Battle of Midway

June 4–6, 1942

“You will be governed by the principle of calculated risk…” — Admiral Chester W. Nimitz

For Enterprise, the Battle of Midway began in May 1942, with a crucial bit of deception in the South Pacific. In early May, Task Force 16 — centered around Enterprise and Hornet CV-8 — had raced southwest, in an attempt to join Lexington CV-2 and Yorktown CV-5 (under Rear Admiral Frank Jack Fletcher) and deflect the expected Japanese move on Port Moresby, near the southeast tip of New Guinea. Japan’s attempt to capture the port precipitated the Battle of the Coral Sea (7–8 May 1942), which ended the day before TF-16’s arrival. Coral Sea was a narrow strategic victory for the United States. Repelled from Port Moresby, Japan also lost light carrier Shoho, while fleet carrier Shokaku was badly damaged and Zuikaku’s air group was effectively destroyed. US Navy losses included Lexington, while Yorktown sustained heavy damage.

Coral Sea was the only major carrier battle of the war that Enterprise missed. Arriving a day too late, she and Hornet were sent north, to defend phosphorous-rich Ocean and Nauru islands. The cruise north, however, was cut short by two seemingly contradictory messages from Admiral Chester W. Nimitz, Commander in Chief of the Pacific Fleet. The first message originated with Admiral Ernest King, Chief of Naval Operations, who “advised” TF-16’s Commander, Vice Admiral William F. Halsey, not to operate in range of enemy land-based planes, and beyond the range of friendly airfields, “unless especially favorable results” would result. The second order came from Nimitz himself: Halsey should let TF-16 be observed by enemy search planes … but remain out of reach of attack planes.

Halsey followed his instructions to perfection. The next day — May 15, 1942 — an enemy “snooper” appeared on Enterprise’s radar, 70 miles out. The plane was allowed to approach. In a short while, Enterprise’s intelligence unit overheard a contact report sent by the snooper. Fighters were scrambled, but were unable to intercept the first snooper, nor the several that soon arrived to radio contact reports of their own. Sure that Task Force 16 — and the two carriers — had been sighted and reported, Halsey turned his force due east. The next day, Task Force 16 was ordered to “expedite return” to Pearl Harbor … and to avoid being sighted again.

This ploy, and overly optimistic assessments of Coral Sea, led Japanese intelligence to conclude that three US fleet carriers, at most, were operating in the Pacific: Enterprise, Hornet, and possibly Wasp CV-7. By allowing Halsey’s force to be sighted on May 15, Nimitz intended to convince the Japanese that Enterprise and Hornet were deep in the south Pacific, and forestall any operation in that area that Japan might have planned. This, in turn, freed Nimitz to commit both carriers to operations in the north Pacific, over two thousand miles away.

In total, three US carriers stood off Midway on June 4: Enterprise, Hornet and Yorktown. (Midway was the first and only battle where the three Yorktown-class carriers fought together.) Halsey and Task Force 16 arrived in Pearl Harbor on May 26, where the ships reprovisioned hurriedly and sortied on May 28 for the north Pacific. Yorktown limped into Pearl on May 27, entering Dry Dock #1 the next day. Nimitz himself personally inspected the weary carrier before telling the yard manager, “We must have this ship back in three days.” She was. Early May 30, battered, patched, but battleworthy, Yorktown stood out of Pearl Harbor, bringing up the rear of Task Force 17, RADM Fletcher commanding.

Task Forces 16 and 17 rendezvoused on June 2 northeast of Midway, at a spot of empty ocean optimistically designated “Point Luck”. At that time, RADM Fletcher assumed tactical command of the combined force, for VADM Halsey, Fletcher’s senior and normally commander of Task Force 16, was ill. Unrelenting stress and sweltering days in the south Pacific had given Halsey a severe case of dermatitis. Gaunt and sleep-deprived, Halsey had been admitted to the hospital, but not before recommending his own replacement: Rear Admiral Raymond Ames Spruance.

Halsey and Spruance had little in common. Halsey wore aviator’s wings, Spruance was strictly a surface sailor. Halsey commanded a carrier force, Spruance commanded cruisers. Halsey was a fiery, aggressive leader, Spruance cool and reserved. But Halsey respected Spruance’s judgement, and Spruance’s cruisers had operated closely with Halsey’s carriers for months. Moreover, Spruance “inherited” most of Halsey’s able staff, including CDR Miles Browning: arguably the most aggressive carrier tactician in the Pacific at that time. At Midway, Spruance, commanding TF-16, was formally subordinate to RADM Fletcher. As events transpired, however, with few exceptions Spruance called the shots.

”The enemy is not aware of our plans.” — VADM Chuichi Nagumo

“I anticipate that first contact will be made by our search planes out of Midway at 0600 Midway time, 4 June, 325 degrees northwest at a distance of 175 miles.” — Captain Edwin T. Layton

In the days before June 4, evidence grew that Pacific Fleet Intelligence had pulled off a major intelligence coup. Though the Kido Butai — Japan’s “Carrier Striking Force” — had not yet been located, Midway-based planes had made numerous contacts with other Japanese units, including transports approaching from the southeast. Midway PBYs had even scored a torpedo hit on one of the transports shortly before 0200 June 4. And as predicted, the Japanese had struck at Dutch Harbor and other points in the Aleutian islands on June 3, a diversion intended to draw the American fleet out of Pearl Harbor.

Expecting four or five Japanese carriers to close Midway from the northwest, Nimitz’s Operations Plan 29-42 directed Fletcher and Spruance to operate northeast of Midway, on the flank of the anticipated enemy thrust. Fletcher and Spruance were to avoid placing themselves between the enemy and Midway, and instead “inflict maximum damage on enemy by employing strong attrition tactics.” In a separate letter, Nimitz continued: “You will be governed by the principle of calculated risk, which you shall interpret to mean the avoidance of exposure of your force to attack by superior enemy forces without good prospect of inflicting … greater damage on the enemy.”

Dawn on the fourth of June found RADM Fletcher concerned by the lack of information about the enemy’s disposition. That an attack on Midway was imminent there was no doubt, but the whereabouts of the enemy’s carriers remained unknown. With battle expected, Enterprise’s crews had awakened at 0130, taking breakfast between 0300 and 0400, before the pilots and airmen settled in their ready rooms to await instruction. Shortly before dawn, Yorktown launched ten SBD-3s to search north of the US fleet, to a distance of 100 miles.

On Midway, sixteen B-17s had taken off at 0415 to attack enemy transports approaching from the west, and 22 PBYs had set out to find the Japanese carriers. Those carriers, in turn, were now just 240 miles northwest of the atoll — 215 miles west of Task Forces 16 and 17 — and readying their first strike. Under the command of Vice Admiral Chuichi Nagumo, Kaga, Akagi, Soryu and Hiryu prepared 108 planes for launch. Their target was Midway: their mission to soften the atoll’s defenses and eliminate its air strength. The planes were in the air by 0440, when work immediately began on arming an additional 105 aircraft, to strike any American ships that might interfere.

For the pilots in the ready rooms of Enterprise and her sister ships, time seemed to slow to a crawl as they awaited word of the enemy carriers. At 0534, Task Force 16 intercepted a brief, electrifying message from a Midway PBY: “Enemy carriers.” Long minutes passed without amplification. At 0553, a second PBY radioed “Many planes heading Midway.” Finally, at 0603, a solid contact report was received: “2 carriers and battleships bearing 320° distance 180 course 135 speed 25.”

Quick calculations placed the Japanese 175 miles west-southwest from the US task forces. In Yorktown, Fletcher wondered where the other enemy carriers might be. Instead of committing everything immediately, Fletcher decided to hold Yorktown in reserve, and at 0607 instructed Spruance’s Task Force 16: “Proceed southwesterly and attack enemy carriers as soon as definitely located."

"It is not believed that the enemy has any carriers … in the vicinity.” — VADM Chuichi Nagumo

In Enterprise, Spruance and his staff conferred. Within minutes of receiving Fletcher’s message, Spruance decided to launch at 0700: to throw everything Task Force 16 had at the Japanese, who he estimated would be 155 miles distant when found by the attack group. Enterprise and Hornet were both prepared to launch when they turned into the gentle southeast wind at 0656.

Moving at high speed, Enterprise prepares to launch Torpedo Six the morning of June 4, 1942.

When Enterprise began launching at 0700, her flight deck was spotted first with eight Wildcat fighters for Combat Air Patrol, followed by 37 SBD-2 and SBD-3 bombers from Scouting and Bombing Six. By 0725, all the planes were in the air, less four with mechanical troubles. Then, in the words of Enterprise Air Group commander LCDR C. Wade McClusky, things “seemed to come to a standstill.” For long minutes, plane handlers struggled to bring Torpedo Six’s TBD-1 Devastators up to the flight deck. Finally, over 20 minutes after the last Bombing Six SBD had clawed into the air, LCDR Eugene Lindsey’s Torpedo Six launched. But McClusky and the SBDs, signaled by Spruance at 0745 to “proceed on mission assigned,” were already gone. The attack group fragmented further when Fighting Six unintentionally took up station over Hornet’s Torpedo Eight squadron, leaving Torpedo Six without fighter escort.

Meanwhile, a degree of disorganization had also beset the Kido Butai. At 0715, Nagumo ordered that the planes reserved for attacking naval targets be rearmed to attack ground targets. The task was only partially complete when cruiser Tone’s No. 4 float plane found the US fleet, reporting “ten ships, apparently enemy.” For fifteen minutes, Nagumo weighed his options. Finally, at 0745, Nagumo ordered Akagi and Kaga to suspend rearming and again prepare to attack surface ships.

Before the float plane could respond with ship types, more Midway-based planes found the Japanese. Repeated attacks by Marine SBD Dauntlesses, B-17s, and obsolete Vindicator dive-bombers cost many American lives and scored at best a near miss. But they kept the Japanese force in turmoil. At 0820, Tone’s scout revised its report: “Enemy is accompanied by what appears to be a carrier.” For the first time, Nagumo knew with certainty he faced an American flattop. Unable to spare fighters to escort his dive bombers, and constrained by doctrine calling for large coordinated strikes, Nagumo chose to wait until his Midway strike was recovered.

Around this time, the submarine USS Nautilus SS-168 raised its periscope in the middle of the Japanese force. After enduring strafing and depth-charging, Nautilus got off a torpedo at a large enemy ship — a miss. Destroyer Arashi depth-charged her, then broke off the attack at 0918 and sped away to rejoin Nagumo’s force. Under scattered cumulus clouds in an otherwise clear sky, Arashi’s wake etched a brilliant white streak across the calm sea. Like a ghostly thin finger, it pointed directly towards the Kido Butai.

”This is the real thing today, the thing we have trained for, and I will take my squadron in.” — VT-6 Commander LCDR Gene Lindsey

As related earlier, what organization there was in Enterprise’s attack group had fallen apart during the launch. Concerned about fuel consumption, at 0745 Spruance had ordered Bombing and Scouting Six to depart even before Torpedo Six and its fighter escort were airborne. Air Group Commander LCDR C. Wade McClusky had led his bombers west-southwest, on course 231° True, anticipating he’d encounter the Japanese around 0920.

Fighting Six Commander, LT James S. Gray, and ten F4F-4 Wildcats were to protect VT-6’s vulnerable TBD-1 Devastators. But cruising at 20,000 ft., Gray was unable to distinguish one torpedo squadron from another, and inadvertently took up station over Hornet’s Torpedo Eight. Torpedo Eight was the first US carrier squadron to find the enemy fleet. Approaching low and from the northeast, the fifteen Devastators came upon Nagumo’s force at 0920. Waldron divided his squadron to pin his target — likely Akagi — between two groups of planes, but as Zeroes swarmed over them, VT-8 formed up again on Waldron’s TBD. Grinding along at perhaps 100 knots, the Devastators began to fall to the Zeroes. Waldron’s wing tank was hit; just before the plane slammed into the water, he was seen climbing from the cockpit to escape the flames. Of the fifteen planes, only one — Ensign George Gay’s — dropped its torpedo: a miss. Of the thirty men, only one — Ensign George Gay — survived the mission, crashing shortly after his attack, to become a front row spectator for the events that followed.

Torpedo Eight’s attack was nearly finished when Enterprise’s Torpedo Six located the Japanese. Smoke laid by screening ships attracted Lindsey’s attention, and at 0930 he turned northeast to investigate. Lindsey made out three carriers, selected the closest, Kaga, as his target, and like Waldron split his group into two sections for the attack. Spotted by Japanese lookouts at 0938, Torpedo Six was set upon by Zeroes. Kaga soon turned north, forcing LT Arthur V. Ely’s section into a stern chase. Ely radioed for Jim Gray’s Wildcats using the pre-arranged signal — “Come on down, Jim” — but there was no response. After seeing the TBDs they believed were Torpedo Six disappear into clouds, Fighting Six had taken up station some fifteen miles northeast of the Japanese — on the opposite side of the fleet from VT-6’s true position — and awaited the call for assistance. The call, though sent several times, was never received.

The results were predictable. Ely’s section was cut down plane-by-plane by slashing Zero attacks. Two of the seven Devastators survived to make their drops — those flown by Machinist A. Walter Winchell and Chief Machinist Stephen B. Smith — with no results. Lindsey’s section drew fierce opposition when they began their run-in. Four of the seven planes in Lindsey’s section — including Lindsey’s plane itself — were destroyed by Zeroes. The remaining TBDs released their torpedoes to no effect.

Yorktown’s Torpedo Three, despite the benefit of a small fighter escort led by LCDR Thach, suffered similarly. Only one plane of VT-3’s twelve ever returned to Task Force 17.

It is easy to dismiss the torpedo plane attacks as gallant but ineffective. To do so clouds the truth about just how close they came to success. The men and officers in VT-3, VT-6 and VT-8 knew they were flying obsolete planes, knew about the deadly Zero, and knew the powerful force they were taking on. But they were also professionals, and when they found the Japanese, they pressed their attack with skill and determination. They closed in to within a few ship-lengths of their targets before dropping their torpedoes. They closed in close enough to strafe the enemy ships, close enough to force the enemy carriers to make sharp evasive maneuvers, close enough to clearly see warplanes spotted on the flight decks, preparing to strike at their own carriers.

Moreover, the toll that the repeated — apparently futile — attacks had taken on Nagumo’s force was devastating to its defensive cohesion. Akagi was separated by 6000 yards from Kaga and Soryu, too far away for mutual anti-aircraft protection. Hiryu had practically disappeared over the horizon. Many of the patrolling Zeroes still swarmed over the remnants of VT-3, and the remainder were poorly positioned for countering additional attacks. Aboard the ships, the anti-aircraft guns had been brought down to low elevations. In the carriers, the hangar decks were packed with armed and fueled planes. Fuel lines had been left full, and bombs and torpedoes scattered on the hangar decks instead of stowed away in magazines.

”Earl, follow me down.” — Enterprise Air Group Commander LCDR C. Wade McClusky

Enterprise’s Bombing Six and Scouting Six had expected to intercept the enemy at about 0920. Having flown too far southward, and unaware that Nagumo had changed course at 0915 to nearly due north, at 0920 McClusky and his men found nothing but thousands of square miles of empty ocean. Positive the Japanese could not be to the southeast, McClusky continued southwest for another 35 miles, then turned northwest — the reverse of the enemy’s expected course. Under the circumstances, it was a tough decision to make. Enterprise’s bombers had been in the air for more than two hours, and fuel consumption was becoming a worry. Then, at 0947, just a few minutes before he would turn east for home, McClusky spotted the wake of a single ship making good time to the northeast. Suspecting that it might be hurrying to rejoin the main Japanese force, McClusky turned his bombers to parallel the course of the ship: Arashi.

At 1002 — approximately the same time that Torpedo Six’s attack ended and Torpedo Three’s began — the Enterprise bombers found the Japanese. McClusky radioed a brief contact report and made for an attack position. Time was short. One plane — flown by ENS Tony Schneider of VB-6 — ran out of fuel shortly after the sighting, and the remainder were not much better off. But another serious threat was conspicuously absent. As the SBDs reached their pushover point — the point where each bomber would roll into a steep dive on the target below — no enemy fighters interfered, no anti-aircraft shells burst in their midst. Enterprise’s SBDs began their attack unopposed.

Approaching from the southwest, McClusky resolved to attack the two closest carriers: Kaga to the west, Akagi to the east. Bombing Six commander Dick Best radioed McClusky his intent to attack Kaga, but apparently McClusky didn’t receive the message. At 1022, McClusky and his wingmen led LT Earl Gallaher and Scouting Six into the attack. Best was surprised to see friendly planes hurtling past him, plunging down on Kaga. Two sections of Best’s VB-6, missing their commander’s signal to form up, followed as well. Releasing at approximately 1500 feet, McClusky and his wingmen missed, but the next bomb — a 1000-pounder dropped by LT Gallaher — hit Kaga squarely in the aft flight deck, amidships. LT(jg) Norman “Dusty” Kleiss scored a hit alongside Kaga’s forward elevator; a second hit struck fueling equipment, spraying the bridge with burning gasoline. As many as six additional hits followed. In the hangar decks, fuel and munitions set off a conflagration which soon overwhelmed the ship.

To the northeast, at 1026 Dick Best and the remaining planes of VB-6 attacked Akagi. Best and his wingmen scored a hit and two near misses with 1,000-pound bombs on the carrier, with Best’s bomb setting off munitions sitting unprotected in the hangar. Mitsuo Fuchida described the scene:

Looking about, I was horrified at the destruction that had been wrought in a matter of seconds. There was a huge hole in the flight deck just behind the amidship elevator. The elevator itself, twisted like molten glass, was drooping into the hangar. Deck plates reeled upward in grotesque configurations. Planes stood tail up, belching livid flame and jet-black smoke.

In just five minutes, Enterprise’s Scouting Six and Bombing Six destroyed two Japanese fleet carriers. Kaga was abandoned at 1700 and sank at 1925. Akagi was abandoned just after Kaga slipped under the waves, and scuttled before the dawn June 5. Attacking nearly simultaneously with McClusky’s SBDs, Yorktown’s Bombing Three, led by LCDR Max Leslie, inflicted such extreme damage on Soryu that she too sank that evening. A single carrier, Hiryu, escaped damage the morning of June 4.

Recovering from their dives, the surviving bombers faced an equally serious challenge: the flight back to Task Force 16. All of the planes by now were critically low on fuel, and no-one knew exactly where Task Force 16 was. Often, airmen would be informed of a “Point Option” before launch — the anticipated position of the carrier when the planes returned. But this morning, no Point Option had been given. Despite their efforts to conserve fuel, one by one the bombers’ tanks ran dry. ENS Frank O’Flaherty and Bruno P. Gaido AMM 1/c ditched safely and were climbing into their raft — later picked up by a Japanese destroyer, the two men were interrogated and then murdered by drowning. Of the remaining five planes in LT Ware’s group, only one — manned by ENS John McCarthy and Earl Howell ARM 2/c — ever returned to Task Force 16.

In total, five of the fifteen planes in Bombing Six, and eight in Scouting Six, returned to Enterprise (two too damaged to fly again), the last landing just past noon, having spent five hours in the air. In Torpedo Six, just four planes came back, one so damaged that it was immediately pushed overboard.

”Well, I’ve got on my tin hat. I can’t do anything else now!” — RADM Frank Jack Fletcher

Around 1150, Yorktown’s radar made unexpected contact with a group of planes 32 miles west-southwest: eighteen dive-bombers escorted by six fighters, all from the unscathed carrier Hiryu. Launched at 1045, the strike group was guided to Yorktown by a float plane from the cruiser Chikuma. Under Yorktown’s direction, the F4Fs intercepted the enemy strike at 1156. In running the gauntlet formed by VF-3, VF-8 and VF-6, eleven of the eighteen bombers were brought down. The rest scored three bomb hits on Yorktown, reducing her to a single operable boiler. She slowed rapidly, vitally damaged by enemy bombs for the second time in less than a month.

Seeing her flight deck out of action, most of Bombing Squadron Three flew some 30 miles southeast to land aboard Enterprise. The Big E’s crew prepared the new arrivals and the remaining planes of Enterprise Air Group for a second strike. Before Yorktown was attacked, Fletcher had sent out ten SBDs of “Scouting” Five at 1133 to search out to 200 miles. While they wouldn’t make contact soon enough to save Yorktown, they would seal Hiryu’s fate.

Fletcher transferred his flag from the damaged Yorktown to Astoria at 1323. Less than ten minutes later, Hiryu launched her second strike: ten torpedo planes with six Zeroes as escort. Coolly and efficiently, Yorktown’s men had put her fires out, patched up her flight deck, and brought her boilers back on line. At 1350, less than two hours after the attack, she was making five knots. Her men reported her capable of 20.

At 1427, incoming planes were reported 45 miles out. Again, VF-3 and Enterprise’s Fighting Six greeted the intruders, destroying three Zeroes and as many as five torpedo planes. Several torpedo planes slipped through, however. At about 1444, two torpedoes slammed into Yorktown’s port side in succession. Losing steam and electrical power instantly, she listed to port rapidly: six degrees just after being hit, rapidly increasing to 17 and then 26 degrees. Captain Buckmaster commanded to abandon Yorktown at 1455.

Yorktown Avenged

This second attack on Yorktown only increased the tension in Task Force 16. Then, moments after Yorktown was struck by torpedoes, one of her scouts radioed a contact: one carrier, two battleships and escorts, 110 miles west of Yorktown’s midday position. Spruance ordered a strike launched. Available on Enterprise were 25 dive bombers: seven from VS-6, three from VB-6, and the remainder from VB-3, all led by LT Earl Gallaher of Scouting Six. By 1530, planes began rolling down the Big E’s deck.

At 1645 Enterprise’s attack group spotted the target: Hiryu, with several heavy ships. Climbing to 19,000 feet, Scouting Six led the attack from out of the sun at 1705. As Hiryu turned radically, the first three Dauntlesses missed. Then followed a succession of four direct hits on the forward half of her flight deck. Additional hits were scored by VB-3 and Dick Best’s Bombing Six. For the price of three planes, Enterprise and Yorktown had bagged their fourth carrier of the day.

Hiryu burning shortly before sinking, June 5, 1942.*

The Enterprise and Yorktown bombers returned to Task Force 16 at 1808, and all landed by 1834. At 1920, the last fighter from Enterprise’s combat air patrol touched down, and for the airmen who had survived, the long, challenging day came to an end.

June 5

The night of June 4–5 set the stage for the rest of the battle. First, shortly after 1800, Spruance notified Fletcher of the attack on Hiryu, asking if Fletcher had further instructions. Recognizing that he could not effectively fight a carrier battle from the bridge of a cruiser, Fletcher yielded tactical command to Spruance: “Negative. Will conform to your movements.”

Spruance’s instincts in commanding surface forces took over. Despite the pounding the enemy’s carriers had taken, their powerful surface forces remained unharmed. Outnumbered and outclassed in every category of big-gun ship, Spruance could not risk a night engagement. At 1915, Task Force 16 turned due east, away from the Japanese and Midway, and then due north at midnight. At 0255, June 5, Yamamoto ordered a general withdrawal, recognizing the futility of pressing on without air cover.

The Japanese debacle had not yet ended. At 0342, June 5, the US submarine Tambor SS-198 startled Kurita’s cruisers, which were retiring westward 90 miles west of Midway. In executing an emergency turn away from the sub, cruiser Mogami rammed her sistership Mikuma, buckling Mogami’s bow and opening Mikuma’s fuel tanks to the sea. By dawn, the two damaged cruisers, screened by two destroyers, were making 14 knots, a long slick of oil trailing behind them.

At dawn, June 5, Task Force 16 steamed westward. In thick weather, Spruance gave his airmen a well-deserved rest, while waiting for contact reports from Midway’s planes. Pursuing reports of a damaged carrier, CDR Browning proposed launching all available Dauntlesses armed with 1000-pound bombs to attack. The airmen, catching wind of the plan, revolted: lugging a 1000-pound bomb, there was no hope the SBDs would have enough fuel to return to their carriers. A tense confrontation followed on the Flag bridge. In the end, Spruance overrode Browning, telling McClusky, “I will do what you pilots want.”

The strike launched at 1512 failed to find the reported carrier and dove instead on destroyer Tanikaze, which zigzagged furiously and fired “a large volume of small caliber and anti-aircraft fire.” Not a hit was scored — a credit to the destroyer’s commander, CDR Motoi Katsumi.

The attack groups didn’t return to Task Force 16 until after nightfall. Spruance endeared himself to his aviators by ordering TF-16 to illuminate the ships, so the Dauntlesses could land. Enterprise recovered four more SBDs than it had launched — five from Hornet landed on the Big E, while Hornet took in one Scouting Six bomber. There was not a single accident, though many of the pilots were not qualified for night landings.

Battle’s End

The night of June 5–6, Task Force 16 steamed west-northwest. At 0510, Enterprise launched 18 SBDs to search westward out to 200 miles. A contact was soon reported: two heavy cruisers and two destroyers, the hapless Mogami and Mikuma.

Hornet was the first to launch, and on Saturday, June 6, her airmen’s luck changed. Launching at 0757, Hornet put 25 Dauntlesses in the air. At 0950 CDR Stanhope Ring initiated the attack. Mogami took two bomb hits, Mikuma several more. As Hornet recovered her strike at 1035, Enterprise prepared to launch her own: 31 Dauntless dive bombers, accompanied by the last three Torpedo Six Devastators, and an escort of 12 VF-6 Wildcats.

Enterprise’s attack got underway at 1045. Led by LT Wallace Short of Yorktown’s Scouting Five, the group commenced attack on the cruisers at 1215. Again Mogami absorbed two hits, but Mikuma took at least five, leaving her dead in the water, her topside utterly wrecked. Fighting Six made repeated strafing runs on the destroyers, expending 4000 rounds of ammunition.

As Enterprise and Hornet worked over the Japanese cruisers, I-168, the enemy submarine ordered to shell Midway, found Yorktown. By a little after noon, June 6, a salvage party had boarded the carrier and begun stripping her of equipment to reduce her list. At 1334, I-168 fired four torpedoes. One missed, one caught Hammann DD-412 amidships and broke her in half, while the last two ripped open Yorktown’s battered port side. At 0458, June 7, Yorktown — sistership of Enterprise and Hornet — rolled over and settled beneath the waves.

Shortly afterwards, Enterprise launched her last mission of the battle: two SBDs equipped with cameras, to photograph the enemy ships. Mogami managed to escape, eventually reaching Truk and out of action for over a year. The SBDs found Mikuma settling quickly: the photos they took rank among the best known of the Pacific War.

The Japanese cruiser Mikuma sinking following multiple attacks by Enterprise and Hornet dive-bombers, 6 June 1942.

The Consequences

Shortly after the final attacks on Mikuma, Spruance concluded it would be best to break off pursuit of the enemy, as he would soon be in range of enemy planes based on Wake Island. At 1900, Task Force 16, its ships full of exhausted but victorious aviators and sailors, turned east, first to rendezvous with oilers, and then to proceed southeast to Pearl Harbor, arriving late June 13.

For a number of reasons, the decisive role that Enterprise and the US Navy played at Midway remained under-appreciated for some time. Stories of the Army Air Force’s exploits during the battle reached the news media first. Despite the fact that not a single hit was scored by the AAF’s bombers, initially they received much of the credit for the destruction of Nagumo’s carriers. Only time and the lifting of the veils of secrecy and censorship would reveal the facts.

The Army and Marine planes based at Midway deserve full credit for their attacks on the enemy carriers, and the disruption they caused. Yet at twenty minutes past ten, the morning of June 4, 1942, dive bombers from Enterprise and Yorktown found four undamaged enemy carriers, preparing to launch a powerful attack against the US fleet. Six minutes later, three of those carriers were infernos. Enterprise destroyed two enemy carriers in those six minutes, Yorktown one. Aviators from both carriers, flying from Enterprise, destroyed the fourth carrier later that same day.

In no other battle was Enterprise so instrumental in forging decisive victory as she was at Midway. In no other battle did Enterprise — or arguably any other US Navy ship — deliver in a single blow such a stunning reversal to Japanese fortune.

Midway was a brilliant, inspired and fortuitous victory for the United States. In a single stroke, the US Navy, assisted by the Marines and the Army Air Force, essentially “leveled the playing field” in the Pacific. But the battle was not — as it is frequently referred to — the turning point of the war in the Pacific. The moment when the tide of fortunes would turn irreversibly in the Allies’ favor was still many months away. The decision would be reached in the South Pacific, on New Guinea, and on a then-unfamiliar island at the eastern end of the Solomon Islands, named Guadalcanal.

Beginning in August 1942, six months of brutal land and naval battles would bloody Guadalcanal and the surrounding seas. In those six months, no other US carrier would be more heavily engaged than Enterprise.

[1] All times in this article are Midway time: GMT minus 12 hours.

[2] Yorktown’s original VS-5 (Scouting Five) had been relieved after Coral Sea. Immediately before Midway, VB-5 (Bombing Five) was redesignated VS-5, and Saratoga’s VB-3 took VB-5’s place.

[3] In August 1942, Marines on Guadalcanal named their captured airfield Henderson Field, in honor of Major Henderson.

[4] The SBD flown by ENS Eldor Rodenburg had turned back due to engine trouble.