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.

Hiryu, after the attack.

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.

	Hiryu burning.

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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