How Japan lost the Battle of Midway, pt. 4

The Destruction of Kido Butai

Aug 30, 2023

In part 1, we examined the background to Japan’s decision to bring battle to America at Midway, going all the way back to the Meiji Restoration.

In part 2, we examined the First Air Fleet with focus on its officers, the transit of Japanese forces to Midway, and the worrying intelligence they were getting.

In part 3 we examined the opening hours of combat, Japanese naval aviation doctrine and the problems feeding Nagumo’s headache.

In this part, we’ll look at the how Kido Butai was finally destroyed over the rest of June 4th, 1942. Buckle up, this post will be covering a great deal of ground.

Breathing Time

After the succession of attacks, Kido Butai had been unmolested for quite some time. The last enemy attacks had departed by 8:40 A.M., and the carriers had continued preparing for the spotting of the anti-ship strike. They just needed some time now and all would be good.

But this lull was spoiled once more at 9:18 A.M. when planes were spotted to the northeast. Tone and Chikuma began laying smoke immediately.

15 torpedo planes approached, to which the fleet once more turned their backs and hoped to simply outrun their pursuers. It certainly made the attack runs agonizingly slow for the Americans, who hung on grimly as the CAP dealt another vicious blow to the squadron. Three made it, but only one would even release his fish against Soryu. The carrier dodged once more.

“Another One” - DJ Khaled

That’s right, another American attack was spotted on the horizon. At 9:38 A.M., Kaga was the target of an anvil attack by several newcomers. They came in unopposed for a short time, the CAP had been drawn to the northeast to deal with the earlier torpedo attack.

Once more, the Japanese heartbeats quickened, then slowed as the CAP came the rescue. Americans fell into the ocean and the incoming formation was torn apart. No hits were scored as the ships danced along the waves. However, multiple enemy planes lived as the Japanese fighters were beginning to run out of cannon ammunition. American planes had a sturdiness to them, light machine gun fire was ineffective.

Kido Butai’s pilots had probably solidified their contempt, seeing how the Americans had repeatedly comported themselves very poorly. That said, they must also have had a sense of just how ragged their own efforts had become. The lack of radar meant they had to disperse and search their own small pockets while keeping strict control on their depleting ammunition.

Who made the next spotting, Parshall and Tully don’t say, but the Japanese now saw that there were planes flying high above. Assuming they were horizontal bombers, a trio of planes were dispatched to go and take care of it. But even as they climbed, the planes disappeared, departing from the area.

At 10:00 A.M., Nagumo issued an optimistic report to the other Midway-bound forces, including Yamamoto. It stated that they had carried out the first strike, but had been attacked multiple times and taken no damage. He planned to deal with the American fleet before continuing the plan.

This whole time, Kido Butai had been moving and dodging in a northern direction, unable to take the initiative. That was no way to win a war. Worse, they’d remained within American strike range when it wasn’t necessary. Japanese planes were unarmored compared to their enemies, giving a slightly large strike range.

Inside the hangars, the arming process was certainly complete, with planes fueled and just waiting to go. All that was left was the order to begin spotting. But it wouldn’t have been June 4th, 1942, if the US didn’t have another attack on the way.

One Small Difference, One Big Consequence

At 10:06 A.M., Akagi’s spotters homed in on torpedo bombers coming in from the east. These were 45 km. (27.9 mi.) away, so the carrier landed some of its CAP fighters and launched fresh ones. As it did, it turned to the northwest like the rest of the fleet to once more stall the attack. The CAP did its duty and headed to intercept this new force.

Every American attack thus far had been bereft of escorting fighters. This attack broke the mold, coming in with six US fighters. Naturally, the CAP decided to deal with these protectors first. 15-20 fighters, however, assigned themselves to that role, meaning they literally had to line up for their own attacks. This was a big portion for dealing with so few planes.

You, like the Japanese pilots, may have expected even these dogfighting-dedicated Americans to fall in the face of superior skill, Japanese maneuverability, and sheer numbers.

But not this time. Leading these six planes was Lt. Cdr. Jimmy Thach.

Thach pulling off the life vest, goggles, and flight helmet look better than I first imagined

Thach was an experienced pilot and was well aware of the reputation Japanese fighters had. But even as one of his own was lost in the initial clash, he bet on a brand new tactic, something he’d never even briefed his wingmen about.

The idea was simple. Let’s say your friend had an enemy at their rear. Both of you would turn towards each other, giving you a head-on attack against that enemy, forcing them to either break off or risk getting hit. You could then continue flying towards your target and repeat the maneuver as often as needed.

This tactic, appropriately named the Thach Weave, made a spectacular entrance. Not only did Thach save himself and two of his friends, he personally took down three of the CAP. It was a jarring experience for the Japanese, who had simply never encountered any kind of decent opposition in the months prior.

As the dogfighting continued, the torpedo planes continued relatively unmolested as they targeted the Hiryu. Then another group of CAP fighters emerged and smashed into the formation, sending many into the drink. The American pilots pressed on like their courageous comrades from earlier attacks.

Five Fatal Minutes

Radar. It’s a game changer. Without it, you only have your eyes.

At this moment, all Japanese eyes and CAP fighters were glued to the ongoing torpedo attack coming from the east-southeast. In military parlance, this is called “target fixation”, wherein one becomes so focused on one target, one attack, one issue that they forget to keep the big picture in mind. In this context, that meant the men on the vessels and the men inside cockpits needed to keep their eyes turning in all directions.

Thankfully, some of this discipline remained. At 10:19 A.M., a senior lookout on the Hiryu shouted that there were dive-bombers high above at roughly 4 km. (2.4 mi.). At the same time, the bridge of Kaga was filled with shouts of “enemy dive-bombers!”

Almost 50 US planes were overhead, undetected until this moment as the first ones began their precipitous fall.

Kaga’s evasive maneuvering had little value. Not only were there multiple planes waiting to begin their runs, these were not tenderfoots. These were American veterans, evidenced by the steep dives as opposed to shallow glide-bombing.

There was no doubt to the outcome. Kaga took a hit near the elevator, then another directly on the elevator. The third hit the island directly, killing the senior officers. Covered in smoke and burning,“Kaga continued blundering around in a clockwise circle, beaten and blind, her dazed men waiting for the aerial pummeling to stop.”

Soryu fared no better. A bomb struck its bridge, killing many. Another penetrated the middle of the flight deck and detonated in the hangar. As the commander looked on, a third struck the deck and put out a blinding flash. Its boilers were struck and the ship was now dead in the water.

Akagi may have sighed in relief, the bulk of the enemy targeting the other carriers. But then, a trio of planes broke off. This was the other American soon-to-be-hero, Lt. Richard Best.

This man, along with his two wingmen, bore in on the Akagi. It was unaware of them, focused on the bigger attacks like the initial torpedo run and the dive-bombing of Kaga. To avoid those two, it turned starboard and headed east.

Akagi should have expected to survive. Mass strikes were necessary because a few planes could easily be dodged. These pilots weren’t bad, but certainly not as good as the Japanese. It was doing what it could to maneuver as well.

The lieutenant ignored all that and all three planes entered their attack runs.

His wingmen dropped and missed.

Best did not.

Akagi shuddered as the bomb penetrated near the middle elevator before detonating its 1000-lbs payload in the hangar. CAP planes on the deck were flung overboard by the force, though on the bridge the hit felt “deceptively gentle.”

It was now 10:26 A.M.

Hiryu was now the only untouched carrier, but it was not out of the woods just yet. Incredibly, the torpedo attacks were still headed her way as of 10:35 A.M., though only five planes were available to drop. This went nowhere and the ship escaped unscathed.

Their ordnance dropped, all US planes began to depart as swiftly as they could. Some were harassed by the CAP and AA-fire, but soon, the skies were clear of American pilots, only to be replaced by something sailors have feared for millennia.

Fire.

Damage Control

"Suppose my neighbor's home catches fire, and I have a length of garden hose four or five hundred feet away. If he can take my garden hose and connect it up with his hydrant, I may help him to put out his fire...I don't say to him before that operation, "Neighbor, my garden hose cost me $15; you have to pay me $15 for it."... I don't want $15--I want my garden hose back after the fire is over. "

Though he was not speaking with them in mind, those on ships would have understood Frankin Delano Roosevelt’s words above better than anyone else. If a fire began in one part of a ship, it was an inherent threat to everyone.

How was one to limit and possibly reverse damage to a ship when at sea? Effective measures required a combination of human, procedural, and technological elements. The Japanese were lacking in all three.

Parshall and Tully go into great detail about the efforts to save the ships and various stories of those who survived. But it is simply not worth it, in my opinion, to discuss most of it. What matters is that despite efforts that went on into the night and early hours of the next day, all three carriers were lost and had to be scuttled.

Instead, I want to discuss why Japan failed in this monumental task.

The Human Element

Recall that Japan had engaged in crash-course modernization program since the Meiji Restoration in 1868. This modernization had naturally been unequal in its distribution. While cities might have electricity and other modern conveniences, the rural areas still did things as they had been for hundreds of years.

Why this matters is familiarity. Put simply, it was highly unlikely for the average sailor to come into the Japanese navy already acquainted with the mechanical side of the world. You likely have an understanding of what a machine labeled “water pump” does and with some time, you could operate it without another person’s instructions. A Japanese sailor would find this much harder because it wasn’t something they learned via cultural osmosis.

Compounding this problem was the navy’s culture. Independence and individual initiative were precisely what the officers had spent years beating out of their men. You did your job as ordered, no backtalk. This had the consequence of rendering the sailors far less willing to run across the ship to deal with fires. It was somebody else’s job, not yours, so you had best continue manning that gun or keep watch for enemy planes.

I must stress here that we are talking generalities, not absolutes. Japanese sailors were not stupid, nor were they robotic to the point of ignoring a fire only meters away. But the average man would not have been as useful as his American counterpart in case of a fire.

The Procedural Element

“Stop, drop, and roll!” is a phrase you are likely familiar with. If not, it details what you are supposed to do if you are on fire - stop moving, drop to the ground, and roll around to smother the flames.

If you find yourself scoffing at needing to tell people this sort of thing, don’t. People panic. The fact of the matter is that if you give people clear, precise instructions and have them practice, you leave a great deal less to chance.

The Japanese, like all big navies, had dedicated damage control teams. These were trained experts who knew how to deal with torpedo breaches, explosions, and fires. But unlike, say, the US Navy, Japanese damage control teams were the only ones who were really taught how to do things properly. If you were a sailor in Kido Butai, you knew your job, and maybe how to deal with problems in your section of the ship, but that was it.

Kaga was an excellent example of how this failed. Its damage control officers had died in the initial explosions, rendering no one aboard capable of fighting the fires or leading the efforts.

The Technological Element

The tools available for damage control matter greatly. A bucket chain is great if you’ve got water, buckets, and hands nearby, but a fire extinguisher would speed up the process of putting out flames. Fire-fighting suits, foam dispensers, portable generators, and more were crucial to letting men save their ships.

Arguably the most important technology were the water mains. These were pipes that would draw in water and spray it if the room below caught fire. But the problem with a water main system is that damage to just one area means the whole thing could stop working. American vessels were built with redundancy for this kind of thing in mind, meaning compartmentalized water mains. In comparison, the Japanese carriers had only two: a port and starboard main. Taking damage on one side could easily mean losing half their ability to drown a fire.

There were design considerations as well. For example, Japanese furniture aboard their carriers was entirely made of highly flammable material. Cotton beddings, wooden chairs, etc.

But the truly awful part was that Japanese hangars, where so much flammable and explosive material could be found, were entirely enclosed. An enclosed hangar wasn’t inherently a problem, but it was dangerous to combine with an unarmored deck. Not only did the Japanese hangar personnel not get protection over their heads, they couldn’t swiftly dump any burning material into the ocean from inside. All they had were rolling steel shutters that could isolate a part of the hangar, assuming the shutters weren’t damaged.

When Kido Butai were struck, it was in the worst possible time as their hangars were full of fully-armed, fully-fueled planes packed tightly together. The bombs would have caused secondary explosions, while aviation fuel was a highly dangerous substance that water could not combat. Even the US Navy, an institution with excellent damage control capabilities, had concluded that if enough aviation fuel was burning, nothing could be done but to try and contain the spread.

Hiryu’s Riposte

Rear Admiral Hiroaki Abe, commanding Cruiser Division 8, appraised the facts on the ground and began directing action. He informed Yamamoto about what had just happened to three carriers, though he also said that Hiryu would counter-strike immediately as the fleet pulled to the north.

As incredible as it may be, the Japanese were not doing a full retreat. Not yet. When Yamaguchi got Abe’s order, it only sped up the process. He was going to send his planes out shortly regardless. This strike consisted of 18 dive-bombers and an escort of six fighters.

The mood as the pilots were briefed was not one of optimism like the early morning strike. A dead seriousness had set in, and they were urged to ensure the maximum number of planes returned.

This strike was launched at 10:54 A.M.

The plea was discarded as soon as enemy planes were spotted along the way. The escorts were given permission to engage. A completely unnecessary risk, leaving vulnerable bombers to fend for themselves.

Worse for the Japanese, this encounter did not resolve itself in their favor. At the cost of two damaged fighters which had to return to the Hiryu, they downed none of the American planes. The four remaining ones returned to escort duties, rebuked and ashamed.

A greater shame, of course, was that they weren’t there when the strike needed them. American CAP fighters tore through the Japanese flock, scattering and confusing the dive bombers. Several went down in the second pass, but now the fighters on both sides began duking it out.

Down at sea level steamed the American carrier they were protecting. At 12:10 A.M., the seven remaining dive-bombers began their attack runs. The Americans held the home field advantage, with a strong CAP and more AA-guns than a man could ever want in his life. They were only being attacked by a few planes as well.

But they were facing down the best dive bombers in the Japanese fleet and arguably the world itself. Unlike the volumes of US planes that were needed to put Kido Butai out of commission, these daring few were all that was needed.

The first plane was shot down by the carrier’s guns, but his bomb detonated near the midship elevator, ironically killing the men who had just torn him to shreds. The second went down the same way, but his bomb was a near-hit, detonating in the ship’s wake and causing some fires on the fantail. The third scored another near-hit and got away.

Fourth in the line scored yet another near-hit. But the fifth, he made his shot count and sent his bomb right into the middle of the ship. Immediately, it belched thick smoke and slowed down as several boilers were destroyed. The sixth did the same, pulling off a glide-bombing and hitting the forward elevator. The seventh and last got another near-hit.

Seven planes. Three hits. Two near-hits. This was the strongest testament to Japanese skill one could imagine.

The survivors flew back to Hiryu, missing many of their comrades.

A great deal had been going on since they had left earlier. Shortly after the 10:20 A.M. fiasco, cruiser Chikuma had launched its No. 5 plane to take over for Tone’s No. 4. The latter’s fuel would run out soon and the Japanese wanted to retain contact with their enemy. Now, this pilot reported back that the Americans were only 90 miles away.

Hiryu also armed its remaining planes and a few that belonged to Akagi that had landed on the only working flattop. These planes would be used for the second strike.

Nagumo, meanwhile, had finally made it to another ship. After some resistance, he agreed to move his flag from Akagi. Now he commanded from the cruiser Nagara. A swift message was passed on to Abe, Kondo (leader of the bait fleet), and Yamamoto in which the Nagumo declared his intention to take most of his remaining fleet towards the enemy contact.

I had said in part 3 that Nagumo was unwise to assume he could win a surface battle, but in this moment, the decision was not totally stupid. Remember, Nagumo knew that Hiryu and its world-class dive-bombers were attacking the enemy. The enemy was only 90 miles away. Lastly, the Japanese knew just how badly they’d mauled the American torpedo squadrons. Without those, they’d have a tough time sinking the accompanying battleships.

No Time for Thinking

Equally, we cannot ignore the other, illogical reasons for this decision. For starters, the cultural pressure to salvage victory at the cost of more death, even Nagumo’s own. He may have also perceived this to be a personal failure to be atoned for.

Lastly, he may have had the word ganbatte in mind. It translates to “Please continue trying your best.” In other words, no matter how difficult or awful a task is, you must give it your all. But it also implies that being honorable today is more important than long-term considerations. While I think anyone reading this may agree with the former, the latter is far more contestable.

A crucial long-term consideration was the Hiryu’s continued existence. Japan had just lost three of its six heavy carriers and had only one remaining one for this operation. It was not just a powerful tool, it was a national symbol and asset. But Yamaguchi, its commander, and Nagumo were having it move with the surface engagement force by default. A more rational commander would not have a vulnerable and important weapon go any closer than it had to, but here it was, tagging along as if to be a cheerleader!

Another thing the pair should have realized was how badly outnumbered they were. No single carrier could have launched all the aircraft thrown their way, there had to be at least a pair in the area.

Was there nearby support? The closest were Kondo and Yamamoto. But even they were hundreds of kilometers away and neither was bringing more airpower to give to Nagumo.

Moreover, the air attacks were not easy or repeatable. With each one, the Japanese were losing now-precious planes. Soon enough, they wouldn’t have enough for even a small strike.

“We Ain’t Found Shit!”

The air in Hiryu’s bridge was getting tense. If Chikuma’s No. 5 had reported correctly, the enemy should have been near. But nothing had been found and the first strike’s leader still hadn’t said anything.

Then, at 12:10 P.M., came a terse message from one of the dive-bombers indicating that he was about to attack an enemy carrier. After that, nothing. The second strike was still being readied, though its speed was hampered by how long and awful the working day had been so far.

Shortly after, Yamamoto got in touch. He and his staff were optimistic despite the circumstances. The carriers weren’t totally given up on at this point; it was possible that either Akagi or Kaga might be able to come back into the fray. There were also two light carriers that might be able to help, but this was a small benefit.

Midway, Yamamoto reasoned, could instead by neutralized by the cruisers accompanying Tanaka’s invasion force while the main body withdrew northwest for the time being. If so, then by tomorrow morning, only the carriers would have to be contended with. The cruisers were therefore ordered to steam ahead and bombard the island.

Nagumo and his accompanying ships were spurred into preparing for a surface battle, with him even remarking that contact would occur soon. Remember, they were assuming that they had started close by and only been closing the gap for two hours.

But this is once again a sign of bad judgment. Put simply, Nagumo would assuming his opponent thought like him. Since he planned to engage in a surface action after crippling the enemy carriers, the Americans must too, right? Moreover, anyone competent would have made it clear to him that there must have been more than one carrier in the vicinity, so he would have been ignoring a painfully clear reason to pull back.

Then, Chikuma’s No. 5 reported back at 12:40 P.M. The news was dismaying, it made it clear the Americans were moving away. Nagumo ordered the ships to turn north.

How Many???

At 1:00 P.M., Nagumo and Yamaguchi got a terrible confirmation.

The destroyer Arashi had returned to the fleet before the 10:20 A.M. attack and stayed with the damaged ships. During this time, it had picked up an American pilot. Upon interrogation, he gave up the American carrier strength.

No less than three carriers were present: Enterprise, Hornet, and Yorktown.

What exactly should the strategic calculus in Yamaguchi’s mind have been upon hearing this? It may be tempting to say the situation was 1 vs. 2, but this didn’t get at the dire straits both sides were in. Power was now a measure of the number of remaining flight decks and planes. The latter was heavily in the Americans favor; they retained a massive dive-bomber advantage.

If he had just one more carrier, Yamaguchi’s actions would have made sense. But this scenario should have logically concluded with him withdrawing to maximum strike range, not trying to close the gap.

Second Strike

By now, the remaining planes had been armed and fueled. They were personally briefed by Yamaguchi, who impressed upon them how they were Kido Butai’s last hope. It was critical, he said, that they hit the undamaged carriers.

One by one, the planes were launched. The time was 1:30 P.M.

After this would come the landing of the first strike, and then the great carrier would turn to join up with Nagumo’s force. Meanwhile, Yamaguchi learned what had happened during said strike. He couldn’t know if the carrier was sinking, only that it was out of action for now.

The Japanese had not been idle in the prior hours with regards to scouting either. Scoutplanes from the cruisers, battleship Haruna, and even some of Hiryu’s planes had been searching to the east and north for the American fleet. It was one of Hiryu’s planes that had determined that the enemy was operating two task forces and that the first strike had attacked the one to the north with only a single carrier.

In any case, the second strike’s leader announced that he was going to begin his attack shortly after 2:20 P.M. They had found the wakes of ships some 35 miles ahead and headed towards this contact.

Details became clear as they approached. Only a single carrier and its escorts could be seen, but it certainly didn’t appear to be damaged. No smoke billowed into the sky and it moved at a decent speed.

There was no resistance on the initial approach, but as they began shedding altitude, the attackers were jumped by a pair of American CAP fighters. These were picked off by the strike’s escorts.

Split into the two groups, the first part of the strike got close and received an all-American welcome in the form of dozens of guns spewing death their way. The planes entered the inner ring of ships and set up for their attack run. This group, ultimately, failed to do any damage and lost several of their own in return.

The second began their attacks. Once more, Japanese planes braved the American bullet storm and pressed their attack in close. This time, two torpedoes struck home and sent huge geysers atop the enemy carrier’s deck.

The remaining men flew back and reported their success at striking a second carrier. At 4:00 P.M., Yamaguchi relayed this to Nagumo.

But Nagumo was getting a contradictory message from Tone’s No. 4, which had been relaunched to continue scouting. 10 minutes prior, the pilot reported that the Americans still had two flattops in service.

Hiryu had struck the same carrier twice.

He deemed it wise now to start withdrawing, ordering a sharp turn to head west.

No Time to Die…?

At 4:55 P.M., Admiral Ugaki messaged Kusaka and asked for a progress report on Midway. Would the island be usable tomorrow as a base?

Despite what had happened, there was some optimism among Nagumo and his staff. The force wasn’t combat-incapable and Hiryu was set to launch another strike at 6:00 P.M. Though its chance of success would be slim at night, they had done quite a bit of damage already. In a few hours, Kondo and Yamamoto would join their forces with Nagumo’s, at which point they could keep the enemy’s cruisers at bay if a surface engagement took place while the lone carrier handled CAP duties.

This was communicated back to Combined Fleet, and the message’s hilarious nature should be clear.

The Japanese had been in constant action since 4:30 A.M. It was approaching 5:00 P.M. The men were tired, hungry, and their strength vastly diminished. This would only get worse the longer the fleet was in operation mode. But insulated from reality, these commanders continued plotting for eventual success at this juncture.

But there was a forgotten party, one which was quite ready to offer a rebuttal for the earlier Japanese attacks. At 5:01 P.M., American dive-bombers were spotted once more overhead.

Hiryu desperately began firing its AA-guns and evasively turning. Its CAP fighters, now more frantically than ever, fought to purge the skies of these invaders. Americans went down in flames once again and the first few bombs missed. But it was too little, too late.

The first hit was followed by three others quickly after, each delivering a 1000-lbs (453.6 kg) bomb. Heavy fires broke out, bridge windows were smashed, and the deck blew upwards only to collapse in on itself right after.

Richard Best participated in this attack as well, but it is unconfirmed if he struck successfully.

Meanwhile, those planes that hadn’t chosen a target went after Tone and Chikuma. In this, they were utterly unsuccessful, only giving the ocean a few more bombs for its collection.

But this did not spell the end of US attacks. At 5:42 P.M., six B-17s flew overhead and dropped their payloads. Once again, these medium bombers failed to leave a single mark, though they certainly gave the Japanese a scare.

The morale amongst the circling CAP fighters was dismal. They knew there would only be one more landing for them now.

The Plan Stands

I will not bore you with the details of Hiryu’s immediate future, but suffice it to say, the last of Kido Butai’s carriers at Midway was a lost cause.

What is of interest is how Yamamoto, Ugaki, and Nagumo were handling the situation. Despite knowing that Hiryu had been struck badly, Yamamoto signaled the following at 7:15 P.M.

The enemy fleet, which has been practically destroyed, is retiring to the east.
Combined Fleet units in the vicinity are preparing to pursue the remnants and at the same time, to occupy AF [Midway].
The Main Unit [Yamamoto’s fleet] is scheduled to reached position (grid) FU ME RI 32 on course 90 degrees, speed 20 knots, by 0000, 6th.
The Mobile Force, Occupation Force [minus the bombardment cruisers], and Advance Force will immediately contact and attack the enemy.

In other words, the plan was to go on as intended. The invasion was still on.

Combined Fleet’s staff, especially Ugaki, were increasingly concerned with Nagumo’s performance. They lacked some information the scouts had been providing, which is why they dismissed a few of Nagumo’s messages about enemy strength and direction.

Thus, at 10:55 P.M., Nagumo was relieved of command in favor of Kondo. The former was charged with taking care of Hiryu, though by midnight, he knew the ship was done for.

…Until It Doesn’t

But as the night went on, Yamamoto and Ugaki began to doubt their own plan. There would be no way of engaging in a night battle now and during the day, American airpower posed too much of a threat. Two officers protested and argued that a naval bombardment by the battleships could end the Midway threat, but Yamamoto reminded them that it was entirely against doctrine to do so.

At 12:15 A.M., Yamamoto ordered Kondo and Nagumo to fall back to his own fleet. Then, he ordered the cruiser bombardment off.

Around 2:30 A.M., he ordered Hiryu scuttled.

At 2:55 A.M., Operation MI was canceled.

Now, the Japanese fleet had to head back home, with the only result being that they had sunk the Emperor’s ships with his own torpedoes. There would be a few more American attacks during the day, but the Battle of Midway was effectively over.

The Cover-up

The ships that returned may have escaped physical danger for now, but the fallout of this horrific defeat still had to be dealt with.

Emperor Hirohito was made aware by the end of June 4th that the Midway operation was in dire straits. He did not panic, instead asking the navy to ensure its morale did not suffer. The army was not informed, leaving the other half of the armed services in the dark about their nation’s capabilities.

Even as the remnants of Combined Fleet limped into harbor at Hashirajima, efforts were being made to have a record of events. Working with scant primary resources, one officer wrote up what transpired from May 27th to June 9th. This would be known as the Nagumo Report.

Of course, the ordinary sailors and junior officers had to be dealt with. Hirohito declared that the remaining crew were to be isolated and treated in secret. No visitors were permitted, no contact with fellow sailors was tolerated, no messages were to be passed outside. Some were kept in the hospitals for more than a year and even berated by the medical staff for losing.

What became of those who survived? They were quickly sent to the South Pacific and not allowed to speak with their families, even to say good-bye. Quite a few would never return.

Thus, the Japanese public was entirely unaware of what had happened. Japanese media trumpeted the battle as a victory in which two American carriers were sunk. The publicly stated loss of two of their own carriers was not emphasized, just noted as a necessary and prudent cost. Families of the deceased would only be told that a person had died, no details. Nor would there be any recognition of these people dying collectively.

Military records were ordered to be fabricated as well. The ships lost would be removed from the ship registry at an appropriate moment i.e when no one would ask questions.

And what about Yamamoto, Nagumo, Ugaki, and more? What were their punishments to be?

Nothing.

No heads rolled, no replacements, no reassignments, no demotions. By all appearances, nothing would have seemed wrong. A new carrier force, centered on carriers Shokaku and Zuikaku, was handed to Nagumo.

You are undoubtedly wondering how. How could a defeat on par with the worst naval disasters in history do nothing for the men who made it happen?

The answer is that Yamamoto had a serious reserve of social credit. Remember, his name and face were closely tied to Japanese empire-building successes. The man literally wrote responses to letters from schoolchildren who praised him. There was no way of punishing him or anyone else and also denying that any loss had occurred. Even in the parts of the navy that hated him stuck by their own over admitting fault to the army and public.

Roughly 3000 Japanese men and four famous carriers died in the span of two days. Their story had the audacity to contradict the Emperor and the ideology his nation was trapped in. Thus, it would be years before the truth would come out.

Next time: removing the fog of war, analyzing Japanese failures, and some tangents.