The Silver Waterfall

by Kevin Miller

  Now anxious, Aoki shouted at his terrified helmsman, who had the wheel over hard left with all his weight, frantic that the helm did not respond. Genda did the tactical calculus. While the damage to CarDiv 1 was devastating, at least CarDiv 2 was intact. In spite of the destruction around him, Genda gazed spellbound at the horrible and unimaginable sight of Kaga to the west.

  At Halterman’s excited shout, Kroeger whipped his head back in time to see flame and black smoke shoot high over Akagi as debris fanned out from an induced explosion inside the ship. Out of the corner of his eye, he noted Kaga on the horizon, giving off heavy smoke the length of it. A muffled flash amidships, and another aft, lifted visible pieces of the ship into the air. Slowly, they tumbled, like a pinwheel on fire. Holy cow!

  He forced himself to keep sight of his jinking CO, to stay with him but not too close. Gotta be CAP down here. Best pointed them to an opening, and, miles to his right, Kroeger saw gray specks hugging the water and also running to the southeast. Zeros pounced on them. Run.

  He drifted acute on the CO. Heck with it! Kroeger hoped Best would see him and add every inch of manifold pressure he could. Regardless, Kroeger kept his throttle firewalled. Where’s Fred? There he is, running hard. His gunner fired at something. Alarmed, Kroeger searched for a threat. Nothing. Behind him, smoke from Akagi billowed high. A bright light flashed from inside it, then another. The middle of the flight deck was covered in flame.

  We did it!

  Max Leslie assessed the two carriers below him. He’d have to dive all of his planes on the nearest one. Where the hell is Wally Short and Scouting Five? They must be nearby, and, when they showed up, would take the smaller flattop to the west. They couldn’t help but see it. They’re missing out!

  Lefty Holmberg held position next to him, and Leslie envied the 1000-pounder slung underneath his plane. Regardless, he’d dive on this carrier1 with its strange starboard island, and his boys would pummel it. He patted his head so Lefty could see, pointed at the carrier, and popped his dive brakes open.

  Just then, his gunner opened up off the left. Surprised, Leslie saw tracers zip past, missing forward due to the sudden change in airspeed. Radioman Gallagher held the hammer down, and the Zero that appeared out of nowhere flamed up as Gallagher continued to blaze away at it.

  “Got it, sir!”

  “Dammit, Bill, where’d that come from? Here we go!”

  Leslie rolled in on top of the carrier that was in a starboard turn and closed the throttle to idle. With his fixed .50s, he’d strafe the damn thing to keep their heads down. In unison, gunfire erupted from all sides of the flight deck; though the deck was a rectangle, it now resembled a ring, a ring of fire. It was nothing more than a high-deflection shot, and Leslie held the gunsight just forward of the bow as Gallagher called out their altitude. The red ball on the flight deck was a perfect bullseye, and Leslie let his gunsight fall on it as he opened fire from 5,000 feet, kicking the rudder to spray the deck with bullets. With his trigger squeezed, Leslie’s .50s clattered in front of him as his tracers jumped from the barrels and floated down on the blond timbers of the Jap flight deck. The scent of burned gunpowder filled the cockpit.

  After four seconds of fire, his guns jammed. Dammit! Leslie held his dive and attempted to clear them. Dammit! Since Gallagher could take a shot on the pull off, Leslie allowed the great ship to move out of his sight before he pulled up so Gallagher could shoot it.

  Recovered, and with Gallagher giving it to them, Leslie twisted his neck back in time to see Lefty’s hit.

  The bomb entered just forward of the island, and a mix of flame and debris shot high into the air. A white concentric shockwave burst from the ship as it heeled hard to starboard. The fireball rose into the sky and dissipated, and the ship charged ahead with flames pouring from the hole in the flight deck.

  “Yeah!” Leslie cried as he pumped his fist and noticed that the guns on the forward half of the ship had gone silent. However, a big battlewagon nearby fired with all but her main battery, as did the screen ships. The water underneath him was covered with splashes as the sky above was filled with crisscrossing yellow lights and spotted with black puffs. In this confused whirlwind he was now afraid, more than when he had approached the fleet. No longer thinking, he could only react, overwhelmed from the roaring engine, Gallagher firing at something that may be firing at them, more and higher splashes, the thudding, and airplane control reactions to rounds ripping through the tail. Antiaircraft puffs, splashes, and tracer trails filled his windscreen as he held the SBD steady. Just pick a direction and go!

  Leslie found an opening of a few miles between two destroyers in the screen and went for it, thankful it was to the southeast, toward safety. He had a general idea Holmberg was behind him but saw no others. To the west, smoke… Stack gas? No, smoke – and flame – from hits! Must be the Enterprise and Hornet boys!

  Clear, Leslie rolled left as Lefty maneuvered to the inside. Other SBDs ran for their lives, taking fire as they escaped. Looking over his shoulder at the carrier, he spotted sheets of flame high over the length of it undulated like harvest-ready wheat in the afternoon breeze. Transfixed, Leslie eased his turn as his boys flew past, oblivious to their lead and focused on survival. They ran hard away into the safety of the desolate blue wilderness of water, the promise of home somewhere far down to the east.

  Leslie could not turn himself away from this terrible and magnificent sight, and orbited clear to behold it, to sear it into his memory. Flames from the carrier snapped at the sky hundreds of feet above as muffled flashes from inside foretold unspeakable destruction. To the west, two more carriers gave off huge columns of black that climbed thousands of feet into a sky dotted with flak smudges. Antiaircraft rounds arced and burst over a sea churned white – alive with the evidence of death.

  As Best’s three Dauntlesses clawed their way out of the Japanese crossfire, Kroeger throttled back and maintained position on the skipper’s wing. The Zeros were no longer interested in them, and flak from the screen ships lagged behind as the SBDs crossed them at ninety degrees. Skipper Best seemed unconcerned as stray tracers and spent machine gun rounds slapped the water around them. He was interested in something to the northeast, and pointed in that direction to show his wingmen. On the horizon, heavy black smoke rose from fires covering the length of a ship, one Kroeger could not identify. Is that a carrier?

  Whatever it was, Kroeger scanned for threats to them, held position on the skipper, and ran.

  Miles to the south, Childers and VT-3 fought for their lives.

  Not long after Massey had steadied his formation on an attack heading, the Zeros pounced as a flock: firing in unison, slashing at the Americans, and almost hitting each other. Their attack was so sudden, so violent. Childers turned his gun on a gaggle of them to his right, shooting in the middle of the group, spraying more than aiming, flinching as tracers snapped past him. More lined up, and Childers forced himself to aim. Three were in, angled toward the lead, big cannon balls ripping through the skipper’s formation. Childers led the first Zero and fired, his rounds missing low and behind before he frantically swung to its wingman as the deflection increased. Despite the deafening hammerblows of his own .30 cal., Childers heard the gunfire from the TBDs around him along with the steady drumbeat of the Zero cannons that added to the background clatter as the Japs pulled off less than a football field away.

  At intervals, the assassins kept coming and Childers kept firing, as did Brazier, Darce and Phillips next to him. Their pilots held steady on the CO as he pressed ahead. For a moment, Childers had nothing to shoot, but saw the Fighting Three F4Fs in a swirling fight high above. Where are the Zeros? Okay, two setting up on the right. Just then a flaming Zero – in a vertical dive and trailing heavy smoke – smacked the water off their tail, less than 100 yards away. Startled by its sudden and fiery appearance, Childers recovered to defend the stabs and slashes from the new knife fight he was engaged in.

  As soon as the Zeros had finishe
d a run, Childers looked for more, then saw Darce next to him. Smiling, Darce patted his gun and mouthed, “You owe me, Okie!”

  A sudden row of tracers from below shot toward the second division. Childers looked down and fell back as the deck of a Jap cruiser passed below. Harry had flown over it at masthead height, still flying on the CO who led them ahead at 100 knots. With a clear line of fire, the cruiser’s port side gunners opened up with a broadside of light AA, and Childers felt two hits on the left wing. Damn it, Harry!

  Now inside the screen, three carriers in column, Skipper going on the closest, escort ships churning the waters, heeling hard with muzzle flashes on their superstructures, and puffs from bow guns breaking over their bridges. Taking a quick glance, Childers noticed they were still a few miles from the separation point. Antiaircraft bursts over the task force. Where are the Zeros?

  Their target carrier2 ran from them at flank speed… An agonizing stern chase. Childers searched for Zeros and found none. Antiaircraft fire whizzed past, rounds punching the corrugated metal skin. A cry from Harry. Turning right… Second division veering left. An unseen Zero roared overhead 90 off. One from the high side, then another, both turning and rolling like bats on a summer evening. Childers scanned to his left, awestruck as two jagged holes appeared on top of the wing with no accompanying sound.

  “Look at the skipper!” Harry cried.

  Childers looked to port in time to see Massey’s flaming TBD nose down to the water. Horrified, he saw the quizzical look on the gunner’s face turn to panic when he realized what was happening. At impact, the Devastator exploded and tumbled in churning fire that sent spray and debris high over Childers and the other TBDs as they flew past.

  The second division was losing planes, somebody bailed out, a cannon round to the tail, can’t see up ahead. Frantic, Childers shot at what he could from his bucking mount.

  “We’re not gonna make it,” Harry said on the interphone. Matter of fact. Resigned.

  Fear gripped Childers as he absorbed Harry’s words. He remembered the CO and his chief radioman in their doomed TBD moments earlier. Fear. No, terror! Childers’s TBD was nosing toward the water as Harry fought to control it, cursing as he did. Was this it? A Devastator next to them caught fire as the rest continued into the blizzard of dancing yellow dots and red bursts of AA that turned to black stains. Darce!

  “Let’s get outta here!” Childers shouted.

  Harry struggled for control as Childers scanned for threats in the rear. The Zeros were off – too close to their own flak. “Can’t control it,” Harry cried, but soon Childers noticed they were turning right, to north, and away from the target. The nose came up, and Harry seemed in control now. Chief Esders was ahead. Stay with him!

  Anxious because of the lull, Childers had nothing to shoot – until he checked below. He was shocked to see a Zero camped out underneath, flying formation on them, the unruffled Jap pilot’s eyes visible through his goggles. They could practically shake hands. Alarmed and scared by the impassive face of a human being bent on killing him, Childers assessed this sudden threat. Is that SOB gonna cut our tail off?

  Without thinking, Childers raised his gun as he stood, firing it down on his unwelcome wingman as soon as he had a bead. The Jap recoiled and pushed away. Gone.

  Childers checked around him for enemy fighters. Where are the rest? Where are they, dammit?

  The Zeros returned in force: methodical, determined, taking turns to pour fire from classic high-side attacks into the surviving Americans now running for their lives. Their target carrier charged ahead unscathed. Childers matched their discipline with effective bursts, gaining confidence with each push of the trigger. Two slugs tore into his left thigh. Too engrossed to notice the stinging burns, Childers kept up his fire.

  To avoid him, the Japs came in from the beam, and Childers pushed the guns 90 degrees to broadside and twisted his body to get behind the gun sight. With a foot outside the cockpit to steady himself, a round slammed into his ankle bone.

  “OWWW! Damn…sonofa-bitch!”

  “You okay?” Harry shouted over his shoulder.

  “They hit my ankle! Damn!” Childers barked back, angry and wincing from the searing pain. He bled from both legs, but continued to fire. Conserve ammo. Don’t just spray them out of range! A Jap came across from right to left and Childers led him. At the right moment, he pressed the trigger.

  Nothing.

  “Dammit! Mother-,” Childers bellowed, now panicked with a jammed gun. It wouldn’t clear, and another Jap lined up on him.

  He was beyond terrified. Unarmed. Naked. Childers’s mind raced through options. He unstrapped his .45 pistol and, with one hand, placed it on top of the gun sight as he aimed with the other. A Zero came in from the quarter, and, just before it opened up, Childers squeezed off three shots. The Jap pulled up. Another rolled in, and Childers adjusted as the enemy’s black nose grew larger. Harry lifted their TBD up and fired at something ahead with his fixed guns. At the same time, Childers squeezed some more rounds at the Jap who had scored hits on the wing and engine. Another, and Childers emptied his magazine. Now what?

  Two Zeros climbed to the right and headed back toward the task force. On the horizon, the sky was dotted with black puffs that to Childers looked like an upside-down bowl over the enemy ships. Big caliber fire, black smoke, white spray. He looked for his fellow TBDs and saw none. No, wait…two second-division birds veering off north, one misting. Barkley okay? Ahead, Harry joined on the chief.

  Childers realized he was panting as adrenalin pulsed through his body. Pain from his legs gripped him, and his dungaree pants were soaked in blood. He used a bag on the cockpit floor to tie around his ankle to stop the bleeding.

  The Zeros are gone…where are those two guys going? Home is to the east, follow us…engine sputtering, now quit, son of a…caught back to life…still flying.

  Chief Esders joined next to them, shot up. Brazier. Brazier! You okay, shipmate? Head moving…not much. Chief Esders signaled Childers to ask if he had a good homing signal to the ship. No, the set’s shot out. Engine quit again…back to life. Still flying. Oil streaks on left canopy…Chief climbing away. Brazier, look at me! Please!

  Corl and Esders nursed their wounded planes and wounded gunners back to the east. They dropped. They missed.

  Childers wasn’t worried about failure. He was exhausted and, with his remaining strength, held pressure against his left thigh to stem the flow of blood. His head rested on the canopy rail as he contemplated the blue sky and white clouds from the back of his drafty TBD. Shell casings and Jap shrapnel rolled about the cockpit floor smeared thick with his blood. They had escaped, and the steady vibration of the engine comforted him.

  * * *

  1 HIJMS Sōryū

  2 HIJMS Hiryū

  Chapter 20

  HIJMS Hiryū, 1035 June 4, 1942

  “Mina-san, come quick! Flight deck!”

  Maruyama and Nakao were relaxing in the ready room when their excited squadronmate burst in to alert his mates. Hiryū steamed at flank as it had much of the morning, and gunners aft fired at another wretched American torpedo attack. Maruyama would have watched the spectacle to assess the American technique, but he and the others had orders to remain in the ready room.

  The man showed fear. Maruyama could not resist following him topside, as all did, unable to control their curiosity. The passageway became crowded as the Type 99 pilots and gunners in the adjacent compartment also hurried to the catwalk hatch to take a look.

  Gunfire continued aft and Maruyama’s eyes were drawn there, but not for long.

  On the flight deck, clusters of men gaped, their eyes transfixed on the western horizon. As Maruyama stepped onto the gallery deck, he saw the black columns first, and, when he moved between the men on the catwalk, had an unobstructed view of the CarDiv 1 carriers. Akagi’s bow and island identified her, but the after half of the carrier was covered in flames – flames which gave off black and brown smoke that cli
mbed hundreds of meters into the air. Farther down, what could only be Kaga was all but unrecognizable, on fire the length of her with billowing smoke and roiling flame amidships. Antiaircraft fire burst about the carriers, leaving black scars as witness to the American presence. Low on the churned-up water, he saw two enemy airplanes, then a third. Stunned, his mouth hung slack.

  “Look!” someone shouted as several sailors pointed to starboard.

  Maruyama and the others climbed up to the deck forward of the island to get a better view. Two miles away, Sōryū was on fire from the main deck up. Bright flame gushed from openings in the hangar bays, and fire shot from the bow as if from a blowtorch. Like Miyauchi that morning, Maruyama felt as if he could touch Sōryū. As they stood aghast, a tremendous explosion blew off a huge section of her flight deck aft, and the men gasped in horror and amazement.

  “Induced explosions…that was probably a Type 91,” someone said. Seconds later a thunderous boom reached their ears. Maruyama and the others stood in awe at the destruction. Uncomprehending…yet understanding. Maruyama thought back to Oklahoma. Powerful ship-killing torpedoes now detonated inside Sōryū, ripping it apart from within the way Maruyama and his wingmen had ripped out the hull plates of the great American battleship. Two more explosions in quick succession tore through Sōryū’s after hangar bays as Hiryū’s dumbstruck aviators watched. Maruyama turned, and next to him stood a grim Tomonaga. Ignoring Maruyama’s shocked gaze, he contemplated what this meant for the Mobile Force – and Hiryū. More terrifying detonations from Sōryū echoed across the water amid the rumble of gunfire and the constant hum of airplane engines droning all around the Mobile Force. Aboard Sōryū, the intensity of the raging fires increased, and the burning ship fell aft as Hiryū charged ahead. Who could survive such a holocaust? The loudspeaker blared the voice of the angry Air Officer.