Zero

by Masatake Okumiya

  The only planes capable of performing the interception mission were the Henderson Field P-38s, which had the speed, range, and destructive fire power for the attack. The big fighters would have to fly at least four hundred and thirty-five miles from Guadalcanal before they could inter­cept west of Kahili. Contrary to Vice-Admiral Ugaki’s report of “at least twenty-four enemy planes,” Mitchell had available only eighteen P-38 fighters. He planned to use six fighters as the attack force against the bombers, which he estimated would fly below ten thousand feet, while the remaining twelve airplanes at twenty thousand feet would try to draw off the Zero escort. Interception was planned when Yamamoto’s plane was only thirty-five miles from its destination. Two planes aborted the mission at the start; Mitchell then assigned four of his sixteen P-38s to make the attack against the bombers.

  Lieutenant Thomas G. Lanphier was the pilot who shot down Yamamoto’s plane and also shot down a defending Zero fighter in his attack. Lanphier reported that he put a long burst into the right engine, then the right wing, and, still beyond the range of the bomber’s defending tail cannon, watched the wing break into flame and tear off the airplane. Caught by two pursuing Zeros, Lanphier went into a steep climb and lost the Zeros.

  Lieutenant Rex Barber, attacking with Lanphier, raced through three intercepting Zero fighters and shot down the second bomber. Lieutenant Besby F. Holmes shot down two Zeros, making our losses for the day three fighters and two bombers. Our pilots shot down Lieutenant Ray Hine’s P-38; and, we verified later, most of the fifteen P-38s which returned to Guadalcanal were badly shot up.

  Some time later when I (Okumiya) was at Buin during a new attack against the enemy, I visited Admiral Yamamoto’s tomb. This was a small, inscribed stone placed over the site where the body was cremated, near the Buin headquarters.

  Full credit must be given to the fine activities of the American intelligence services which broke the Japanese code and kept secret the fact that the Americans were fully acquainted with our naval activities. It was this advance knowledge which did so much to defeat our fleet at Midway and which destroyed the admiral’s plane. These unheroic and behind-the-scenes moves not only frustrated the Midway Operation and took the life of our most able officer but contributed directly to our eventual defeat.

  Ironically, Admiral Yamamoto prophesied his own fate immediately after the Midway conflict. Similarly, our posi­tion in the war degenerated specifically as the admiral had predicted even before December 8, 1941.

  To me, who had in the past served with this great man, my return to Truk, when we were informed of his death, was a particularly sorrowing moment. From the bridge of the aircraft carrier Hiyo, with grief-stricken Vice-Admiral Kakuda, I watched Admiral Yamamoto’s flag being lowered from the mast of the world’s greatest battleship, the Yam­ato. I thought to myself at the time:

  “Those who so strongly insisted upon war with the United States and England may still be dreaming of suc­cess, although victory slips further and further from our grasp. Perhaps, however, we who are carrying the fight to the enemy, as we are ordered to do, may still survive this conflict. It is impossible for me, or any other man, to express in words the mixed emotions which must have been experienced by the admiral who so long ago realized the dark future of our country should we be forced by those in power to launch this war. Despite his apprehen­sions, as the Commander in Chief, Yamamoto was obliged to serve his country to the best of his ability. This he did, but with his command went the feeling of guilt that he had failed in his efforts to convince his government and its rul­ing heirarchy that war could bring only disaster.

  “Whatever history will decide, the admiral now can rest peacefully in his grave. At least his death came in a plane of the Naval Air Force for which he was directly responsi­ble. His unflagging efforts had given his country the most powerful naval air arm in the world.

  “And who can forget the personality of this man, typi­fied by his first action in 1924 as the executive officer of the Kasumigaura Air Corps, when he embarrassed the entire corps by insisting that he fly with the poorest pilot of all!”

  CHAPTER 21

  Battle of Santa Cruz

  THE ONLY DECISIVE VICTORY achieved by the Japanese Navy after the disastrous Battle of Midway was scored in the engagement of air-sea forces off Santa Cruz, east of the Guadalcanal area. After Midway and the fleet reorganization, our surface forces operated with the aircraft carrier as a nucleus. Admiral Yamamoto divided our major naval strength into two units, each with three aircraft carriers. These were the Vanguard Force of Vice-Admiral Nobutake Kondo, Commander of the Second Fleet, with three carriers, two battleships, five heavy cruis­ers, one light cruiser, and twelve destroyers; and the Carrier Task Force under Vice-Admiral Chuichi Nagumo, Com­mander of the Third Fleet, with three carriers, two battleships, four heavy cruisers, one light cruiser, and sixteen destroyers.

  Both fleet units operated in the seas east of the Solomon Islands. Kondo’s force coordinated its activities with Army groups on Guadalcanal Island, while Nagumo’s ships patrolled east of Kondo’s fleet to ward off possible enemy carrier attacks.

  By October 23, 1942 intelligence reported an ominous buildup of enemy carrier strength. Meanwhile, we had suf­fered our own losses, including the sinking of the aircraft carrier Ryujo, which went to the bottom on August 23 in the Second Solomons Sea Battle, and the aircraft carrier Hiyo, which limped home with battered engines. Kondo’s force was left with only a single carrier, the Junyo, under Rear Admiral Kakuji Kakuda, Commander of the 2nd Car­rier Division. I (Okumiya) was then air staff officer to Kukuda.

  After October 16 we could find no trace of the enemy carriers in the area; they had apparently disappeared. A week later we encountered a sudden increase in enemy reconnaissance-plane activities; the two facts appeared to be linked together. The Americans often withdrew their combat fleet units from an operational theater, taking advantage of the tremendous range of their land-based reconnaissance planes, which kept the warships fully advised of our activities. We sought vainly for some indi­cation of the whereabouts of the enemy ships. On October 24 we picked up an American radio broadcast which stated that “a major sea and air battle is expected in the near future in the Solomon Islands area.”

  Something was in the wind. October 27 was Navy Day for the enemy, and perhaps the carrier-task-force com­manders would choose this day for a surprise assault. I was familiar with the American “love of adventure” on such dates, and expected the worst to happen. Our military forces were even then committed to the second allout attack designed to throw the enemy troops off Guadal­canal, and the Americans might take advantage of the situation to force a decisive sea battle at a time when our land forces desperately needed all our support.

  On the morning of October 25 enemy flying boats sur­veyed the Nagumo Force which, despite strong fighter patrols, could do little to keep the long-range planes from making detailed observations of our fleet strength and maneuvers. Apparently a major enemy effort could be expected. Vice Admiral Kondo turned his ships to the south and by late October 25 prepared his planes for air strikes against enemy forces on Guadalcanal. One hundred nauti­cal miles to the east of Kondo, Nagumo’s force also worked its way southward as a buffer against the anticipated enemy carrier attacks.

  Nagumo had learned a bitter lesson at Midway, and he used to advantage the tactics which that defeat revealed to him. Sixty to eighty nautical miles ahead of his flagship, Shokaku, steamed the battleships Hiei and Kirishima, the heavy cruiser Chikuma, and seven destroyers; the heavy cruiser Tone and the destroyer Teruzuki cut the Pacific waters two hundred nautical miles east of the Shokaku to protect his flank.

  Approximately at 0050 hours on October 26 a large aircraft, presumably a flying boat, appeared over the carriers of the Nagumo Force and dropped a salvo of bombs which exploded alongside the Zuikaku, the fleet’s second largest carrier. The bombs missed the vessel so narrowly that the entire bridge became enveloped in the smoke of the det
o­nation; fortunately, there were no casualties.

  Captain Toshitane Takata, senior staff officer of the Nagumo Force, then on the Shokaku’s bridge, reported the attack to Admiral Nagumo and Chief of Staff Rear Admiral Ryunosuke Kusaka. Nagumo felt he was being drawn into a trap, and dispatched to the fleet the following orders:

  “Emergency turn, together, 180 degrees to starboard.” This was followed by: “All ships, execute turn, speed 24 knots.”

  The assembled ships of the Nagumo Force, shrouded in the darkness of the early morning, executed the sudden reversal of course. Where the fleet had attempted to approach the enemy under cover of night and attack in full strength under the shroud of darkness, it was now in hasty retreat to the north. The turn was ordered approximately two hundred and fifty nautical miles northeast of the Gau­dalcanal airfield.

  In the early morning of October 26 I was the staff offi­cer on duty at the Junyo’s bridge, and was the first officer to learn of the bombing and Nagumo’s sudden withdrawal. I transmitted the information at once to Rear Admiral Kakuda and the Chief of Staff Captain Mineo Yamaoka. Shortly afterward Admiral Kondo’s flagship, the heavy cruiser Atago, dispatched new fleet orders. The entire Kondo Force turned and headed northward at high speed, following the action of the Nagumo Force. It was exactly 0200 hours when the ships turned.

  For the last ten days we had been without any informa­tion as to the movements of the enemy aircraft carriers. We had little knowledge of any American fleet movements, beyond a single report that two battleships and four cruis­ers had been sighted approximately three hundred nautical miles south of Guadalcanal. The attack earlier during the night, however, indicated strongly that American carriers were within striking range of their planes. Admiral Nagumo launched sixteen reconnaissance seaplanes and eight Type 97 Kate bombers from the advance and main fleet units to search to the east and south of our ships. The planes took off before dawn.

  As Takata had forecast, enemy carriers were found in the immediate area. A Shokaku reconnaissance plane searching southeast of the carrier reported at 0450 hours:

  “Have sighted one enemy aircraft carrier and fifteen other vessels. Enemy fleet is bearing to northwest.”

  The long-sought carrier (or carriers) was two hundred and fifty nautical miles southeast of the Shokaku, or one hundred and forty nautical miles, fifteen degrees, from Nudeni Island. The other reconnaissance planes in the area flew to the reported area and continued to track the progress of the enemy ships.

  The 1st Carrier Division Attacks

  The three carriers of the 1st Carrier Division had been in readiness for the fighting; the planes were hastily fueled and rushed to the decks for takeoff locations. Admiral Nagumo ordered immediate air strikes. At 5:15 A.M. the first attack force left the Shokaku; forty-five minutes later the second group thundered off the ship. Nagumo ordered the latter formations launched ahead of their scheduled departure; even as the first unit prepared for takeoff, the Shokaku’s radar picked up what appeared to be enemy planes approaching our force. Since the Zuikaku lacked radar, the great carrier depended upon the radar reports from the Shokaku. Aboard the former carrier the armorers worked feverishly to load torpedoes.

  The first attack group, under Lieutenant Commander Mamoru Seki of the Shokaku, consisted of twenty-two Val dive bombers; Lieutenant Jiichiro Imajuku took off from the Zuikaku with eighteen Kate torpedo bombers. Protect­ing the slow and vulnerable torpedo planes were twenty-seven Zero fighters led by Lieutenant Commander Hideki Shingo of the Shokaku.

  The second attack group was made up of twelve Kates under Lieutenant Commander Shigeharu Murata of the Shokaku, and twenty Vals under Lieutenant Sadamu Taka­hashi of the Zuikaku; the same ship provided a fighter escort of sixteen Zeros led by Lieutenant Kenjiro Nohtomi.

  The relative numerical weakness of the attacking groups was due directly to the losses sustained in the air battles in the Solomons area; the fleet had not yet received its replacements.

  Approximately at 5:00 A.M., even as the first attack group prepared for takeoff, two enemy reconnaissance planes appeared suddenly from low clouds and dropped several small bombs on the Zuiho of the 1st Carrier Divi­sion. Captain Sueo Obayashi reported that a single bomb struck the rear of the flight deck, tearing a hole in the deck and curling the plates. He could not land any planes, but was able to launch his aircraft.

  Forty minutes after the first group was airborne, enemy planes attacked the 1st Carrier Division. The bombers appeared suddenly over the Shokaku after emerging from scattered clouds and went into glide bombing attacks. The enemy formations appeared to consist of fifteen to sixteen planes; five or six medium-size bombs scored direct hits on the carrier. The explosions tore great holes in the carrier deck and touched off fierce fires below decks. Excellent and rapid work by the crew extinguished the flames; fortu­nately the attack came after the Shokaku had launched her planes. Damage was confined to relatively small areas, but the ship could not launch or receive planes, and her com­munications were literally paralyzed. A single enemy plane attacked the Zuikaku, but a patrolling Zero fighter destroyed the bomber before it neared the ship. Far to the east of the Shokaku, the Zuikaku sought cover beneath scattered clouds and escaped further attacks.

  With his flagship crippled, Nagumo ordered Kakuda to take command of the Zuikaku and to continue the battle. The Shokaku left for northern waters and repairs.

  Prior to the raid on the 1st Carrier Division, Rear Admi­ral Hiroki Abe’s advance force came under enemy attack. The force reported that an estimated forty dive bombers and ten torpedo bombers were attacking the battleships Hiei and Kirishima, and the heavy cruisers Tone, Chikuma, and Suzuya. Ten dive bombers concentrated on the Tone, thirty dive bombers swarmed over the Chikuma, and the Suzuya received the assault of the ten torpedo planes. The warships put up a withering antiaircraft barrage and by excellent evasive maneuvers avoided what might have been a disastrous blow. The ships received some damage, which was regarded as minor. Only the Chikuma, which bore the brunt of the attack, sustained heavy casualties to its officers and men, including Captain Keizo Komura. The bombers scored two direct hits on the bridge and a direct hit in the torpedo tubes, but the cruiser was able to con­tinue action.

  On their way to raid the enemy carrier, Lieutenant Com­mander Seki’s first attack group from the 1st Carrier Divi­sion passed a force of about twenty enemy dive bombers headed for the Shokaku. Our escort-fighter commander failed to recognize the planes as enemy aircraft and took no action. Ten minutes later Seki’s force encountered eight enemy dive bombers protected by six fighters. The escort fighters from the Zuiho, led by Lieutenant Hidaka, ripped into the enemy formations and scattered the planes with heavy losses to the Americans. The wild scramble drained the fighters’ fuel and ammunition, and the planes turned back, leaving Seki’s force virtually unprotected. The inter­ception enabled the Zuiho to escape bombing, but Seki’s planes began their attack with only a few Zeros flying escort.

  At 6:55 A.M. the bombers arrived over the enemy fleet. On the bridge of the Junyo, I heard the radio conversations of our pilots.

  First: “Enemy aircraft carrier in sight.” Then, a report that the American carrier was still some two hundred and fifty nautical miles distant from the Shokaku. Shortly afterward: “Enemy’s course is 300 degrees, speed 24 knots.” A short wait, and: “All planes go in!”

  At 7:10 A.M. Imajuku’s torpedo bombers began their low-level assaults. The group sent back frequent radio reports, with the important message that “. . . one Saratoga­class carrier is on fire.” Subsequent investigation revealed that the enemy fleet was made up of one heavy cruiser, one light cruiser, four destroyers, and the carrier Hornet, the latter surrounded by the lighter ships. Our pilots reported they hit the Hornet with five 550-pound bombs and two torpedoes, which crippled the great ship.

  I had special interest in this attack. Although I was delighted at the greatest success scored by our carrier planes since the Midway defeat, Seki was my old a
nd good friend, and Imajuku a former student; I feared for the lives of both men. My apprehensions were well founded, for their radio reports of their attacks were the last words they ever spoke. Their planes went down before the Hornet’s defenses.

  We suffered additional severe losses. Lieutenant Shohei Yamada, the Shokaku’s 2nd Squadron Leader and the hero of many air battles after Pearl Harbor, was shot down. We received the full story from Lieutenant Kazuo Yakushiji, 3rd Squadron Leader and the senior officer surviving the attack.

  “Lieutenant Commander Seki’s plane seemed to have taken several direct hits soon after he gave the order to attack. His craft was directly in front of mine as I went into my dive. I noticed the bomber enter the dive and suddenly begin to roll over on its back. Flame shot out of the bomber and, still inverted, it continued diving toward the enemy ship.”

  Lieutenant Commander Murata of the second attack group of the 1st Carrier Division was another former classmate. He specialized in torpedo-attack procedure at the Yokosuka Air Corps and had become one of the world’s foremost authorities on the subject. With his extensive background, exceptional flying skill, and outstanding lead­ership, he became the commander of the torpedo units at Pearl Harbor and actually launched the first torpedo of the war. After the opening battle he served with the Nagumo Force. He was wounded at Midway while aboard the Akagi but had recovered and now flew as the Shokaku’s group leader and the overall commander of the Nagumo Force torpedo planes.