During the predawn hours of 8 May a weary TF-17 steamed west while keeping 180 miles from the southeast fringe of the Louisiades. The skies cleared, and moonlight bathed the ships. Fletcher intended to continue west until just before sunrise, then pivot southeast into the prevailing trade winds to dispatch his dawn search. The two carriers of the Moresby striking force were on the prowl nearby, and he must locate them and attack as quickly as possible. The previous morning his aircraft destroyed the third carrier, “Ryūkaku” (Shōhō), and drove off, at least temporarily, the Port Moresby invasion force. At the same time Fletcher’s two detached forces, Crace’s Support Group and Phillips’s Fueling Group, sustained strong air attacks. Crace skillfully avoided damage, but the Sims was sunk and the Neosho still afloat, although a total loss. The victor of the Battle of the Coral Sea would emerge only after the carriers traded blows.1
Seven May exhausted aircrews and ships’ company alike. Such sleep as Fletcher secured came between 0130 and 0430. Morison sneered that Fletcher awoke the morning of 8 May “in somewhat more than his usual fighting mood.” Dawn found Crace’s Support Group (TG-17.3) about 130 miles south of the New Guinea coast, steaming northwest through the position that Crace gave Fletcher the previous evening. Crace was disappointed not to see a destroyer or an aircraft there to advise him of Fletcher’s intentions. In the absence of further orders, he decided to stay southeast of Port Moresby that morning to see what turned up. If it was quiet he would fuel the three destroyers from the cruisers.2
Fitch and his staff likewise rose early to plan their air battle with the 117 operational planes (thirty-one fighters, sixty-five dive bombers, and twenty-one torpedo planes) remaining in the Lexington and Yorktown. Deducting the eighteen SBDs necessary to conduct the full 360-degree search, the available striking force shrank to seventy-five aircraft. A dozen VS-2 Dauntlesses were to search the crucial northern semicircle to two hundred miles and six from VB-2 scan the southern sector to one hundred miles. Instead of relaunching the search SBDs as a follow-up strike, Fitch would use them to reinforce the eight Yorktown SBDs on antitorpedo-plane patrol. He reserved sixteen fighters, eight from each carrier, for the combat air patrol. Beginning at 0635 the Lexington turned southeast into the wind to launch four combat air patrol fighters and the eighteen search SBDs.
Carrier operations, Coral Sea, 8 May 1942
At 0657, four minutes after sunrise, Fletcher steadied on the Point Option course of 125 degrees at fifteen knots. TF-17 would not be blanketed this day by the overcast along the frontal zone. The cold front was only “quasi-stationary.” Overnight it shifted northeast and east, while TF-17 broke out to the west. Now there was light haze, only a few cumulus clouds, and visibility to seventeen miles. The edge of the frontal zone rested thirty to fifty miles north and northeast. Given the nature of weather forecasts Fletcher did not know that in advance. There is no evidence that either he or Fitch contemplated taking shelter in the bad weather, as attractive as that prospect later appeared. They recognized the value of the “weather gauge,” but under the tactical circumstances, with the Japanese carriers possibly quite close, they could not take advantage of it. Fitch directed the Yorktown to launch her own combat air patrol of four F4Fs and the eight SBDs for the anti-torpedo-plane patrol, but after a half hour when he saw no sign of imminent takeoffs, he queried Buckmaster. Finally at 0724, the first Yorktown planes took to the air. Buckmaster apologized. He had spotted the attack group for immediate launch and had to shift aircraft around to clear the deck for the anti-torpedo-plane patrol to take off. Now TF-17 could only wait to see what the search turned up and fondly hope it could attack before the enemy’s own strike appeared.3
The first hint of trouble came at 0802, when the Yorktown’s radar picked up a bogey eighteen miles northwest. Lieutenant Gill, the Lex’s fighter director, unleashed combat air patrol fighters only to have the intruder disappear off the radar screen at 0816. Even so, it was obvious an enemy plane “got a good look” at TF-17. Biard emerged from his green-curtained radio room to whisper to Fletcher that a Japanese snooper transmitted “English, English, English” and busily tattled about TF-17 to its base. Fullinwider in the Lexington likewise informed Fitch the enemy had found them. Sherman dryly predicted that the Japanese strike group would show up around 1100, and that a “simultaneous onslaught” could destroy the carriers from both sides. That was precisely Fletcher’s reasoning when he detached Crace’s Support Group the previous day.4
If the TF-17 search did not succeed in finding the enemy almost immediately, there could be no “simultaneous onslaught.” Fortunately at 0820 Lt. (jg) Joseph G. Smith from VS-2 had the good luck of spotting MO Striking Force in the midst of thick clouds and squalls. He reported by voice radio the position of two carriers, four heavy cruisers, and three destroyers, but interference prevented the Lexington from copying the whole message. Ens. Everleigh D. Willems and Commander Dixon, the two VS-2 pilots in adjacent sectors, alertly relayed Smith’s entire transmission to TF-17. “Contact 2 carriers 4 cruisers many destroyers bearing 006 dist 120 speed 15 at 0820.” Smith’s radioman also repeated the radio message by key. Not immediately receiving an acknowledgment, Smith started back to base as briefed. Ostensibly Smith placed the Japanese force only 120 miles due north of TF-17, almost spitting distance. Even more thrilling, Fletcher followed at 0837: “Believe we have been sighted by enemy carrier plane.” Fitch barked the only possible response: “Launch striking group.” A minute later he told the Lexington and Yorktown to omit the torpedo planes. It occurred to Sherman that the Yorktown might not understand why the TBDs could not go, although the target certainly appeared well within their range. He asked Buckmaster whether the Yorktown had the Lex’s “Point Zed,” a separate reference point used by the search to prevent eavesdropping Japanese from deducing the actual bearing and distance back to TF-17. However, Sherman himself was unsure whether his pilot actually used Zed or not. After a few anxious minutes both Fletcher and Fitch were satisfied Smith meant Zed. That placed the target bearing 028 degrees, 175 miles from TF-17. As yet Smith had not provided its course, a crucial factor. If the MO Striking Force headed away, it would be at or beyond the absolute limit of the TBDs and F4Fs. Nevertheless, at 0847 Fitch ordered the whole strike group to go. Aware it was a real gamble, Fletcher told Fitch to recommend a Point Option course that would decrease their return flight. Fitch replied that once the morning search was recovered (expected by 1000), TF-17 should steam toward the enemy. At 0857 Fletcher confirmed his original warning: “Enemy received contact report on us at 0822.” Three minutes later the first of thirty-nine Yorktown strike planes (six fighters, twenty-four dive bombers, and nine torpedo planes spotted as one deck load) rolled down her flight deck. The Lexington started launching her thirty-six planes (nine fighters, fifteen dive bombers, and twelve torpedo planes) at 0907. By 0925 the two air groups, widely separated as usual according to doctrine, had departed for the target.5
At 0908 while the TF-17 strike groups took off, the Yorktown transmitted by flag hoist orders from Fletcher to Fitch to “assume tactical command of the fleet.” Fletcher later explained that he did so “to reduce signalling between carriers and to allow [Fitch] complete freedom of action for his carriers and air groups.” It was a logical decision. Fletcher had employed his main weapon, and the Support Group watched the back door to Moresby. The immediate problems of attack and defense were best left to his subordinates, while he concentrated on the big picture. Hoping MacArthur’s aircraft could intervene (any attack would help), Fletcher relayed Smith’s contact report to Comsowespacfor, along with his own position. In the meantime Cincpac advised no fuel was available in the area other than previously noted, although he assumed that in an emergency (as this was) Leary would furnish the Bishopdale and Kurumba. The Tangier advised, and Leary confirmed, the Bishopdale was actually at Nouméa, not Efate. The Tippecanoe with a strong destroyer escort was due at Nouméa on 10 May to restock from the Bishopdale. Until then Fletcher was on his own.6
Fitch himself was surprised to receive tactical command at that juncture, but welcomed the opportunity. P. D. Stroop, the fiery flag secretary, thought a non-aviator admiral like Fletcher had no business commanding a carrier task force. Attending to necessary matters, the two carriers launched fighters and recovered the first combat air patrol and ten Lex SBDs. The rest of the search was expected back shortly, but one SBD deliberately remained far from base. On his own initiative, Dixon followed up Smith’s contact and discovered the enemy was more distant than the first reports indicated. At 0934 he radioed that two carriers and a battleship were located 140 miles due north of Zed, which worked out to 191 miles northeast of TF-17. He also provided course, 180 degrees, and speed, twenty-five knots, but that vital information did not come through. Dodging Zeros and storms Dixon stayed on station for more than an hour, one of the very few instances in 1942 when a U.S. plane actually shadowed a contact. The increased distance to the enemy gave Fitch pause. He must soon change course northeast to cut down the distance his own strike groups had to fly. However, he was committed to the southeast Point Option course at least until 1000, when the rest of the dawn search SBDs should be back.7
Tension this morning gripped not only TF-17 but also the various components of the MO Operation. Given Inoue’s order to reschedule the Port Moresby landing to 12 May, Gotō sought to reunite the widely scattered elements of the MO Attack Force north of the Louisiades. He directed the convoy, its escorts, and two cruisers of the 6th Cruiser Division to rendezvous that afternoon forty miles east of Woodlark. They would resume the advance once the way was cleared. Well to the southeast, Takagi’s MO Striking Force approached the battle in a grimmer, chastened attitude. Hara now had ninety-six flyable planes (thirty-eight fighters, thirty-three carrier bombers, and twenty-five carrier attack planes) on the Shōkaku and Zuikaku, down from 109 the previous day. The eight elite carrier attack crews lost the previous evening lessened his combat potential far more than simple numbers indicated. Also if anything, the Japanese aviators were even more exhausted than their U.S. counterparts. Rough seas extinguished Takagi’s hope of using cruiser float planes for search to free up carrier attack planes for the strike, though by moving north during the night away from TF-17, he needed just seven to cover a southerly arc to 250 miles. They departed at 0615. At that time MO Striking Force was in the midst of the band of bad weather about 220 miles northeast of TF-17. Takagi continued north to meet the Kinugasa and Furutaka from the 6th Cruiser Division but would hasten south to rapidly decrease the range once the U.S. carriers were found. Four land attack planes from Rabaul and three flying boats from Tulagi searched beyond the Louisiades. Bombers waited at Rabaul, but soggy runways threatened to keep them on the ground. The battle soon shifted out of range of Deboyne’s float planes patrolling the waters south of the Louisiades.8
One of Takagi’s search planes, commanded by PO1C Kanno Kenzō, indeed discovered TF-17 at 0822. Kanno gave its bearing and range from MO Striking Force as 205 degrees and 235 miles. The actual distance at that time was about 225 miles, so Kanno’s report was much more accurate than Smith’s. The Shōkaku and Zuikaku immediately spotted a strike of sixty-nine planes (eighteen fighters, thirty-three carrier bombers, and eighteen torpedo-armed carrier attack planes) under Commander Takahashi. After they departed at 0930, Takagi worked up to thirty knots to follow them into battle. Ironically only his decision to steam south at high speed would allow the shorter-ranged TF-17 strike groups to attack MO Striking Force.9
The Yorktown’s radar picked up an unidentified aircraft thirty-nine miles northeast. A few minutes later that shadower or another was detected twenty-five miles northwest. The Lexington refueled newly landed search Dauntlesses and spotted them for immediate launch to reinforce the anti-torpedo-plane patrol. By about 1000 Fitch feared imminent attack. A returning scout reported twelve aircraft forty-five miles northwest of TF-17. While the ten SBDs scrambled aloft, combat air patrol fighters chased several suspicious radar contacts. Two Yorktown fighters destroyed a hapless Type 97 flying boat that Americans later concluded was the sole shadower. The smoke that marked its demise was clearly visible northeast of the ships. No one ever spotted Kanno’s torpedo plane or realized that enemy carrier-based aircraft searched that day. Like Dixon, Kanno remained within sight of the opposing task force for more than an hour and radioed vital information, including homing signals, to guide the approaching strike group. Radio intelligence kept Fletcher and Fitch informed of Kanno’s transmissions. Unfortunately unlike the previous day, the Japanese strictly enciphered their aircraft radio transmissions, so little of the actual messages could be read. At 1029 the Lexington landed five tardy SBDs from the morning search (which left three still out), and also a strike TBD with engine trouble.
Fitch finally turned northeast toward the enemy striking force. At 1043 he drew TF-17 into the “Victor” defensive formation specified in Fletcher’s operations order and based on Sherman’s ideas. The two carriers deployed abreast on the fifteen-hundred-yard circle (which placed them three thousand yards apart), with the five cruisers on the three-thousand-yard circle and the seven destroyers at four thousand yards and outboard of the gaps between the cruisers. The function of the screen was to deliver strong antiaircraft fire to protect the carriers against air attack. One Japanese aviator who bombed TF-11 in February described the “ring formation, which the United States Navy boasted to the world.”10 The IJN’s philosophy with regard to carrier defense was diametrically different. Under air attack, the screening ships backed off to give the carriers more room to maneuver freely. The U.S. Navy practice was a compromise, because the carrier captains still considered radical maneuvers key to evading bombs and torpedoes. It was up to the screening ships to keep out of their way but stay close enough to offer antiaircraft support.
The U.S. Navy’s task force antiaircraft doctrine was about to get its first test at the hands of excellent opponents. Up to this point the ships had either been overwhelmed at Pearl Harbor or merely weathered skirmishes with level bombers. In neither case did the antiaircraft perform well. The ships wielded two types of antiaircraft weapons: heavy for long-range fire and light for close-in defense. Using shells with time fuses, the heavy antiaircraft guns—dual purpose 5-inch/38s in the Yorktown and most of the destroyers, and the older, less powerful 5-inch/25 antiaircraft in the Lexington and the cruisers—had a maximum effective slant range of about ten thousand yards and normally did not open fire beyond that distance. The fire control radar that a few of the ships mounted was not yet much of a factor. The 5-inch guns either used (ideally) director or local control to fire at individual targets (“continuously pointed fire” or “shoot to hit”) or laid barrages through which the enemy planes must pass to deliver their payloads. The light automatic weapons, 1.1-inch cannons in quadruple mounts and single 20-mm cannons and .50-caliber heavy machine guns, operated solely under local control using tracers. Usually only the ship being attacked had much of a chance to employ them to good effect. Because light antiaircraft enjoyed an effective range of one to two thousand yards at most—out near to where enemy planes released their bombs and torpedoes—most of their kills were of “revenge” variety after the attackers did their job.11
A gunnery expert, Fletcher held no illusions about the likely effectiveness of antiaircraft. He knew the principal means of destroying enemy aircraft were the seventeen combat air patrol fighters and twenty-three dive bombers on anti-torpedo-plane patrol, but they must be deployed correctly. Four fighters from each carrier were already aloft, along with eighteen SBDs (ten Lexington, eight Yorktown), but the F4Fs were low on fuel. The Lexington ranged five fighters and five SBDs and the Yorktown four fighters on deck, ready for launch. At 1051 it looked as if they were going to be needed. The Yorktown announced on TBS: “Warning. Have many aircraft bearing 020 distance 68 miles.” Two minutes later Gill gave the old carnival barker’s call, “Hey, Rube,” which recalled the combat air patrol fighters overhead. The TF-17 strike groups were silent until 1057, when suddenly the Yorktown heard Joe Taylor, commanding officer of VT-5, tell Burch, leader of the Yorktown dive bombers: “OK Bill, I’m starting in.” That answered the Yorktown’s prayers that their strike leaders had sighted the enemy carriers and, as instructed, coordinated their attacks.12
At 1101 both carriers scrambled their reserve aircraft. Gill dispatched the nine fighters to intercept the incoming Japanese, now some twenty miles northeast. Three of the Wildcats clawed for altitude looking for dive bombers; the other six stayed low to hunt torpedo planes. Eight Yorktown and three Lexington dive bombers likewise sought torpedo planes to the northeast, but a dozen Lex SBDs remained on station in their assigned sectors two thousand yards out from the ships. Gill kept the eight original combat air patrol fighters eight thousand feet overhead. At 1111 Fitch swung TF-17 right to 125 degrees, nearly directly into the wind, and ordered flank speed, twenty-five knots. Takahashi’s strike group had TF-17 in sight at 1105. The thirty-three carrier bombers advanced at fourteen thousand feet, while the eighteen carrier attack planes, lugging torpedoes, and all eighteen Zero escorts executed a fast, shallow dive from ten thousand feet. Gill’s split deployment of the combat air patrol miscarried. Clouds shielded the torpedo planes from the six Wildcats prowling low, while the three F4Fs that climbed after dive bombers ended up well below them. The SBD anti-torpedo-plane patrol bore the brunt of the attack and suffered heavily. Only one carrier attack plane fell before the strike actually approached TF-17, but Zeros blasted four Yorktown SBDs out of the sky. Having penetrated the outer layer of the air defense virtually intact, the strike group prepared to take on the two carriers.13
Wearing an old doughboy-style helmet, Fletcher stood outside with Lewis and several staff officers on the flag bridge, binoculars trained northeast. Snatches of dialogue between FDO and pilots brayed over the radio speaker in flag plot, but as yet the action was too distant to see from ships and besides was far too fast to follow. Having given Fitch tactical command, Fletcher could do no more under the immediate circumstances. Stroop put it well: “Oh, at this point in time—as far as the senior people were concerned—you were completely helpless. You were depending on the training that had been given to the fighter pilots in the air, and you were dependent on the training and practice [of ] the gunners.” At 1113 the port side 5-inch guns on the Lexington and the cruisers on that flank opened fire. The black blossoms of their exploding shells pointed the way to Japanese planes six or seven thousand yards out. Ens. Ralph V. Wilhelm, a Portland SOC pilot aloft during the battle, marveled that the “sky was just a solid blanket of antiaircraft bursts all between 1000 and 3000 feet altitude.” Yeoman Tom Newsome, the TBS combat talker standing just inside the doorway in the Yorktown flag plot, heard Fletcher tell Lewis, “They’re going to bop us.”14
Thirteen torpedo planes swarmed around the Lexington in an arc that extended from her port beam and across both bows in the dreaded “anvil” attack. “As they came over the screen against the Lexington,” Captain Early in the Phelps wrote, “all hell broke loose with everyone from 5-inch, 1.1 [inch] and 20-mms.” Sherman ordered right full rudder to turn away from lead torpedo planes off his port bow, but the massive Lex took thirty to forty seconds to start swinging to starboard. At the same time four Zuikaku carrier attack planes charged in from the Yorktown’s port beam. Her 5-inchers pounded away at the specks of incoming torpedo planes about seven thousand yards off. Thirty seconds later every automatic weapon that could bear cut loose. To Buckmaster there appeared to be nine attackers, but they included some Zero fighters. Antiaircraft fire downed one torpedo plane, but the others roared in. At 1118 he called for emergency flank speed and swerved away hard to starboard as soon as the lead torpedo planes dropped their fish. The nimble Yorktown swiftly swiveled southwest and worked up to thirty knots. The torpedoes passed harmlessly to port, and another carrier attack plane succumbed to antiaircraft fire before it could get clear. TF-17 broke up as the carriers maneuvered independently to avoid torpedoes. Kinkaid with the Minneapolis, New Orleans, and destroyers Dewey, Morris, Anderson, and Phelps tried to stay close to the Lexington with varying degrees of success, while Poco Smith’s Astoria, Portland, and Chester and destroyers Aylwin, Russell, and Hammann slipped neatly around the Yorktown.15
Capt. Elliott Buckmaster, 1941.
Courtesy of U.S. Navy, via Robert J. Cressman
The Yorktown weathered the torpedo attack without damage, but Fletcher did not yet know whether such good fortune attended the Lexington, now moving away while under assault by dive bombers. The Yorktown’s turn came at 1124, when a long string of dive bombers materialized high over the port beam. There began a deadly duel of wits between Buckmaster and fourteen pilots of the Zuikaku Carrier Bomber Squadron. Attacking one at a time in close succession, each plane appeared to aim for the island. Buckmaster waited until the pilot was committed in his dive, then swung the rudder hard over sharply toward the attacker to present only a narrow cross-deck target. Nearly every Japanese swooped to fifteen hundred feet or below before unleashing his bomb, which was easily visible as it plummeted toward the Yorktown. At the last second the personnel on the navigating and flag bridges hit the deck. By the time one bomber pulled out low over the water, Buckmaster already started jockeying to thwart the next assailant in line. In between the furious antiaircraft barrages, his shouts for course changes rang out to the flag bridge one deck below. An admiring Newsome watched the twisting Yorktown “making snakes in the water” with her wake. A dozen near misses smothered the carrier. Six bombs cleared the island by only a few feet. Their blasts heaved huge geysers close on the starboard side between the bow and the bridge and scattered bomb fragments all over the island. Lewis later joked, “Frank Jack and I could almost reach out and catch them. Right then I was resigned to the thought that I, from Lewis’ Switch, Texas, was destined not to survive this war.” Several close misses wildly rocked the ship and raised the stern clear out of the water. One to port caved in a seam under the armored deck and opened fuel tanks to the sea, leaving a long trail of oil. The Yorktown sustained only one hit. At 1127 a 250-kilogram semi–armor-piercing bomb sliced steeply through the flight deck amidships only fifteen feet out from the island and detonated just above the fourth deck deep inside the ship. The blast wiped out a repair party (sixty-six sailors killed or seriously wounded), caused considerable structural damage, and knocked out the air search radar. Thick black smoke billowed from the hole in the flight deck, but the fires were swiftly extinguished. Shrapnel venting the boiler intakes forced the engineers to secure three fire rooms, which reduced speed to twenty-five knots. No Zuikaku dive bombers succumbed to antiaircraft fire or fighters, but a VF-2 Wildcat knocked down one of two Shōkaku Type 99s that shifted over from the Lexington to dive against the Yorktown.16
The actual air attack subsided about 1131, although battles between defenders and retiring Japanese planes raged for several more minutes. The Yorktown and Lexington ended up about six miles apart, the Lex to the north. Fletcher tried raising Fitch, but the Lexington was not transmitting on TBS or the fighter director circuit. For anxious minutes the Yorktown’s radar was not working, and the Chester’s radar kept vigil. Pederson told the fighters: “Protect the force.” It was obvious the Lexington was damaged, but as yet no one knew precisely how much. “At times the Lex was almost invisible due to bombs and torpedoes around her. They got shorts, splinters, and duds everywhere.” Kinkaid’s report offered an even more dramatic description: “Great clouds of smoke were pouring from her funnels and she was listing to port. Her speed was reduced only momentarily, the list was corrected promptly and she continued on at 25 knots and seemed to be under control. Great pools of fuel oil covered the surface of the water in her wake, and the air was filled with the sweetish odor of it mixed with the acrid fumes of gun powder.” Nine torpedo planes scored two hits on the Lexington’s port side, although some thought there were as many as five. The first fish exploded underneath the forward gun gallery, jammed the one usable flight deck elevator in the up position and buckled the port aviation gasoline tanks, causing numerous leaks. The second torpedo caused more apparent damage by flooding several compartments that opened a list of 6 to 7 degrees to port. Water leaking into a trio of fire rooms forced three boilers to be shut down, reducing speed to 24.5 knots. Seventeen dive bombers attacked the Lex. One 242-kilogram high explosive “land” bomb, striking the corner of the flight deck forward, wiped out a 5-inch gun crew and ignited a tenacious fire in flag quarters. A second bomb, exploding high on the port side of the massive smoke stack, caused little damage. As with the Yorktown, near misses by bombs opened seams underwater. No other ship in TF-17 was damaged, although the Minneapolis evaded two torpedo planes that originally lunged at the Lexington.
To Fletcher the distant Lexington looked in good shape, and he knew the Yorktown could still steam and fight. As Poco Smith later wrote: “All in all, we seemed to have come out of this skirmish very well.” With great relief Fletcher radioed Nimitz and Leary: “First enemy attack completed[,] no vital damage our force.” He did not know whether the enemy carrier commander could say the same.17
The carriers attended to damage control and landed shot-up planes and those low on gasoline. Among those coming on board the Lexington was Dixon, just back from the vicinity of the Japanese carriers. Only gradually did the carriers account for all their defending planes. Twenty fighters (including three from the VF-2 strike escort that had to turn back early) and twenty-three SBDs fought for TF-17. Three F4Fs (two VF-2, one VF-42) and five SBDs (four Yorktown, one Lexington) failed to return. An SBD with a wounded pilot crashed into the water while trying to land on the Lexington. Numerous other planes were bullet-damaged, some beyond repair. Claims by U.S. aircraft numbered thirty-two planes, and antiaircraft gunners tallied another twenty-eight. The latest estimate is that defending aircraft accounted for perhaps ten (four carrier bombers and six carrier attack planes), whereas antiaircraft probably downed two carrier attack planes and a carrier bomber. Final Japanese losses were far higher because of ditched and jettisoned aircraft.18
Back on the air at 1151, Fitch ordered, “All ships close Lexington and rejoin formation.” He desperately wanted to shorten the return leg of his strike planes. Busy conducting flight operations, the Yorktown could not approach the Lex for another hour. At 1204 Burch, leading the returning Yorktown strike SBDs, piped up that enemy fighters were attacking. “We need help!” Without a working radar the Yorktown had no idea where he was and whether fighters could even get to him. The erstwhile pursuers turned out to be escort F4Fs, and Burch soon had TF-17 in sight. Several encounters between returning strike planes turned out poorly for the Japanese. VF-42 escort fighters downed the gallant Kanno’s search plane and finished off the carrier bomber flown by Takahashi, the strike leader. At 1210 Sherman tried raising his own attack leader, Cdr. Bill Ault, to ask for a strike report, but there was no answer. A few minutes later the Lexington’s radar detected incoming aircraft fifteen to twenty-five miles north. They proved to be the reappearing U.S. attack group. At 1220 Fitch gave Fletcher the first damage estimate for the Lexington. “Maximum speed 24; 2 torpedo hits possibly more port side; Number 4 fireroom flooded; Number 2 and 6 leaking but under control; all fires out; many casualties in both; flight deck elevators jammed up.” The Lex appeared to be “steaming easily and having no apparent trouble.” Buckmaster replied at 1221 with news on the Yorktown. “Maximum speed reduced to 25 knots due to damage of 3 boilers. One bomb hit.” At 1222 he happily announced her radar was now working. Soon his engineers advised all boilers would shortly be on line. Commander Fitz-Gerald aptly described the mood of the moment in his diary: “Don’t know how long this lull will last. It all depends upon how much damage our planes have done to the enemy carriers.”19
The Yorktown dispatched a relief combat air patrol of three fighters and started recovering planes from the strike congregating overhead. The squadron commanders, as well as Schindler, the roving staff gunnery officer who fought with VS-5, hustled up to flag plot to brief Fletcher. On the way to the target the Yorktown torpedo planes encountered Joe Smith’s search SBD returning to base. Smith (who had radio trouble) pointed the correct heading to the target. Around 1039 in the midst of a deep overcast, the Yorktown group found two carriers, six cruisers, and three destroyers moving south across an open space. One carrier, the smaller of the two, soon disappeared from view. The Yorktown leaders thought they hit the trailer hard with at least two 1,000-pound bombs and two torpedoes, leaving her afire forward and amidships. The bad news was that as far as they knew, no one attacked the lead carrier, because they never saw any Lexington strike planes. Both the strike pilots and those who flew in defense of TF-17 remarked on the numerous Zero fighters and their fierce tenacity. Many SBDs came back with their wings riddled and self-sealing fuel tanks punctured. Fletcher informed MacArthur of the hurt enemy carrier and requested his bombers attack. The message failed to include its position. A more comprehensive summary he sent to Nimitz, MacArthur, and King also provided no location for the enemy carriers, illustrating how distracted the TF-17 staff had to be. Advised by MacArthur of the oversight, Fletcher replied at 1344 with the estimated enemy position as of 1100. By then it was a very cold contact.20
By 1300 the Yorktown recovered thirty-five planes (five F4Fs, twenty-one SBDs, and nine TBDs) from her strike group, while one VF-42 F4F landed on the Lexington. Two SBDs failed to return and one ditched near the task force. Another shot-up Dauntless plowed spectacularly into the Yorktown’s stack. Arnold made preparations to re-arm the strike, but it took considerable time to check out the many bullet-damaged SBDs. At 1300 Fletcher closed the Lexington group a few miles northeast. In the meantime at 1243, still with no sign of her strike group, the Lex started clearing her flight deck by launching a relief combat air patrol of five F4Fs and Dixon with nine SBDs for anti-torpedo-plane patrol. During that takeoff a serious explosion forward and deep inside the ship thundered up through the bomb elevator. Outside the Lexington no one was aware of it, but the mishap spelled the beginning of the end of the gallant ship.
Fletcher continued to defer to Fitch, whom he placed in tactical command, but he thought long and hard about the overall situation. A message from Comsowespacfor received during the attack on TF-17 greatly added to his worries by signaling the renewed Japanese advance against Port Moresby. Thirteen large transports, escorted by a light cruiser and three destroyers, were seen at 1030 about forty miles southwest of Jomard Passage and headed southwest. Fletcher understood that if Crace adhered to the plan he broadcast the previous afternoon, the Support Group at dawn should have been about 160 miles from the convoy’s reported position. Presumably Crace would attack. However, he must have help, particularly if carriers intervened. In fact Leary relayed the wrong position and omitted word that all Japanese ships, except for the Moresby striking force, were now thought to be well north of the Louisiades.21 From the scanty information at hand it seemed to Fletcher that only one of two carriers of the Moresby striking force might be out of action. Since 1230, TF-17 monitored numerous enemy radio transmissions from the northeast that heralded the return of the Japanese first attack wave to its carriers. At 1252 Biard advised Fletcher that it appeared that one carrier was working the planes of the other carrier that was not transmitting, even though her own aircraft tried repeatedly to raise her.22
Fletcher deliberated whether to linger to launch a second attack that risked a second air assault. Otherwise he could withdraw southwest, regroup, and take on the carriers and the convoy the next dawn. The immediate situation with regard to the Yorktown Air Group was not promising. Less than a dozen SBDs and eight TBDs were operational, and for the latter only seven aerial torpedoes remained. Just seven VF-42 F4Fs were flyable (another was aloft on combat air patrol). Because of the strong Japanese fighter defense, a strike should go escorted, but that looked to be impossible. Defense of TF-17 must come first. Fighters and SBDs had to be ready to relieve those aloft that were low on fuel. Also the poor weather in the vicinity of the enemy carriers might make it difficult to find them again. Fletcher knew little of the Lexington’s situation, whether her strike ever attacked anything and when it might return. Besides, a ship that already suffered two torpedo hits was especially vulnerable. After the loss of the Neosho, fuel became another serious consideration. Thus Fletcher decided rather quickly against sticking around to launch a second strike. Poco Smith put it well: “Fletcher was forced to clear the area, get well south, fuel his units, ascertain damage, and lick wounds.” At 1315 Fletcher queried Fitch. “In view enemy fighter plane superiority and undamaged carrier I propose retiring. What do you think?” Nine minutes later after talking it over with his staff, Fitch replied, “Affirmative.”23
Part of the long-awaited Lexington strike group finally showed up. From 1322 to 1328 the Lex landed eleven VB-2 SBDs, Ens. Marvin M. Haschke’s VS-2 SBD from Ault’s command section, and a VF-2 F4F flown by Lt. Noel A. M. Gayler, who led the torpedo escort. There was no trace of the eleven VT-2 TBDs, the shortest-ranged of all the planes, three SBDs (including Ault’s), and five VF-2 F4Fs. Commander Hamilton, commanding officer of VB-2, regretfully told Fitch and Sherman that he never found a target in the deep overcast and dumped his bombs to get back. Haschke could not add much other than the group command section split up while bombing what looked like an unhurt carrier. Well after the action, Gayler saw one undamaged carrier about fifteen miles west of the one that was burning. Fitch considered whether the Lex and Yorktown planes attacked the same carrier, or if more than two enemy carriers were present. Watching the Lex strike planes land, Fletcher advised Fitch: “Tomorrow may re-arm this ship with your planes and renew attack.” He added at 1334: “As soon as all planes are recovered or hope given up head south-southwest at best practicable speed.” That would position TF-17 on the flank of the invasion convoy and offered the advantage of drawing nearer to Crace and the Allied air bases. Fitch, though, was not ready to give up on VT-2, although Sherman feared the worst. Fitch advised Fletcher at 1341 that he was heading north to “close our returning planes.” Fletcher wondered if there were any returning planes to find. “Yorktown reports all planes returned or hope given up.” Growing impatient, he added: “When do you propose to head to the southward?” Fitch responded: “As soon as aircraft recovered.” Fletcher trusted the judgment of his good friend, and so for the time being kept TF-17 in the area. He radioed Nimitz and Leary at 1352: “Yorktown can now make 30 knots. I propose retire tonight to fill Yorktown complement planes as far as possible from Lexington and send that ship to Pearl.” In fact, that opportunity was gone forever.24
After the lead element of the Yorktown strike group sighted MO Striking Force in an open space between squalls, the two carriers separated while launching and recovering fighters. Hara’s flagship Zuikaku, screened by the two cruisers of Takagi’s 5th Cruiser Division and three destroyers, drew nine thousand meters ahead of the Shōkaku, whose two escorting cruisers trailed eight thousand meters astern. At 1100 the Zuikaku group disappeared into a squall and escaped attack except by one strafing fighter, but twenty-four Yorktown SBDs set the Shōkaku afire with two 1,000-pound bombs at the cost of two SBDs shot down. Ably protecting VT-5, four VF-42 fighters shot down two defending Zeros without loss, but all nine TBDs fired their torpedoes from too great a range against the speedy Shōkaku. Emerging from the rainstorm Hara groaned when he saw her “burning furiously.” His gloom was dispelled at 1125, when MO Striking Force got word from Takahashi that the “Saratoga” had sunk. At 1145 two Lex SBDs led by Ault put another 1,000-pound bomb into the Shōkaku’s tender topside, although she handily evaded all eleven torpedoes from Commander Brett’s VT-2 TBDs. The other two SBDs found and attacked the Zuikaku but achieved only a near miss. The storms scattered the Lexington attackers, who lost three F4Fs and one SBD. Two other SBDs, including Ault’s, and an F4F became disoriented in bad weather. Sixteen Zeros fought in the two air battles and claimed thirty-nine U.S. planes shot down for the loss of the two. It appears they actually accounted for two SBDs and three F4Fs from both strike groups.25
After the third bomb hit, the Shōkaku’s Captain Jōjima urgently requested permission to retire. A carrier that could not handle aircraft was of no use in battle except as a target. At 1210 the Shōkaku departed northeast at thirty knots, along with two heavy cruisers and two destroyers. After seeing the stricken flattop clear of the immediate area, all except one destroyer turned back. In the meantime the Shōkaku strike planes were told to land on the Zuikaku, but not all of them got the word. At 1240 Takagi ordered Hara to “reorganize combat strength, course approximately north,” but MO Striking Force could not withdraw any time soon. The Zuikaku remained committed to heading southeast into the wind to recover the strike. Between 1310 and 1410 she landed forty-six aircraft from both carriers, but delays in striking aircraft below into the hangar (Japanese carriers did not park planes on their flight decks) forced deck crew to push a dozen shot-up planes over the side. Seven other planes ditched. At 1430 Hara counted just nine carrier bombers and carrier attack planes available for a second strike. Only two heavy cruisers and one destroyer actually screened the Zuikaku. The two prior aborted fueling efforts left Takagi deeply worried about oil. His two cruisers were at 50 percent, but some of the destroyers dipped as low as 20 percent. On the positive side, returning strike crews insisted that they sank the Saratoga-class carrier, and that more than three bombs struck the Yorktown-class carrier, “Enough to practically assure sinking.” In addition they claimed torpedoing a battleship and damaging a light cruiser. Takagi reported to Inoue at 1430 there were “no prospects for a second attack today,” but he also probably thought a second strike was not necessary. Thirty minutes later he turned MO Striking Force north.26
South Seas Force radioed orders at 1545 to “suspend attack and head north,” thus ratifying Takagi’s decision to retire. All morning Inoue had been nervous about advancing until his forces ended the threat the U.S. carrier force poised south of the Louisiades. At 1030 he instructed all forces not immediately involved in the carrier battle to withdraw northeast. Shortly afterward he learned that a Rabaul-based search plane discovered an enemy battleship, two cruisers, and four destroyers prowling southwest between the Louisiades and Port Moresby. That was Crace’s Support Group, again magnified by an over-anxious search crew. Because the U.S. carriers were out of range, the 5th Air Attack Force intended to send bombers against the battleship group, but heavy rains pinned them to the ground at Rabaul. Once Inoue heard of the Shōkaku’s pounding, the severe plane losses, and that Takagi canceled a second strike, he decided to break off the battle, even though he sank two enemy carriers or at least knocked them out of action. Without direct air cover, the slow invasion convoy was especially vulnerable to his great bugbear land-based air, and he worried the supposed battleship group spotted southwest of the Louisiades might also include an undamaged carrier. Inoue’s staff still had not sorted out the Allied deployment after all the confusion of the previous day. At 1620 he formally postponed the invasion of Port Moresby and directed the seaplane base at Deboyne be evacuated. Port Moresby would fall another day. The forces assigned to the RY Operation, which included MO Striking Force and part of Shima’s old Tulagi Invasion Force, were to reassemble northeast of the Solomons to support the capture of Ocean and Nauru islands on 15 May. That part of the original plan, at least, would go ahead. Fletcher did not know it yet, but he had won the Battle of the Coral Sea.27
At 1355, while Fletcher waited for the rest of the Lexington strike group to show up or for Fitch to relent and withdraw, the Lex signaled ominously “fires are not out.” Before Fletcher could get further details, a formation of unidentified torpedo planes approached from the north without the proper recognition maneuvers. The Yorktown briefly opened antiaircraft fire before it was realized the intruders were the long awaited VT-2 TBDs running on fumes. Everyone was elated to see them. Sherman, for one, thought the whole squadron might have gone in the water. While they shuffled into the landing circle, the Lex passed fighter direction to the Yorktown because she could no longer train her radar. By 1413 the Lexington landed ten TBDs and one F4F. Another VT-2 TBD ditched twenty miles northwest. Fitch dispatched the Dewey in an unsuccessful attempt to find its crew. In the meantime he changed course southwest at twenty-five knots. It was time to go. Up in flag plot Stroop plotted the direct course to Brisbane, the closest refuge for the failing carrier.28
At 1422 Fitch dropped a bombshell. “Strong indications additional enemy carrier has joined up.” He later explained that his information came from Fullinwider’s radio intelligence team. Biard in the Yorktown made no such finding, but Fletcher could not afford to take any chances. Besides, Fitch had reason other than Fullinwider to think more Japanese carriers might be present. The newly returned VT-2 pilots claimed five torpedo hits on a carrier they swore was previously untouched. That corroborated Gayler’s report. Moreover, Lt. Edwin W. Hurst, the VT-2 executive officer, told Fitch that he saw yet another undamaged carrier twenty miles south of the one VT-2 attacked. At 1432 Fletcher relayed that discouraging word to Nimitz and Leary. The Yorktown pilots insisted the carrier they plastered was the Kaga, so perhaps she showed up after all. Another candidate was the auxiliary carrier Kasuga Maru that Cincpac listed as a possible participant. She was thought to have reached at least the northern Solomons. Not formidable in her own right, the Kasuga Maru could still recover planes that otherwise might have been lost. Fullinwider and the Lexington aviators were wrong. The Japanese in truth enjoyed no carrier reinforcements. At least photos taken by the Yorktown strike crews decisively demonstrated the carrier they attacked was badly damaged. Fletcher radioed Nimitz and MacArthur a reassessment of four or probably more torpedo and three 1,000-pound bomb hits that left one carrier “burning badly.” As yet he did not know the Lex’s possible score.29
At 1434 the Lexington ominously advised that her coding room was “temporarily out of commission” and requested the Yorktown relay important radio messages. That turned out to be her last TBS transmission. Fires raging forward under the hangar deck threatened the ship, though no word of this peril was vouchsafed to Fletcher. He pondered another possible way to get at the enemy massing to the north. A second air strike still seemed out of the question for all the reasons noted previously. That left a possible night surface attack by the cruisers and destroyers in Kinkaid’s Attack Group. The delay in withdrawing TF-17 meant the enemy carriers, perhaps 135 miles north, might still be in reach of a surface force if it had enough fuel for high-speed steaming. At 1442 Fletcher queried his destroyer squadron commanders, Early in the Phelps and Hoover in the Morris. “Am considering night surface attack. Will your fuel situation permit? Assume that high speed will be required most of tomorrow and fuel from cruisers the day after.” Before Fletcher heard back, the worsening situation on the Lexington finally became manifest. At 1442 black smoke billowed underneath the flight deck as result of a second big explosion. It was now evident the great warship faced mortal jeopardy. Sherman briefly hoisted the breakdown flag and signaled at 1450: “Fire amidships is not under control.” Five minutes later, after great clouds of smoke streamed from aft and out of the stack, Sherman changed the flag hoist to: “This ship needs help.” Fletcher inquired, “What assistance is practicable?” Observing the F4Fs, SBDs, and TBDs parked aft on the Lexington’s flight deck, he also asked how many fighters she could launch, if indeed she could still handle planes. Things, though, had gone too far for that. Fletcher warned MacArthur: “Lexington condition much worse” and requested “all possible air coverage.” He gave his position, course, and speed of twenty knots, but cautioned “may have to slow.”30
At 1510 Fletcher resumed tactical command from Fitch and ordered three destroyers to assist the Lexington. The Phelps, Morris, and Anderson approached the stricken carrier. After Sherman requested ships on hand pick up personnel if necessary, Kinkaid also stayed close with the Minneapolis and New Orleans. At 1512 Yorktown deployed a relief combat air patrol of four F4Fs and ten SBDs for anti-torpedo-plane patrol, then landed planes, including five F4Fs and nine SBDs from the Lexington Lt. Cdr. Charles R. Fenton, commanding officer of VF-42, took a section of fighters out fifteen miles to check if the Yorktown’s YE homing signal was working properly—a vital consideration if the Yorktown had to launch a strike group. Another huge blast inside the Lexington blew out hull plating near the fire rooms and damaged the boiler uptakes. Water pressure in the hangar deck fire curtains failed and released a great surge of flames. Sherman no longer could control the rudder. He tried to steer with the engines to place the wind at right angles and blow the smoke away from the ship.31
Not knowing how long the Lexington could keep up, Fletcher divided TF-17 to retain part of the force ready for combat. The Astoria (Smith’s flagship), Chester, and Portland remained with the Yorktown. Reorganizing the destroyers took more time. Early and Hoover agreed that Hoover would support the Lexington with the Morris, Hammann, and Anderson, while the Phelps stood by should Fletcher need her for “tonight’s work.” Early thought the Phelps and the two Farragut-class destroyers, Aylwin and the temporarily absent Dewey, had “plenty of fuel” for a night sortie.32 Because of the failing Lex, Fletcher shelved plans for a surface attack. She careened wildly through the formation, forcing escorts out of her way. At 1600 after another massive blast, the Lexington blew off steam, slowed, and finally drifted broadside in the gentle swell. Fletcher pulled off with his three cruisers and three destroyers to maneuver in the vicinity, while Kinkaid with the other two cruisers and three destroyers kept close contact with the Lex. “Utilize as necessary,” he told Kinkaid, “if Lexington must be abandoned.” Lines snaked down her side, and the evacuation of wounded and non-essential personnel began. Through Hoover in the Morris, Fitch advised Fletcher that the fire was out of control, and the crew was coming up on deck. Hoses and pumps no longer had power, and fire-fighting assistance from destroyers alongside was insufficient to stem the conflagration consuming the Lex. Her loss was now only a matter of time. At 1700 the Yorktown suddenly became apprehensive of imminent air attack, either from radar or Biard’s radio intercepts. Seven F4Fs raced skyward to augment the four F4Fs and ten SBDs already aloft. Biard reported to Fletcher at 1702 that one enemy carrier announced: “There is a chance. There is a chance. There is a chance.” Fletcher in turn warned TF-17: “Prepare to repel air attack.” Nothing came of the sudden alert, but it could be seen that the Lexington’s crew was abandoning ship.33
At least the situation vis-à-vis the Port Moresby invasion convoy had been resolved. Fletcher heard first from an AAF search plane, later confirmed by MacArthur, that the transports actually lurked that afternoon up near Kiriwina, 180 miles north of Jomard Passage, and were retiring northwest under bombing attacks from Moresby-based planes. That removed the immediate threat to Port Moresby and the need for TF-17 to rush west to help Crace fight off an invasion. Fletcher could afford to take his time and hopefully enhance the combat readiness of the Yorktown and her planes. For his own part Crace spent the day steaming south wondering what was happening to Fletcher. He hoped to fuel if the situation remained quiet, but repeated aircraft contacts kept TG-17.3 on edge. That afternoon he learned from radio traffic that the TF-17 aviators hit one carrier hard, but that a third carrier might have reinforced the Japanese. Meanwhile the Hobart and the three destroyers faced a “very bad” fuel situation, but Crace did not yet feel secure enough to provide them oil. To add to his troubles the Walke stripped the reduction gear in her starboard engine. Finally that evening with the definite evidence the invasion convoy had withdrawn, Crace authorized the Hobart to fuel the Perkins, then escort the stricken Walke to Townsville. He hoped in the next day or two to fuel the Australia, Chicago, and Perkins from the Kurumba at Cid Harbor about 130 miles north of Townsville.34
If for Crace the final phase of the Battle of the Coral Sea was anticlimactic, the rest of TF-17 faced one more ordeal. Once Fletcher realized that Fitch was abandoning the Lexington, he ordered Kinkaid to “take charge and expedite getting personnel off.” The nearly three thousand crew would need considerable time to abandon ship and reach the rescue ships. Once the sun set in an hour, the flaming carrier would be a beacon for the enemy. After another massive explosion at 1737, Fletcher detached Early and two more destroyers to the Lex, leaving him just the Russell. In case the rescue group got separated during the night, he set a rendezvous well southward for 0700 the next morning. It was sickening to witness the death throes of the giant warship. Poco Smith recalled how the fire gradually overtook the planes parked aft. They “turned a reddish brown, and ‘popped’ one after another, like cockroaches on a hot griddle.” Circling overhead on combat air patrol, Lieutenant Leonard of VF-42 was amazed how “fires, explosions large and small, debris blowing over the side made her look like hell afloat.” Fortunately the crew left in timely and remarkably orderly fashion. Aided by a gentle sea, they stayed afloat long enough for small boats to transfer nearly all to the nearby screening ships.35
The sun set at 1818, and the Yorktown landed the last aircraft. The biggest explosion yet ripped the Lexington’s topside. “The whole flight deck seemed to heave into the air—burning planes, girders, and debris rained down.” The stern was a mass of flames, and the hull glowed cherry red in spots. Sherman and his senior officers were still on board conducting their final inspection. Fletcher directed Kinkaid to sink the Lexington with torpedoes, then rejoin the main body to southward when he could. It had to be one of the hardest orders Fletcher ever gave. Certain no living crewman was left on board, Sherman finally left the Lex at 1830 and joined Kinkaid and Fitch in the Minneapolis. After carefully checking the sea for survivors, the rescue ships sheered off to rejoin the main body. They brought 2,770 men, 92 percent of the Lexington’s complement. The completeness of the rescue brought grim pride in what otherwise was a tragedy for the navy and the nation. The Phelps received the task of sinking the Lex. At 1915 Early fired five torpedoes into the flaming mass, which refused to sink. Finally at 1952 the Lexington rolled over and slipped beneath the sea. A tremendous underwater explosion caused Early to think the Phelps’s stern had been blown off. The concussion reverberated as far as twenty miles, where it was felt by the rest of TF-17. By 2027 all but the Phelps had caught up. Fletcher headed south at twenty knots, while the Portland and Morris followed more slowly, while transferring survivors.36
That evening after leaving Kinkaid to his dreary duty, a somber Fletcher was composing the message to inform Cincpac of the sinking of the Lexington, when he received one from Nimitz. “Congratulations on your glorious accomplishments of the last two days. Your aggressive actions have the admiration of the entire Pacific Fleet. Well done to you and your officers and men. You have filled our hearts with pride and have maintained the highest traditions of the Navy.” Although warmly appreciated, Cincpac’s praise rang hollow with the loss of the Lex. The message Fletcher sent at 1938 to Nimitz and Leary explained that after an internal explosion, “cause unknown,” the Lexington burned and sank. “Believe majority of personnel rescued.” TF-17 retired southward. The Yorktown had thirty-five operational planes (fifteen fighters, twelve dive bombers, and eight torpedo planes), with a dozen more SBDs usable after repairs. Although the Yorktown also suffered underwater damage, it was “probably unimportant.” Finally Fletcher cautioned: “It is necessary to refrain from offensive action for two or three days to make necessary minor repairs.” As will be shown, perhaps as many as thirty-six hours elapsed before Nimitz actually knew of the loss of the Lexington.37
Seven May at Pearl, 8 May in the Coral Sea, was an important day for Cincpac, not only for the battle it seemed his forces were winning, but also because he formally assumed command of the Pacific Ocean Areas. That evening he summarized for King, Leary, and Halsey the progress of the battle from the information at hand. A Japanese carrier went down the previous day. That day one enemy carrier was surely crippled, the Yorktown and Lexington damaged, the Lex severely. Fletcher’s fuel situation was “critical.” TF-17 might confront two carriers the next day with only the Yorktown in shape to fight. “Halsey’s position indeterminate but estimate can’t reach Coral Sea before 11th Washington date at earliest.” Nimitz urged King to furnish the necessary carrier aircraft “to make good heavy plane losses and to provide a proper reserve for the actions which we know will follow.” In turn McCormick’s War Plans Section chalked up a “red letter day.” Despite the damaged Lexington, the two-to-one odds facing the Yorktown, and the delay before Halsey’s arrival in the Coral Sea, the situation was “generally favorable.”38
Although Nimitz was unwittingly ignorant of the final phase of the Battle of the Coral Sea, his counterpart Yamamoto certainly was not. On the evening of 8 May as MO Striking Force withdrew north to refuel, Hara transmitted a lengthy summary of the battle. Takagi noted the lack of planes in the Zuikaku. “The situation indicated above does not allow any prospects for carrying out attacks on 9 May.” Inoue announced to Combined Fleet that he postponed the MO Operation, because of the loss of the Shōhō and damage to the Shōkaku, and requested Yamamoto’s approval. The RY Operation against Ocean and Nauru would proceed as planned. Inoue’s tale of woe fell like a ton of bricks on the Combined Fleet staff, who believed his forces sank one U.S. carrier, probably finished off another carrier, and routed the remnants. Inoue must renew the battle and seize Port Moresby. At 2200 Yamamoto ordered Inoue: “On this occasion you are requested to destroy the enemy to the fullest extent of your power.” This “request” caused consternation at South Seas Force headquarters. Inoue issued new orders. Marumo’s Support Force was to suspend the evacuation of the advance seaplane base at Deboyne and use its float planes to find and attack enemy ships. The MO Striking Force would fuel, then search on the morning of 9 May for enemy forces. Gotō was to take two heavy cruisers of the 6th Cruiser Division and most of the 6th Destroyer Squadron to cooperate with MO Striking Force and destroy the enemy. Inoue did not indicate just when he might resume the advance on Port Moresby, and Yamamoto would discover simply ordering something was not the same as accomplishing it. Port Moresby was out of reach, and there was nothing the Japanese could immediately do about it.39
In his private diary rewritten after the loss of the Lexington, Ted Sherman described the action on 8 May as “well fought” and “couldn’t have been done differently.” By the time his book Combat Command appeared in 1950, though, he discovered many reasons to castigate Fletcher’s handling of TF-17 on 8 May. That afternoon, while the Lexington fought her losing battle against the fires, the Yorktown enjoyed a “practically intact” air group further reinforced by the Lexington planes still aloft. “In spite of this no further search was made for the enemy carriers nor were any additional attacks sent off.” Sherman brushed off any question of retaining aircraft for defense. “No Japanese aircraft came near us during the afternoon.” Forrest Biard’s memoir described Fletcher’s inaction on 8 May in much the same acerbic terms as 7 May. The admiral need only have followed his advice to score a great victory. Biard averred that beginning around 1230 he told Fletcher the Zuikaku was busy recovering Shōkaku planes as well as her own, meaning the Shōkaku had to be at least temporarily disabled. “After presenting the evidence for this I argued for another strike, a strike that should be able to get both carriers.” The opportunity for surprise was especially favorable after 1315, when he intercepted a report from the Zuikaku that one U.S. carrier was sunk and another badly damaged. “I felt confident that we should be able to give the Nips a truly smashing surprise.” However, Fletcher balked at “making a difficult decision” and “did nothing.” Soon the Lexington’s deteriorating condition compelled him to deal with her, rather than attacking the enemy as he should have done. The criticism of National Security Agency historian Frederick Parker was more general. “Fletcher and Inouye were apparently unable to assimilate and evaluate the unique and voluminous reports both undoubtedly received from COMINT and other sources about plane losses and carrier damage sustained by their enemy counterpart. Accordingly, each chose similar courses of action late in the afternoon of 8 May: each broke contact with the enemy and retired from the scene.” Parker even insinuated that Fletcher invented the third carrier on 8 May as an excuse to cut and run. “Sensing that his intentions to retire might be misunderstood, Fletcher also advised Nimitz and MacArthur that ‘another enemy carrier has joined enemy force.’” Parker did not elaborate, so the logical inference is that third carrier had to be the product of Fletcher’s imagination. Of course, Fitch actually advised Fletcher of the suspected presence of an additional carrier.40
So what were the prospects for TF-17 staying to fight on the afternoon of 8 May? Sherman and Biard ignored the practical aspects of their recommended course of action. The Yorktown Air Group was far from “practically intact.” Many fighters and dive bombers were temporarily out of commission from battle damage. An immediate search-attack mission would have counted less than a dozen SBDs and seven vulnerable TBDs, but no F4Fs to escort them into the teeth of fierce fighter opposition that already filled the Yorktown’s hangar with shot-up SBDs and F4Fs. The weather in the vicinity of the Japanese carriers was poor, and the fact that they were homing their airplanes meant that their aviators, too, had trouble finding their way back. Fletcher had no idea what damage the Lexington strike group inflicted on 8 May, except later from a radio message from the missing Commander Ault who reported one bomb hit on a carrier. Also at least for the time being, Fletcher deferred to Fitch. Biard, who asserted the change in tactical command took place the day before, recalled Fletcher responding on the afternoon of 7 May to his recommendation then for a second strike: “No, that is not for me to decide. My friend and classmate, Admiral Fitch, has been given tactical command. I trust his judgment completely.” That statement fitted much better the circumstances on 8 May.41
Once the Lexington faltered and the presence of a fresh Japanese carrier was suspected, there could be no second air strike. Besides it was late in the day for search-attack missions into bad weather. Fletcher’s only offensive option at that point was a night surface attack by Kinkaid’s cruisers and destroyers, but if the enemy possessed one or even two undamaged carriers that option was highly dubious. Their location was only known in general terms, so the Attack Group would have to search for them. That risked being spotted before evening and subjected to carrier attack, not to mention losing the vital factor of surprise. The Moresby striking force could simply avoid combat if it chose. Besides, given the condition of the Lexington after 1442, it did not seem wise to detach any ships from TF-17. With justification Fletcher explained: “It is believed that the decision not to renew the attack on the eighth, although probably based on incorrect information, resulted in saving the lives of 92 percent of Lexington’s personnel, a large portion of which would have been lost if the Attack Group had not been present when the ship sank.”42
Parker’s claim that on the afternoon of 8 May Fletcher received “unique and voluminous reports” from comint and other intelligence sources regarding the condition of the Japanese carriers is not borne out by the documents. At 1210 Belconnen radioed the text of an urgent plain language transmission, rebroadcast by a Tokyo station, in which a Japanese plane, call sign Kame Kame 1 (“believed to be VT,” but actually Commander Takahashi’s carrier bomber), reported the Saratoga was sunk. Biard and very likely Fullinwider heard this Japanese transmission as well. Beginning at 1240 ships in TF-17 used radio direction finding to deduce that an enemy ship was transmitting from bearing 010 degrees. Biard heard from Japanese radio messages that at least one plane was ditching near the enemy task force. Shortly thereafter one carrier, which he believed to be the Zuikaku, worked the planes of the other carrier, thought to be the Shōkaku. At 1315 Tokyo relayed a plain language message from the Commander, Striking Force (call sign Moo1), to the 5th Air Attack Corps, Gunboat Division 8, Comcrudiv Six (the first mention of the 6th Cruiser Division being present), and Commander in Chief Fourth Fleet, which stated: “In addition to sinking one carrier we’re sure there were 3 hits on one other. 0920 position 14–40, 155–50, approximate speed 16. 1100 [1300 Z-11].” At 1335 the daily Cincpac intelligence bulletin noted that the striking force south of the Solomons included the 5th Carrier Divisions and the 5th, 6th, and 18th Cruiser Divisions. The carrier Ryukaku was also perhaps in the New Britain area, and the converted carrier Kasuga Maru had arrived at Buka north of Bougainville. It appeared that Ocean and Nauru were targeted for early invasion. At 1536 Biard reported to Fletcher that the Zuikaku evidently stopped trying to home missing planes, and at 1600 the Shōkaku requested the Zuikaku to relay her messages. He called the Shōkaku’s transmitter “definitely an emergency rig.” The “sending” was “slow and unsteady.” That only confirmed what Fletcher knew before, that one carrier was hard-hit.43
The above messages constituted all of the comint furnished to Fletcher on the afternoon and evening of 8 May. Not even the analysts at Pearl and Melbourne secured much more that day. Only late that evening did Hypo provide Belconnen and the Copek addressees the partial text of a message that Hara sent summarizing the 7 May action. Not until the next morning (9 May in the Coral Sea, 8 May at Pearl) did Hypo start relaying on the Copek network decrypts derived from messages sent by Takagi and Hara the night before. Those messages offered the first detailed summaries for the 8 May action: claims, damaged incurred, plane strengths, and losses. Very little of this was ever provided to Fletcher, and it never played a role in his decision on 8 May to withdraw.44
As Morison stated, the Battle of the Coral Sea, the very first carrier-versus-carrier battle in history, was “a tactical victory for the Japanese but a strategic victory for the United States.” He should have added “and the Allies,” because the Australians certainly played an important, if underappreciated, role. Had the invasion troops got through to Port Moresby, they would have almost certainly overwhelmed the smaller, poorly trained Australian garrison. The cost of Fletcher’s victory was severe: the Lexington and destroyer Sims sunk, oiler Neosho fatally damaged, and seventy carrier aircraft lost. The Yorktown suffered a bomb blast deep in her vitals, and additional hull damage left a long trail of oil in her wake. The loss of the Lex was due to a material defect, not any leadership failing. Fumes from leaking aviation gasoline tanks penetrated a compartment where electric generators were left running. The resulting explosion doomed the great carrier. Sherman described it as “a losing battle from the beginning, but we did not know it then. We fully expected to save the carrier.” In some respects the prebattle expectations of the U.S. Navy were exaggerated, as Commander Fitz-Gerald on the New Orleans aptly chided in his diary: “We cannot expect to engage superior enemy forces and get away without some losses.” Tactical defeat or no, Fletcher certainly accomplished his mission to prevent the invasion of Port Moresby. The Battle of the Coral Sea represented the first major Japanese strategic reverse of the war. For its part the South Seas Force lost the light carrier Shōhō on 7 May and on 8 May suffered heavy damage to the big carrier Shōkaku that put her in the repair yard for nearly three months. Both carriers were scheduled to participate in the Midway offensive in early June. So was the Zuikaku. Although undamaged, she suffered heavy plane losses that would keep her out of the next battle. Thus not only did the MO Operation miscarry, but Japan also lost the services, at least temporarily, of all three carriers to one for the Americans. That alone reverses the common judgment of Fletcher’s so-called tactical defeat. Less than four weeks later the gallant Yorktown would help win another desperate battle that only crowned the Allied victory in the Coral Sea.45