On the heels of VB-3’s proud announcement of sinking a carrier, Fletcher finally learned that the enemy had pinpointed TF-17. At 1120 he signaled by flag hoist: “We have been sighted.” Fullinwider’s team missed the numerous exchanges between Amari and his irritated superiors, while the Chikuma Number Five plane (PO1c Takehashi Masataka), sent to relieve Amari’s Tone Number Four plane, first sighted TF-17 at 1045. Takehashi was much more aggressive than the enigmatic Amari. A more formidable snooper prowled nearby. At 1000 WO Kondō Isamu’s special Sōryū Type 2 reconnaissance plane reached the enemy position provided by Amari but found nothing. Sweeping southward, he discovered TF-17 an hour later, then located and properly identified all three U.S. carriers. After his radio malfunctioned, he raced home to deliver his news.1
The need to land the Yorktown strike group assembling overhead, coupled with certain knowledge the enemy found TF-17, demanded Fletcher swiftly deploy the seventeen VS-5 SBDs held in reserve the past three hours. As far as he knew, the search and the several land-and carrier-based attack waves only found two of the four enemy carriers. From all indications they were already crippled, if not destroyed outright. VS-5 could do no immediate good there. It was crucial to ferret out the second carrier group, now believed north or northwest of the lead pair. Fletcher detailed ten SBDs to search northwest and north (280–020 degrees) two hundred miles from TF-17. The other seven, armed, were to be struck below to clear the flight deck. They could join the second strike once the first wave was recovered. Preparations were already under way for rearming the SBDs and TBDs expected to land shortly. The six F4Fs earmarked for a possible VS-5 strike would instead reinforce the half-dozen fighters waiting to relieve the current combat air patrol.2
At 1135 a radar contact twenty-five miles northwest added to the sense of urgency. The Yorktown started launching the twenty-two aircraft at 1139. Spruance suggested to Fletcher the Yorktown “locate [and] track carriers already attacked,” as well as “search northwest quadrant for possible third carrier.” He obviously believed his planes attacked only two carriers. TF-16 will “strike again,” but must first recover and rearm its first wave. Once the Yorktown’s flight deck was clear, two stray shot-up Enterprise strike SBDs thumped down at 1150, followed by six combat air patrol F4Fs and Thach’s four escort F4Fs (of the rest, one was shot down, the other landed on the Hornet). The last Wildcat flipped over on deck, suspending recovery until crews could clear the wreck and re-rig the barriers. Leslie’s VB-3 waited patiently in the landing circle, but no VT-3 TBDs showed up. In the meantime Fletcher broke radio silence to ask Cincpac to tell Midway that TF-17 attacked the two carriers previously reported but that he had “no indication of location additional carriers which have sighted this force.” Ironically some newly returned aviators could have told him about all four carriers and affirmed three were knocked out of action. Events quickly became so hectic on the Yorktown that no one had the opportunity to brief Fletcher.3
At 1152, as the Yorktown started landing planes, her radar detected a strong contact thirty-two miles southwest (255 degrees) that quickly materialized into a “large group of bandits.” Climbing furiously, the twelve newly launched combat air patrol F4Fs hastened westward in pairs. Buckmaster ceased fueling the fighters on deck and buttoned up the ship, including the new precaution of purging the lines in the aviation gasoline fuel system and filling the voided spaces around the stowage tanks with carbon dioxide gas. Fletcher increased speed to 30.5 knots. The screen deployed two to three thousand yards from the Yorktown, one heavy cruiser on each bow and the five destroyers filling in the rest of the circle. The nearest element of Spruance’s TF-16 creased the southeast horizon fifteen miles distant from TF-17. Busy recovering planes, the Enterprise and Hornet themselves were ten miles apart. Dow had nineteen F4Fs aloft on combat air patrol. Another twenty-five Wildcats sat on board the two carriers, but with both flight decks spotted for landing they were not available. Just as Fletcher feared, dividing the carriers divided the defense. Dow did what he could to help TF-17. He dispatched eight Hornet fighters to intercept incoming planes thirty miles northwest, but only four pilots answered the call. At the same time he deployed the VF-6 patrol as a blocking force to protect TF-16. Four of seven F4Fs stretched their orders and hurried toward TF-17. Thus twenty scattered fighters defended TF-17, too few to stop a determined assault.4
The devastating attack left only Yamaguchi’s Hiryū to carry on the fight. At 1050 while Nagumo shifted his flag to the Nagara, Abe assumed temporary command of the first Kidō Butai. He divided the force to support the burning carriers and to escort the Hiryū, pulling off rapidly northeast. Only thirty-seven operational planes remained on board the Hiryū: ten Zero fighters (including three intended for Midway), eighteen Type 99 carrier bombers, and nine Type 97 carrier attack planes. Twenty-seven Zeros from all four carriers and an Akagi carrier attack plane from the morning search circled overhead. At 1050 eighteen carrier bombers and six Zeros under Lt. Kobayashi Michio started taking off. Still being rearmed, the carrier attack planes would not be ready for at least another hour. The Hiryū first wave was only a fraction of what Nagumo could have hurled at the U.S. carriers had he only been left alone and not fiddled with rearming. From Takehashi’s shadowing of TF-17, Yamaguchi gained a much better idea where the U.S. carriers were. At 1100 TF-17 was ninety-five miles and TF-16 just ninety-one miles northeast of the Hiryū. Kobayashi proceeded out at low altitude and only later climbed. That was why the Yorktown’s radar did not detect him farther out. His escorts rashly tangled with several stray Enterprise SBDs. Two shot-up Zeros turned back; the other four never resumed proper position before Kobayashi sighted TF-17 at 1155.5
Carrier operations, 4 June 1942
At 1201 a combat air patrol pilot radioed eighteen Japanese planes were “heading for the ship.” Using the Yorktown’s code name, Pederson exhorted: “Come on you Scarlet boys, get them!” Fletcher was bending over the chart table in flag plot, when one of the staff advised: “The attack is coming in, sir.” Lifting both arms to his head, he replied, “Well, I’ve got on my tin hat. I can’t do anything else now.” Out to the west seven VF-3 F4Fs shredded Kobayashi’s formation. About eight carrier bombers went down, while the others lunged at TF-17 in small flights from different directions. Fletcher swung southeast away from the incoming aircraft. At 1206 screening cruisers and destroyers cut loose with five-inch guns against widely scattered targets. Their black shell bursts were visible to TF-16, even though the ships themselves were below the horizon. Fletcher, Lewis, and most of the staff moved outside on the flag bridge to observe the attack. Standing alongside Schindler, Mike Laing, the brash British naval liaison officer, busily scribbled notes. They were all about to receive a lesson in dive bombing like the one Nagumo experienced that morning. Many Japanese considered the Hiryū Air Group their best, and this battle demonstrated the accuracy of that assessment.6
It was fortunate only seven carrier bombers actually broke through the fighters to assail the Yorktown. At 1211 the first Hiryū plane screamed in steeply from astern. Buckmaster tried more of his maneuvering magic to evade bombs, but this pilot would have none of it. He pressed his dive to the limit. At about one thousand feet fierce fire from 1.1-inch and 20-mm cannons chopped the plane into three parts, but its 242-kilogram high explosive land bomb tumbled free and blew a hole a dozen feet across in the flight deck aft of the center elevator. The blast inflicted horrific casualties to the two 1.1-inch gun mounts abaft the island and penetrated the hangar. Only quickly opening the sprinklers, and water curtains quenched three SBD fires that could have been disastrous. The next three bombs all fell just astern of the twisting Yorktown. Number five made up for them. That 250-kilogram ordinary bomb pierced the flight deck ten feet inboard from the island, burrowed deeply into the vitals, and detonated in the stack uptakes just below the second deck. The resulting fire was only a minor distraction. The explosion ruptured the uptakes for six boilers, knocked two out of commission, and extinguished the fires in all but one other. Thick smoke from the fire and exhaust gasses that could not be vented choked the fire rooms and other parts of the ship. The Yorktown rapidly lost speed. The sixth bomb sliced through the forward elevator platform and penetrated to the third deck before detonating. The resulting blaze, quickly contained, was a sparkler compared to the bonfires that consumed the three Japanese carriers. A nearby magazine was flooded, and the forward aviation gasoline tanks were not in danger. The seventh bomb missed close to starboard. The attack cost the Hiryū thirteen carrier bombers (including Kobayashi) and three Zero fighters. It appears F4Fs shot down eleven Type 99s and three Zeros, while TF-17 antiaircraft bagged two Type 99s and tragically a VF-8 F4F.
Dense smoke poured into the island, including flag plot, whose occupants had no choice but to join the admiral and the rest of the staff outside. Smoke also filled Radio I, located one deck below the flag bridge, and blocked the interior passageway. After first stripping the ECM of its special flag cipher rotors, Charles Brooks’s team followed the Yorktown communicators up through an escape hatch into the clear. Radios elsewhere on board remained operational. Fletcher and the staff descended to the flight deck and beheld the carnage around 1.1-inch mounts. For the time being Fullinwider’s radio intelligence team waited in the small flag radio compartment aft of flag plot. Fortunately the thick smoke did not enter there. They had not handled much trade that day, and Fullinwider was not with them when the attack came in. He returned and brought them out.7
With thick, black smoke streaming from the stack, the island, and forward hangar deck, the Yorktown glided to a stop. Fletcher dashed off a radio message to Nimitz and Spruance: “Have been attacked by air 150 miles north of Midway.” He then took a turn around the flight deck and in the hangar to see the damage for himself. In the meantime Buckmaster hoisted the breakdown flag and conferred with his department heads. Lt. (jg) John E. Greenbacker, the ship’s secretary, recalled: “We all waited with that helpless feeling knowing we were a sitting target.” Dixie Kiefer described the situation as “quite grim.” Repair parties patched the large hole in the flight deck, while the engineers tried to clear the fire rooms and get most of the boilers back on line. The radar was not functioning, and most communication systems were disrupted.8
Buckmaster requested the Portland take radar guard and directed the Yorktown planes aloft go to the other carriers. The only two surviving VT-3 TBDs ditched near the task forces. The VF-3 combat air patrol Wildcats split between the Enterprise and Hornet, but fifteen VB-3 SBDs (all but Leslie and his wingman who later ditched) opted for the Enterprise. The Yorktown planes were welcome after the TF-16 air groups suffered terrible losses in the morning strike. The Hornet recovered only twenty of thirty-four SBDs, but even worse saw no sign of the fifteen VT-8 TBDs and ten VF-8 escort fighters. Midway later advised that eleven VB-8 SBDs took refuge there. The other planes were gone forever. Only four of fourteen TBDs and fifteen of thirty-three SBDs reached the Enterprise. Perhaps seven SBDs ditched because they could not find TF-16. Due to Browning’s gross overestimation of the Point Option rate of advance, the Enterprise ended up forty miles northeast of where the strike expected to find her. McClusky was very bitter the ship never updated his pilots.9
A distant spectator to the attack on TF-17, Spruance did not know precisely what happened. From the heavy smoke he assumed the Yorktown was hard hit. To Kinkaid with the Hornet group, one far-off ship appeared to be “exploding—high columns of black smoke shooting into the air.” The constant air operations entailed in landing the strike and recycling the combat air patrol compelled Spruance to continue steaming southeast at high speed into the feeble breeze, instead of going northwest to aid TF-17. Therefore he detached heavy cruisers Vincennes and Pensacola and destroyers Balch (with Capt. Edward P. Sauer, Comdesron Six) and Benham from the Enterprise’s screen and replaced them with the New Orleans from the Hornet group. The Vincennes’s Capt. Frederick L. Riefkohl led the four ships northwest at thirty knots. They and some fighters were all Spruance could spare for the time being for TF-17.10
Fletcher faced a hard decision. Extensive damage rendered the Yorktown immobile, possibly for a considerable time. Her radar was out, communications still uncertain, and flag plot most definitely “untenable.” Fletcher intended for Spruance’s TF-16 to carry the fight for the time being, while he concentrated on saving the Yorktown. That meant towing if Buckmaster could not get her going again. Under the circumstances Fletcher thought it best to shift to Smith’s flagship Astoria instead of over to the Hornet. At 1238 he summoned a boat from the Astoria to fetch him, his staff, three communication watch officers, Fullinwider’s radio intelligence team, and selected men from the enlisted flag allowance. Commander Laing would remain behind. After observing Fletcher and Lewis carefully during the battle, he later characterized both as “quite unflappable.”11
Once the boat arrived, the staff officers clambered down a line to get on board. Fullinwider remarked that after the Lexington, he was getting to be an old hand at this. When Fletcher’s turn came, he tried the rope but was not up to it. “I’m too damn old for this sort of thing,” he said. “Better lower me.” The boatswains looped a bowline beneath his arms and eased him into the boat. By 1323 its passengers clambered on board the Astoria. Correspondent Foster Hailey quipped the “smoke-begrimed” men looked “like refugees from a chain gang.” While the boat made a second trip to get the rest of the men, Fletcher joined Poco Smith in the familiar confines of the cruiser’s flag plot on the signal platform.12
Fletcher’s first order from the Astoria was to Capt. Laurance T. DuBose’s Portland to take the Yorktown in tow. Shortly thereafter Riefkohl’s four welcome reinforcements positioned themselves among the screen ships circling the Yorktown. Riefkohl had feared the Yorktown might be abandoned and was pleasantly surprised to find her on an even keel. Because her CXAM radar was superior to the SC sets on the other cruisers, the Pensacola took over radar guard. By TBS Fletcher told Spruance, who had gone out of sight to eastward, “As soon as possible join this unit.” He composed an explanatory dispatch for Cincpac that he directed the Astoria fly to Midway for transmission, so as not to alert enemy radio direction finders to the stationary TF-17. The message noted the Yorktown’s three bomb hits left her dead in the water, but “apparently seaworthy.” “Unless otherwise directed TF-17 will protect and salvage Yorktown,” while Spruance continued to “engage enemy.” As far as Fletcher knew, two enemy carriers remained intact, a surmise confirmed at 1345, when Nimitz relayed Simard’s declaration that the Midway planes only ever saw two carriers. At 1408 the Astoria catapulted Commander McLean with two SOCs to deliver the message to Midway. By the time he reached there, the battle took yet another unusual turn.13
At 1355 while the Portland prepared to pass tow lines, to everyone’s amazement the Yorktown started moving under her own power. “Suddenly, there was a great burst of steam from our stack, then another, and amid cheers from all hands we got underway.” Loud cheers also rang out from the screen. With tremendous effort the Yorktown engineers mended the uptakes sufficiently to get three boilers on line, which would soon give Buckmaster twenty knots. He replaced the breakdown flag with a signal announcing, “My speed five,” and broke out a huge new battle ensign. Fletcher gratefully canceled orders for the tow, reformed the screen, and headed southeast to clear the area. The Yorktown was far from out of danger. Radar discovered a bogey out to the west. Suspicious, Fletcher hoisted the signal: “Prepare to repel air attack.” To the east a snooper could be seen tumbling in flames, thanks to the TF-16 combat air patrol. The victim was Takehashi’s Chikuma Number Five plane that bravely shadowed the two task forces for more than three hours.14
When Fletcher changed course due east, the Yorktown’s crew exulted: “Bremerton, here we come.” By 1420 the Yorktown worked up to fifteen knots, but the light winds were insufficient to land safely the ten search SBDs, scheduled to return at 1500. Buckmaster radioed that he was redirecting them to Midway. The search reported no sightings up to this point. Fletcher prudently formed the Victor formation, spacing the screen close around the carrier on a two-thousand-yard radius. He stationed one cruiser on each bow and quarter (the Astoria off the starboard bow) and spread the seven destroyers in between. These precautions were necessary. At 1427 the Pensacola’s radar discovered bogeys forty-five miles northwest, evidently a rapidly closing attack group.15
The hard-driving Yamaguchi and the Hiryū were at it again, this time with ten torpedo-armed carrier attack planes and six Zero fighters under Lieutenant Tomonaga, who led the dawn strike against Midway. They played their part in Yamamoto’s effort to regain the initiative. He postponed the Midway landings, directing the transports to sidestep north and take station five hundred miles west, while he concentrated all his forces northwest of Midway for decisive battle on 5 June. Kondō was to unleash the four fast heavy cruisers of Rear Adm. Kurita Takeo’s 7th Cruiser Division to bombard Midway before dawn and neutralize that source of enemy air power. The Sōryū reconnaissance plane that landed on the Hiryū confirmed the presence of the Yorktown, Enterprise, and Hornet, first learned from the interrogation of a captured U.S. Navy pilot. That bitter news dashed Nagumo’s hopes for daylight surface revenge. Carrier air power of that magnitude could smash his ships before they got close enough to shoot. The few surviving Hiryū carrier bombers reported attacking one carrier and five cruisers ninety miles east and leaving the flattop in flames. One down, two to go. The Hiryū could still destroy or cripple all the U.S. carriers and open the way for the overwhelming surface strength to prevail. Tomonaga’s strike departed at 1331. At that time TF-17 was merely eighty-three miles southeast, TF-16 112 miles. Tomonaga sighted a U.S. task force at 1430 about thirty-five miles off. Its carrier steamed normally at twenty-four knots, with no evidence of fire, so the Hiryū aviators assumed she must be different than the one the first wave pounded.16
Pederson, the Yorktown FDO, had only six F4Fs provided by TF-16 to defend against the new wave of attackers. They headed out to intercept. Thach’s eight VF-3 F4Fs were spotted aft on the flight deck ready to go. Once again Buckmaster suspended refueling and purged the aviation gasoline system with CO2. Six of the Wildcats had only the fuel saved from the morning combat air patrol. Spruance’s two carriers, twenty and thirty-five miles southeast of TF-17, could offer no immediate assistance. Dow kept seven F4Fs to protect TF-16 and hustled the other eight northwest, but they would not make it in time to forestall another attack on the Yorktown. There were thirty-four Wildcats on board the Enterprise and Hornet, but with their flight decks spotted for recovery, they could not launch for twenty minutes. The lead division of four F4Fs missed the strike descending through the clouds and had to double back, but at 1438 the rear pair of F4Fs intercepted fourteen miles northwest of TF-17. They destroyed one carrier attack plane, but the alert Zero escort swiftly shot down both Wildcats. Lookouts saw all three planes fall in flames ten miles out.17
At 1440 Buckmaster turned the Yorktown to starboard directly into the wind to launch the eight F4Fs. The Pensacola, on her port quarter, caught sight of rapidly moving torpedo planes six miles out and blasted away with her 8-inch main battery and 5-inch guns. The other ships on that side followed suit, and as the enemy drew within range they added their array of light antiaircraft. Standing alongside Smith on the wing of the Astoria’s signal platform, Fletcher saw a torrent of fire erupt beyond the Yorktown. In peril both of Zeros and friendly antiaircraft, Thach’s Wildcats hammered away at the attackers, but the surviving Hiryū pilots—skilled, determined, and flying fast aircraft—caught the Yorktown in a split attack. They dropped their torpedoes closer in than at the Coral Sea. With only twenty knots, Buckmaster lacked the speed to evade, and the approaching fish were too close to dodge. From 1443 to 1444 two torpedoes struck the Yorktown close together amidships on the port side. From off the opposite side Fletcher could see the geysers of brown smoke and water abreast of her island, as the carrier heeled sharply to port. The air battle raged a few minutes, before the Japanese drew off to the west. Five VF-6 F4Fs from TF-16 engaged the departing attackers, as did the mixed division of four that missed the initial interception. The Hiryū lost five carrier attack planes (including Tomonaga’s) and two Zeros—far fewer than TF-17 thought. Four VF-3 F4Fs were shot down.
The jubilant Japanese aviators reported they disabled a second carrier. To the dismayed Americans it was painfully obvious that the Yorktown sustained multiple torpedo hits and was very badly damaged. With white smoke issuing from the stack, she rapidly lost way and took on an alarming list to port that exceeded 20 degrees. As the flight deck canted steeply, Capt. Francis W. Scanland in the Astoria whispered: “My God, she’s going to capsize.” Others who watched the Yorktown’s distress shared that fear, not to mention those on board to whom catastrophe loomed. At 1455 Fletcher directed the Balch, Benham, Russell, and Anderson to stand by the Yorktown, while the rest of the screen circled protectively. The next move was Buckmaster’s. He alone knew the condition of his own ship and whether she could be saved. Just prior to the Yorktown being hit, he informed Fletcher by visual message that one of the late morning search planes just discovered a previously undiscovered Japanese carrier. Events intervened before he could add its composition and position. Presumably (or at least hopefully) Spruance received the full report, for he must deal with it. Fletcher radioed Cincpac that “after second heavy attack,” the “Yorktown apparently sinking.” Although two enemy carriers had been destroyed so far, he bitterly complained: “Have no idea location carriers attacking Task Force 17.”18
If Fletcher was not particularly surprised another carrier strike rocked the Yorktown, very likely fatally, Spruance and Browning in the Enterprise were truly shocked. They had convinced themselves no enemy carriers were still in fighting shape, and so the carrier portion of the Battle of Midway was already won. That startling assessment is reflected in a message that Spruance sent at 1404 to Nimitz and Fletcher forty minutes before the second attack on TF-17. It noted that from 0930 to 1100 the TF-16 and TF-17 air groups had attacked a force that comprised “probably” four carriers, two battleships, four heavy cruisers, and six destroyers. “All four CV [are] believed badly damaged,” along with one or two heavy ships. Spruance made that assessment despite reports of participants like Dick Best of VB-6, who insisted that they personally saw only three carriers set afire. Equally inexplicably, Spruance repeated the old position that fighter pilot Gray gave as of 1015, which was thirty-eight miles northeast of where the attack actually took place. Spruance’s SBD pilots could have easily told him where the enemy carriers were. TF-16 plane losses were “heavy.” Spruance did not discuss his plans, but simply requested “positions of enemy units and tracking data as practicable.” He showed no great sense of urgency.19
When it came to appraising the damage inflicted on the Japanese carriers in the morning strikes, Spruance and Browning somehow added three ones and got four. Perhaps the staff simply credited the one carrier that Midway planes claimed to set afire. Planes that took off from their carriers before they were damaged at 1030 could have executed the first attack on the Yorktown. Understandably the action reports, written once the accepted sequence of the battle was established, neglected to mention this exaggerated damage assessment and saved Spruance from being accused of inertia. Another enduring myth of the Battle of Midway is the anxiety over the so-called fourth carrier. According to entrenched belief, Fletcher and Spruance both learned rather quickly that the morning attack knocked out only three carriers, while number four slipped off somewhere to cause trouble. Embellishing this tale is an episode where Browning supposedly urged Spruance to rearm the surviving SBDs for an immediate search-strike mission against the fourth carrier. Spruance is said to have refused in order to preserve his dwindled striking force intact, waiting until someone else found the last carrier so he could finish her off. This legend serves to explain the three hours of inaction by TF-16 between landing the morning strike and when, simultaneously, Spruance learned the Yorktown was being attacked the second time and that another enemy carrier was spotted. After 1200, in truth, only Fletcher actually worried about intact Japanese carriers, to him numbers three and four.20
Spruance had cause other than overestimating the damage to the enemy for not following through on his pledge to Fletcher at 1145 to “strike again” immediately. Plane losses were terrible. So was the sudden realization of what the staff’s Point Option fiasco contributed to the carnage. Only about ten Enterprise SBDs could fly a second strike, and no one wanted to send the three flyable TBDs out again. At 1300, though, the fifteen VB-3 SBDs mostly restored the Enterprise’s dive bomber strength. The Hornet’s losses were even worse: all fifteen torpedo planes, ten fighters, and fourteen SBDs (though later it was learned eleven SBDs landed at Midway). Nonetheless, Mitscher, not one to mope around, advised Spruance at 1310 that the Hornet had twenty SBDs ready to go again. They and the ten Enterprise SBDs comprised a powerful force available almost immediately for a second strike. It is interesting that Spruance did not send them to finish off all the crippled carriers, which, if they were as badly damaged as he thought, should not have limped far from the site of the original attack.21
Instead, Spruance and his staff retained the happy image of all four enemy carriers sunk or crippled that morning. TF-16 could afford to lick its wounds and wait until after the fearsome Zero combat air patrol fighters ditched before attacking again. Plane strength needed to be conserved to deal with the Midway invasion if the Japanese pressed on. In truth, inertia prevailed in the Enterprise flag shelter on the afternoon of 4 June, and Spruance has received a pass from the critics. Dick Best, for one, certainly wondered at the time why more was not being done to hit the remaining Japanese ships he, at least, knew included an undamaged carrier. The staff likewise allowed the combat air patrol situation to deteriorate as F4Fs were brought in for fuel. From 1330 to 1430 combat air patrol numbers dropped from twenty-five to twenty-one, including only six fighters guarding TF-17, with no readily available reinforcements. At 1340 Fletcher had ordered Spruance to approach TF-17 “as soon as possible,” yet by 1430 the distance between the Enterprise and Yorktown had not lessened. Light winds forced Spruance to steam eastward at high speed for flight operations. After one more combat air patrol launch and recovery cycle, he finally turned northwest at 1400. He later apologized to Fletcher: “We tried our best to close you after the first attack, but it seemed that every mile we made toward you in between air operations was more than lost when we had to launch or recover.” At the same time, though, Mitscher did contrive to move the Hornet task group a little closer to TF-17.22
Messages deploying fighters to protect TF-17 refuted any remaining illusions in the Enterprise flag shelter that the Japanese carriers were done for. At 1444 Spruance’s budding reputation as a nearly infallible combat leader hung in the balance. Distant antiaircraft bursts appeared on the western horizon, and Fletcher radioed Cincpac in plain language: “Am being heavily attacked by air.” It was tremendously fortunate for Spruance that when he learned there was truly an intact and aggressive enemy carrier, an instant solution appeared. At 1445 Spruance intercepted the same plain language voice message from a VS-5 search pilot that Buckmaster had passed Fletcher. It placed one carrier, two battleships, three heavy cruisers, and four destroyers at latitude 31° 16´ north, longitude 179° 05´ west, and steaming due north at fifteen knots.23
Students of the battle rightly praised Fletcher’s decision to send a second search using planes he had the “foresight” to reserve for the unexpected. However, things were far from that simple. If all of VS-5 had strictly followed orders, the Hiryū might still not have been found. Their designated search area was in fact too far north. The decision paid off as Fletcher hoped only because another pilot displayed the kind of brilliant personal initiative of a Waldron or McClusky that meant the difference between victory and defeat. Lt. Samuel Adams and wingman Lt. Harlan R. Dickson found nothing in their own sector (300–320 degrees). Nor were any other VS-5 crews more successful. Instead of heading directly back to the Yorktown, Adams took it upon himself to swing well south to check whether the enemy carriers ever advanced as far north as anticipated. The extent of that detour is apparent when one realizes that at 1430, he placed the Hiryū force more than 150 miles from the base where he himself was supposed to land a half hour later. The two SBDs fought off a Zero before starting for home.24
Although Fletcher erred in his estimate of the enemy’s location, his decision to search rather than strike nevertheless was logical given the circumstances. The navy’s reconnaissance doctrine and training, already inadequate in the Battle of the Coral Sea, had not improved at Midway. No effective tracking of targets was accomplished at all. Had Fletcher known at the outset that all four (or even three) Japanese carriers were together, he might have sent all the Yorktown strike planes out together and perhaps bagged the Hiryū along with the rest. If someone at the scene had only radioed later that morning that three carriers were afire, he could have used all of VS-5 to hunt the fourth. Either move could conceivably have saved the Yorktown. Of course the same was true for Nagumo, who suffered with Amari as his point man. The search for and tracking of targets would remain a Pacific Fleet weakness throughout 1942. Finally, one wonders whether Spruance could have even attacked had Adams not so fortuitously reported the Hiryū. There was little time before sunset for Spruance to conduct a separate search and follow-up strike.
Adams placed the new target more than 160 miles northwest of the Enterprise, and that distance was increasing. Given all the same drawbacks of wind direction and limited range, Spruance could not escort the SBDs, even though the enemy’s air defense might be quite strong. In fact Adams perhaps erred in locating the Hiryū as far as thirty-eight miles too far west, so the distance from TF-16 might have been closer to 125 miles. At 1510 Spruance alerted the Hornet: “Prepare to launch attack group immediately[,] information later.” He followed at 1518 with the target’s composition, location, and course. By 1542 the Enterprise lofted twenty-five SBDs, including fourteen from VB-3, but he did not actually order Mitscher to launch his strike group, less escort, until 1539.25
Mitscher had not monitored Adams’s report and did not know at first another carrier was sighted. Twenty Hornet SBDs were ready to go, but at 1510 he was preoccupied with recovering the other eleven VB-8 SBDs just back from Midway. Simard had refueled and rearmed them and sent them to find and attack the enemy carriers to the northwest. Afterward they were to proceed to the Hornet, or return to Midway if she could not be found. The eleven SBDs never in fact even searched for the enemy, but simply followed the carrier’s homing signal directly back to TF-16 on a short flight. Mitscher strangely observed in his action report, “Had [they] located the enemy and made their attack prior to their return, they probably would not have been ready to send on the next flight.” At 1604 the Hornet’s first deck load of sixteen SBDs began taking off. At 1613, after they got away, Mitscher used the open flight deck to recover three fighters and two strike SBDs that just developed mechanical trouble. Then at 1616 he committed a colossal error by prematurely turning the task group westward. That abruptly concluded the launch before the Hornet could spot the second deck load of fifteen SBDs warming up in the hangar. Marooned on board were group commander Ring, both squadron commanding officers, their executive officers, and flight officers, in fact the entire leadership. Seven minutes later, evidently informed of his blunder, Mitscher swung back around southeast into the wind to resume the launch. Then he decided it would take too much time. At 1624 after scrambling to determine who was senior among the fourteen SBDs of the first deck load patiently circling overhead, he signaled Lt. Edgar E. Stebbins, the engineer officer of VS-8, “Take charge [and] proceed on this attack.” Stebbins headed out against the target assumed to bear 278 degrees, distance 162 miles. Therefore thirty-eight SBDs (three others aborted) sortied westward to gain revenge for the savaging of the Yorktown. Buell blamed Browning and TF-16 staff, who “bungled every aspect of the planning and execution of the second launch.” Browning and company certainly had their problems on 4 June, but the second strike was definitely not one of them. Mitscher deprived his strike of all its leaders and half its strength. The egregious handling of the Hornet was solely his responsibility.26
Only fifteen minutes after the second attack, Buckmaster regretfully signaled: “I am abandoning ship.” The two aerial torpedoes inflicted terrible harm. Initially it was thought they struck about fifty feet apart and opened separate holes each estimated at twenty feet high and twenty to thirty feet long, although that damage seemed “unusually extensive for an aerial torpedo.” Not only did the three port-side fire rooms flood, but the concussion itself also extinguished all boiler fires, with an immediate loss of steam pressure. At the same time all electrical power failed despite the diesel auxiliary engines, rendering the ship completely dark. The rudder was jammed 15 degrees to the left. The latest research, based on observation of the sunken Yorktown, revealed the torpedoes hit immediately adjacent to each other in the “most vulnerable section of the ship.” They blasted one huge hole roughly sixty by thirty feet that caused “more internal damage than previously thought.” Very swiftly the alarming list to port exceeded 25 degrees, angling the flight deck steeply toward the sea. Lacking power Buckmaster could not counter flood to right the ship or even use emergency lighting below deck. Without working phones and bullhorn there was no way to coordinate the damage control by a crew coping in the dark on the canted decks. Buckmaster worried that the old gal would simply continue to roll over and capsize with twenty-three hundred men still on board. He must get them off as quickly as possible.27
As the screen circled two thousand yards out, observers in the Astoria estimated the Yorktown’s list neared 30 degrees when Buckmaster’s doleful signal fluttered aloft. Fletcher recalled: “I was biting my nails thinking that Captain Buckmaster made his decision to abandon ship too late.” In his endorsement of Buckmaster’s “Report on Loss of Ship,” he was “firmly convinced” that Buckmaster “used good judgement in reaching his decision to abandon ship when he did.” From “the appearance of the Yorktown at the time the order was issued, any other decision would have been extremely unsound.” Buckmaster deeply appreciated Fletcher’s unswerving support, particularly later when criticisms mounted that he had prematurely abandoned ship. Michael Laing, who stood on the canted deck with Buckmaster when he ordered the crew off the Yorktown, considered he did so “too early in my opinion.” He “supposed the best thing Buckmaster could have done was to get rid of the useless mouths and keep damage control parties, gun crews, engineers etc to fight and if possible save the ship.” Laing did not explain how Buckmaster could have gone about sorting out the necessary personnel given how dire he perceived the condition of the ship. No U.S. naval ship yet provided for an emergency salvage crew to remain on board in the event it became necessary for the others to abandon ship. On Fletcher’s recommendation, Cincpac directed immediately after Midway that every ship organize such a force, but Buckmaster lacked that resource on 4 June. Nor did the U.S. Navy realize just how tough its modern construction would be. Nimitz, for one, accepted that when Buckmaster decided to abandon ship, “the situation appeared very critical.” Historians condemned the decision because the Yorktown was still afloat the next day without help. Morison first claimed that after the emergency repairs at Pearl the Yorktown’s watertight integrity was better than before and that Buckmaster should have taken it into account in his precipitous decision to leave her. Later, though, he acknowledged the “hasty” nature of the repairs and fears “she would turn turtle,” but still condemned Buckmaster for abandoning “unnecessarily.” The team of analysts who recently examined the photos of the sunken Yorktown likewise thought she “may have been prematurely abandoned,” commenting that after a list exceeded 15 degrees, “self preservation is an overriding consideration.”28
The Yorktown’s crew threw rafts overboard and snaked lines down the side. The Balch, Benham, Russell, and Anderson lowered boats and moved in closer to pick up swimmers. Soon “the oil-covered sea was alive with bobbing heads, small rafts and 5-inch shell casings.” Rafts gathered men so they could be towed by motor boats to cargo nets slung alongside the waiting destroyers. John Greenbacker recalled how Buckmaster had “hated to give the order to abandon ship” and indeed “disliked to practice it,” regarding the abandon ship drills to be “destructive of morale and confidence.” Thus the Yorktown had not run such a drill since the war began. It was quite fortunate that the ocean “was almost as smooth as a rug,” although “had the sea kicked up or had the carrier been ablaze when abandoned, there would have been heavy loss of life.” One hundred miles to the west the Japanese would have affirmed the second condition, as they struggled to save the remnants of three crews whose carriers, once the pride of the IJN, were transformed into huge blowtorches.29
Fletcher had much on his mind as he contemplated his uncertain air protection, the carrier’s imminent loss, and the rescue of her huge crew. Several bogeys tracked by the Pensacola’s radar impelled him at 1504 to signal: “Standby to repel air attack,” as if any task force could be in less condition to receive one. Things looked more serious at 1509 when enemy aircraft were reported thirty-six miles southeast. Fletcher directed the screen to form the Victor formation after aircraft were detected bearing 280 degrees, distance eighteen miles. He radioed TF-16 and Midway requesting air cover during the rescue. The Balch and Anderson backed clear, but the Russell and Benham, surrounded by men in the water, remained where they were and continued recovering survivors. No attack developed. At least one intruder was an old friend, the Tone Number Four plane, which at 1515 radioed the sighting of a large U.S. force (TF-16) bearing 102 degrees and 120 miles from its point of origin. Amari added, tentatively as usual, that there “appears” to be a carrier twenty miles ahead of the first group. That was the Yorktown.30
The rescue proceeded in an orderly fashion without panic. As each destroyer filled with oil-soaked survivors, she eased away from the carrier and returned to the screen. “Filled” was the right word. The Benham, Balch, and Russell together rescued more than seventeen hundred men. The 725 in the Benham alone brought “standing room only,” according to her commanding officer, Lt. Cdr. Joseph M. Worthington. The presence of so many men on board the tin cans not only brought overcrowding, but also serious stability problems. The Morris and Anderson recovered about 450 men. Last in, the Hammann and Hughes together saved more than one hundred sailors. After 1600, when nearly all the crew had left the Yorktown, Buckmaster made his final inspection. “It was necessary to move hand over hand to keep from falling,” because in places the decks were “covered with oil, very slippery.” As he proceeded through the darkness he could hear, even over the roar of the aft auxiliary diesel engine, that deeper in, “Great bubbles of air [were] being replaced at intervals by water.” He thought the Yorktown might capsize at any moment. After returning topside to check if everyone was off (actually, it was learned later, two injured men were left behind), he strode the length of the hangar deck and left the forlorn ship via the stern. A boat brought him to the Hammann. By 1646 the rescue was completed, having recovered 2,280 men.31
To everyone’s surprise the Yorktown, the port edge of her hangar deck dipped near the water, did not simply roll over and sink. Instead she “rocked on swells,” and at times seemed to “regain some of her trim then leaned over again as though tired of the struggle.” To Fletcher and Smith it became apparent the Yorktown “had ceased settling and had become, at least temporarily, stabilized.” Smith remarked: “I believe she will hang there and not sink.” Fletcher agreed. At 1615 he radioed Cincpac: “Yorktown badly listed and abandoning. She does not appear to be settling now. Suggest you send tugs in attempt to salvage. Survivors cannot be distributed to Task Forces 16 and 17 without seriously impairing military efficiency by over manning.” The “over manning” was an important consideration. So many survivors rendered most of his destroyers “almost helpless.” Fletcher considered whether to try once again to have a cruiser tow the Yorktown. So did others. In 1947 one cruiser captain, most likely Riefkohl, questioned “why we left the Yorktown the first night without picking her up and towing her away.” In the end Fletcher decided against it. Establishing the tow meant the risk of getting personnel back on board and hoping the enemy did not attack in the meantime. The Japanese obviously had the Yorktown’s exact location. At 1627 the TF-16 combat air patrol finished off a snooper within easy sight of TF-17. That and yet another shadower caused another alert of possible air attack. Unaware of the final outcome of the carrier battle, Fletcher worried the enemy could still deliver another air attack before dark (1842) or send a night surface attack group to finish off the crippled carrier. Those same drawbacks militated against having a destroyer go alongside the Yorktown to provide electrical power for a salvage effort. Under the circumstances in the midst of a fierce battle, Fletcher could have justifiably torpedoed and sunk the Yorktown then and there. Instead he planned to withdraw eastward that night, separate out a salvage party, put the other survivors in the Portland and two destroyers, then return with the Astoria group.32
At 1715 Fletcher set course due east at fifteen knots toward where he last saw TF-16. A few minutes later the Astoria slowed to let the Hammann come alongside to deliver Buckmaster. A sympathetic Max Leslie, rescued by the Astoria after ditching that afternoon, recalled, “It was a sober, impressive, sorrowful and yet rewarding scene to see this gallant officer quietly plod his way up the gangway where he could gain a brief respite before further action.” Tall Buckmaster was “hatless, coatless, shirt unbuttoned at the neck, no neck tie, wringing wet from perspiration and salt water and with absolutely nothing in his possession except an indomitable spirit to continue the battle God willing.” After briefing Fletcher, Buckmaster laid out the salvage effort and compiled a list of essential personnel scattered among the destroyers. Before going too far from the Yorktown Fletcher attended to another vital matter. At 1800 after learning which destroyer had the fewest survivors (and thus was most combat-ready), he directed Captain Hoover (Comdesron Two) to have the Hughes (with only twenty-three passengers) “stand by Yorktown.” Lt. Cdr. Donald J. Ramsey, her skipper, received orders not to permit anyone to board the Yorktown and was authorized to “sink her if necessary to prevent capture or if serious fire develops.” Ramsey thus faced the daunting task of keeping company with the derelict until one of three events occurred: she sank, the enemy showed up, or the salvagers returned. At 1830 when the Hughes reversed course, the Yorktown was about twelve miles off, hidden in the setting sun. Fletcher never saw his noble flagship again.33
At 1811 Spruance advised Fletcher via TBS that the Enterprise and Hornet were attacking the fourth carrier, the one the Yorktown search plane discovered that afternoon. It is interesting that he now used the term “fourth carrier,” for that differed from what he believed just a few hours before. His new perception arose from the reports of a Midway PBY (Ens. Theodore S. Thueson), which while on its return leg from the dawn search prowled the scene of the morning attack. At 1600 Thueson spotted three burning ships and soon identified them as carriers, confirming what Best and others told the TF-16 staff all along. Spruance advised Fletcher that the Hornet was about thirty miles east of him and that he planned to steam west until he recovered his strike groups. “Have you any instructions for further operations?” Fletcher replied: “Negative. Will conform to your movements.” Thus he gracefully conceded to Spruance the freedom to fight the battle without further reference to him. After the Yorktown was hit, he had the right to shift his flag to the Hornet and continue in tactical command of the carrier striking force. But so far as he knew, Spruance and the elite aviation staff were doing a good job handling TF-16. Transferring command to the Hornet might cause confusion at a crucial juncture of the battle. Fletcher never brandished the ego of one who must run the whole show no matter what, or who hated to share the credit. In fact he was criticized in official circles for “voluntary relinquishment of tactical command to a junior.” Gordon Prange correctly called the change of command an “act of selfless integrity and patriotism in action.” However, Fletcher’s creditable action opened the door for others to minimize his true role in the Midway victory.34
The release of TF-16 from Fletcher’s command at that exact time meant a great deal to Spruance. “He was my senior, and I did not know what he wanted to do himself or what he wanted me to do. His reply was a message I have always appreciated.” That was especially true, because Spruance mulled what would subsequently be one of the most controversial decisions of the Battle of Midway. He resolved, once he recovered his second strike, to clear the area to the east. He still had no clear idea of Japanese dispositions, losses, and intentions—despite the growing belief that most if not all the carriers were knocked out—and especially feared a night surface engagement, where his superior carrier air strength would avail him nothing. Heavy guns and torpedoes could quickly even the score. Radio intelligence revealed that several snoopers very likely reported his general location and probably his strength. Powerful surface forces, fast battleships, cruisers, and destroyers were not distant. About sunset Fletcher sighted first the Enterprise and then the Hornet group steaming southeast while busy recovering aircraft. He turned TF-17 in their direction and politely declined a request from Spruance for help. Fletcher knew as well as Spruance the Japanese could join the party at almost any time. He returned the Vincennes and Pensacola to TF-16, but kept the two destroyers loaded with survivors. By 1915 Spruance reassembled his scattered task force into one disposition and steadied on 090 degrees. Fletcher kept station fifteen miles to the north. Spruance intended to withdraw east until midnight in order to avoid any lunging warships, then come back around to the west and by dawn position himself within air support range of Midway.35
Thirteen hundred miles southeast, Nimitz spent a stressful 4 June trying to get some normal work done between frequent checks of the operations plot for the latest information. Following at long distance what could be the decisive naval battle of his career proved especially frustrating. Only Midway maintained close contact by virtue of the underwater cable. Thus Nimitz had a fair idea of how the battle was progressing from the viewpoint of the island. Because of radio silence he knew very little about how his own carriers fared. Early that afternoon came distressing news from Fletcher that the Yorktown was crippled. That was overtaken by Spruance’s grand announcement that his planes not only found all four Japanese carriers, but also badly damaged them. Next he learned the Yorktown was hit hard again, making it painfully obvious at least one enemy flight deck was still intact. Almost immediately, in yet another timely reverse of momentum, a search plane discovered the Yorktown’s assailant or perhaps another carrier altogether. Hopefully TF-16 could destroy the rest of the carriers before dark. A Midway PBY (Thueson) offered highly encouraging word that three enemy carriers were burning. Also gladdening the heart of a former submariner, Nimitz heard the Nautilus had torpedoed a previously damaged Sōryū-class carrier. All was not rosy. The PBY that snooped the three burning carriers also warned of Zero fighters that should not have been aloft since the morning attack. Cincpac warned at 1847, “May indicate Jap carrier still on loose.” At 1907 he advised Fletcher and Spruance that as of 1829 the Japanese were “believed homing planes,” another indication enemy air power was not crushed. Thueson in fact encountered only one orphaned Zero and saw it ditch.36
Nothing came from Spruance regarding the fourth carrier located several hours before. The accumulated tension coupled with the dearth of up-to-date information finally cracked even Nimitz’s renowned calm. That evening he appeared “frantic,” according to Layton, “As frantic as I’ve ever seen him,” as he badgered his communications officer for fresh reports. Near to midnight, though, Nimitz reflected on the extraordinary events of 4 June, and he did not yet know the half of it. With the battle still much in doubt, he responded with one of the inspiring gestures that was so typical of the man. A message to all commands announced: “You who participated in the Battle of Midway today have written a glorious page in our history. I am proud to be associated with you. I estimate that another day of all out effort on your part will complete the defeat of the enemy.” Just after midnight 5 June Midway local time, Nimitz advised: “Reports are incomplete at present but believe enemy will if he can muster sufficient air continue duel with our 2 remaining carriers in order to proceed with landing attack on Midway,” and, “It is certain that he has at least one carrier able to operate aircraft.” Probably more for King’s benefit than from any actual information, he added: “We are executing night attack with appropriate types.” Finally the Saratoga, scheduled to reach Pearl early on 6 June, “will be despatched as soon as fueled.”37
The evening of 4 June after his second strike returned, Spruance prepared a summary, but it is not certain when he radioed it. The message proclaimed the heartening results of the TF-16 afternoon strike. From 1700 to 1800 the Enterprise and Hornet bombed a force of one carrier, two battleships, two or more heavy cruisers, and several destroyers; they left the carrier “burning fiercely” and a battleship also on fire. The enemy withdrew west at fifteen knots. Destroyers were noted approaching that force from the southeast, and off in that direction three ships, “Believed CV’s previously attacked,” were seen on fire. Spruance asked to be kept informed of likely targets that shore-based search might find on 5 June and advised that as of 0400 5 June he would be 170 miles northeast of Midway. That wonderful report, evidently received by Cincpac after midnight Midway local time, elicited another “dazzling smile.” Now the tide of battle had definitely turned. At 0145 Nimitz described the second attack as “superb.”38
It was all of that. At 1700, twenty-four Enterprise and Yorktown SBDs ambushed the Hiryū, the sole undamaged carrier, just before Yamaguchi could mount his third strike of six carrier bombers and nine fighters. Four bombs struck forward and threw the forward elevator up against the island. Uncontrollable fires gutted the hangar and doomed the Hiryū and any realistic hope for Yamamoto to grasp victory out of what was now Japan’s most demoralizing defeat. Before dark the Hiryū and her disconsolate consorts weathered attacks by fourteen Hornet SBDs and twelve B-17s without further harm. Nagumo witnessed the devastation of his sole operational carrier. He still hoped for a night surface battle and even pulled destroyers away from the other stricken carriers but relented when he received search reports that the U.S. ships withdrew eastward out of reach. Even more disillusioning, he learned at 1830 that the Chikuma Number Two plane discovered no fewer than four U.S. carriers in addition to one seen burning and listing. That formidable force was steaming westward. The unintentional exaggeration of American strength (the additional flattops were thought to be auxiliary carriers) landed the final blow. Nagumo rounded up his force and hauled out to the northwest. Shortly after 1900 both the Sōryū and Kaga sank, the latter after burning nearly to the waterline. The Akagi, already abandoned, lasted until just before dawn. In the meantime Nagumo left the failing Hiryū behind with two destroyers.39
On the night of 4 June help was on the way in the form of Kondō’s Main Force roaring up from the southwest eager to overtake the American carrier force and annihilate it. He had two fast battleships, four heavy cruisers, one light cruiser, seven destroyers, and light carrier Zuihō. From the south, one light cruiser and eight destroyers, part of the escort of the transport force, hastened to join him. Kondō also counted on Nagumo’s two fast battleships, two heavy cruisers, one light cruiser, and four available destroyers. These forces converged on a point 175 miles northwest of Midway and one hundred miles west of the Yorktown. At the same time Kurita’s bombardment group of four heavy cruisers rapidly closed Midway. Finally around midnight Yamamoto, 450 miles northwest of Midway, resignedly concluded the MI Operation was a complete failure. He canceled the night battle and ordered Kondō, Nagumo, and Kurita to meet him 350 miles northwest of Midway. He later directed the transports to withdraw westward and arranged for the other ships to refuel on 6 June, seven hundred miles northwest of Midway. The great eastern Pacific offensive was over, and the Japanese sought only a clean getaway. Only the I-168 loosed a few shells against Midway early that morning. That was merely a nuisance, but soon the lone submarine would accomplish more in the Battle of Midway than all the rest of the Combined Fleet.40
Although composed several hours apart under different circumstances, the two messages that Fletcher sent on the afternoon of 4 June to Nimitz regarding the condition of the Yorktown actually reached him within fifteen minutes. Unfortunately he received the later one first. Written after the carrier was torpedoed at 1444, it described her “badly listed and abandoning.” The earlier message, the one McLean delivered to Midway, noted that three bomb hits left the Yorktown “dead in the water,” but still “apparently seaworthy,” which certainly she no longer was. The earlier message also affirmed, “Unless otherwise directed Task Force 17 will protect and salvage Yorktown,” although by the time Nimitz read it, Fletcher was retiring eastward to regroup. Nimitz gladly replied, “Affirmative.” For a brief time, at least, Cincpac believed the Yorktown was better off than she was, and if he could provide help there was a good chance to save her. He mustered his resources. The nearest ocean tug was the Vireo, an old former minesweeper waiting out the attack near Pearl and Hermes Reef 120 miles east of Midway. Nimitz ordered her to proceed to the Yorktown some 160 miles northwest and take her under tow. However, with a top speed of ten knots, the Vireo could not arrive before midday on the fifth. Next Nimitz redirected the destroyer Gwin (with Cdr. Henry R. Holcomb, Comdesdiv 22), which had left Pearl on 3 June to reinforce TF-16. She could now join the salvage effort on the afternoon of the fifth. Other potential salvage ships were much farther away. On the morning of 4 June, almost as an afterthought, Nimitz instructed the modern ocean tug Navajo to load salvage and rescue gear at Pearl, then sail for French Frigate Shoals southeast of Midway. She could not reach the Yorktown until the afternoon of 7 June. To relieve TF-17 of the burden of the survivors, the fast new submarine tender Fulton sailed from Pearl that night with two old four-piper destroyers from the offshore patrol as escort. The Fulton received a specific course to steam toward Midway, while Fletcher was to have the ships carrying the Yorktown survivors take the reciprocal bearing and intercept her around noon on 6 June southeast of Midway. The ocean tug Seminole would follow the Fulton.41
Thus Nimitz informed Fletcher: “Tugs enroute to tow Yorktown with constructor and salvage officers.” In the meantime, Fletcher was to “retain enough men on board Yorktown who know ship and furnish DD escort to assist salvage party.” Only it was already too late. No able-bodied crew remained in the Yorktown. Cincpac’s order crossed a message Fletcher sent at 1845 describing in sobering detail the actual situation. “Yorktown received 3 bomb hits first attack; 2 or more torpedo hits on second attack. All boilers out of commission. Ship listed 30 degrees and abandoned when apparently about to capsize. Still afloat no appreciable change in trim down by the head. Will not attempt to tow her by cruiser. Destroyer standing by.” By then Fletcher, of course, retired eastward to clear the area that night in case the Japanese warships showed up.42
Fletcher’s decision to leave the Yorktown on the night of 4 June without attempting salvage drew bitter criticism. The February 1943 Cominch Secret Information Bulletin No. 1 declared that the Yorktown “might have been saved if she had not been completely abandoned during the night but salvage work carried on.” The same bulletin also categorically disapproved of Spruance’s decision to withdraw that night. “Task Force 16 would have done better if it had headed westward and not eastward after attacking the Hiryū in order to follow up the successes of 4 June.” Late in 1942, however, Japanese messages found on Guadalcanal sketched the menace of superior surface forces to TF-16 had it continued westward. When told of them, Spruance felt, “The weight of a score of years has been lifted from my shoulders.” By 1948 Bates and also Morison completely agreed with the wisdom of Spruance’s actions, pointing out that Kondō and Nagumo could possibly have engaged him in night combat had TF-16 gone west or even stayed in the same area. If one accepted the logic of Spruance’s decision, how could Fletcher, with only four cruisers and whose destroyers were far less combat ready, be criticized for leaving the stricken, stationary Yorktown? She was even closer to the enemy than TF-16, and moreover Fletcher was aware the Japanese knew her position. If they were hell-bent on a night surface battle north of Midway, they would have hardly neglected to finish off the crippled carrier and deal with the ships left behind to protect her.43
In light of his hindsight, Bates thought it would have been “wiser” for Fletcher to have left two destroyers with “a limited number of key salvage personnel” to try to improve the condition of the ship. The destroyers could keep a radar watch. If enemy ships did appear they would have enough notice to sink the Yorktown and hopefully recover the salvagers. Of course by the time Fletcher realized the Yorktown was not going to sink immediately, all the men were off, and night approached. The problem of how to organize those “key salvage personnel” still remained. According to Poco Smith, “The unfortunate aspect of the situation was that the crew of Yorktown had been pulled at random, not by selection, from the sea.” Under the circumstances that pertained on the night of 4 June, he thought TF-17 “could not hover on the scene while sorting them out and selecting those whose experience best qualified them for the salvage job in hand.” No one considered what a small salvage party might have actually accomplished at night in a steeply listing ship without power, and the destroyers ready to bug out if the enemy showed up. Saving the Yorktown required a far better organized and equipped effort. The question became whether it would be in time.44