Sunset on 6 May drew the curtain on the last unalloyed strategic success Japan would enjoy in the Pacific War. A thrilled empire learned of the surrender of Corregidor and the end of organized resistance in the Philippines, the last of the original strategic objectives of the brilliantly conducted first operational phase. The MO Operation against eastern New Guinea comprised the first offensive of the second operational phase. Despite the earlier than anticipated appearance of a U.S. carrier in the Coral Sea and the embarrassing raid on Tulagi, Tokyo expected nothing less than complete victory. Admiral Inoue and his top subordinates laid out their battle plan for 7 May. That day the invasion convoy would approach the Louisiades from the northeast, turn the corner at Deboyne, and cut south through Jomard Passage that evening for the final leg of the voyage to Port Moresby. Surprisingly the convoy itself had escaped being sighted, but Inoue knew the Allied air search was bound to find it early on the seventh and call in the carrier force in the Coral Sea. Gotō’s MO Main Force (four heavy cruisers, one light carrier with eighteen planes, and a destroyer) drew up near the convoy for direct protection. Float planes from the cruisers and the new seaplane base at Deboyne would scour the waters adjacent to the Louisiades. Likewise, bombers from Rabaul and Tulagi flying boats sought enemy forces south and east of the Louisiades. Inoue’s own carriers and land-based bombers would crush the opposition and open the way to Port Moresby. Admiral Takagi, commanding MO Striking Force (two carriers with 111 operational planes, two heavy cruisers, and six destroyers), remained confident. On the sixth he pursued the U.S. carrier that surprised Tulagi but could not overtake it. The seventh would be different. Air searches—his own and the other commands—would surely pinpoint the enemy carrier skulking well southeast of the Louisiades. At the same time Base Air Force at Rabaul planned its own search-and-destroy mission of twelve torpedo-armed land attack planes, while twenty level bombers and a dozen fighters softened up Port Moresby. Inoue positioned the four submarines of the Eastern Detachment far south to harass the remnants once the enemy fled toward Australia. All the bases appeared to be covered.1
For Fletcher, closing the Louisiades from the southeast, the prospects of a major battle soon after dawn on 7 May also loomed large. Overnight TF-17 (two carriers with 128 operational planes, seven heavy cruisers, one light cruiser, and eleven destroyers) hastened to take position at dawn one hundred miles south of Rossel in the eastern Louisiades. His job was to prevent a seaborne invasion of Port Moresby and hopefully not lose his shirt in the process. Available long-range air support in Australia and at Port Moresby totaled eighteen B-17 heavy bombers, fourteen B-25 and sixteen B-26 medium bombers, a half-dozen RAAF Hudson medium bombers, and a lone RAAF Catalina.2
On the evening of 6 May Fitch, the new TF-17 air task group commander, issued orders for the Lexington and Yorktown air groups (thirty-six fighters, seventy dive bombers, and twenty-two torpedo bombers) for the seventh. The Yorktown as duty carrier was to launch ten SBDs at “earliest dawn” to search 250 miles northwest to northeast (325 to 085 degrees) in the direction of Bougainville. That offered more evidence of the baleful influence of misleading radio intelligence regarding the likely location of the enemy carriers. Fitch reserved half the fighters for combat air patrol and assigned the rest as strike escort. He also held back, certainly at Ted Sherman’s urging, seven Lex SBDs to fly anti-torpedo-plane patrol instead of augmenting the attack. The strike was to be ready to leave at dawn. To enable the two groups to attack in successive waves, he ordered the Yorktown to delay departure of her strike for fifteen minutes after the Lexington aircraft left. That was another direct contrast to the Japanese, who adroitly integrated their strikes.3
Fitch’s order confined the big 1,000-pounders to the bombing squadrons and prescribed one 500-pound and two 100-pound bombs for each VS SBD. The TBDs would have torpedoes. On the evening of 6 May Commander Arnold, the Yorktown’s peppery air officer, had already as a matter of routine started loading 1,000-pound bombs on all strike SBDs. He deplored the mixed bomb load that forced the SBDs, despite the threat of defending fighters, to execute multiple dives to drop the 100-pound “fire crackers” for antiaircraft suppression. The Yorktown SBDs invariably packed the largest payload when attacking capital ships. Arnold protested the arming order to Buckmaster, who referred him to flag plot. Fletcher agreed things “didn’t look quite right,” but reluctant to override Fitch regarding aviation matters, he suggested the Yorktown question the order. Predictably Fitch rejected the complaint and demanded compliance, but by then it was dark. The Yorktown’s flight deck bristled with all thirty-five SBDs (armed with 1,000-pound bombs except for the ten allocated for search) and ten VT-5 TBDs. “Horrified” the only way the SBDs could be rearmed was by extensive use of flashlights, not permissible because of danger of subs, Buckmaster kept the big bombs on VS-5. After the battle Arnold privately queried his friends on Fitch’s staff, who blamed Sherman. Contrary to the advice of the staff, Fitch had given into Sherman and approved the same outmoded bomb loading as at Salamaua-Lae. Later in May Sherman became “quite miffed” when he learned all the Yorktown SBDs wielded the 1,000-pounders contrary to orders. Fletcher “cooled him off” by explaining that rearming was not feasible and that it was probably better to use “the biggest bombs we had.” Nevertheless, Sherman bore a grudge against Fletcher and the Yorktown that he voiced to King and others that summer.4
On the evening of 6 May the search summary from Comsowespac appeared to confirm Jomard Passage as the enemy’s route through the Louisiades. At 1530 planes had seen four transports and two destroyers off Deboyne and bound for Jomard. Earlier other Australia-based aircraft reported additional forces, including a half-dozen transports, four or five cruisers, and six destroyers, north and northwest of Rossel. Around midnight MacArthur advised Fletcher that his B-17s struck out that morning against the carrier forty miles southwest of Bougainville. That was the last word Fletcher received of enemy carriers on 6 May, and it certainly corresponded with his estimates based on radio intelligence. Allied aircraft were to shadow the force off Deboyne throughout the night and report positions every hour in plain language as they neared Jomard, but there is no evidence Fletcher was ever told which frequencies to monitor. After daylight on 7 May three B-17s were to attack shipping at Deboyne and Woodlark, while three B-17s and eight B-26 medium bombers hit Jomard Passage.5
Having configured TF-17 with two cruiser striking groups, Fletcher sought to use them independently to achieve his fundamental mission. Now with at least part of the invasion convoy about to traverse Jomard Passage, he perceived a golden opportunity for a separate surface attack. He selected Crace’s multinational Support Group (two heavy cruisers, one light cruiser, and two destroyers) for the Jomard mission and reinforced it with the destroyer Farragut from Kinkaid’s Attack Group. For the past two months Fletcher had carefully pondered the proper tactical employment of the Australian Squadron. In April while at Tongatabu he consulted Poco Smith, who briefly served under Crace in mid March. Smith praised Crace as a “good seaman,” who “handled the force very well,” but he judged the differences in tactical doctrine, gunnery, and communications between the two navies to be great. Fletcher replied that Smith would not have to serve under Crace again. “Next time I shall give [Crace] an independent command.”6 It is likely that Wilson Brown informed Fletcher of Crace’s fervent desire not merely to screen the carriers, but to execute independent attack missions in support of Australian territory. This one definitely filled the bill. At 0538 the Yorktown blinkered a message to Crace: “Proceed at daylight with your group to destroy enemy ships reported passing through Jomard Passage and threatening Moresby. Conserve fuel. Fuel destroyers from cruisers. Retire to Townsville when necessary to fuel.” The fact that the Australian Squadron had adopted U.S. underway refueling methods allowed Crace the flexibility for such a mission. Fletcher authorized Crace to break radio silence at his discretion to keep Leary informed of his movements. He clearly thought it unlikely that Crace would rejoin him until after the carriers exchanged blows, though he did expect to be nearby as the battle shifted closer to Port Moresby. Crace in turn determined twenty-five knots could see him off Jomard Passage by 1330, leaving five hours of daylight to plug the gap. He assembled his force, took course 315 degrees at twenty-five knots, and disappeared to the northwest.7
Fletcher’s decision to detach Crace has elicited much controversy. Fletcher explained to Bates at the Naval War College that he feared the opposing carriers would quickly neutralize each other, just as in many prewar tactical exercises. Therefore he positioned a separate cruiser task group to repulse the Port Moresby invasion convoy, whether or not the U.S. flattops could intervene. Bates in turn raked him over the coals for exposing Crace’s Support Group without air cover and depriving TF-17 of its antiaircraft defense. Morison sarcastically dubbed the mission “Crace’s Chase” and claimed it served no useful purpose. If the Japanese carriers had won the main battle, he argued, they would have easily dealt with Crace, whereas a triumph by Fletcher would also have saved Port Moresby. Morison ignored the fact that carriers, even if not sunk or crippled, might have to withdraw because of battle damage or heavy plane losses. G. Hermon Gill, the official Australian naval historian, and British naval historian H. P. Willmott seconded the opinions of Bates and Morison.8
Not everyone agreed with the critics. Crace himself fully supported the Jomard mission. In 1957 he acknowledged Morison’s denunciation of dividing TF-17, but added, “Under the circumstances prevailing at the time, I am certain Fletcher was right and the advantage to be gained by possibly catching the Moresby Invasion Group in the Jomard Passage far outweighed that gained by increasing the Anti-Aircraft screen by the ships of my force.” In other words Crace recognized that the distilled wisdom of a war’s worth of carrier combat was not the yardstick by which to fairly measure the initial pioneers. He was not particularly surprised by these orders, given that he lobbied Brown in February and March for exactly such an aggressive role. Schindler, TF-17 staff gunnery officer and antiaircraft expert, also deprecated the general ineffectiveness of ship antiaircraft fire in the early days of the war. He judged the Support Group’s contribution “a very minor consideration as far as AA [antiaircraft] protection was concerned,” and worried more about losing three destroyers from the TF-17 antisubmarine screen. Schindler heartily endorsed Fletcher’s decision to send Crace to Jomard Passage. “Had the Group made contact it might have well destroyed an important enemy force which couldn’t have had air protection.” That was a key factor in the original decision. It was believed that with TF-17 between the enemy carriers and Crace, every Japanese plane that could carry a torpedo or a bomb would be gunning for the U.S. carriers, not a cruiser group. As will be shown, a series of complex events rendered that assessment completely invalid on 7 May.9
A half hour before dawn on 7 May Fletcher turned TF-17 southeast into the brisk wind to launch the search. The ten Yorktown SBDs fanned out north and east. At 0625 Fletcher changed course to 025 degrees at fifteen knots. At that time Rossel was 115 miles due north and Deboyne 170 miles northwest. After the sun rose at 0645, he increased speed to twenty-two knots. Four Lexington fighters took off for combat air patrol, and six SBDs flew anti-torpedo-plane patrol. At 0718 Fletcher turned north. During the morning search the tension in TF-17 was almost palpable, with strike planes poised on deck and pilots crowded in the ready rooms. All three enemy carriers could be within striking range. Victory hinged on getting the jump before the enemy could locate TF-17 and land his own blows.
First word from the search reached the Yorktown at 0735. Lt. Keith E. Taylor, VB-5 executive officer, radioed the sighting of two heavy cruisers northwest of Rossel and about 170 miles northwest of TF-17. These ships ambled away northwest at twelve knots. A pair of cruisers was small-fry but perhaps indicated an enemy concentration in the neighborhood. To Fletcher, carefully monitoring the situation, northeast still looked where the enemy carriers would likely show, but he hedged his bets. He told Fitch and Kinkaid at 0758 that should a “suitable objective” appear to the northwest, he would move west at 1000. In that event he reckoned the Point Option10 speed (the average rate of advance) would be eight knots—slow, because the twenty-knot southeasterly wind would require the carriers to turn sharply away to conduct air operations. However, if nothing more substantial turned up to the northwest, Fletcher planned to advance northeast with a Point Option speed of ten knots.11
Task force operations, Coral Sea, 7 May 1942
At 0815 Fletcher hit the jackpot. Lt. John L. Nielsen, who flew the far western search sector, found two carriers and four heavy cruisers north of Misima, an island located northwest of Rossel and just east of Deboyne. This force steamed southeast at eighteen to twenty knots, that is, almost directly toward TF-17.12 Fletcher logically assumed this was the Moresby Striking Force with the two big carriers of the 5th Carrier Division. Fitch could strike them.13 At fully 225 miles northwest of TF-17, the target was perhaps fifty miles beyond the limited radius of the U.S. carrier fighters and torpedo planes. Yet if the enemy maintained course and speed, the distance would shrink to where they might just be able to accompany the dive bombers. Fletcher and Fitch bravely risked waiting an hour while closing the target in order to launch a full strike. This was despite evidence that Japanese search planes already glimpsed TF-17. Lt. Frank F. Gill, the Lexington FDO, discovered worrisome contacts soon after 0700. Shortly after 0833 both Lexington and Yorktown radars picked up a bogey thirty miles west. Gill dispatched combat air patrol fighters in “another heartbreaking” pursuit that the intruders evaded.14
At 0915 Fitch finally released Sherman and Buckmaster to attack, “objective enemy CV.” With the estimated distance still two hundred miles, Buckmaster asked whether the short-ranged torpedo planes and fighters should go. Fitch replied affirmative. If the enemy persisted in approaching TF-17 at the same reported course and speed, the strike should only need to fly 170 miles to reach the target. At 0921, after consulting with Fitch, Fletcher set the subsequent Point Option course at 290 degrees. He counted on an average rate of advance of fifteen knots to cut down the strike’s return leg. TF-17 swung southeast into the wind at 0926, and the first aircraft took off from the Lexington’s one huge deck load of ten F4Fs, twenty-eight SBDs, and twelve TBDs. After Fletcher himself got on the bullhorn to exhort the Yorktown flyers to get the carriers, Buckmaster followed suit at 0944, three minutes before the last Lex TBD waddled into the air. Twenty-five SBDs and ten TBDs comprised the first Yorktown deck load. To ensure the planes reached the target together, Pederson devised another innovative “running rendezvous” as employed on 10 March. The TBDs and SBDs left immediately, while the second deck load of eight escort F4Fs, departing at 1013, used their faster cruising speed to catch up. Burch, commanding officer of VS-5, again exercised general supervision of the Yorktown strike, while Schindler occupied the rear seat of a VS-5 SBD. At 1024, after the Yorktown landed her search SBDs, Fletcher brought TF-17 all the way around to 290 degrees, the designated Point Option course, and rang up twenty-three knots. The skies gradually filled to half cloud cover, and worse weather was on the way.
Several new complications confronted Fletcher in close succession. At 0943 one of the senior TF-17 leaders reported, accurately as it turned out, that the “enemy has our position.” Who sent that message is not recorded, but the likeliest possibility is Fitch, utilizing the findings of Fullinwider’s radio intelligence unit in the Lexington.15 Although Gill, and Pederson in the Yorktown, strongly suspected the presence of snoopers based upon radar, they had not been absolutely certain because no one had yet spotted one. Now Fletcher’s fear that the enemy had located TF-17 was confirmed. Everything depended on which side could hit harder.
The next problem arose at 1021 when the Neosho, ostensibly out of harm’s way, radioed that three planes had bombed the Fueling Group some 325 miles southeast of TF-17. Fletcher later explained his concern that neither the oiler nor the destroyer Sims ever identified whether the planes were land-based bombers, carrier planes, or flying boats. Bates and others questioned that judgment, pointing out that the Neosho was some 750 miles from Rabaul, the nearest Japanese airfield, and thus supposedly out of range. Thus Fletcher should have realized the attackers must have come from a carrier. However, the critics failed to realize that the Fueling Group’s operating area fell within range of flying boats from Tulagi and Shortland. The Neosho’s message mentioned only three enemy planes, although in fact her observers saw many more aircraft in the area. A mere trio could still mean flying boats. Fletcher’s puzzlement was legitimate, but also his own fault due to his serious misjudgment in keeping the Fueling Group within seven hundred miles of Tulagi.16
Word of an air attack, source unknown, against the distant Fueling Group troubled Fletcher. What occurred simultaneously proved devastating. When Nielsen returned, he dropped a message on the Yorktown’s flight deck stating that he had sighted four light cruisers and two destroyers. When asked, after he landed, about the two enemy carriers his astonished response was in effect: “What carriers?” Investigation established that Nielsen’s coding device was misaligned and wrongly enciphered the all-important message. The system was later discarded. According to Biard, Nielsen was immediately hauled up to flag plot to explain, whereupon an irate Fletcher, gesturing violently, supposedly yelled: “Young man, do you know what you have done? You have just cost the United States two carriers!” Nielsen subsequently recounted “catching hell” from someone. Yeoman Thomas Newsome, Fletcher’s combat talker, was also present in flag plot but recalled no dramatic outburst.17 If Fletcher indeed lost his composure (and there is no independent confirmation), it was only briefly. At 1031 he relayed to Fitch the potentially disastrous news that the TF-17 strike had miscarried, having been directed to the wrong target. Other than Keith Taylor and Nielsen, the Yorktown search discovered no enemy ships. Thick clouds and squalls to the northeast and east rendered a thorough search impossible. Lt. (jg) Henry M. McDowell flying the 067-degree line to the northeast even turned back after only going 165 miles.18 Therefore Fletcher could not rule out enemy carriers hiding in the northeast quadrant, where in fact he originally thought they might be. He considered whether to recall the strike now well on its way to the objective or let it press on northwest in the hope it might find a worthy target. Avoiding possibly fatal hesitation, he correctly decided to let the planes continue.19
While Fletcher still talked to Nielsen in flag plot, Gerry Galpin appeared holding a vital message that could partially redeem the situation. At 1022 air headquarters at Port Moresby radioed that one carrier, ten transports, and sixteen warships had been located only thirty miles south of the position Nielsen provided for the misidentified carrier force. Fletcher increased speed at 1041 to twenty-five knots on the Point Option course of 290 degrees and probably wished he could, by sheer will alone, bridge the gap to direct his strike planes. Hugely relieved they would at least have a chance to attack one carrier after all, he informed Fitch of the contact at 1045, and at 1053 transmitted a message in the clear to redirect the strike groups toward the new target. Fletcher shot his bolt and could do nothing more in the meantime but wait and hope. He did not know that Takagi, his deadliest opponent, faced the same dilemma after his dawn search also grossly misreported the identity of a target.20
Daybreak on 7 May found the eager MO Striking Force 275 miles southeast of Rossel (already too far south for Fletcher’s dawn search to find) and moving south. Hara personally believed the U.S. carrier force was no closer to the Louisiades than four hundred miles. Hence beginning at 0600 a dozen carrier attack planes swept across the southwest quadrant to 250 miles. Unknown to Takagi and Hara, TF-17 was 210 miles west, much closer to Rossel than they suspected, and already too far north for their own search to encounter. At 0722 two Shōkaku searchers radioed exciting news that American ships lurked only 163 miles south of MO Striking Force. One enemy carrier, one cruiser, and three destroyers headed due north at sixteen knots. Hara felt vindicated. The enemy was just where he thought. By 0815, seventy-eight Shōkaku and Zuikaku aircraft winged south to end the carrier threat to the MO Operation. As an added bonus, the searchers also reported an oiler and a heavy cruiser about twenty-five miles southeast of the main enemy force.21
The happy scenario of Takagi and Hara quickly soured. By dawn virtually all of Gotō’s MO Attack Force—Kajioka’s Port Moresby Invasion Force, his MO Main Force, and Marumo’s Support Force—converged in the Misima-Deboyne area north of Jomard Passage. Seaplanes from Marumo’s temporary base at Deboyne and from the heavy cruisers Furutaka and Kinugasa of the 6th Cruiser Division (temporarily operating east of the main body) combed the waters beyond the Louisiades. Allied planes were also active over the eastern Louisiades. To Gotō’s consternation they made contact before his own searchers could report back. Three B-17s led by Capt. Maurice C. Horgan left Port Moresby before sunrise for a search-attack mission toward Deboyne, where the invasion convoy might be expected to pass. At 0748 they sighted Japanese ships and carefully checked out the area. Below was the whole array of ships at and near Deboyne. As Fletcher later attested, Horgan’s subsequent sighting report, routed through Port Moresby, was of the highest importance. Shortly thereafter the B-17s bombed the seaplane tender Kamikawa Maru but caused only minor damage.22
At 0750 Gotō heard the alarming news of an enemy carrier plane seen snooping part of MO Main Force northwest of Rossel. That was Keith Taylor, who inspected the Furutaka and Kinugasa. With a U.S. carrier obviously nearby, Gotō worried that a strike might follow. Soon afterward Nielsen showed up north of Misima. His unintentionally misleading message reporting two carriers and four heavy cruisers led Fletcher to unleash a full strike. Ironically Nielsen had in truth spotted a carrier force, namely the rest of Gotō’s MO Main Force (Shōhō, Aoba, Kako, and Sazanami), but never realized it.23 It is fascinating to contemplate what Fletcher might have done had Nielsen just reported the one carrier, perhaps just what he actually did. Gotō’s own searchers offered more daunting news after 0820, when they came upon an American carrier, a battleship, two cruisers, and seven destroyers eighty miles south of Rossel. They shadowed the U.S. force and continued transmitting contact reports, some of which reached Takagi and Hara as well as others, including Hypo at Pearl Harbor and Fullinwider in the Lex. Gotō correctly decided on the basis of search reports that the enemy force south of the Louisiades had separated into two groups (Crace heading west and Fletcher moving northeast), but other Japanese commanders failed to perceive that key fact. Their confusion only grew during the day, ultimately to Fletcher’s great advantage. Gotō knew from radio traffic that MO Striking Force also found the enemy and was attacking. By 0900 he realized to his vast dismay that Takagi’s target was hundreds of miles farther southeast than the one that threatened MO Attack Force. Gotō told Kajioka to retire temporarily north or northwest and girded his reunited MO Main Force for battle. For his own part Hara thought the enemy southern force that he was attacking was the stronger of the two, whereas Takagi desperately wanted to finish up in the south and hasten west to support Gotō.24
Takagi’s supposedly formidable southern enemy group was merely the unlucky Neosho and Sims, inexplicably magnified by inept searchers into a whole carrier task force. Hara’s strike sifted the target area after 0910, but found only the lowly oiler and its escorting “cruiser.” Captain Phillips, in charge of the Fueling Group, thought at first the two search planes had come from TF-17, but after one rudely released a “bomb” (actually a target designator) he realized his error. Beginning at 0935 several high-flying Japanese formations passed overhead unaffected by a 5-inch gun barrage from the Sims. Lt. Cdr. Willford M. Hyman, her commanding officer, apparently radioed a contact report, but no one in TF-17 received the message.25 At 1005 three planes, wrongly supposed to be twin-engine bombers, broke off from yet another Japanese group seemingly for a horizontal bombing run that caused only near misses. Actually they were carrier attack planes lugging torpedoes, and again the “bombs” were target indicators. As noted before, the Neosho’s 1021 contact report mentioned only three aircraft, definitely not helpful to Fletcher. Phillips later censured his communications officer for not correctly dispatching contact and position reports.26
At 1008 a Kinugasa float plane shadower alerted Gotō that the Americans southeast of Rossel were launching a strike. The same searchers later noted the presence of one Saratoga-type carrier and another carrier, class not identified. That proved a sharp jolt to the Japanese who had not anticipated facing such a formidable force so early in the MO Operation. Takagi finally got MO Striking Force pointed west at 1042. Watching the situation deteriorate, Inoue ordered his forces to concentrate against the enemy south of Rossel. At 1051 the original searchers from MO Striking Force belatedly confessed they had discovered only an oiler. Thus at 1100 Takagi recalled the strike. Lt. Cdr. Takahashi Kakuichi, the mission leader, required time to gather his scattered squadrons and start the fighters and torpedo planes northward. As soon as that was accomplished he led the thirty-six carrier bombers against the hapless Neosho and Sims. By 1148 their accurate dive-bombing sank the destroyer and left the mortally wounded oiler drifting without power. But by then Inoue had already lost a carrier.27
As the situation simultaneously unraveled for both sides, Fletcher sought an accurate picture of Japanese tactical dispositions so he could decide what to do next. At 1059 Leary summarized the Sowespac air contact reports, based mainly on sightings of numerous transports, auxiliaries, and escorting warships starting around 0800 by Horgan’s B-17s.28 Those enemy ships all clustered in the vicinity of Deboyne. Fletcher’s big worry remained the actual whereabouts of the Japanese carriers and the immediate threat they posed to TF-17. For the next several hours until his strike groups returned, he was committed to his westerly Point Option course. Even after all the planes landed, an additional hour or more would be required to rearm and refuel them. Therefore TF-17 could not count on launching a second strike before 1400 at the very earliest. At the same time Biard apparently deduced from fragmentary radio intercepts that the other two carriers prowled to the east and were the source of danger to the Neosho and Sims. His assessment was correct, but it is not possible at this time with the incomplete evidence available to understand precisely how and when he came to his conclusion, or the exact nature of the advice he gave Fletcher.29 Another bogey on the Yorktown’s radar at 1044 served as a reminder the Japanese continued to track TF-17. At 1100 the Yorktown combat air patrol shot down a Type 97 flying boat only six miles northeast of the task force. At 1126 the Yorktown launched the ten former search SBDs on anti-torpedo-plane patrol. It is not known whether Fletcher ever contemplated sending them or the seven Lexington SBDs already on patrol to search for the enemy carriers. Given the low number of available fighters, Fitch obviously considered all seventeen Dauntlesses essential to the defense of TF-17. The poor weather in the sectors where the enemy carriers were thought to be hiding also militated against another try to find them there.
First word from the strike groups reached TF-17 at 1145, when a Lex SBD pilot announced he was ditching at Rossel. At 1154 several ships in TF-17 (as well as in Crace’s Support Group) heard an unidentified voice exult on the attack radio frequency: “Boy we sure got that carrier good. How about the other one?” Welcome confirmation that a carrier indeed had sunk arrived at 1210, when Lt. Cdr. Robert E. Dixon, the extremely able commanding officer of the Lex’s VS-2, sang out: “Scratch one flattop signed Bob.” Dixon stayed behind to make sure the carrier sank and sent a prearranged message to that effect.30 Fletcher’s run northwest toward the target lowered the return leg below 150 miles. TF-17 radars picked up friendly strike planes at fifty to sixty miles. Fletcher brought TF-17 around to the southeast into the wind for air operations. The weather had turned vile with deepening overcast and squalls, a taste of things to come. By 1316 the Lexington and Yorktown recovered ninety strike aircraft. Only three SBDs were missing.
Enthusiastic aviators described finding a task force northeast of Misima and sinking a carrier variously reported as “Koryu” or modified “Ryujo” class. A cruiser also rolled over and sank after a bomb hit or near miss. Fletcher called the two senior squadron commanders to the flag bridge to brief him and Buckmaster. Asked what he saw, Joe Taylor, the skipper of VT-5, replied: “I’ll show you in a minute.” Fletcher countered sharply, “Come now, this is no time for joking.” Taylor was not kidding around. In a few minutes he produced photographs taken by one of the crewmen that presented a graphic portrait of the destruction of what was soon identified as the “Ryūkaku.” Taylor recalled that Fletcher and Buckmaster “jumped up and down like a couple of old grads when a last minute touchdown saved the day.” They “just threw their arms around Bill Burch and me and hugged us,” so “excited and happy” were they. That afternoon Fletcher congratulated Fitch and his aviators for their “splendid performance.”31
In the haste of getting the air groups ready to fight again, details of the attack only emerged slowly. After crossing over Tagula Island twenty miles west of Rossel, Cdr. Bill Ault’s Lexington group welcomed rapidly clearing skies. Around 1040, even before Fletcher attempted to redirect the strike groups to Horgan’s contact, the Lex flyers sighted ship wakes to the northeast beyond Misima. Drawing closer, they recognized a carrier in the midst of a cruiser force. There was no question of bypassing that target. Besides, Ault never received the message that changed their targets from two carriers to one. He stalked the Shōhō, which with the rest of Gotō’s reunited MO Main Force (the four heavy cruisers and one destroyer) covered the Port Moresby Invasion Force located off to the northwest. The Shōhō was preparing a small torpedo strike of five carrier attack planes and three Zero fighters against the U.S. carriers being tracked southeast of Rossel. Only three Zeros flew combat air patrol and two Mitsubishi Type 96 carrier fighters handled antisubmarine patrol. Three more Zeros and two Type 96s were ready to relieve them.32
Ault’s command section of three SBDs pushed over against the carrier at 1110, followed by the ten of Dixon’s VS-2. Adroit shiphandling caused all to miss the Shōhō. She also sent three Zeros aloft to reinforce the defense. In contrast to U.S. practice, Gotō spread his ships far apart for independent evasive maneuvering. Nonetheless, the Shōhō did not escape a devastating, well-coordinated assault (one of the best of the war) by fifteen VB-2 SBDs under Lt. Cdr. Weldon L. Hamilton and Lt. Cdr. James H. Brett’s twelve VT-2 TBDs. Two 1,000-pound bombs set the flight deck and hangars on fire, and five torpedo hits tore open the hull, dooming the ship. Trailing the Lex group by fifteen minutes at Fitch’s order, Burch’s twenty-five Yorktown SBDs spotted the MO Main Force around 1100. Unlike Ault, he heard Fletcher’s message that relieved him of having to search for another carrier. Nearing the dive point while VT-2 made its attack, Burch saw only a “small” fire break out on the carrier and consequently at 1125 followed up the Lexington attack. The Yorktown SBDs scored eleven hits according to Japanese sources. Only Ens. Thomas W. Brown of VB-5, the last SBD pilot to dive, elected to shift to another target. Schindler and other Yorktowners thought he hit a cruiser that capsized and sank, but the nimble Sazanami was undamaged. There was no doubt about the carrier’s fate, particularly after the VT-5 TBDs piled on. They claimed hits by all ten torpedoes, and the Japanese confirmed at least two. The Shōhō succumbed at 1135 with great loss of life. The eight Japanese fighters aloft shot down one VS-2 SBD and forced another to ditch at Rossel, but the eighteen Wildcat escorts destroyed five of their number. Overkill was the only criticism that could be lodged against the TF-17 strike, after all the aircraft except two SBDs concentrated on the carrier. At least half the Yorktown SBDs and all of VT-5 should have diverted to other targets. That lapse could not overshadow the real triumph of annihilating the first major Japanese warship in the war.33
The balance of MO Main Force fled north without even stopping to rescue survivors. From just over the horizon Kajioka’s Port Moresby Invasion Force heard the explosions that signaled the end of the Shōhō. Kajioka kept withdrawing northwest. Once Inoue learned of the fiasco, he suspended the MO Operation until the enemy carrier force could be destroyed. At 1210 he directed the convoy to keep going north temporarily and mustered his forces to counterattack. Takagi was to keep after the U.S. carriers, while Gotō concentrated MO Main Force and Kajioka’s 6th Destroyer Squadron for a night surface battle south of Rossel. Land-based air from Rabaul also hunted the Allied task forces.34