72 years ago this morning, the brilliant skies over the central Pacific filled with the roar of engines. Hundreds of aircraft roared into the blue and began searching the glittering water below. Thousands of fresh-faced young men converged on the remote atoll of Midway…to kill each other.
Not much more than three small patches of wind-swept sand, Midway had become the fulcrum on which the United States and the Empire of Japan would try to shift the balance of their part of World War II. “Midway Island stands as a sentry for Hawaii,” the Japanese high command noted.
America’s Doolittle Raid had done insignificant physical damage to the home islands of Japan, but the psychic blow had been considerable. Horrified by the outside possibility that the few bombs that fell on Tokyo might have harmed the august person of the Emperor, the squabbling Imperial Army and Navy united when they decided the medium-range bombers must have come from a land base, and Midway was the only possibility. This threat was intolerable, and a major naval operation was swiftly mounted to invade and capture Midway. The Americans would have to respond, it was reasoned, because Midway was only1500 miles from Hawaii, and when they did – presumably in a hastily-planned reaction to Japan’s seizure of the airfield – the Kido Butai, the Mobile Force, the largest and most thoroughly-trained carrier force there had ever been, would be refreshed and waiting in ambush. The long-imagined decisive battle seemed to be at hand!
Unknown to the Japanese, and even to most Americans, the Americans knew about the planned attack. It had been clear for some time that Japan held the strategic initiative and would strike somewhere, but where? Codebreakers in Hawaii monitored indications something major was being organized to attack a target called only “AF,” but where would be the point of attack? What was “AF?” Midway seemed plausible, but there were those arguing otherwise. The Hawaii codebreakers laid a “cipher trap,” using a secure undersea cable to tell Midway to signal that its water distillation plant had broken down, and shortly thereafter, an Australian listening station picked up routine Japanese radio traffic notifying high command that AF was out of fresh water.
Although the US Pacific Fleet was down to two functioning carriers at that point and the Japanese had dedicated six to the Midway invasion operation, there were some balancing factors. Firstly, Midway itself was an island – an unsinkable “aircraft carrier.” Secondly, the USS Yorktown, badly damaged in the Battle of the Coral Sea and expected to undergo a 90-day refit, would be turned around and readied for battle in three days and nights of Herculean labor, giving America three fleet carriers. Lastly, the Americans had the greatest weapon in war – knowledge of the enemy’s plans and intentions, thanks to their intelligence staff.
Additionally, the Japanese plan was over-complicated, dispersing their strength (including sending two precious carriers on a diversion to the Aleutians) in an effort to dazzle and confuse their enemy. The Americans, however, lacked the strength to respond to diversions and concentrated what they did have for the main event.
And so, when Japan’s four fleet carriers arrived to disable Midway for the invasion force, expecting to surprise their enemies, three American carriers were lying in ambush themselves.
The battle began badly for the United States. After the Japanese first strike damaged Midway’s airpower, a series of counterstrikes from Midway accomplished nothing, and the inexperienced US carrier pilots (already launched piecemeal rather than organized into a single strike) became separated, lost track of the Japanese carriers (which had made a prudent course change since being sighted) and eventually dribbled in in confused fashion. Entire squadrons of American torpedo planes were shot down in separate attacks without scoring any hits.
And then, around 10:00 am, through a legendary series of lucky breaks and shrewd guesses, dive bombers from USS Enterprise and Yorktown arrived over the Kido Butai. In five minutes’ work, they left IJN carriers Kaga, Akagi, and Soryu burning and sinking. Only the Hiryu, hidden by a squall, escaped, and only temporarily. She was sunk later that afternoon by dive bombers from Enterprise.
But the American triumph was not without cost. Many aircrew fell to Japanese guns, and many coolly, deliberately pressed on past the limits of their fuel and ditched in the ocean, facing uncertain rescue. More dramatically, the USS Yorktown had been hit twice by strikes from the Hiryu before she was put out of action. After several bouts of repair and attempted tows, she was abandoned; later, while being towed to Hawaii, she was ambushed by a Japanese submarine and finished off. The “final score” is available on the Wikipedia page, but the impact of the battle was profound – Japan was forced permanently onto the defensive.
Among the young men who leaped from the burning Yorktown into the deep Pacific was one named Jack Crawford. He would survive jumping overboard, survive the war itself, and would eventually go on to a distinguished career as a nuclear safety expert. I’ve met him and talked to him on the phone a few times in a professional context.
Here is an interview with Captain Crawford on the battle, given less than a month ago.
This morning he was scheduled to sit in the rightmost chair, the place for the senior survivor of the battle, at the Midway 72nd Anniversary event, half a block from where I write this. But he was not present. I hope he is merely resting.
Captain Crawford is ninety-five years old on this brilliant June morning.