Tanaka would have been ready to forget the whole affair, but now that the damned officer humiliated him, he resolved to find his usual solution to that type of problem.

  And then he forgot about it for a while as the Japanese soldiers were into the trench and fighting in close quarters with their hated enemies. The fight lasted for a moment, but Nipponese fury won the day, and the Chinese forces in that sector were obliterated, the rest of the Nationalist unit retreating northeastward.

  Long after the battle, while the 18th Imperial Division was pursuing the fleeing remnants of the Chinese forces defending along the Nu River, one lone, dead officer was found, with a bullet in the back. The orderlies picking up the dead body didn’t even glance a second time at it. They were simple Burmese farmers, pressed into service by the hated Japanese. So, they didn’t have any opinion about how the stupid man died. They had so many dead to pick up and burn that it was simple-run-of-the-mill for them.

  The Naval battle of the Pacific part 1

  Carrier strikes and gun duels, August 15th, 1942

  The first bomb ripped through the 3-inch armor to the hangar deck. The second bomb detonated two decks below that, near the chief petty officers’ quarters. The explosions knocked Long Island’s captain off his feet. He saw great sheets of flames envelop the flight deck, the anti-aircraft batteries, and catwalks. The forward elevator — weighing 32 tons — rose in the air and then disappeared in a great column of flame and black smoke.

  The light carrier had just been returned to duty after its near-destruction at the battle of Palmyra earlier in the war. It appeared that it would again need some love if it survived the current ordeal.

  The first officer, heading for the bridge, was hurled into lifelines on the starboard side. He staggered up and made his way into the island. Five bombers, four torpedo bombers, and eight fighters were on the flight and hangar decks, carrying 12,000 gallons of gas and 10 tons of bombs between them. They became an inferno.

  On deck, the anti-aircraft officer had been busy blazing at the incoming Japanese planes when the explosive blast created a flash of light — and several of the flak crews and guns were gone. Lafferty himself was severely burned and covered with blood.

  Down in the wardroom, men and officers alike dove under tables as smoke filled the room. Others found themselves trapped in a galley, surrounded by compartments full of loose bombs and rockets. They could only wait for help and hope that the ordinance didn’t explode.

  Long Island was listing at 13 degrees. Her radar was out, her CIC and communications gone. The captain thought his ship was damaged on the starboard side and turned the boat in that direction to put the wind on the port bow. That move instead fanned flames near the fueled aircraft.

  The light carrier presented a terrifying sight to the rest of the American Task Force. On heavy cruiser Vincennes 1,000 yards off, crew members stared in horror at the carrier covered in smoke and flame. The men saw the Jap aircraft that had bombed Long Island whiz over their head. Then more explosions on the Long Island as bombs and rockets exploded in all directions.

  All across the American carrier task force, the scene repeated itself many times over. After a furious dogfight over the ship, the devastating Japanese airstrike had swooped down on the Americans. Admiral Nagumo’s spotting plane had detected Admiral Halsey’s ships before he did. The old Japanese admiral had then launched a powerful strike of 175 fighters, dive-bombers, and torpedo bombers. The planes from the five main carriers (Akagi, Soryu, Hiryu, Shokaku, Zuikaku) and the two smaller light carriers (Hosho and Chiyoda) had lifted off the Nipponese decks. They flew toward their enemy to smash them to oblivion.

  In all, the Imperial Navy plane's attack did not even last twenty minutes. By the time the Nipponese pilots turned back toward their carriers, they’d crippled Long Island, lodged a bomb on the other smaller carrier Bogue (wrecking its deck for flight operations), and lodged a total of six torpedoes into Wasp (1), Yorktown (2), Vincennes (1) and Juneau (2).

  While the two large carriers now sported heavy damage and powerful fires, flight operation could still be attempted, and damage control teams worked hard to get things under control, so an hour after the strike. The Bogue and the Long Island were different, as they couldn’t take the kind of punishment that their big brother could.

  The two cruisers that furiously fired their anti-aircraft ordinance at the Japanese planes didn’t fare better than the two light carriers, as both were seriously hit and would sink before the battle was over.

  “Damn Japs,” Halsey grumbled as he surveyed the catastrophic damage on his beloved fleet from his vantage point on Hornet. “Good thing that our planes had already launched, Admiral,” said Arthur Westmoreland, his chief of staff. “And also, not bad that we didn’t get hit,” finished Halsey. “I want a full report on damage assessment within the hour.” “Yes, sir.”

  On the other side of the battle, American aircraft approached the Japanese fleet about an hour after their own fleet was hit. Several of the pilots already knew that they wouldn’t have a carrier to go back to. Fueled by their rage, they sped toward the large Japanese fleet, facing the large combat air patrol hovering over the Imperial Navy carriers.

  In contrast to decks of U.S. carriers, stained ocean-blue to hide them from the air, the Japanese carrier decks were a brilliant yellow, with 'a gigantic rising sun painted on the bow.' The plunging dive-bombers aimed right behind that sun.

  At below 1,500 feet, they let go of their 1,000-pound bombs. The enraged Zeros shot down some more of the American planes. The 100 plus planes raid had plunged right at the main Japanese carrier strength. They died in troves, destroyed by flak, ace Jap pilots, or simple lousy maneuvering. But they did unload their ordinance.

  Most Japanese flattops were consequently hit. Some received glancing ones, like Akagi and Soryu, but others were more seriously hit. The decks of Zuikaku (1 bomb on the flight deck) and Shokaku (2 bombs, bow, and conning tower) were ripped apart by powerful explosions.

  Hosho, one of the world's oldest and first-ever aircraft carriers, was hit by both a bomb and torpedoes that exploded about a minute apart. The ship was rapidly engulfed in a powerful fire vortex and secondary blasts.

  The same story repeated itself on the small Chiyoda, another light carrier that recently arrived in Pearl Harbor. Unfortunately for its sailor, it arrived just in time to be sunk. No less than three bombs blasted the decks and penetrated deep within the ship’s bowels. The resulting explosion, which was nothing short of catastrophic, made the ship open like an expanding ball of steel, followed by a blinding flash. The ship was gone a few seconds later, replaced by a large patch of smoke on the ocean.

  A few minutes after the enemy left to go back to their carriers, Akagi’s deck was a maelstrom of activity. Everyone buzzed about their duties. One man seemed idle and immobile—a sea of calm in an ocean of activity. Nagumo, looking at the damage with his binoculars, was somewhat relieved. He would probably lose the two light carriers that seemed to have been hit severely, but his main carriers seemed okay. He, however, shot nervous glances at the Shokaku and Zuikaku, even if the reports so far talked of manageable damage.

  The damage was a lot more severe on the American side, and Halsey had already received the order to retreat at best speed south. Admiral Nimitz, about to engage the Japanese surface fleet about 110 miles from his position, learned of the disastrous Japanese strike result with his typical cold-headed mind.

  He would use the battleships to cover the fledging carrier force in its retreat. The American surface ships thus sailed to battle. Still, the Admiral’s orders were to stay at long range, so the fleet took a south-easterly heading that would make sure the Japanese would eventually catch up but would never get to medium or short-range if the U.S. Navy maneuvered the right way.

  Yamamoto, for his part, received news from both strikes almost at the same time due to communication issues. The distances involved were tremendous, and radio transmission unreliable. Both carrier fleets were wounded, and it seemed that Nagumo had for once been able to inflict more hurt than he received.

  Furthermore, the Allied fleet was still within a possible interception scenario range. Like a good poker player, the Grand Admiral decided that he had a good hand and that it was time to up the ante. “Order the battle fleet full ahead.” And at that, Yamamoto crossed his arms behind his back and walked to his cabin to think. “Call me when the situation changes.” “Yes, Admiral.”

  Shot down

  Somewhere in the Pacific Ocean, August 15th, 1942

  There was noise aplenty and all around him—explosions after explosions. Ace pilot Harry Bergman watched the exciting American attack while hiding under a floating piece of his torpedo plane.

  Moments earlier, he had been shot down. His rear-seat gunner, Adam Hoffberg, was killed, and 29 of 30 men in his squadron had lost their lives. He was the sole U.S. witness to the entire historic six minutes of the Battle of the Pacific. He saw not one but seven Japanese aircraft carriers erupt in flames.

  As he floated, he cheered loudly (no one could hear him anyway) at his brothers fighting for their lives over him. He was also amazed by the amount of flak ordinance that the Japanese fired in the sky. From a sea-level perspective, it looked a lot heavier than in the air because of altitude. The anti-aircraft rounds all seemed to explode in the same general area from the ground.

  Bergman was covered in black oil, and he had a small gash on his forefront (when his plane hit the water since he never bailed out). His SBD had been strafed from above by a Zero fighter as Harry was making his approach toward what seemed the biggest of all enemy carriers (he didn’t know, but he’d aimed at Akagi). The enemy pilot had skilfully approached under the guide of the blinding Pacific sun and attacked from their topside. His 20mm shell burst exploded the gunner’s canopy and ripped apart the plane's wings so that it had not been possible to fly the thing level. One of the shells had also narrowly missed Bergman behind his back. While he was unscathed, it wasn’t possible to say the same for his parachute (on which he was sitting). A shell had burst through the canopy and landed smack between his legs. Luckily for him, it had not exploded and went right through the plane's fuselage at the bottom. But it had ripped the chute apart.

  So, Harry had had to get the Dauntless to land on the water. He’d eased it as much as the leftover controls permitted him to and then touched the sea, bringing the plane to a dead stop and yanking him on the control panel. He almost lost consciousness but had been sharp enough to extricate himself from his partially sinking SBD. After a minute, the plane was half-sunken but didn’t seem to want to drop anymore. He figured that some air bubble kept the aircraft afloat.

  An F4F Wildcat thundered a few meters above his position, closely followed by a Japanese Zero that was firing a continuous burst of fire that exploded harmlessly on each side of the American plane as it tried to dodge frantically. It maneuvered smartly amongst the small water geysers created by the Nipponese pilot but didn’t get hit.

  After a few seconds of moving left and right in an unpredictable manner, the U.S. pilot looped backward in a risky move (he was very close to sea level, after all) and climbed sharply before turning on itself and firing at the Jap Zero, that could only watch in stunned horror as the American ordinance hit it. The enemy fighter exploded, and its still flaming/expanding remains hit the water in a great splash.

  Bergman cheered loudly and tried to signal to the pilot that he was there, hoping that the U.S. Navy ships would eventually come to his potion to rescue him.

  The furious battle eventually ebbed, and the Japanese ships sailed full speed ahead in a south-westerly direction, leaving Harry alone in the water. He was miraculously alive and well. It took the better part of two days before a Navy destroyer blessedly found him and picked him up. The ace pilot had seen him after killing the Jap Zero and reported his position when he landed back on Yorktown.

  The Naval battle of the Pacific part 2

  Dreadnought’s duel, August 15th, 1942

  By the end of the afternoon, both fleets got in range of the other. Of course, the mega Yamato guns (18.1 inches / 460mm) were able to fire first as they had the superior range to all U.S. battlewagons by at least fifteen kilometers.

  The super-battleship also had just been fitted with the first operational Imperial Navy radar, and the thing, while crude, came handy for Admiral Yamamoto’s range finding and to direct the rest of the ships.

  So, the first shells landed amongst Nimitz’s ships, and while exploding in great fury and making for impressive pillars of water that splashed in the American decks, no hits were scored. The range was extreme, and at that distance, it was more than just a little difficult to hit a moving battleship, let alone one that knew you were shooting at it, so that dodged frantically.

  By 1634 both sides were sufficiently in range to open up with all their fury. A great gush of fire and smoke poured out of the mighty guns on the battle fleets as they expended their anger at the other.

  The first hit of the day belonged to battleship South Dakota that straddled the Nagato with several shells, two hitting the Japanese dreadnought’s superstructures. The ship became a raging ball of fire for a moment but sailed out of it relatively unscathed as its armor shrugged off the blasts. The distance affected hit probability at that distance (23 kilometers). It also affected the blast's power, as, by the time the big naval ordinance flew all the way to the target, it lost a lot of velocities.

  And then, after that, both sides fine-tuned their gunnery and started to hit the other more regularly. The second to score was Yamato, which had been firing for a while, so its gunners finally could get something done. Three of their mega shells blasted at the rear of old Word War One battleship Georgia. The three hits, producing a blinding light and powerful shockwave, completely gutted the vessel’s engine room and its conning tower. In one broadside, the Japanese super-ship had killed a ship. Georgia was dead in the water, with electrical failure and a destroyed engine.

  Nimitz was by that time pretty busy directing his battle and making sure his ship stayed at long range while giving the order and getting damage assessments. He felt terrible for the men on Georgia but had to continue sailing at best speed if he didn’t want to be overtaken by the Japanese ships.

  California, Colorado, Bretagne, Lorraine, and West Virginia each reported successful hits on the enemy. The unlucky battlewagons on the receiving end were Hiei (one main turret destroyed), Kongo (hit below the waterline, major damage), Mutsu (superstructure hit), and Yamato (bow damage and one 155mm gun turret destroyed).

  The Imperial Navy also got busy with battlecruiser Amagi, battleships Mutsu and Nagato; they straddled Maryland (bow, waterline), California (main armor belt, another hit center of the ship, and West Virginia (two primary and three secondary gun turret destroyed) with several powerful shells. Kongo and Hiei concentrated their fire on stricken Georgia to finish it off before its sailor could bring its guns back online. The old lady exploded catastrophically after over fifteen shells hit it in succession, as it could no longer move nor defend itself.

  Now over an hour old, the battle slowly ebbed as dusk settled on the Pacific Ocean. While the burning ships on both sides would be spottable from a great distance in the dark, Nimitz proficiently disengaged his fleet from the long-range shelling so that by 1842 (roughly twenty minutes before sundown), the American ships were out of range. The battle of the Pacific was over.

  The struggle ended in a Japanese tactical victory, with the Imperial Navy in control of the sea after the battle and with an advantage in the loss ratio. Two light carriers sunk on each side, and one battleship sunk on the Allied side.

  Strategically, it was also a win for Yamamoto since he’d wrecked the Boeing factories in Seattle and again pushed the U.S. Navy back. The Grand Admiral that ordered his ships back toward Pearl Harbor finally felt satisfied for the first time since his successful invasion of Pearl Harbor.

  EPILOGUE

  Back to square one

  The un-improving situation August 17th, 1942

  Roosevelt was inhaling a long drag from his cigarette while General Marshall and Admiral King sat on their respective chairs on the other side of his Oval Office desk.

  “So, gentlemen. Let’s have it.” The American president dropped his butt into the ashtray and looked at the two commanders while they started their description of the last two disastrous days.

  “Mr. President,” started the General, clearing his throat. The initial report from the Boeing Factory No. 2 is that they have been able to put down the fire and save a lot of the city in the process. The damage to the plant remains to be assessed, but the Boeing executives think they should be able to resume production within a month. After all, they have other buildings, and they are even considering re-opening Boeing Factory one and moving the equipment that survived the destruction there.” Marshall paused since he knew Roosevelt by now. The man had a question. “General. How many dead?” said the U.S. leader in a genuine empathic voice. “So far, over 123 confirmed dead. The raid was during the day, and the factory was full of workers. Some civilians living near the factory were also caught in the inferno. We expect the final number to climb over 200.” “Damn Japs. Damn Yamamoto.” Roosevelt was angry. “Ernest, what of our fleet and the result of the Battle?” “Mr. President,” started King with his usual coarse voice and shitty tone of voice. “The battle was hard-fought. Battleship Georgia is sunk plus light carriers Bogue and Long Island. The rest of the ships are damaged to different degrees. The fleet is currently just arriving in San Diego harbor and will need a lot of repair work.” The Admiral stopped for a moment, fishing out two folders that he gave to the other two men in the room. “I have issued orders to sprinkle the ships along the West Coast to get them repaired as soon as possible. The good news is that the Japs also lost two carriers and have incurred heavy damage as well.”