equally on his having no counter-surprise of his own.
But the American commander was vigilant and active. His Intelligence kept him well informed, even as to the date when the expected blow was to fall. Although the plan against Midway might be a blind to conceal a real stroke against the Aleutian chain of islands and an advance towards the American continent, Midway was incomparably the more likely and greater danger, and he never hesitated to deploy his strength in that direction. His chief anxiety was that his carriers must at best be weaker than Nagumo’s experienced four, which had fought with outstanding success from Pearl Harbour to Ceylon. Two others of this group had been diverted to the Coral Sea, and one of them had been damaged; but Nimitz, on the other hand, had lost the Lexington, the Yorktown was crippled, the Saratoga had not yet rejoined him after making good battle damage, and the Wasp was still near the Mediterranean, where she had succoured Malta. Only the Enterprise and the Hornet, hurrying back from the South Pacific, and the Yorktown, if she could be repaired in time, could be made ready for the coming battle. Admiral Nimitz had no battleships nearer than San Francisco, and these were too slow to work with carriers; Yamamoto had eleven, three of them among the strongest and fastest in the world. The odds against the Americans were heavy, but Nimitz could now count on powerful shore-based air support from Midway Island itself.
During the last week of May the main strength of the Japanese Navy began to move from their bases. The first to go was the Aleutian diversionary force, which was to attack Dutch Harbour on June 3 and draw the American fleet in that direction. Thereafter landing forces were to seize the islands of Attu, Kiska, and Adak, farther to the westward. Nagumo with his group of four carriers would strike at Midway the following day, and on June 5 the landing force would arrive and capture the island. No serious opposition was expected. Yamamoto with his battle fleet would meanwhile lie well back to the westward, outside the range of air search, ready to strike when the expected American counter-attack developed.
This was the second supreme moment for Pearl Harbour. The carriers Enterprise and Hornet arrived from the south on May 26. The Yorktown appeared next day, with damage calculated to take three months to repair, but by a decision worthy of the crisis within forty-eight hours she was made taut and fit for battle and was rearmed with a new air group. She sailed again on the 30th to join Admiral Spruance, who had left two days before with the other two carriers. Admiral Fletcher remained in tactical command of the combined force. At Midway the airfield was crammed with bombers, and the ground forces for the defence of the island were at the highest “Alert”. Early information of the approach of the enemy was imperative, and continuous air search began on May 30. United States submarines kept their watch west and north of Midway. Four days passed in acute suspense. At 9 a.m. on June 3 a Catalina flying-boat on patrol more than seven hundred miles west of Midway sighted a group of eleven enemy ships. The bombing and torpedo attacks which followed were unsuccessful, except for a torpedo hit on a tanker, but the battle had begun, and all uncertainty about the enemy’s intentions was dispelled. Admiral Fletcher through his Intelligence sources had good reason to believe that the enemy carriers would approach Midway from the north-west, and he was not put off by the reports received of the first sighting, which he correctly judged to be only a group of transports. He turned his carriers to reach his chosen position about two hundred miles north of Midway by dawn on the 4th, ready to pounce on Nagumo’s flank if and when he appeared.
June 4 broke clear and bright, and at 5.34 a.m. a patrol from Midway at last broadcast the long-awaited signal reporting the approach of the Japanese aircraft-carriers. Reports began to arrive thick and fast. Many planes were seen heading for Midway, and battleships were sighted supporting the carriers. At 6.30 a.m. the Japanese attack came in hard and strong. It met a fierce resistance, and probably one-third of the attackers never returned. Much damage was done and many casualties suffered, but the airfield remained serviceable. There had been time to launch a counter-attack at Nagumo’s fleet. His crushing superiority in fighters took heavy toll, and the results of this gallant stroke, on which great hopes were set, were disappointing. The distraction caused by their onslaught seems however to have clouded the judgment of the Japanese commander, who was also told by his airmen that a second strike at Midway would be necessary. He had retained on board a sufficient number of aircraft to deal with any American carriers which might appear, but he was not expecting them, and his search had been under-powered and at first fruitless. Now he decided to break up the formations which had been held in readiness for this purpose and to rearm them for another stroke at Midway. In any case it was necessary to clear his flight decks to recover the aircraft returning from the first attack. This decision exposed him to a deadly peril, and although Nagumo later heard of an American force, including one carrier, to the eastward, it was too late. He was condemned to receive the full weight of the American attack with his flight decks encumbered with useless bombers, refuelling and rearming.
Admirals Fletcher and Spruance by their earlier cool judgment were well placed to intervene at this crucial moment. They had intercepted the news streaming in during the early morning, and at 7 a.m. the Enterprise and Hornet began to launch a strike with all the planes they had, except for those needed for their own defence. The Yorktown, whose aircraft had been carrying out the morning search, was delayed while they were recovered, but her striking force was in the air soon after 9 a.m., by which time the first waves from the other two carriers were approaching their prey. The weather near the enemy was cloudy, and the dive-bombers failed at first to find their target. The Hornet’s group, unaware that the enemy had turned away, never found them and missed the battle. Owing to this mischance the first attacks were made by torpedo bombers alone from all three carriers, and, although pressed home with fierce courage, were unsuccessful in the face of the overwhelming opposition. Of forty-one torpedo bombers which attacked only six returned. Their devotion brought its reward. While all Japanese eyes and all available fighter strength were turned on them, the thirty-seven dive-bombers from the Enterprise and Yorktown arrived on the scene. Almost unopposed, their bombs crashed into Nagumo’s flagship, the Akagi, and her sister the Kaga, and about the same time another wave of seventeen bombers from the Yorktown struck the Soryu. In a few minutes the decks of all three ships were a shambles, littered with blazing and exploding aircraft. Tremendous fires broke out below, and it was soon clear that all three ships were doomed. Admiral Nagumo could but shift his flag to a cruiser and watch three-quarters of his fine command burn.
It was past noon by the time the Americans had recovered their aircraft. They had lost over sixty, but the prize they had gained was great. Of the enemy carriers only the Hiryu remained, and she at once resolved to strike a blow for the banner of the Rising Sun. As the American pilots were telling their tale on board the Yorktown after their return news came that an attack was approaching. The enemy, reported to be about forty strong, pressed it home with vigour, and although heavily mauled by fighters and gunfire they scored three bomb hits on the Yorktown. Severely damaged but with her fires under control, she carried on, until two hours later the Hiryu struck again, this time with torpedoes. This attack ultimately proved fatal. Although the ship remained afloat for two days she was sunk by a Japanese submarine.
The Yorktown was avenged even while she still floated. The Hiryu was marked at 2.45 p.m., and within the hour twenty-four divebombers from the Enterprise were winging their way towards her. At 5 p.m. they struck, and in a few minutes she too was a flaming wreck, though she did not sink until the following morning. The last of Nagumo’s four fleet carriers had been smashed, and with them were lost all their highly trained air crews. These could never be replaced. So ended the battle of June 4, rightly regarded as the turning-point of the war in the Pacific.
The victorious American commanders had other perils to face. The Japanese Admiralissimo with his formidable battle fleet might still assail Midway. The American air forces had suffered heavy losses, and there were no heavy ships capable of successfully engaging Yamamoto if he chose to continue his advance. Admiral Spruance, who now assumed command of the carrier group, decided against a pursuit to the westward, not knowing what strength the enemy might have, and having no heavy support for his own carriers. In this decision he was unquestionably right. The action of Admiral Yamamoto in not seeking to retrieve his fortunes is less easily understood. At first he resolved to press on, and ordered four of his most powerful cruisers to bombard Midway in the early hours of June 5. At the same time another powerful Japanese force was advancing to the north-eastward, and had Spruance chosen to pursue the remnants of Nagumo’s group he might have been caught in a disastrous night action. During the night however the Japanese commander abruptly changed his mind, and at 2.55 a.m. on June 5 he ordered a general retirement. His reasons are by no means clear, but it is evident that the unexpected and crushing defeat of his precious carriers had deeply affected him. One more disaster was to befall him. Two of the heavy cruisers proceeding to bombard Midway came into collision while avoiding attack by an American submarine. Both were severely damaged, and were left behind when the general retirement began. On June 6 these cripples were attacked by Spruance’s airmen, who then sank one and left the other apparently in a sinking condition. This much-battered ship, the Mogami, eventually succeeded in making her way home.
After seizing the small islands of Attu and Kiska, in the western group of the Aleutians, the Japanese withdrew as silently as they had come.
Reflection on Japanese leadership at this time is instructive. Twice within a month their sea and air forces had been deployed in battle with aggressive skill and determination. Each time when their Air Force had been roughly handled they had abandoned their goal, even though on each occasion it seemed to be within their grasp. The men of Midway, Admirals Yamamoto, Nagumo, and Kondo, were those who planned and carried out the bold and tremendous operations which in four months destroyed the Allied Fleets in the Far East and drove the British Eastern Fleet out of the Indian Ocean. Yamamoto withdrew at Midway because, as the entire course of the war had shown, a fleet without air cover and several thousand miles from its base could not risk remaining within range of a force accompanied by carriers with air groups largely intact. He ordered the transport force to retire because it would have been tantamount to suicide to assault, without air support, an island defended by air forces and physically so small that surprise was impossible.
The rigidity of the Japanese planning and the tendency to abandon the object when their plans did not go according to schedule is thought to have been largely due to the cumbersome and imprecise nature of their language, which rendered it extremely difficult to improvise by means of signalled communications.
One other lesson stands out. The American Intelligence system succeeded in penetrating the enemy’s most closely guarded secrets well in advance of events. Thus Admiral Nimitz, albeit the weaker, was twice able to concentrate all the forces he had in sufficient strength at the right time and place. When the hour struck this proved decisive. The importance of secrecy and the consequences of leakage of information in war are here proclaimed.
This memorable American victory was of cardinal importance, not only to the United States, but to the whole Allied cause. The moral effect was tremendous and instantaneous. At one stroke the dominant position of Japan in the Pacific was reversed. The glaring ascendancy of the enemy, which had frustrated our combined endeavours throughout the Far East for six months, was gone for ever. From this moment all our thoughts turned with sober confidence to the offensive. No longer did we think in terms of where the Japanese might strike the next blow, but where we could best strike at him to win back the vast territories that he had overrun in his headlong rush. The road would be long and hard, and massive preparations were still needed to win victory in the East, but the issue was not in doubt; nor need the demands from the Pacific bear too heavily on the great effort the United States was preparing to exert in Europe.
The annals of war at sea present no more intense, heart-shaking shock than these two battles, in which the qualities of the United States Navy and Air Force and of the American race shone forth in splendour. The novel and hitherto utterly unmeasured conditions which air warfare had created made the speed of action and the twists of fortune more intense than has ever been witnessed before. But the bravery and self-devotion of the American airmen and sailors and the nerve and skill of their leaders was the foundation of all. As the Japanese Fleet withdrew to their far-off home ports their commanders knew not only that their aircraft-carrier strength was irretrievably broken, but that they were confronted with a will-power and passion in the foe they had challenged equal to the highest traditions of their Samurai ancestors, and backed with a development of power, numbers, and science to which no limit could be set.