LXIII: Yamato's Death (3/44)
LXIII: Yamato’s Death, March 1944
Alabama was just the first of many. Less than a quarter of an hour after the crew of the Alabama was ordered to abandon ship, Ise became the first major Japanese loss for the day. The Fuso, damaged in the first American attack of the four-day battle, soon became the second. Before the hour was out, Yamamoto was informed of a third loss: the US Marines had conquered the island of Dublon, including the vital fuel stores there. Truk’s fate was now sealed. As American fire rained down on the Musashi, Yamamoto wondered if his was too.
At 0715, Yamamoto was surprised when he received word of an order from the Emperor, directing him back to the Home Islands, “immediately and without regard to the present situation of the battle with the Americans”. The first order that he had received in many months upset the grand admiral, who still believed victory lay within reach. As long as the rain continued, leaving the Musashi was impossible, so Yamamoto took the opportunity to explain his strategy for the rest of the battle to Vice Admiral Keizo Komura, the Musashi’s captain and man Yamamoto trusted to carry the Combined Fleet to victory.
Barely fifteen minutes later, the rain stopped for the first time since the middle of the night, and Yamamoto headed for his transport back to Japan. The F1M2 (“Pete”) scout plane was one of the few Japanese aircraft to survive the battle, and now admiral and Emperor were relying on it to do so again. As he got into the cockpit, he yelled out to the sailors on the Musashi’s deck, undeterred by the gunfire and noise of battle. “By following this order to leave, I am doing my duty to the Emperor. I trust that you will do yours. Banzai!”. Mere seconds after the scout plane was catapulted into the air, a massive explosion rocked the Musashi. Yamamoto’s first thought was that if he could fly out of the battle, American bombers could fly into it.
Spruance was ordering his bombers to do just that. The trip from carrier to the battleships was just a forty minute journey, enough time for the Japanese to reduce the Massachusetts to a crippled wreck and an abandon ship order to go out. Then it would be bombs, not water, that would rain down on the Imperial Navy. Aside from the Yamashiro and a handful of destroyers, Japan had nothing to oppose the aerial onslaught, and those destroyers were quickly being picked off as more American cruisers joined the battle.
As the largest and least damaged Japanese ships, Shinano and Yamato would suffer the brunt of the new American attacks. Yamato, already damaged from fighting off three different American battleships throughout the morning, suffered a further six torpedo and nine bomb hits, developing a dramatic list to port in the process. Shinano was recorded as being hit by no fewer than twenty-two bombs and twelve torpedoes, before a fire spread to an ammunition store. A great explosion shattered the ship, which was doomed to capsize just minutes later. A combination of surface gunfire and Helldiver bombs destroyed the Musashi not long afterwards.
The bombing efforts further damaged the Mutsu’s steering system, ruining the recent work that had allowed the ship to join the battle in the first place. The ship’s captain, Teruhiko Miyoshi, decided that repairing it now would be impossible, and was sure that the ship would be destroyed in a matter of hours. Admiral Komura had died on board the Musashi, leaving no-one to oppose any orders Miyoshi gave. Miyoshi ordered the ship accelerate to full speed, and would continue on the current course until he rammed the ship into the American lines. He had no hope of retreat, and not enough fuel to reach any Japanese owned bases. If the Mutsu was going to die, it was going to take as many Americans down with it as it could. As the Mutsu steamed to the southwest, an American submarine destroyed the Yamashiro, the only other Japanese capital ship still afloat.
Unsurprisingly, a battleship heading straight for their lines at 24 knots alarmed the Americans, and every gun within range was pointed towards the Mutsu as quickly as they could be aimed in that direction. Bombers were vectored towards the “battleship gone mad”, while Mutsu pointed her guns at the nearest targets that could be found. The first of these was the light cruiser San Juan, which was sunk within a matter of minutes. Captain Miyoshi then directed his guns towards the heavy cruiser Boston, but the Mutsu’s rampage would be brought to an end before any more shells could be fired. The Indiana, which had fired the first shot of the day’s battle, would also fire the last.
***
The flight away from the decisive battle had been three hours of pure misery for Grand Admiral Yamamoto. Yamamoto had not wanted to abandon his men, especially not during the greatest battle the nation would ever be a part of. The order being directly from the Emperor made the situation easier to accept, but it did not improve his mood.
When the F1M2 landed on the Taiyo, Yamamoto was greeted with news from the decisive battle, sent by Komura as per his final order before departing. The news was terrible: virtually every ship that had been a part of the battle was destroyed, or looked certain to be when the radio on the Yamashiro was knocked out. The Taiyo and three destroyers were all that remained of a fleet that four days ago looked set to drive the Americans from the Pacific forever.
The Taiyo was on a course for Palau, where it would be able to pick up enough fuel to get back to Tokyo (Yamamoto thought it strange how plentiful the fuel supplies seemed now that his fleet had been destroyed). Further instructions, he was told, would await him there. Without a navy to fight with, he didn’t see the point. He would offer his resignation to the Emperor, and then he hoped that the new government would find a way to make peace before the Americans wrecked the Japanese Empire any further.
En route to Tokyo, Yamamoto found out that one of the sailors on board the Taiyo was none other than the grandson of the great Admiral Togo. Lieutenant Ryoichi Togo had been serving on the heavy cruiser Maya until that ship’s sinking near Fiji in late 1942, and had ended up with duties on the light carrier sometime afterwards. The two quickly formed a strong friendship, which greatly helped pass the time.
“Your grandfather was a great man.” Yamamoto said one day, as the Taiyo neared Tokyo.
“You are a great man too.” Togo replied. “My grandfather would be proud.”
Yamamoto could not help thinking that he had spent the last three years fighting as if it were the Russo-Japanese War all over again. He had been using the senior Togo’s strategy all this time, only he had failed. If only the Americans had not been so feeble as the Tsar had been...
“I really hope so.” Yamamoto said at last.
- BNC
Alabama was just the first of many. Less than a quarter of an hour after the crew of the Alabama was ordered to abandon ship, Ise became the first major Japanese loss for the day. The Fuso, damaged in the first American attack of the four-day battle, soon became the second. Before the hour was out, Yamamoto was informed of a third loss: the US Marines had conquered the island of Dublon, including the vital fuel stores there. Truk’s fate was now sealed. As American fire rained down on the Musashi, Yamamoto wondered if his was too.
At 0715, Yamamoto was surprised when he received word of an order from the Emperor, directing him back to the Home Islands, “immediately and without regard to the present situation of the battle with the Americans”. The first order that he had received in many months upset the grand admiral, who still believed victory lay within reach. As long as the rain continued, leaving the Musashi was impossible, so Yamamoto took the opportunity to explain his strategy for the rest of the battle to Vice Admiral Keizo Komura, the Musashi’s captain and man Yamamoto trusted to carry the Combined Fleet to victory.
Barely fifteen minutes later, the rain stopped for the first time since the middle of the night, and Yamamoto headed for his transport back to Japan. The F1M2 (“Pete”) scout plane was one of the few Japanese aircraft to survive the battle, and now admiral and Emperor were relying on it to do so again. As he got into the cockpit, he yelled out to the sailors on the Musashi’s deck, undeterred by the gunfire and noise of battle. “By following this order to leave, I am doing my duty to the Emperor. I trust that you will do yours. Banzai!”. Mere seconds after the scout plane was catapulted into the air, a massive explosion rocked the Musashi. Yamamoto’s first thought was that if he could fly out of the battle, American bombers could fly into it.
Spruance was ordering his bombers to do just that. The trip from carrier to the battleships was just a forty minute journey, enough time for the Japanese to reduce the Massachusetts to a crippled wreck and an abandon ship order to go out. Then it would be bombs, not water, that would rain down on the Imperial Navy. Aside from the Yamashiro and a handful of destroyers, Japan had nothing to oppose the aerial onslaught, and those destroyers were quickly being picked off as more American cruisers joined the battle.
As the largest and least damaged Japanese ships, Shinano and Yamato would suffer the brunt of the new American attacks. Yamato, already damaged from fighting off three different American battleships throughout the morning, suffered a further six torpedo and nine bomb hits, developing a dramatic list to port in the process. Shinano was recorded as being hit by no fewer than twenty-two bombs and twelve torpedoes, before a fire spread to an ammunition store. A great explosion shattered the ship, which was doomed to capsize just minutes later. A combination of surface gunfire and Helldiver bombs destroyed the Musashi not long afterwards.
The bombing efforts further damaged the Mutsu’s steering system, ruining the recent work that had allowed the ship to join the battle in the first place. The ship’s captain, Teruhiko Miyoshi, decided that repairing it now would be impossible, and was sure that the ship would be destroyed in a matter of hours. Admiral Komura had died on board the Musashi, leaving no-one to oppose any orders Miyoshi gave. Miyoshi ordered the ship accelerate to full speed, and would continue on the current course until he rammed the ship into the American lines. He had no hope of retreat, and not enough fuel to reach any Japanese owned bases. If the Mutsu was going to die, it was going to take as many Americans down with it as it could. As the Mutsu steamed to the southwest, an American submarine destroyed the Yamashiro, the only other Japanese capital ship still afloat.
Unsurprisingly, a battleship heading straight for their lines at 24 knots alarmed the Americans, and every gun within range was pointed towards the Mutsu as quickly as they could be aimed in that direction. Bombers were vectored towards the “battleship gone mad”, while Mutsu pointed her guns at the nearest targets that could be found. The first of these was the light cruiser San Juan, which was sunk within a matter of minutes. Captain Miyoshi then directed his guns towards the heavy cruiser Boston, but the Mutsu’s rampage would be brought to an end before any more shells could be fired. The Indiana, which had fired the first shot of the day’s battle, would also fire the last.
***
The flight away from the decisive battle had been three hours of pure misery for Grand Admiral Yamamoto. Yamamoto had not wanted to abandon his men, especially not during the greatest battle the nation would ever be a part of. The order being directly from the Emperor made the situation easier to accept, but it did not improve his mood.
When the F1M2 landed on the Taiyo, Yamamoto was greeted with news from the decisive battle, sent by Komura as per his final order before departing. The news was terrible: virtually every ship that had been a part of the battle was destroyed, or looked certain to be when the radio on the Yamashiro was knocked out. The Taiyo and three destroyers were all that remained of a fleet that four days ago looked set to drive the Americans from the Pacific forever.
The Taiyo was on a course for Palau, where it would be able to pick up enough fuel to get back to Tokyo (Yamamoto thought it strange how plentiful the fuel supplies seemed now that his fleet had been destroyed). Further instructions, he was told, would await him there. Without a navy to fight with, he didn’t see the point. He would offer his resignation to the Emperor, and then he hoped that the new government would find a way to make peace before the Americans wrecked the Japanese Empire any further.
En route to Tokyo, Yamamoto found out that one of the sailors on board the Taiyo was none other than the grandson of the great Admiral Togo. Lieutenant Ryoichi Togo had been serving on the heavy cruiser Maya until that ship’s sinking near Fiji in late 1942, and had ended up with duties on the light carrier sometime afterwards. The two quickly formed a strong friendship, which greatly helped pass the time.
“Your grandfather was a great man.” Yamamoto said one day, as the Taiyo neared Tokyo.
“You are a great man too.” Togo replied. “My grandfather would be proud.”
Yamamoto could not help thinking that he had spent the last three years fighting as if it were the Russo-Japanese War all over again. He had been using the senior Togo’s strategy all this time, only he had failed. If only the Americans had not been so feeble as the Tsar had been...
“I really hope so.” Yamamoto said at last.
- BNC
