Midway:
Hiryu Burning
By David H. Lippman
March 2013
At 4:45 p.m., Lt.
Earl Gallaher of Scouting 6 sights
Nagumo’s force and its white
tracks 30 miles to the northwest. His force
turns and picks up the Hiryu minutes
later. He maneuvers his group to attack the
Japanese out of the sun, from 19,000 feet.
At 4:58, the SBDs are stacked down by divisions
and sections, and Gallaher radios his squadrons:
Enterprise will
attack Hiryu, Yorktown the
nearby battleship, and watch out for Zeros
ahead and above.
The incoming strike has little impact on
the carriers already blasted. Destroyers
Isokaze and Hamakaze are ordered to screen
the Soryu at 4:55 p.m. Five minutes later,
Cdr. Shunuchi Toshima of Isokaze radios his
bosses, “Soryu has become inoperational.
What should I do?”
Meanwhile, the rest of Yamamoto’s
scattered fleet races towards Nagumo. Rear
Adm. Takeo Kurita’s seasoned Cruiser Division
7, with the heavy cruisers Kumano, Suzuya,
Mikuma, and Mogami, sprint toward Midway,
with orders to bombard the island. Yamamoto
himself, peering out of his bridge windows
eastward through his binoculars and the fog,
fires off another request to Nagumo at 4:55,
to find out how the Midway strike fared.
He gets no answer. Nagumo’s ships are
too busy fending off the latest American
attack to prepare an after-action report.
At 5:01, Chikuma spots the incoming strike,
and calls in the Zeros. Between six and 12
charge in, shooting down Ensign F.T. Weber
of Bombing 6. Gallaher’s decision is
proving unwise, as he has put half of his
force on a secondary target. His planes swoop
in on Hiryu just as Kawaguchi is popping
up a rice ball into his mouth, at 5:03. Lookouts
shout, “Enemy dive-bombers directly
overhead!”
Down in Hiryu’s engine room, Mandai
hears a bugle sound anti-aircraft alert over
the 1MC.
Gallaher nearly collides with a Zero as
he starts his dive, heading straight for
the red ball on Hiryu’s pale yellow
deck. Then he and his squadron mates roar
down on the lone carrier, twisting through
the water to port to evade the bombs. Gallaher
can’t correct his dive, so he pulls
up just before release, hoping to lob his
bomb at the Hiryu. He fails, as do several
other Scouting 6 pilots. Gallaher succeeds
only in wrenching his back.
Seeing this failure, Dave Shumway makes
a fast and smart decision — he pulls
his squadron off of the battleship and dives
with Bombing 6 down on Hiryu. Zeros race
after them, shooting down Lt. Wiseman and
Ens. Johnny Butler.
On Nagara, newsreel man Makajima closes
his eyes. He can’t bear to look.
The two squadrons both claim the first of
four hits on Hiryu’s bow, giving their
aviators something interesting to argue about
for the next 60 years. However, Ens. Richard
Jaccard of VS-6, Shumway, and Best are all
certain to have scored hits. The first bomb
lands on the forward elevator platform, flipping
it back against the carrier’s portside
island, breaking every window on the bridge,
blocking Kaku’s view. The blast also
hurls Kawaguchi from the air command post
onto the flight deck. Amazingly unhurt, he
picks himself just as three more bombs go
off near the bridge.
On Nagara, Makajima opens his eyes and sees
Hiryu ablaze, but still “running at
high speed like a mad bull.”
The bugle is still blaring over the 1MC
when the bombs hit. Mandai feels the jolts
down in the engine room, coming from straight
above. In the ready room, “terrible
sounds of explosions” wake Hashimoto
from his nap. Smoke covers him and the lights
go out. He runs to a bright spot, which is
a hole made by the explosion. Everything
outside the opening is on fire, but Hashimoto
is wearing his gloves. He crawls out on all
fours. Bits of flame set fire to his hair.
Someone offers Hashimoto a mask, which is
half-burned and full of dust. He puts it
on gratefully. Then he runs out onto the
flight deck to see the elevator platform
leaning against the front of the bridge and
the forward flight deck aflame.
In the engine room, the lights go out. Electricians
flip switches, and the emergency power comes
on. Smoke pours down air ducts. The two men
sent for food come running back through an
open hatch. Flames and smoke race after them.
At 5:15, Kaga’s escort, Hagikaze,
radios Capt. Kosaku Ariga, commanding Destroyer
Division 4, “The Emperor’s portrait
has been safely brought aboard. Since all
hands were ordered to abandon ship, we have
taken all personnel aboard.” However,
800 men are dead or trapped below burning
decks on Kaga.
At 5:30, Ariga finally answers Isokaze’s
5 p.m. message. “Stand by in the vicinity
of Soryu until otherwise ordered. Would she
be operational if her fires were brought
under control?” Toshima’s ship
is packed with 600 survivors, and is so heavy
he has to order them not to move about, so
that Isokaze does not capsize. He’s
too busy to respond to Ariga’s request.
At the same time, Nagumo finally radios
Yamamoto: “Hiryu burning as a result
of bomb hits.” Yamamoto sinks down
on a chair in the center of Yamato’s
battle command post (their flag plot) and
sits motionless for several minutes.
Another admiral is making a tough decision
across the ocean. Rear Adm. Fletcher, having
ceded battle control to Spruance, now orders
his Task Force 17 ships to join Enterprise.
With all of Yorktown’s survivors aboard,
Fletcher doesn’t want his ships standing
by a derelict carrier, perfect targets for
Japanese ships, submarines, and planes. The
decision is tough for all to take. Yorktown’s
fires are contained, her list no greater,
and Portland ready to give her a tow. But
orders are orders. At 5:38, Task force 17
pulls out. Russell’s C.O., Cdr. Hartwig,
stares gloomily at the abandoned, listing
carrier, unable to stand the sight. Russell has been Yorktown’s guard ship for
two years. Hartwig keeps thinking a paraphrased
line from Hamlet: “Alas, poor Yorick,
I knew her well.”
Task Force 16, however, is in better shape,
recovering the second strike. There is much
less tension, with only three planes lost.
Lt. Shumway brings his battered SBD home,
but the plane is a write-off. Earl Gallaher
is also in pain — his dive casued an
old back injury to flare up. He can’t
reach down to drop his tailhook. He orders
his wing man to take over and has everyone
else land while he struggles with the lever.
On Hiryu’s bridge, Kaku can’t
see a thing. The forward elevator, leaning
against the bridge island, is blocking every
window and porthole. His ship races along
at 30 knots to avoid further bombs, but the
wind being whipped up is sending flames over
the whole carrier. Exec Kanoe orders the
magazines flooded. There’s only one
working fire main. Then he orders Hashimoto, “Assistant
Air Officer, command the men around here
and throw those hammock mantelets overboard
before they catch fire.”
Hashimoto does so, and continues to lead
firefighting parties until he is wounded
in the left thigh and evacuated.
The last planes to attack are from Bombing
6. They claim a hit. But nobody is sure.
On the flight deck, Kawaguchi has a mouse’s-eye
view of an enormous fire. However, Shumway’s
planes take a swipe at Haruna, and miss her.
Sunk many times by American propaganda — most
notably by Colin Kelly — she once again
survives unhurt.
In great pain from his back, Gallaher heads
home, having lost two SBDs from Yorktown and one from Enterprise. While the Japanese
regroup, Hornet’s bombers arrive. They
find Hiryu ablaze, so they attack Tone and
Chikuma, to little effect, but suffer no
casualties.
The aerial avalanche is not over yet. Last
up is a group of six B-17s that has flown
in all the way from Hawaii. Just as they
are about to land on Eastern Island, Midway
orders them to head 170 miles to the northwest
and attack Nagumo’s fleet. Maj. George
Blakey, leading the group, believes he can
do it if they maintain an altitude of 3,600
feet.
Midway launches its own surviving B-17s,
with Col. Sweeney leading again. The two
groups advance separately.
At 5:50, Maikaze radios Nagumo, “Kaga is inoperational. All survivors taken aboard.” Ten
minutes later, Nautilus pops up its periscope
for another look. Brockman sees Kaga covered
with a cloud of black smoke that billows
up to 1,000 feet high. An American officer
compares it to Arizona’s cloud of smoke
six months ago. Up above, Kaga survivors
watch the fire and smoke, in tears. Despite
a funnel arrangement that sent smoke into
crew berthing compartments, Kaga has been
a “happy” ship, beloved by her
crew.
At 6 p.m., having heard nothing, Ariga radios
Isokaze and her sister Maikaze, escorting
Kaga, “Advise whether there is any
danger of the Kaga and Soryu sinking.” This
time, Toshima has an answer: “There
is no hope of (Soryu) navigating under her
own power. All survivors have been taken
aboard ship." Indeed, Soryu survivors
are dying on Isokaze of their wounds and
burns — the Japanese lack sulfa drugs
and antibiotics, and are far behind the British
and Americans in the field of skin grafts.
At the same time, Capt. Narce Whitaker,
leading his three-plane group of B-17s, spots
smoke ahead. He sees a burning carrier, surrounded
by fussing ships. Whitaker orders his three
planes to attack. Even now communications
are a mess — one officer in a B-17,
Lt. Charles Crowell, thinks his plane is
lost, and they’re just lightening the
load by dropping bombs.
Crowell gains a glimpse of reality when
Zeros, now bereft of a deck to land on, attack
the Flying Fortresses. Bullets whiz through
the wing of one plane and the nose of another,
wounding the bombardier. Nonetheless, the
B-17s bore in, drop their bombs, and make
it out. Blakey looks down, fascinated by
the splashes of shells and smoke of gunfire.
He sees some larger splashes, and says, “My
Lord, those are some really big shells.”
They’re actually the bombs from the
Midway-based planes. Since they’ve
all seen the lone carrier burning, they pick
on battleships and destroyers. There is a
great deal of smoke and explosions, but once
again, the B-17s fail to score a hit. However,
the Japanese are out of fighters, and all
B-17s head back to Midway, relatively unharmed.
The attack has an impact on Ariga, too.
He warns the destroyers escorting the blasted
carriers, packed with survivors, to be ready
for battle. “Should the enemy task
force approach, engage him in hit-and-run
tactics and destroy him.” No reaction
from the destroyers on this masterpiece,
which is long on samurai tradition and short
on logic.
Chief Petty Officer Abe, a Navy wrestling
champion, is sent to Soryu to rescue the
enormously popular Capt. Ryusaku Yanagimoto,
who has lashed himself to the bridge. Yanagimoto
is so well-loved by his crew that when he
speaks to the men, they gather an hour or
more in advance to find good spots at the
front.
Now Yanagimoto won’t move. “Captain,
I have come on behalf of all your men to
take you to safety,” Abe says. “They
are waiting for you. Please come with me
to the destroyer, sir.”
Yanagimoto ignores Abe. The chief can’t
touch his skipper. In tears, Abe turns away,
and hears Yanagimoto singing the Japanese
National Anthem, “Kimigayo.” It’s
one of the world’s shortest: only four
lines.
At 6:13, Fletcher changes his mind about
Yorktown, and orders the destroyer Hughes to guard her. It occurs to the admiral that
the Japanese could board the abandoned carrier
and possibly bring it home, which would cause
a great deal of embarrassment. From Hawaii,
Nimitz orders USS Vireo, a few hundred miles
away at French Frigate Shoals, to take Yorktown
into tow. Vireo is a converted minesweeper
that serves as a harbor tugboat. Her skipper
is Lt. James C. Legg, a 52-year-old “mustang,” whose
commission is just one month old, after years
of service as an enlisted man.
More bad news lands on the Japanese at 6:30
p.m., when Chikuma blinkers Nagumo, “The
No. 2 plane of this ship sighted four enemy
carriers, six cruisers, and 15 destroyers
in position 30 miles east of the burning
and listing enemy carrier at 5:13. This enemy
force was westward bound.” Actually,
Chikuma has got its facts all wrong. Their
radio room has combined two separate sightings
of TF 16, the second one being an amplification
of the original report, but Nagumo and his
weary staff are in no mood to argue. Nagumo
scraps his plans for a night surface engagement.
The attack ends at 6:32 p.m., and damage
to the Japanese is a near-miss on Haruna that bends stern plates and jams a rangefinder.
One B-17 strafes the battered Hiryu, knocking
out an AA battery and killing its gunners.
It is the last combat action of this very
long day.
However, Hiryu’s condition is already
grave. Kaku has to sail his ship out of the
battle area. Chief Engineer Cdr. Kunize Aimune
reports his master control room is in good
shape, and the flash fire in Engine Room
No. 4 is out. The hatches to the other three
engine rooms are blocked, but the crews report
everything’s running — the only
problem is increasing fumes and smoke.
But in Engine Room No. 4, Ensign Mandai
notices things are hotter than usual. In
fact, white paint on the steel overhead is
melting and dripping down on the engineers,
causing little fires in the machinery. The
paint disappears, and the overhead starts
to glow bright red. The crew in Engine Room
No. 4 is trapped by fire.
On Midway, the defenders are awaiting a
second attack. Capt. Simard disperses his
PBYs and sends his nonessential staff back
to Hawaii by seaplane. Col. Sweeney sends
seven B-17s back to Hickam, too.
At 6:34, the exhausted Earl Gallaher, almost
ready to pass out, flops his SBD down on
the deck of Enterprise. He is the last man
down.
At 6:45, two ditched survivors of Bombing
8, Ensign Thomas Wood and his gunner, finally
reach Midway’s reef. Once over that,
they’ll have a five-mile paddle through
the atoll’s lagoon, before reaching
safety. However, the easy place to cross
the reef is guarded by a massive bull sea
lion, who refuses to move. Finally Wood climbs
over the reef and kicks the sea lion in the
rear. The irritated sea lion swims off the
reef. Wood and his gunner shove their raft
across the coral and then take a rest. While
they gasp for breath, the sea lion circles
around the reef, barking at the two aviators.
Finally, Wood and his gunner row ashore.
There they find Midway’s defenders
struggling to repair damage to the base and
aircraft, while awaiting any attack. On Sand
Island, Ensign Leon Grabowsky cleans his
M-1 and .45. On eastern Island, Lt. Jim Muri
and his B-26 crew find all the weapons they
can scavenge, then flop down to sleep in
the sand near their plane. Anything might
happen.
The feelings are the same on Hawaii and
the American West Coast. Pearl Harbor has
gone to battle stations, with yard workers
manning rooftop AA guns. In California, Fourth
Fighter Command orders all radio stations
off the air. The Seattle waterfront is also
closed. California Attorney General Earl
Warren tells reporters that his state stands “in
imminent danger” of attack. The reporters
don’t disagree.
To
be concluded.
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David H. Lippman, an award-winning journalist
and graduate of the New School for Social Research,
has written many magazine articles about World
War II. He maintains the World
War II + 55 website and currently works
as a public information officer for the city
of Newark, N.J. We're pleased to add his work
to our Daily Content. |