Islands of Destiny: The Solomons Campaign and the Eclipse of the Rising Sun (22 page)

The captured seamen revealed to Allied intelligence the actual Imperial Navy vessels engaged at both Cape Esperance and Savo, furnishing information that was accurate, if not at first believed, because it did not accord with the claims of U.S. commanders. Richmond Kelly Turner circulated this data on October 21. The prisoners knew nothing of Yamamoto’s current plans, but they possessed a wealth of knowledge of Japanese procedures, equipment, and operational methods.

On October 15, codebreakers reported that the pattern of radio traffic showed Yamamoto had taken direct command of operations. Combined Fleet became a heavy originator of messages. Ultra also provided radio bearings for a fleet unit containing at least two aircraft carriers, and reported an unidentified radio emitter on Guadalcanal—likely Lieutenant Funashi’s Navy observation post—that had begun providing fairly accurate tabulations of Cactus air strength. The next day Ultra confirmed the traffic flow from Combined Fleet and reported that the Japanese appeared to have focused all their attention on the Solomons. Pearl Harbor was on edge. The CINCPAC war diary for October 17 read, “It now appears that we are unable to control the sea…in the Guadalcanal area…our supply of the position will only be done at great expense.” Nimitz did not believe the situation hopeless, but it had become critical: “There is no doubt now that Japs are making an all-out effort in the Solomons, employing the greater part of their Navy.” Ultra noted quiet, or an unchanged Japanese situation, over several succeeding days. Starting on October 19, Ultra tabulated a
reduction
in high-level, high-priority message volume, ominously suggesting Yamamoto’s offensive was under way. The next day it furnished a new location for the
Kido Butai
and associated carrier commander Nagumo with surface fleet boss Kondo.

But Allied intelligence was not omniscient. As had happened before the
Battle of the Eastern Solomons, there were doubts about the Japanese aircraft carriers. The Combined Fleet had five of these ships, with the large carriers
Shokaku
and
Zuikaku
, plus the light carrier
Zuiho
in Carrier Division 1, and the slower fleet carriers
Hiyo
and
Junyo
in Carrier Division 2. At the end of September, Washington’s weekly estimates located Carrier Division 1 not far from Rabaul, when it rode at anchor at Truk, except possibly the
Zuikaku
, which intelligence believed en route to Yokosuka. A week later it put the
Zuiho
also in Japan—and continued to believe the
Zuiho
in Empire waters right through the estimate of October 20, the last to appear before the battle. The
Zuikaku
the Allies estimated back in Truk on October 13, and they continued to place Carrier Division 1 there a week later, even though Japanese carriers had already been seen at sea, with locations for them repeatedly remarked in Ultra.

The record for Carrier Division 2 was worse. It was continuously placed in Empire waters right through the estimate of October 27, the day
after
the impending battle. The combat intelligence unit at Pearl Harbor wavered on locating these carriers, indicating they were in Japan on October 6, reporting a “slight” possibility of the Philippines on October 11, and a possibility the two ships might be in Empire waters a week later. In reality, Rear Admiral Kakuta Kakuji’s Carrier Division 2 had sailed from Japan for Truk on October 2 and sortied for the operation with the rest of the fleet nine days later. At least Pearl Harbor consistently believed that two big carriers were involved, and held them to be
Shokaku
and
Zuikaku.
On October 23, Pearl Harbor intelligence shifted to declare that “at least” two carriers must be among the enemy fleet.

Estimates for surface gunnery ships were skewed because Admiral Norman Scott reported inflicting much greater losses at Cape Esperance than was true. There was also another complication, according to Commander Bruce McCandless: ONI mistakenly believed all four
Aoba
-class cruisers lay at the bottom of the sea. When Scott claimed on October 18 to have sunk three heavy cruisers and four destroyers and possibly dispatched another tin can and a light cruiser (actual losses had been one heavy cruiser and one destroyer), these were scored to units other than the Imperial Navy’s Cruiser Division 6, which had the
Aoba
s. This effectively minimized Japanese heavy cruiser strength. When the
Myoko
and
Maya
bombarded Cactus, ONI believed the former was anchored at Yokosuka and the latter at Palau.
As for battleships, the October 20 estimate carried as “possibly damaged” one of Admiral Kurita’s vessels that had smashed Cactus on The Night, placed the
Yamato
and
Mutsu
as possibly at Rabaul, and credited the fleet in the Solomons—again “possibly”—with the
Ise
, then in Empire waters.

Fortunately other pillars of intelligence clarified. The combination continued to furnish a clearer picture. Rabaul would be covered by aerial photography at least a half dozen times during the last ten days before the battle. Estimated aggregate tonnage there ranged between 170,000 and 250,000 tons. At the high point, Simpson Harbor contained two oilers and forty-one merchant ships, with a light cruiser, a minelayer, three destroyers, and several aviation tenders. General Kenney’s SOWESPAC B-17s finally kicked off their Rabaul bombing on October 22, claiming to have blasted a cruiser, a destroyer, and eight merchantmen for 50,000 tons, and, two nights later, to have left the
Nisshin
wreathed in flames from a direct hit amidships, claiming her utterly destroyed. The
Nisshin
was at Shortland that night and no ship of her type lay at Rabaul.

As for Admiral Kakuta’s carriers, the first to intervene at Guadalcanal when he sent fighters to help screen the high-speed convoy while it unloaded, a scout plane signaled a carrier northwest of Kavieng on October 16, which put new light on the arguments over Carrier Division 2’s location.

The Japanese center of gravity had to be the Shortland-Buin complex, and there Allied intelligence benefited from coastwatchers as well as aerial spies. Reports covered that area virtually every day. Interestingly, the several separate forces counted here on October 15 totaled two aircraft carriers, four battleships, seven heavy and an equal number of light cruisers, twenty destroyers, and three aviation ships. An oiler and seventeen cargomen were reported the next day. If the intelligence estimates on Imperial Navy disposition were to be believed, those figures could not be accurate. But Kurita’s battleships stopped here briefly after The Night, Kondo’s fleet with Kakuta’s carriers were in the area, and Shortland was the center of Mikawa’s Eighth Fleet operations, with his typical tally some cruisers, aviation ships, and a dozen or so tin cans. The net impression, perfectly correct, was of Japanese might assembled for a big blow.

American air reconnaissance on October 17 recorded two cruisers and seven destroyers, and noontime aerial photography on October 20 revealed a heavy cruiser, four light cruisers, and seventeen destroyers. The other
vessels were gone. Additional overhead imagery the next day disclosed the presence of five additional warships, with a different mixture of the cruiser types. On October 24 there was nothing at Shortland but a few tin cans. Over subsequent days sightings of all kinds showed Mikawa’s base reverting to its usual strength. The specifics could have been mistaken. What was inescapable was the sense of a mission force assembled, then launched.

Chester Nimitz did not need a weatherman to know which way the wind blew. SOPAC’s forces were divided among its cruiser-destroyer group, a unit with new battleships
Washington
and
South Dakota
, now titled Task Force 64, and the
Hornet
’s carrier group. The
Enterprise
group, steaming as fast as possible, promised to reach the theater in time. By October 17, Nimitz knew the Japanese had seen Task Force 64. CINCPAC remained in doubt regarding locations of enemy fleet units, but he knew they were out there, and Ultra had provided some carrier positions and even radio call signs. On October 20, via COMINCH, Nimitz appealed to the British Admiralty for an Indian Ocean offensive to distract the Japanese from the Solomons.

The next day, in conjunction with new SOPAC chief Bull Halsey, the plans were set. The
Enterprise
(Task Force 16) and the
Hornet
(Task Force 17) would join on the twenty-fourth as Task Force 61 under Rear Admiral Thomas C. Kinkaid, and sweep north of the Santa Cruz islands, on the flank of any approaching Japanese fleet. At first CINCPAC foresaw the task force as being unable to act until the following day, but later it seemed they might be ready shortly after uniting. The battleships were sent on a midnight romp through Ironbottom Sound. No Japanese were found, so they moved to strengthen the carriers’ defenses. On the twenty-second a snooper saw the
Kido Butai.
Nimitz foresaw that for at least several weeks the Japanese would be able to throw more troops, planes, and ships into a battle than SOPAC. That could not be avoided. CINCPAC would apply calculated risk. “From all indications,” Nimitz’s war diary recorded on October 22, “the enemy seems about ready to start his long expected all out attack on Guadalcanal. The next three or four days are critical.”

In Truk lagoon on the morning of October 11, Yamamoto and Ugaki witnessed a momentous event from the fantail of the
Yamato
. Admiral Nagumo’s ships raised anchor and gingerly began their egress. Dark gray warships
disappeared beyond the coral reefs of Truk’s north channel. After lunch the towering battleships of Admiral Kondo’s fleet, with Kakuta’s Carrier Division 2, departed south-side. Yamamoto, so sensitive of late, had begun micromanaging, questioning details. One big one was that the operations plan did not cover what to do in case of failure. Ugaki justified that with the comment that the fleet could not afford to fail. Everything had been done to ensure victory. Now was the time. The determined reinforcement program had put major Army units on Guadalcanal, and Navy efforts were near to suppressing Henderson Field. The day after the fleet sailed, Seventeenth Army chief of staff General Miyazaki and Navy staff officers Genda and Ohmae came up from Rabaul to plead for a battleship bombardment of Cactus. They were startled to learn one had already been laid on and was about to occur. Victory—that had a nice ring, rolled off the tongue easily, and it seemed close.

But Imperial Navy doctrine could be an obstacle. Under Yamamoto’s plan, Nagumo’s Striking Force of carriers would sail alongside Kondo’s battleships and cruisers of the Advance Force. Japanese doctrine accorded primacy to battleships, making Vice Admiral Kondo the overall commander. There were many aspects of carrier employment that would seem peculiar to a surface warfare specialist, and Kondo Nobutake had no experience of aeronaval operations. This might prevent success.

The fleet command was aware of the problem. Admiral Hara Chuichi had encountered it at Coral Sea and Eastern Solomons. After the second action Ugaki had Hara in for a long talk. Distilling his experiences, Hara sensitized Ugaki to the dangers in traditional doctrine. Though Hara sailed now as a cruiser commander, his contribution had been helpful. In the course of planning this operation, Ugaki brought Kondo and Nagumo together several times. The two were Etajima classmates and friends, so they were inclined to cooperate. But the reticent Nagumo was not the man to educate Kondo, gracious as he was, in carrier operations. That role fell to Third Fleet chief of staff Kusaka Ryunosuke, who had known Kondo since they had been boys in middle school together. Before leaving Truk, Kusaka coached Kondo on the finer points of aircraft use, and he induced the force commander to agree that in matters involving carriers, Nagumo would exercise control.

So the fleet went to sea. Vice Admiral Kondo maneuvered in the waters
northeast of the Solomons. By night they steamed south to attain favorable dawn launch positions. During the day they would turn north and head toward Truk—if battle came, the Japanese wanted to be headed for safety, not destruction. This cautious approach disgusted many. In the screen, Commander Hara Tameichi on his destroyer
Amatsukazi
was among those discomfited by the seeming reluctance to close with the enemy. It bothered Yamamoto too. He had imagined an aggressive sortie beyond the Solomons into the Coral Sea, cutting through Torpedo Junction to isolate Guadalcanal. That would have forced the Allies into the open to restore communications. As Combined Fleet saw
Kido Butai
diverge, Ugaki nudged Kondo and Nagumo to adopt a forward-leaning posture. But neither Ugaki nor Yamamoto made this a direct order.

Rear Admiral Kusaka counseled caution. Kusaka could not escape feeling the American carriers, as at Midway, would appear on Nagumo’s flank. A sortie into the Coral Sea invited that. Kusaka was determined not to take the risk until the enemy carriers were accounted for. In the Imperial Navy, chiefs of staff had great power, and Kusaka used his to shield Nagumo from the complaints of inaction. When a new staffer aboard flagship
Shokaku
asked why the fleet did not stop this indecisive to-ing and fro-ing, Kusaka told him off, saying he was still an amateur at battle. The staff chief used the example of the sumo wrestler, who repeatedly left the fight to get salt to improve his grip, an act known as
shikari.
The fleet was doing
shikari.

Kusaka fended off Ugaki as well. But as the days passed without action, morale suffered. The surface fleet was engaging the enemy. The Army, supposedly, was fighting. The
Kido Butai
did nothing. There were two key questions: the Army’s attack and the location of Allied fleets. Actually Hyakutake’s troops were still cutting their way through the jungle, struggling to reach assault positions. They literally hacked the “Maruyama Trail,” named for the leader of the Sendai Division, through the harsh land. The date of the Seventeenth Army attack was postponed once, then again. General Hyakutake pleaded insuperable difficulties. At Truk, Admiral Ugaki complained that the Army did not understand that postponements of a day here and there, of little consequence to a soldier, were serious for a fleet burning oil and wearing its ships. Delay pressed against operational limits. Had the Army kept its promises, the naval battle would have occurred
before the arrival of U.S. carrier
Enterprise
, affording the Japanese overwhelming superiority. Aboard
Amatsukaze
, Commander Hara recalled “waiting impatiently,” a Navy that “stamped its feet in disgust.”