Struggle Pacific, page 10
part #3 of Pacific Alternate Series
The Japanese escort fighters thundered toward the approaching enemy to engage them well ahead of the fleet. The tactic was simple, it would cull the strike of a few planes, and then the flak guns of the ships would be able to fire away and try to destroy more. If the imperial pilots had waited to fight the Allies above the fleet, it would have impeded the gunners from firing their weapons as they would have hit friendly fighters. Frantic calls also went to the three Japanese carriers to send more planes in the air.
The dogfight between the two forces was fierce, but most of the Allied bombers just flew by as the Japanese pilots got busy fighting off their enemy counterparts. The Allied flight was three times the Nipponese numbers, so the Japanese CAP was overwhelmed. While the fighters fought some distance from the fleet, the torpedo bombers and dive bombers made their approach.
The Imperial Navy destroyers, well in front of the main body as a screen, fired first. A wall of black explosions appeared in the sky. Tracers started to criss-cross in every direction, trying to hit planes. A few of the very slow and outdated Albacore were quickly shot down.
Then the cruisers (heavy and light) opened up with everything they had, joining in the staccato of fire against the Allied airstrike. More bombers fell off the sky in flames. Some only got hit superficially and started to trail white streaks of smoke.
Finally, the Japanese battleships and aircraft carriers, located in the center of the naval formation, opened up. The sky then filled up with even more red and yellow tracers. Several more Sea Hurricanes, Devastator, and Albacore were shot down.
Admiral Inoue watched in horror as at least twenty of the enemy planes got through the wall of flak that his fleet put up. The enemy pilots either dove from high in the sky or lined up their machines to launch their torpedoes. The destroyers scrambled to get in covering position for the capital ships, but they were a bit far away, so the light cruisers obliged instead.
Three Albacore launched their torpedoes, while seven Devastators did the same. Six Dauntless plunged toward the fleet intent on mischief. Of course, the Allies’ targets were the carriers and the battleships. Again, Musashi proved to be an irresistible target, for the super dreadnought was already a legend, and every sailor in the U.S and British Fleet probably dreamed of sinking it. Most of the Dauntless accordingly made their dive either at Musashi or Yamashiro. They approached with all their speed, plunged, and released their dreaded bombs. Musashi rocked with two powerful hits on its deck and one of its rear main gun turret. The shot rang the battleship’s steel like a church bell, and two gigantic balls of fire engulfed the ship. The Admiral was swept off his feet and fell to the deck, like several of his officers on the bridge. Yamashiro was also hit by one bomb that hit the stern and wrecked its floatplane and the crane to service it. Its rudder was damaged, and so its speed plummeted to 15 knots almost immediately. The gasoline in the plane and the tank servicing it ignited, and a powerful secondary explosion rocked the great ship. The blast was quite spectacular from afar.
The Allies weren’t done. Seven torpedoes with a chance to hit ships were launched in the waters by the Albacore and the devastators. Their targets had been the center of the formation, namely the carriers. The torpedo sped toward the ships, but light cruisers Katsuma and Tama took a hit for the team. Katsuma was hit on the stern, and a gigantic hole was opened on its hull. It developed a list and was completely dead in the water, on fire. Tama was hit amidship and cracked like a ripe egg, exploding in a cataclysmic explosion, with debris skyrocketing in the air and on the sea.
The five remaining torpedoes could not be intercepted by ships sacrificing themselves, so the vessels in the center would have to fend for themselves. Battleship Haruna was the fastest of all, so was able to maneuver away from the two targeted at it. Hyuga was more powerful, better armed, and considered a tougher dreadnought than the lighter Haruna, but it wasn’t as nimble. So, it could not avoid the torpedo sent by the flimsy Albacore British torpedo bomber. It received smack on the stern, exploding in a mighty detonation and sending a towering pillar of mixed water, fire and debris high into the air.
The last two Allied weapons raced toward the precious carriers, and nothing could be done to avoid them. Unyo received the two torpedoes, and humongous blasts of fire rocked it to its core. A plane that was rolling on its deck to take off was thrown into the air by the force of the explosion, enabling it (in an incredible stroke of good luck)to take off and survive its carrier’s fate.
A titanic fire engulfed the stricken ship, and it was soon a giant fireball. Nothing was certain yet, but Admiral Inoue, standing up again and getting some sense back into his vision, did not give a lot of chances for Unyo to survive the catastrophic hits it had just received.
And just like that, the bombers turned back toward wherever they had come, flak guns shooting down another four. By then, the dogfight was nearing its end as well, and the Japanese seemed to have been victorious, inflicting more losses on the Allied aviators.
The attack’s results were nothing short of catastrophic for the Japanese. And worst of all, they didn’t even know where the enemy was.
Inoue quickly ordered search planes in the air to find the damned enemy. He turned toward the raging ball of fire that was Unyo, sighing heavily. “Damage report,” he said in a low voice. Everyone on Musashi’s deck was shaken by the two hits the ship had taken. “Admiral,” started one of the deck officers. “Hit on deck had done impressive damage, but nothing serious that can impede the ship from fighting. Damage to the rear turret is a little more problematic. Fifteen injured personnel and the gun is stuck and won’t traverse anymore.
“By the Emperor,” said the Admiral as he turned back once more to look outside and see his burning ships. Hyuga seemed hit, and a light cruiser was dead in the water. Another one was just gone. Inoue wondered what he should do. His mission was definitely in jeopardy, as the enemy obviously had carriers west of his position, deeper in the Coral Sea. For a moment, he was tempted to stay and find the bastards. The Allies had attacked with just a little over 100 planes, indicating that they had at most three carriers. The Charger and the Ranger were known to be in the area, so it implied that they had another one.
Unyo was critically hit, so it was unknown if it would sink, but one fact remained. He had only two light carriers. He decided to wait for a few hours. This would give him and his sailor time first to find the enemy and second, better assess the fleet’s damaged ships.
Alexai Point Army Airfield
Attu, Aleutian Islands, Alaska September 16th, 1942
Attu was an island in the Near Islands (part of the Aleutian Islands chain). It was the westernmost point of the U.S. state of Alaska. It was a barren, mainly treeless volcanic island with weather that could change quickly from still winds and light fog to raging 100-mile-an-hour gusts and pelting rain.
Attu Island was forty-two miles long and fifteen miles wide, perfect for what General James Doolittle had in mind to build there. Mist-enshrouded, wind-whipped, mountainous, and mysterious, it rested at the western end of the Aleutian chain of islands, which curved across the top of the North Pacific. These volcanic islands were the crest of a submarine ridge approximately 1,400 miles long, twenty to sixty miles wide, and 12,000 feet high above the ocean floor to either side.
For the romantic, it was nice. But in reality, it was not a place for humans to live. It was remote. But it had one critical quality that the U.S. Army needed. It was within range of the Japanese capital, Tokyo. At the end of August 1942, the Navy moved some forces in total secrecy to the Islands in order to build an airfield that could service American B17s, the only one of two aircraft capable of reaching Tokyo at that point in the war. The island was so far into nowhere that there was zero chance that Japan would take notice.
And so, the Americans needed an airfield for revenge. That revenge was led by General James Doolittle, which planned to bomb Tokyo from it with B-17s. Originating from a direct demand from President Roosevelt to General Marshall after the Seattle raid, it was designed to get back at Japan by bombing its capital.
Initially, there had been talks of organizing the attack from a carrier. Still, the idea was abandoned since the United States Navy had no bases anywhere near with which to sail to Japan safely.
The building of Alexai Point Airfield was done by the Navy Seabees using Marston matting to pave the runways. Navy Seabees was the name for the United States naval construction battalions. Naval construction battalions were conceived of as replacements for civilian construction companies in combat zones after the attack on Pearl Harbor. First, because many construction companies were already working all over the map and the armed forces needed more, and second, it wasn’t ideal to send civilians into combat zones.
Marston matting, more properly called pierced (or perforated) steel planking (PSP), was a standardized, perforated steel matting material developed by the United States shortly before World War II, primarily for the rapid construction of temporary runways and landing strips (also misspelled as Marsden matting). The nickname came from Marston, North Carolina, adjacent to Camp Mackall airfield, where the material was first used.
The Seabees worked fast, as they had all the necessary materials and didn’t need to do a lot of preparatory work. The island was barren, and they only had to find a relatively flat area, hence why they chose the Alexai Point location. With 56 kilometers in length, it was big enough to house a runway to accommodate the big and lumbering four engines Flying Fortresses, which needed 1700 to 1800 meters long to take off properly.
The airfield was almost ready, and only two days before, several of the needed engineers, workers, mechanics, and everything else going along with a b-17 base were dropped by the Navy. The Seabees had already built hangars to house planes and personnel, and within another week, everything would be ready for the pilots. Apparently, they were still training somewhere in Alaska.
The Third Battle of the Coral Sea part 3
Coral Sea, September 15
A few hours after the attack on his ships, the Japanese Admiral finally had a clearer picture of the situation. The Allies had moved new capital ships to the theater without Japan realizing it.
Air recon by several floatplanes and search planes from the battleships/cruisers reported that the enemy had no less than three carriers and three battleships in the area, cruising about 400 kilometers southeast of the Japanese vessel’s current position.
The Allied attack had been three hours before, and most of the units that were hit still burned. Unyo was critically wounded and dead in the water. A decision would soon have to be made on the matter as maybe the ship could be saved, but it would need to be towed. The fires had been put out on Musashi, so that was good. Yamashiro and Hyuga could not move faster than 18 knots with the hits they received on their stern but were considered battle-capable. And then light cruiser Katsuma was also dead in the water.
Admiral Inoue inhaled deeply. The situation was bad, but he needed to keep his cool. The enemy fleet had been spotted, and the bridge crew all awaited his orders. He looked outside the Musashi’s viewport, hands crossed behind his back. He was dressed in pristine white and looked the part of the Japanese naval leader.
“Lieutenant Shiramatsu,” he said, still looking outside the super dreadnought. To the men waiting for his answer, the Admiral seemed busy thinking about something important. He was indeed mentally juggling, but the truth was that Inoue was raked with indecision.
“Send a full strike on the enemy. Tell the air commanders only to keep a cap of fifteen planes.” Yes, sir,” answered the lieutenant. “How many planes will this give us for the strike, lieutenant? “That will give us a strike of fifty planes, sir.” The fleet had lost most of Unyo’s planes, as they had been destroyed along with the stricken carrier. They were now probably part of the raging inferno that the damage control crews were trying to master. Several destroyers and even Haruna were bunched up around the carrier, hosing it with seawater to try and help with the fire. “Very well. The strike needs to be bomber-heavy; tell the Zhuiho and Taiyo only to send five fighters each.” “Very well, Admiral,” said the deck officer gravely. They all knew what that meant. If the Allies still had a lot of fighters, it would be difficult for the Japanese pilots to reach the fleet. But it could not be helped.
Inoue decided to gamble a little. By the fleet’s estimates and the reports from the pilots that landed back on his two viable carriers, the Allies had lost over forty-five planes in their strike. With their supposed three carriers and counting the number of bombers that attacked, it meant that the enemy probably had thirty to forty fighters at the most.
It was a gamble, but the Admiral needed to damage the opposing carriers if he wanted to save his stricken ships or even continue on his mission. He was still undecided on what he would do about that. He was already supposed to be nearing Port Moresby, and the 67th Division’s assault would be launched soon. Since Hyakutake was a smart officer, he figured that he would wait for his ship’s arrival. If they ever did.
The day was getting late, and it was estimated that the planes would come back from their strike at dusk. He had a few hours to decide what to do and plan accordingly. If he could damage the opposing carriers enough, he would dash toward Port Moresby. If the results were disappointing, he was of the mind to turn back. All his hopes rested on the fifty pilots taking off toward the Allied fleet.
The Japanese admiral thought he was in a difficult position and that there was only little hope of salvaging his situation. But he didn’t know the 2nd Fleet’s situation. Admiral Leahy was in a quandary. He knew that his fleet had been detected as lookouts and spotted several search planes circling high in the sky. The losses from the overly successful strike earlier in the day had been a staggering fifty-five planes, giving him an operational strength of only about sixty-five planes. His problem was that there were only thirty-five fighters left. Given the high loss ratio from the 1st strike, he could again expect to lose most of his planes.
And so, he’d compromised. He kept all of his fighters above his fleet and sent his bombers on another airstrike. The aircraft had left a few hours ago, and he hoped they would get good results even if they were unescorted.
As he was still juggling with his option, the alarm bell rang; the lookout had spotted an incoming enemy raid. The Japs were finally attacking. The enemy strike was bomber-heavy like his own, so his thirty-five fighters had a field day against the fifty (ten of them fighters) enemy airstrike. Twenty-five Japanese bombers got through the fighter screen, and some would still be shot down after that, but they still bore down on Leahy’s ship with abandon. It almost seemed like they were on a suicidal mission.
The planes were all torpedo bombers of the Nakajima B5N model, the standard carrier-based torpedo bomber of the Imperial Japanese Navy (IJN). It was substantially faster and more capable than its Allied counterparts, the American Douglas TBD Devastator monoplane, and the British Albacore torpedo biplanes. The aircraft approaching the Allied 2nd fleet also sported the magnificent Type-91 Torpedo, the fastest in any navy during World War II. Its warhead size was the largest and second only to another Nipponese weapon, the Type 93 used by Japanese surface ships like destroyers. Compared to the defective Mark XIV American torpedoes, they ran straight, fast, and always exploded.
The Japanese aircraft then went against the impressive wall of flak fire that the Allied sailors put up. By mid-1942, flak fire was not yet what it would be in the latter stages of the war for the Americans, but it was nonetheless quite potent, especially for battleships. Recently refitted and modernized, the Indiana possessed an impressive array of seven × quad 40 mm (1.6 in) AA guns and thirty-five × single 20 mm (0.8 in) AA guns. The Yankees also fired their main and secondary batteries at the incoming enemies. It made for an impressive show of firepower. However, the French ships in the fleet were not as good as the ships were still pre-war types (it wasn’t like the French could modernize their battleships without their home country). The British were okay but similarly armed than their French neighbors.
Of the thirty-five B5N that got through, eight more were shot down by the Allied combat air patrol and ten by the flak fire. That left seventeen planes on approach that released their torpedoes at the fleet. Seven of them launched the Type 95 too far from a target (the pilots were inexperienced), so these weapons either slid under the ships or missed completely as the Allied vessels dodged. That left ten that launched properly. The powerful Japanese weapons raced toward their targets. The pilots had, of course, done the same as their Allied counterparts; they went after the carriers and the battleships.
From the moment the torpedoes were in the water, all ships scrambled to get away from their wake. The fastest and nimblest ones could easily maneuver away, but several of the Japanese pilots launched their weapons from really close, so they had almost no chance. The Ranger was deemed too slow for Pacific operations against the Japanese but had been sent there regardless because the U.S. had scrambled for ships. And now it was hit by two torpedoes. They exploded on starboard and catapulted a cloud of black smoke and debris high in the sky. The ship rocked from the two successive hits, and a major fire developed. It was also hit right on the plane elevator, and one of its gasoline tanks was ripped open. A third explosion, this one caused by internal fire and resulting from the Japanese hit, spurred from the center of the ship, and its lancing flames pierced the deck. Everyone on the carrier was thrown down to the floor, and many were killed and wounded. The Ranger was so hurt that not many people thought it would survive.
