The Apostates (20 page)

“Bonzai! Bonzai!” the officers cried while they downed their rice wine. The officers filed out of the wardroom and rushed towards their positions of command. The Musashi was the vanguard of a massive anti-aircraft screen. The Plan that Admiral Ozawa and Captain Inoguchi, who had been promoted to Rear Admiral, had devised would use the two super battleships, the Musashi, and Yamato, to smash through the inferior ships of the American picket line while the carrier and land-based Japanese aircraft would engage from the air. The Admirals were expecting the surface craft to make the break through and engage the American carriers. If this objective did not materialize then the battle would be lost.

Inoguchi composed himself and said a prayer to his Christian God. He then left the wardroom and met up with his personal detail that escorted him to the bridge. Inoguchi moved to the Conn and stood upright while taking stock of the bridge and crew. The intent faces of ensigns stared back, awaiting his order to proceed. Inoguchi cycled through their faces then gave the order, “Full and by.” The roar of numerous aircraft could be heard overhead as Mitsubishi Zeros swarmed by on aerial patrol duties. The picket line of battleships, destroyers, heavy cruisers and support craft groaned into action and struggled to carve a swathe through the textured waters. Steam and smoke swirled from the stacks of the ships. Millions of tons of mineral ore that had been torn out of the earth, molded and forged, assembled and welded into the culmination of a nation’s industrial effort to impose its will on a rival was present on the waves. In all of human history, there had never been such an undertaking as the rival fleets that had been assembled by the two dominant powers at this moment in time. Each ship present in the water supported the population of a village.

Earlier that day scout aircraft had been
launched by Japanese forces to locate the American task force that had the
mission of blocking the Japanese fleet from engaging the Marianas Island
invasion force. And so, with the American’s position known, the only thing left
was to close the distance and engage in the “Kantai Kessen”, or the decisive
engagement. American scout craft and submarines had done the same and had also
located the steaming Japanese fleet. So they had set course to meet them head
on. All the pieces were set, and it was just a matter of time now.

“Steady as she goes,” Captain Inoguchi had guided. The waves were gentle on the massive battleship as it forged its way ahead. The Captain had observed that the day was ironically calm for the prelude to a Wagneresque battle. It did not provide an omen ill or favorable to him, it seemed all signs from the Lord were neutral on this day. Inoguchi consoled himself with this observation.

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Private Burke and Private Jones were busy making pre-battle checks on all components and machinery within their action stations. Even inside the gun deck of the turret Burke could hear the orchestra of the flotilla. He wondered what the ocean-scape looked like currently. Was the Japanese fleet within visual range? Burke anticipated that the Iowa would be involved in a classic “crossing the T” battleship engagement, where one line of battleships would cross the enemy’s line at a perpendicular angle. He imagined if it came to that the carnage would be spectacular. Burke couldn’t help but picture timber framed ships of ages past when he thought of the coming battle. But, he knew it wouldn’t be like that. Most likely it would leave twisted hulks of smoking metal, compartments would be flooded, and sailors would drown. Cities at sea would be pulled under the waves, destined to become man-made reefs.

“Hey, Burke! We’re gonna really hand them
Japs their asses today, aren’t we? Gonna be great!” Jones had yelled from the
lower deck over all the racket from outside the ship.

“Jones, I don’t think it’s gonna be that
enjoyable from in here. Shore bombardments are one thing. This battle could go
on for days. We might go fuckin’ deaf.” Burke was the realist of the two.

“Ah! Stop being such a wuss, Burke!” Jones
had spouted. He always had thought Burke a killjoy.

“Action stations, action stations! Enemy
contact made! This is not a drill! Anti-aircraft measures!” the emergency
announcement had been made, and Jones and Burke sprang into action. Burke had
prepped the projectile rammer, and it was ready to load the shells into the
breach of each barrel. He was waiting for the Fire Directors command to load
the shells. The Fire Directors deck was located just above the turrets and they
were responsible for acquiring targets, calculating distance, elevation,
aiming, then finally giving the order to load and fire. Burke was tense with
anticipation as the minutes ticked by without the order to fire. He could make
out the sounds of small arms and anti-aircraft guns blazing. Burke figured that
this skirmish would take the form of an air raid.

Burke and Jones heard the roar and dive of various aircraft and an explosion in the distance. Above deck, there was an intense struggle taking shape where the anti-aircraft screen was attempting to make dents in the number of Japanese fighters and bombers intent on destroying the heart of their fleet, the carriers. It was as if the battleships, destroyers, cruisers and submarines were drone bees, working in unison to protect the center of the hive, and the carriers were the queen bees.

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Captain Inoguchi was satisfied with the
fleet’s forward progress. They still had double digit miles to travel before
they would make contact with American surface craft. Reports had reached
Inoguchi that an island based attack wing had engaged the American
anti-aircraft screen. He had wondered why they had been committed so early in
the battle as a combined arms approach was the key to Japanese battle plan.

Inoguchi had his aides update the tactical battle board that was set up in the middle of his Conn. Every force was represented on the board to the best of their intelligence gathering capabilities would allow. Inoguchi looked at the board. The odds of a surface engagement did not look good. The American force was numerous and spread out for many miles. The one advantage the Japanese had was the sheer power of the battleship spearhead comprised by the Yamato and Musashi. Their momentum could not be allowed to be slowed. They would have to punch through the picket line of seven battleships and head straight for the American capital ships, Hornet, Yorktown, Belleau Wood, and Bataan. This was just Task Group One of the combined force Task Group Fifty-eight. There were three other task force groups spread out on the flanks and rear.

“Captain Inoguchi, sir! I’ve received a
coded message from Admiral Ozawa. I have had it decoded for your eyes,” an
ensign reported while handing a piece of paper to Inoguchi.

Captain Inoguchi’s eyes traced the lines on the page. His eyes grew wider as he progressed through the message. He was being ordered to stop his battle group from moving forward. The attack would consist of air attack wings only and not surface ships. Inoguchi grew furious. He predicted that, if only fighter and bomber wings were allowed to attack unsupported by surface ships, both intercepting American fighter, and anti-aircraft screens would cut them to pieces. They would be sacrificed needlessly. Inoguchi thought that without their remaining fighters the surface ships and carriers would be easy pickings for American aircraft.

“Ensign! Send an encrypted protest of
these orders back to the Admiral. Keep our ships full steam ahead until he
responds,” Inoguchi ordered.

“But, sir, these are the
Admiral’s orders,” The ensign hesitated.

“Damn you, deliver my message. I will not sacrifice our best pilots without protest!” Inoguchi demanded.

Inoguchi fretted. Everything was about to
come apart if the battle plan was changed this late into the action. They would
lose all their aircraft. He cursed Admiral Ozawa, who was stationed toward the
rear of the formation on the carrier, Taihō. Inoguchi speculated that the
Admiral had been commanded by the Admiralty to withhold his surface vessels so
that they would not be damaged and thus be used at a later date. The Admiralty
was panicked, but without both aircraft and surface ships working in unison,
they were dooming the entire navy. Inoguchi paced the Conn, anticipating a
response from the Admiral.

After some time, the ensign came running, “Captain, sir. I have a response from the Admiral.” He handed it to Inoguchi who could barely open the message fast enough.

“Rear Admiral Inoguchi and Captain of
Musashi, Admiral Ozawa has ordered a halt to all surface craft in the Mobile
fleet. All vessels are ordered to turn around and rendezvous
around the flagship Taihō’s position. Failure to carry out these orders
will result in your relief of command and court martial.”

Inoguchi audibly cursed and crumbled the
paper into his fist. There was nothing he could do. He had to comply.

“Send out the following orders to our battleship picket and support craft. Our orders are to reverse course and rendezvous with the Taihō. Repeat: reverse course,” Inoguchi made the general announcement. Within seconds, messages were being encoded and sent out over the airwaves or signal flags were used to warn nearby vessels. The helmsmen steered the ship hard astern and all other ships in the battle group followed suit. Inoguchi had to get air as he was on the verge of hyperventilation. He stepped out onto the forward observation deck and breathed deep.

“Those cowards in the leadership will get
everyone killed!” he thought to himself, blood pressure throbbing in his skull.
He looked up in the blue abyss of the sky. As ships turned back, massive
fighter wings flew overhead, consisting of hundreds of Mitsubishi Zeros. Behind
them came the fighter-bombers and torpedo planes, with attached fighter
escorts. Finally behind them were massive bombers. All were flying in chevron
formations, similar to flocks of birds. Inoguchi was remorseful. He thought
that the airmen faced slaughter without fleet support. He considered
resigning his commission, because he wanted no part of such ignorant decisions,
but then figured he would be kept on the ship in custody if he did so. He
concluded he would be dead either way, so might as well die in a position of
command as oppose to one of submission.

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Captain McCann was overwhelmed by the size
of the aerial attack. The picket line was
waiting for the Japanese surface ships in conjunction with the fighter wings.
McCann was at a loss, because he couldn’t understand why the Japanese fleet
would leave their aircraft unsupported. He thought it must have been part of
some grand deception; they would soon be springing their master-stroke. McCann,
as Captain of the U.S.S. Iowa, flagship of the Task Group Fifty-eight
battle-line, ordered all ships under his command to execute all anti-aircraft
measures at their disposal. On top of all anti-aircraft small arms and turrets,
he ordered all heavy guns aimed skyward. They would need it all.

On the horizon appeared the Japanese attack force of at least four hundred aircraft. The air raid klaxon sounded. Several hours before they had sounded because the American picket line had come in contact with about thirty Japanese land-based aircraft and had shot down several with anti-aircraft flak. Now they faced the main strike force, who’s aim was hunting down the carriers. Captain McCann looked at the tactical situation table. The position of the Japanese battleship picket was being repositioned on the board, showing them in full retreat. McCann had thought the Japanese had done the Americans a huge service, as they had spared countless American ships with their turnabout.

The Japanese attack aircraft moved within
range of the Iowa’s heavy guns. There were so many planes in the air that the
shells were guaranteed to hit something. At that moment Captain McCann felt it
was time give the order to open fire. The picket line of battleships, cruisers and destroyers took aim with
their heavy guns and opened fire, lobbing tons of high explosive shells, miles
into the air, into densely packed aircraft formations. They passed
through many aircraft, tearing off wings, igniting fuel tanks, tearing through
flesh and bone, and leaving wreckage swirling into nose-dives wrought with
black smoke and vapor trails.

In some cases, one shell would disable multiple planes. But, despite destroying some aircraft, the attack formation spread out and kept advancing. Now the Japanese attack wing was directly overhead of the American picket line, within range of the smaller caliber guns. The sixty-four-millimeter anti-aircraft turrets on the Iowa and other ships opened up, firing flak rounds into the formation, designed to explode in mid-air amidst the aircraft. This barrage of flack was far superior to down aircraft than larger caliber shells. It wreaked havoc among the approaching formation. Puffs of smoke peppered the sky marking where the flack rounds exploded, sending white hot shrapnel into the fuselage of fighters. Countless more fighters and bombers took to flame and fell from the sky to impact into the depths below.

The fighter and bomber formation numbers had been dented, but the aircraft that survived the screen continued on to their targets. Miles away the American carriers had scrambled their aircraft to intercept the Japanese attack force. The formation was composed of mainly Hellcat fighters, a single engine, versatile, carrier-based aircraft that was a match for the Japanese Zero. Within minutes, a massive dogfight would take shape above the American fleet.

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Private Burke had just finished feeding
shells into the Mark Seven’s barrels at a steady rate. He had no visual
reference of what had just occurred outside the ship. Burke had estimated that
each barrel had fired off thirty shells within the space of a half hour. Even
with his ear protection his head was ringing, and the fumes of spent rounds
were urging him outside. The all clear sounded and he rushed to the hatch to
get fresh air, Jones followed behind him.

Burke ran over to the bulwark and peered into the surrounding ocean waters. In the distance, he could make out the floating skeletons of down Japanese planes. American vessels had rescued some of the downed Japanese pilots. Others, instead of being picked up by Americans shot themselves with side arms, and were left floating, wrapped up in their parachutes. He could still see traces of the flak round smoke that hovered in the sky over the ships. Burke tried to count the remains of the Japanese planes in the water. He estimated he could count at least twenty, but the picket line spread out for miles so the total number was well beyond his count.