After two frustrating weeks at sea, Task Force 14 entered Pearl Harbor on 29 December 1941, having done nothing to save Wake Island or even retaliate for its fall. On the plus side of the ledger, Fletcher could only mark the reinforcement of Midway. Reporting for his arrival call, he learned to his pleasure that Chester Nimitz would take over the Pacific Fleet on the thirty-first.1 A 1905 Annapolis graduate, the fifty-six-year-old Nimitz possessed a gracious, cheerful personality and optimistic outlook that seemed ideal to restore sagging morale in Hawaii. They knew each other well from their mutual sojourns in Washington, although they were not particularly close. Having seen Nimitz hurdle all of the obstacles raised by the president, Congress, and the Navy Department, Fletcher respected him as an excellent administrator and a calm, resolute, and unflappable leader.
President Roosevelt personally chose Nimitz for Cincpac, but CNO Stark had preferred his own assistant, Rear Adm. Royal E. Ingersoll. Nor did Roosevelt’s selection overawe the rest of the navy. An early submariner and expert in diesel propulsion, Nimitz eventually broadened his career to cruisers and battleships. Not since the 1920s, when he studied at the Naval War College and served on the staff of the commander in chief of the U.S. Fleet, had Nimitz moved within the inner councils that formulated fleet strategy and doctrine. Moreover, he never exercised senior leadership in the massive fleet problems that so dominated thinking in the prewar navy. Instead he made his reputation pushing papers during two tours (1935–38 and 1939–41) with the Bureau of Navigation, responsible for personnel. Rivals deplored Bunav denizens like Richardson, Nimitz, and Fletcher, all “Washington Repeaters” who reaped unearned benefit from their proximity to the power brokers. There was truth in this. Much later Nimitz revealed that in January 1941 Knox approached him, certainly at Roosevelt’s behest, to offer the post of Cincpac. He declined because he regarded himself too junior. Had Nimitz become Cincpac in January 1941, the uproar would have exceeded even that which greeted Kimmel. Evidently Roosevelt considered Kimmel, with whom he was not well acquainted, just a peacetime taskmaster. According to Fleet Admiral King, Stark stated in the fall of 1941 that in the event of war, King would keep the Atlantic Fleet, Nimitz was to take over the Asiatic Fleet, and Ingersoll would become Cincpac. Events ultimately vindicated the brilliance of Roosevelt’s choice, which he based on a close personal knowledge of Nimitz’s qualities and talents. Not wedded to any particular faction, Nimitz approached his daunting task with an open mind. No one could have done a better job to revive the reeling Pacific Fleet. His courage, aggressiveness, and superb strategic insight played a major role in the defeat of Japan. But Nimitz acknowledged his intimidating task, writing home on 28 December 1941: “I am not discouraged and will do my best—but everyone must be very, very patient.”2
Whether the new Cincpac, with his sunny disposition and piercing blue eyes, was really a fighter remained an open question for some senior officers. By contrast, no one who knew Adm. Ernest Joseph King, newly appointed commander in chief of the U.S. Fleet (Cincus), ever doubted his pugnacity. A 1901 Annapolis graduate (fourth in his class), King gravitated to aviation in 1927 as a JCL, earning his wings at age fifty. He held the top aviation administrative post (chief of Buaer) and the top carrier command (Aircraft, Battle Force, U.S. Fleet), but was bitterly disappointed in 1939 not to become the Chief of Naval Operations. A gloomy tour on the General Board boded retirement, but his appointment in late 1940 as commander of the Patrol Force (soon to become the Atlantic Fleet) revived his career. Since the spring of 1941 he waged an awkward undeclared war with German U-boats and raiders in the Atlantic. On 18 December Roosevelt reduced the role of the CNO largely to administration and logistics, in favor of a more powerful commander in chief of the U.S. Fleet. Unlike Kimmel, who was Cincus concurrently with Cincpac merely as a courtesy, King took firm control of all naval forces afloat. There was nothing courteous about King in the line of duty. He immediately changed the dreadful acronym Cincus (pronounced “sink us”) to Cominch. Looking and acting younger than his sixty-three years, the intelligent, imperious, abrasive, and demanding King also possessed the moral strength and strategic insight to guide the U.S. Navy to victory in a global naval war. For the time being he worked in uneasy partnership with his colleague Stark, whose prestige with Roosevelt suffered because of the unforeseen dire situation in the Pacific. King also deeply distrusted ex-Bunav officers like Nimitz and Fletcher (protégés of the departed J. O. Richardson), whom he judged political admirals owing their advancement to their Washington connections. He called them “fixers,” not in a corrupt sense, but because they always tried to smooth things out and not dispose of failing subordinates. King not only kept Nimitz on a short leash, but also soon sought to curtail much of Cincpac’s real power.3
Nimitz’s arrival at Pearl coincided with deliberations over the next likely Japanese thrust east across the date line. To Stark, the principal South Pacific island groups appeared in special danger should Japan attempt to sever the lines of communication between the United States and New Zealand–Australia. Yet in that vast expanse of ocean the only significant American base was at Pago Pago on Tutuila in Eastern Samoa, which possessed only a modest marine garrison. New Zealand’s defenses in Western Samoa were negligible. On 14 December Stark suggested to Kimmel that a marine regiment and defense battalion be shipped directly from San Diego to Samoa, a voyage of 4,180 miles. For close cover he earmarked the carrier Yorktown and four destroyers, expected at San Diego at the end of the year. To this powerful nucleus he proposed to attach two old light cruisers Richmond and Trenton under Rear Adm. Abel Trood Bidwell, a recent flag selectee who would command the mission.4
Adm. Ernest J. King, 1942. Autographed photo given to Admiral Fletcher.
Courtesy of American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming-Laramie
Kimmel’s planners were too preoccupied with potential combat in the Marshalls and at Wake to fret much about Samoa. On 15 December McMorris contemplated a much smaller Samoa reinforcement of only half as many troops and escorted merely by the two old light cruisers and a few destroyers. The Yorktown could better haul desperately needed aircraft out to Pearl, then deploy to the central Pacific. Anxious to get another carrier on line, Pye, Kimmel’s interim successor, concurred. Stark left the decision to Cincpac, but again advocated the full reinforcement in one trip covered by the Yorktown. Pye assented on 28 December. Bidwell was to depart San Diego on 6 January. “Covering or diversion operations” were also contemplated. On 29 December Stark emphasized that the Japanese buildup in the Gilberts threatened both Samoa and the Fiji Islands and again desired some sort of “covering or diversion operations” in connection with the Samoan reinforcement.5
On 30 December King fired off his first directive to Cincpac. Stark’s prior efforts to include the South Pacific within the Pacific Fleet’s prime area of interest were but gentle nudges when compared to King’s trumpet calls. Acknowledging the necessity of holding Hawaii and Midway, King decreed that “only in small degree less important” was defending the line of communication between the United States and Australia. Samoa was just the first step in extending fleet control westward to Fiji and beyond. The ultimate objective was to halt the Japanese advance and launch a counteroffensive. In a major reversal of prewar strategic policy, King with great perception and decisiveness postponed the concept of a gradual offensive through the Marshalls and Truk toward the Philippines. For the next three months he would compel Cincpac to shift more and more of his resources southward to lay the groundwork for his new interim strategy. Nimitz’s reluctance stoked his growing displeasure.6
The pair of rockets from Washington caused Pearl to rethink Samoa. Suddenly it seemed advisable both to beef up the reinforcement convoy and change commanders. Nimitz knew whom he wanted. He replaced the two aged light cruisers with the heavy cruiser Louisville and modern light cruiser St. Louis, and in place of the inexperienced Bidwell, assigned a new Task Force 17 and the Samoa mission to Fletcher. The Yorktown would not only protect the convoy, but also raid the central Pacific afterward. Thus Fletcher discovered on 30 December he was exchanging TF-14 for the equally important job of CTF-17. The news was not good for his friend Jake Fitch. Admiral Leary, a non-aviator, took over TF-14 with the Saratoga. Despite being one of only two carrier admirals in the Pacific Fleet, Fitch regretfully reverted to his role as Halsey’s shore representative. With Halsey busy at sea leading the Enterprise task force, Nimitz needed a savvy administrator for Aircraft, Battle Force, to coordinate the operations and supply of all carrier aircraft ashore. At the same time Pye and Rear Adm. Robert A. Theobald (commanding the Battle Force destroyers) joined Fitch as shore-bound planners and administrators, but Nimitz informed Stark he intended to employ them as relief task force commanders “as necessary.” In turn Admiral Draemel formally replaced Capt. William W. Smith as Pacific Fleet chief of staff. Nimitz concentrated Draemel’s talents on operations. He also desired a second flag officer in each carrier task force to command the cruisers and lead surface attack groups. Rear Adm. Raymond Spruance filled that role for Halsey’s TF-8, Admiral Kinkaid was to join Leary’s TF-14, while Smith fleeted up to rear admiral to take Newton’s place in Brown’s TF-11. For the time being, however, Fletcher was on his own until Nimitz could scrounge another cruiser admiral for TF-17.7
Fletcher had to get to San Diego as soon as possible to organize the Samoa convoy. On 30 December he hauled down his flag from the Astoria. The stalwart flag secretary Sam Latimer and flag lieutenant Harry Smith stayed with him, but his increased responsibilities required the much larger Cruisers, Scouting Force (Cruscofor) staff. They were at sea with Newton in the Chicago, part of Brown’s TF-11 on an “offensive patrol” southwest of Oahu. Cincpac immediately recalled the Chicago to Pearl for the actual change of command on the morning of the thirty-first. At 1000 the Chicago moored northeast of Ford Island. At the same time Nimitz assumed command of the Pacific Fleet on the deck of the submarine Grayling. He liked to joke privately that a sub was the only ship the Japanese left for him at Pearl Harbor. Wearing his starched whites, Fletcher witnessed the ceremony, as all flag officers at Pearl were invited to attend, then hastened to the Chicago for his own change of command with Newton. That afternoon he collected part of his staff and repaired to the seaplane base for an overnight flight in a navy flying boat to San Diego.8
Fletcher and the Cruscofor staff certainly knew each other well. Capt. Spencer S. Lewis, Cdr. Gerard F. Galpin, and Lt. Charles B. Brooks Jr. were to accompany Fletcher, Latimer, and Harry Smith on the fourteen-hour flight. Lt. Cdr. Alexander C. Thorington, the assistant operations officer, was loaned to Poco Smith, who cobbled together a cruiser staff in the Chicago for TF-11. As befitted the chief of staff of a major command, Spence Lewis was an able, highly experienced senior captain. A 1910 Annapolis graduate, the fifty-three-year-old, short, slender, soft-spoken Texan was renowned for his professional ability, cordial personality, rich sense of humor, and uncanny knack of rolling his own cigarettes no matter how much a ship pitched and heaved. In 1917–18 he commanded the destroyer Patterson in combat in European waters, and from June 1939 to January 1941 was captain of the Cincinnati in Crudiv Three, where he won Fletcher’s high regard. Lewis studied at the Naval War College and served on several staffs. As Fletcher’s personal aide and closest advisor, he supervised the preparation of orders and plans and ran the staff. Fletcher also relied heavily on the talents of another Texan, Gerry Galpin (USNA 1921), the operations officer responsible for tactical planning. The near antithesis of Lewis in terms of personality, Galpin was a rather aloof, fussy character, somewhat forbidding for junior members of the staff, but sharp and able. The third member of the trio was Charles Brooks (USNA 1931), the quietly competent radio officer. For the time being the bobtailed TF-17 staff made do without its communication watch officers and the enlisted yeomen, radiomen, signalmen, quartermasters, and marines, as well as the officers’ cooks and stewards of the flag mess. In their place, the Naval Receiving Station at San Diego put together a scratch team under experienced chiefs.9
On New Year’s morning the huge Consolidated PB2Y-2 Coronado flying boat carrying Fletcher’s party circled San Diego harbor before setting down at Naval Air Station (NAS) North Island. Dominating the view was the angular outline of a large carrier. A veteran of grueling “neutrality patrols” in the North Atlantic, the Yorktown had interrupted a refit in order to go to war in another theater. Ordinarily Fletcher would have hoisted his flag in the Louisville in his own Crudiv Four. However, Cincpac decreed the carrier task force commander must be in the carrier, the better to integrate air operations within the basic mission. Therefore Fletcher broke his two-star flag in the Yorktown to begin a memorable association. He was the proverbial stranger in a strange land. In place of the pleasing symmetry of a cruiser’s triple gun turrets, twin raked funnels, and elegant clipper bow sprawled a vast, flat expanse of weathered timber that resembled the top of a giant raft. Its only protuberance was a high, narrow superstructure located amidships, but perched off center to starboard. The aptly dubbed “island” included the navigating bridge, flag bridge, air control center, a tripod mast with observation post, antiaircraft gun mounts, and a large stack. If a battleship resembled an iceberg with her mass mostly below the waterline, the boxlike carrier rode so high that it seemed the smallest wave could roll her right over. What the Yorktown lacked in nautical aesthetics she more than made up in raw firepower. Although commissioned in 1937 as the fifth American aircraft carrier (CV-5), she was the first that could truly be called modern. Displacing 19,800 tons over a length of 809 feet, the Yorktown could cut through the waves at an impressive thirty-two knots. As recent events so well demonstrated, the fragile carrier airplanes such as those wielded by the Yorktown Air Group now controlled the balance of naval power in the Pacific.10
The carrier task force commander allocated the resources of the carrier air group according to the basic mission. He decided the sectors to be searched and by how many planes, the targets to be attacked and the size and composition of the strikes, as well as the number of fighters retained for defense. Equally crucial, he maneuvered the task force during and after the conduct of these flights to facilitate the safe and speedy return of the aircraft. Had Fletcher’s eyesight been sufficiently sharp in 1928 for him to earn his wings, he would have accrued the vast experience in fleet aviation his new job required. No longer could he rely on Fitch and the Cardiv One staff to handle the aviation end of task force operations, and his own Crudiv Four staff aviator, Lt. Cdr. Gordon A. McLean, was unavailable. Thus Fletcher desperately needed aviation guidance, and now in the midst of all his other obligations, he imbibed a crash course in the doctrine and tactics of carrier warfare. He naturally looked first to the Yorktown’s commanding officer, Capt. Elliott Buckmaster. A tall, dignified 1912 Annapolis graduate, “Buck” Buckmaster displayed an icy reserve that melted on closer acquaintance. After years in destroyers, he completed flight training in 1937 as a forty-seven-year-old commander, the very last “Johnny come lately.” Buckmaster became executive officer of the Lexington and commanding officer of the naval air station at Pearl Harbor before getting the Yorktown in February 1941. Like all JCLs, he had no actual squadron flight duty and little practical aviation experience. That deficiency meant a great deal to his talented but prickly executive officer, Cdr. Joseph J. “Jock” (later “Jocko”) Clark (USNA 1918), who declared the “leadership” in the Yorktown “left a great deal to be desired.” The senior aviator on board in terms of time, having earned his wings eleven years before Buckmaster, Clark was only too eager to tell his neophyte captain how to run his carrier and differed with him on nearly every crucial issue. To make matters more difficult, he was himself promoted to captain in January 1942, but without new orders. As a courtesy to Buckmaster, Clark did not assume the higher rank while in the Yorktown.11
Although the “fresh-caught” Buckmaster possessed a limited aviation background, he was an able officer who wisely understood he needed expert advice. To Clark’s intense displeasure he reached down past his executive officer to the aviators who actually ran his air group: the air officer, group commander, and squadron commanding officers. The pilots naturally favored such an “enlightened approach.” They reciprocated their captain’s trust and grew to like him once they got to know him. Unburdened by outmoded doctrine, Buckmaster allowed squadrons to experiment with new ideas. Consequently the Yorktown Air Group became one of the very best in the fleet. Jock Clark, on the other hand, was a “hard man,” haughty, demanding, and at least in the Yorktown, lacking a sense of humor or even a smile. He did not seem willing to share the wisdom of his long aviation career, and the pilots could never draw him out from behind his domineering personality. A severe stomach ulcer exacerbated his naturally acerbic disposition.
Fletcher soon discerned the complex politics on board his new flagship, with the strong tension between commanding officer and executive officer. His knowledge of naval aviation lore was far less than Buckmaster’s, and his need was equally great. Once he settled in, Fletcher adopted Buckmaster’s own solution and regularly consulted the top aviators with the most recent active service, such as air officer Cdr. Henry F. MacComsey and group leader Cdr. Curtis S. Smiley. Indeed, Smiley recalled that Fletcher came to treat him like a member of his staff. Later to learn more about naval aviation (and his men), Fletcher trolled deeper among the air group, often summoning junior pilots to flag plot to ask about their flights. Thus he steered clear of Clark, who would have gladly played Ludendorff to his Hindenburg and taken charge of everything. By his own account Clark later regaled Cominch with his displeasure at both Fletcher and Buckmaster. In fairness it must be said that Clark was an outstanding officer and very highly regarded by the enlisted men. He became one of the navy’s finest carrier captains and task force commanders. It seems he just needed to run the show.12
Fletcher’s orders specified that he depart San Diego on 6 January and reach Tutuila on the twentieth. He was to transport Brig. Gen. Henry L. Larsen’s Second Marine Brigade (forty-eight hundred men) and a recently organized navy scouting detachment of six unassembled float planes, plus all their gear and additional supplies. The fast convoy comprised the ammunition ship Lassen, modern fleet oiler Kaskaskia, three big Matson liners Lurline, Monterey, and Matsonia, and cargo ship Jupiter. Loading began on 1 January, and on the fifth, Fletcher wrote Nimitz that “in spite of numerous obstacles and delays it is expected this force will depart tomorrow” on schedule. He praised the personnel of the naval districts at San Francisco and San Diego, as well as the marines, “who made every effort to get all essential material loaded in time.” The combatant portion of TF-17 comprised the Yorktown, heavy cruiser Louisville, light cruiser St. Louis, and the destroyers Hughes, Sims, Russell, and Walke of Capt. Frank G. Fahrion’s Destroyer Division (Desdiv) Three. In lieu of a separate flag officer, Capt. Elliott B. Nixon of the Louisville led the cruiser task unit. Nixon was familiar to Fletcher because his cruiser had served with Crudiv Six during fleet exercises.13
The Yorktown was not only Fletcher’s first carrier, but also his first radar-equipped ship. In October 1940 she received the last of the original six CXAM air search radar sets, the navy’s first operational radar. The process had just begun to outfit all of the warships in the fleet with air search and fire control radars. The Yorktown’s radar operator was Rad. Elec. Vane M. Bennett, one of the most valued radar specialists in the navy. The arduous North Atlantic neutrality patrols demonstrated radar’s great value both for air operations and surface search. Fletcher visited the radar shack to discuss the capabilities of radar and impressed Bennett with his general knowledge of radar and the quality of questions he posed to elicit advice on how best to use radar and forward the information where it was most needed. The tin cans likewise sported air search radars, the newer but less effective SC, nicknamed “Sail Cast.” The Louisville had no radar whatsoever, but the St. Louis was equipped with an early fire control radar with a limited surface search capability. The Yorktown and the destroyers had the talk-between-ships (TBS) voice very high frequency (VHF) radios that allowed relatively secure short-range communications, but the cruisers lacked that useful device.14
Cincpac’s operation order and subsequent intelligence correctly discounted other than a submarine threat to the Samoa reinforcement. Fully occupied in conquering the Far East, Japan could spare only a few subs and two auxiliary cruisers for the South Pacific. The menace to Samoa appeared more theoretical than real, but Nimitz was not about to take any chances. He advised Fletcher that a carrier task force from Pearl might conduct a “covering operation,” either a diversionary raid against the Mandates or direct support of TF-17 off Samoa. In turn Fletcher cautioned Nimitz on 5 January not to take Japanese passivity for granted, especially as the “composition and destination of this force is common knowledge.” Numerous crates stocked at dockside prominently displayed the address “Supply Officer, Naval Station, Tutuila, Samoa.” Even before receiving Fletcher’s letter, Nimitz informed King that should the Japanese appear in strength off Samoa, he would redirect the reinforcement convoy to Pearl, unless King desired it farther west at Fiji. Fletcher would remain off Samoa until the convoy completed delivery, and thereafter undertake an offensive task or proceed to Pearl. Nimitz believed unloading would take eight days, but Fletcher had his doubts. The best estimate in San Diego from those knowledgeable about conditions at Samoa was two weeks. Consequently he suggested that Nimitz release TF-17 after the three liners and the Kaskaskia had off-loaded. After consulting Buckmaster, Fletcher had the scouting detachment removed from the carrier. To off-load it, the Yorktown would have to go into Pago Pago, a risky action Fletcher wanted to avoid. Tutuila lacked an airfield, and it was folly to immobilize a carrier in port with her planes stuck on board. He directed two float planes be assembled and placed on the St. Louis, with the rest loaded on the Jupiter. The Yorktown was already overcrowded with 101 planes: a cargo of thirty-two aircraft (twenty fighters, nine dive bombers, and three J2F-5 utility planes) destined for Pearl in addition to her own air group (eighteen fighters, thirty-nine dive bombers, and twelve torpedo bombers). Because of the congestion, she operated only thirty-one of the SBDs.15
On the morning of 6 January just as TF-17 was about to sail, a sudden serious illness consigned Sam Latimer to the San Diego Naval Hospital. Harry Smith assumed the duties of flag secretary as well as flag lieutenant. Fletcher experienced another setback when the master of the Jupiter reported her civilian crew refused to sail in protest over the lack of an adequate supply of cigarettes. No doubt wishing the navy rather than the merchant marine manned that ship, an irritated Fletcher enlisted the aid of the Eleventh Naval District authorities. After a “slight delay,” the Jupiter got under way along with the rest of the convoy. TF-17 cleared the channel, formed up in circular formation, and set course southwest at 15.5 knots, top speed for the Lassen and Jupiter. On 8 January Nimitz ordered Fletcher to keep to the scheduled arrival date at Samoa, even if he could actually get there earlier. “Unless inadvisable,” TF-17 was to pass one hundred miles south of Christmas Island and on the morning of 19 January reach a specific point near Pukapuka northeast of Tutuila. Obviously Cincpac coordinated Fletcher’s operations with someone else.16
On 2 January barely after settling in, the new Cominch in Washington prodded Nimitz into action. The situation in the Far East demanded earnest effort by the Pacific Fleet to divert Japanese strength away from the Philippines and the Dutch East Indies, just as contemplated in prewar plans. As before, the burden would fall on the few available mobile task forces built around the carriers and cruisers, only now without battleship support. King also had his own reasons for an early offensive move. Wary of the threat to Fiji and Samoa, he ordered Nimitz to raid the Gilberts and also the Ellice Islands should the enemy advance there. These attacks preferably would be in concert with the arrival of the reinforcement convoy at Samoa. “Undertake some aggressive action for effect on general morale,” King admonished. Nimitz replied that such operations were “contemplated and under consideration.”17
McMorris’s War Plans Section offered various attack scenarios. To provide a diversion for the Samoa reinforcement (and finally to execute the navy’s first offensive move), he suggested on 2 January that Brown’s TF-11 (Lexington) strike the outer Marshalls (Wotje and Maloelap) on 13 or 14 January and that Halsey’s TF-8 (Enterprise) hit the Gilberts on the seventeenth. In the meantime Leary’s TF-14 (Saratoga) would cover Oahu to westward. Evidently not eager as yet to run such risks, Nimitz asked Pye, his closest advisor, to examine the strategic and tactical aspects of the Samoa mission. Pye’s study, dated 8 January, recommended that TF-8 be sent south to cover the arrival of TF-17 at Samoa. Disagreeing as usual with McMorris, he declared “unsound” any prior diversionary raid by Halsey against the Marshalls and Gilberts, but called for offensive action by both carrier task forces after the Samoa convoy had safely accomplished its mission. TF-8 should include four extra destroyers to beef up Fletcher’s inadequate screen against the threat posed by subs. Pye also recommended that six B-17 bombers and six PBY flying boats fly shuttle searches between Canton in the Phoenix Islands (seven hundred miles north of Samoa) and Suva in Fiji southwest of Samoa. These patrols would cover the front door, so to speak, and warn of enemy surface forces threatening Samoa from the Marshalls. Pye judged the best post-raid targets to be Mili in the southeastern Marshalls and Makin-Tarawa in the Gilberts. Reflecting the prevailing conservatism, he warned these attacks should be made, “if at all,” with “a complete understanding of the risk involved in attacking with a carrier within 500 miles of a possible land-based bomber group at Jaluit.” Given that Japanese bombers had destroyed the Prince of Wales and Repulse, his caution is understandable. After simultaneous dawn raids against Mili and the Gilberts, the two carrier task forces should remain within mutual support range (two to three hundred miles) while withdrawing. The air search shuttling between Canton and Fiji should locate and bomb any pursuers.18
Nimitz adopted Pye’s plan to have Halsey cover Samoa, and then during the first week of February lead TF-8 (Enterprise) and TF-17 (Yorktown) against Mili, Maloelap, and Wotje in the Marshalls and Makin in the Gilberts. He preferred to delay those attacks until Fletcher could be released from Samoa, “to more positively insure success [for] that expedition and to avoid serious situation that would arise if one carrier were damaged 2,000 miles from base while operating without other carrier support.” Nimitz also arranged for his own subs to conduct an extensive reconnaissance of the Marshalls. For his own part Halsey jubilantly described his part of the proposed raids as a “rare opportunity.” TF-8 sailed on 11 January with the Enterprise, four heavy cruisers (including the San Francisco meant for TF-17), twelve destroyers (including three for Tutuila), and the oiler Platte. Another Fueling Group (oiler Sabine and a destroyer) likewise started south to fuel TF-17 off Samoa. Cincpac Op-Ord 3–42 and Op-Plan 4–42 directed Halsey to be near Samoa prior to 20 January to cover TF-17, then at his discretion arrange for TF-8 and TF-17 to strike the northern Gilberts or the eastern Marshalls or both. Thus Nimitz committed half his carriers to the Samoa mission and post reinforcement raids, while retaining the Lexington and Saratoga to protect the Midway–Hawaii–Johnston island axis. This contrasted sharply with Kimmel’s scattergun response to the attack on Wake.19
While Nimitz planned the first U.S. carrier raids, Yamamoto redeployed Nagumo’s Kidō Butai south from Japan to support the offensives in the Southern Area. On 8 January the Akagi, Kaga, Shōkaku, and Zuikaku left for Truk; the Sōryū and Hiryū started for Palau four days later. Yamamoto had wondered whether the U.S. carriers he missed at Pearl Harbor might attempt retaliatory strikes, perhaps even against the homeland. Should there be such a threat, some carriers might have to remain north to deal with it. Rear Adm. Ugaki Matome, Combined Fleet chief of staff, too, had recognized the potential for mischief on the part of the U.S. mobile forces. On 26 December, though, he judged that unlikely until after the Pacific Fleet could reorganize from the devastating blow it had suffered. Consequently the Japanese carriers went south.20
The same day (11 January in Oahu, 12 January in Japan) that Halsey sailed from Pearl, two enemy actions, one trivial and the other profound, caught Nimitz’s full attention. Before dawn on 11 January Cdr. Yamada Takashi’s I-20 popped to the surface off Tutuila’s north coast and loosed a dozen 14-cm shells into the naval station. Yamada subsequently reported “no significant enemy activity” and went on his merry way to reconnoiter Fiji. Damage was minor, but Nimitz wondered whether the Japanese might have more in mind for Samoa. The second event occurred that evening southwest of Oahu. While Leary’s TF-14 steamed at fifteen knots, a torpedo from the I-6 stove in the Saratoga’s port side amidships, flooded three fire rooms, and put her in a bad way. She limped back to Pearl on 13 January. That ended the neat balance Nimitz hoped to effect with two carriers north and two south of the equator. Now only Brown’s Lexington protected the central Pacific. Dismayed, Nimitz ordered him to depart on 19 January to patrol off Christmas Island eleven hundred miles south of Hawaii. From there he could support Halsey and Fletcher if they got in trouble after the raids. Halsey’s TF-8 (Enterprise) would move northwest of Samoa about 18 January to cover Fletcher’s approach and arrival. His three destroyers should reach Pago Pago on 19 January to beef up antisubmarine defenses. The Sabine would loiter southeast of Samoa ready to fuel TF-17 when necessary. Clearly Cincpac committed even stronger forces than anticipated to ensure the safety of the Samoa reinforcement and perhaps to forestall any premature attacks that King might propose for elsewhere. Combined Fleet headquarters received with some skepticism, at least initially, the report from the I-6 that it had sunk a Lexington-class carrier, but it certainly reinforced the impression that the Pacific Fleet must be immobilized for the immediate future.21
A few misadventures marked Fletcher’s voyage to the South Pacific. From 8 to 14 January three Grumman F4F-3 Wildcats of the Yorktown’s Fighting Squadron Forty-two (VF-42) splashed on takeoff, but all the pilots were rescued. On 16 January TF-17 fueled from the Kaskaskia six hundred miles northeast of Samoa. The next day while maneuvering alongside the Yorktown, the oiler “nearly caused a serious collision and endangered the success of the mission.” On the eighteenth the Jupiter dropped behind because of condenser problems, but soon rejoined the convoy. The next day with Samoa only 275 miles ahead, Fletcher released the three great Matson liners and two destroyers to proceed ahead at twenty knots and reach Tutuila the following morning. The balance of the convoy was to arrive either late on the twentieth or the next day. Before dawn on 20 January the Yorktown sent a Grumman J2F utility amphibian to nearby Pago Pago on Tutuila to deliver official mail. By 1230 it was back bearing welcome tidings. Tutuila advised that the harbor could accommodate all six ships of the train at a time, whereupon Fletcher immediately detached the Lassen, Kaskaskia, Jupiter, and one destroyer. Marking time about one hundred miles northwest of Samoa, Halsey’s TF-8 had already provided the three destroyers to patrol off Tutuila for subs. The third and most welcome development was that upon completion of its Samoan duties, TF-17 would join TF-8 to attack the Marshalls and Gilberts.22