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the spring of 1942, Japan's leaders faced a dilemma. Their conquest had progressed faster
than expected; the problem was what to do next. Some military leaders suggested that Japan strike the war-torn British Empire in India and the Middle East, then link up with German forces in Southern Russia and North Africa. Take Australia, counseled the Japanese Navy, this was the obvious starting point for an Allied counterattack. The Army opposed both ideas. Japan's ground troops were already stretched thin. Either campaign would weaken them even more. In early March, a less grandiose plan was accepted. Japan would extend its empire southeast, cutting the sea lanes between Australia and America by seizing the islands of New Guinea, New Caledonia, Fiji and Samoa. The first step was the capture of port Moresby, a key Allied base on the south coast of New Guinea, 400 miles from Australia. For two months, Japan strengthened its bases in the area, especially Rabaul on the island of New Britain. By May 4th, a formidable naval force had been amassed, and the 11 transports destined for Port Moresby headed south from Rabaul. The move didn't surprise Admiral Chester Nimitz, commander of the U.S. Pacific Fleet. U.S. cryptoanalysts had broken the Japanese naval code and Nimitz already had sent two carriers - the Lexington and Yorktown - to the Coral Sea to stop the Japanese. The battle that followed would be epochal: the first naval engagement in which the opposing ships never fired a shot at each other. Japan's campaign began with an invasion of the small island of Tulagi. The U.S. struck back quickly with planes from the Yorktown. Overzealous pilots sent back exaggerated reports of the numbers of warships they'd sunk. In reality, little damage was done, but the Japanese now knew that U.S. carriers were nearby. For three days carriers on both sides evaded detection, concealed by a wide band of clouds. But on the morning of May 7, an excited Japanese search pilot reported a U.S. carrier and cruiser. Dozens of bombers were launched from the carriers Shokaku and Zuikaku, only to find two small U.S. ships, the destroyer Sims and the oiler Neosho. Disappointed Japanese pilots flew off to find the main U.S. force. When that quest failed, they returned to bomb the two small ships. The Sims went down in less than a minute; the Neosho was left burning and helplessly adrift. Thirty minutes later, 200 miles to the northeast, Lieutenant Commander W. L. Hamilton from the Lexington was flying at 15,000 feet when he spotted "a number of thin white hairs on the blue sea." Following the wakes with his field glasses, he sighted the carrier Shoho with its escort of cruisers and destroyers, 30 miles away. Air Group Commander William Ault led his bombers down first. Numerous bombs and torpedoes ripped into the small carrier. Flames seared the flight deck. Half an hour into the attack, the Shoho's power died, the water pumps failed, and fires spread out of control. The order was given: abandon ship. Four minutes later, nothing remained but an oily black stain on the emerald waters. For the first time in history, a Japanese carrier had been sunk. Back on the U.S. carricrs, sailors and air crews crowded around radios for news of the atrack. Snatches of pilot conversations conveyed more transmission static than information until Lt. Commander Robert Dixon's voice suddenly burst through loud and clear. "Scratch one flattop." The men roared i n triumph. Rain clouds temporarily halted the hostilities, but planes from both fleets took off early the next morning in search of the enemy. By noon, both sides scored. Thirry-nine planes from the Yorktown descended on the Japanese carriers Shokaku and Zuikaku. But the American pilots, making their first attack on a well-defended carrier, fared poorly. Dive-bombers waited for torpedo planes to get into position, which gave the Shokaku time to launch several Zeroes and allowed the Zuikaku to escape into a rain squall. U.S. torpedoes splashed wide of the mark or misfired, as was often the case early in the war. But three bombs seriously damaged the Shokaku's flight deck. Slowly, the stout carrier withdrew northward, out of the battle. Japanese pilots had better luck. With only 15 American fighters on combat air patrol, the U.S. carriers had little protection. A 551 -pound bomb slashed through four decks of the Yorktown, igniting fires, killing 66 men, and forcing the ship to limp back to Pearl Harbor for repairs. The Lexington was not so fortunate. Lieutenant Commander Shizekazu Shimazaki, leader of the second wave at Pearl Harbor, dove his squadron of Kate torpedo planes at the Lexington. There was a "wall of anti-aircraft fire", he recalled. "Burning and shattered planes of both sides plunged from the skies". But Shimazaki's squadron was not to be denied. Two small bombs hit the flattop's deck and smokestack. Two well-placed torpedoes tore into its port side. Fires spread, trapping sailors below deck. Water gushed into the boiler rooms and the ship began to list. Within the hour crew members extinguished the fires and had the ship almost on an even keel. The damage seemed under control until an electric motor spark ignited aviation fuel vapors below deck. A tumultuous explosion wrenched the 900-foot long carrier. The power went out as fires raced through the hull. The decision was made to scuttle her and four torpedoes from the destroyer Phelps sent the "Lady Lex" down. The first American flattop had been scratched. The Battle of the Coral Sea was a tactical victory for the Japanese. They sunk one large carrier at the expense of one small one. But the Coral Sea was a strategic victory for the U.S. Japan forfeited two large carriers slated for the Midway operation. The Shokaku would take two months to repair, and the Zuikaku was missing too many planes and pilots to continue. The invasion of Port Moresby was postponed, as it turned out, forever.  |
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