STRIKE: A Novel of the Battle of Midway Read online

  STRIKE: a novel of the Battle of Midway

  By Craig DiLouie

  STRIKE: a novel of the Battle of Midway

  ©2021 Craig DiLouie. All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. All people, places, things, and events portrayed in this novel are either fictitious or used fictitiously.

  Admiral Halsey’s quote is as reported in Attack on Pearl Harbor by Roger Parkinson. Lieutenant John Thach’s quote is from the U.S. Naval Institute’s oral history. The song the pilots sing is “Bury Me Not on The Lone Prairie,” which is in the public domain. Nimitz’s speech at the award ceremony and Harry’s citation are based on N. Jack Kleiss’s terrific memoir, Never Call Me a Hero. Nimitz’s statement about the function of the Navy and Halsey’s statement about killing the Japanese are similarly based on actual quotes. The ending quote from the Midway Monument was written by the American Battle Monuments Commission.

  Cover by Brent Nichols. Cover art by Jack Fellows.

  Published by ZING Communications, Inc.

  www.CraigDiLouie.com

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  STRIKE

  HISTORICAL NOTE

  While this book is based on real events occurring in the Pacific in 1941-42, significant artistic license was taken to create a compelling work of fiction, which included some tweaking of names, events, and timing.

  As just one example, fictional characters take the place of Lieutenant-Commander Dick Best’s wingmen—Lieutenant, junior-grade Ed Kroeger and Ensign Frederick Weber—during the Battle of Midway. Airman Bruno Gaido is similarly replaced by a fictional gunner. Astute readers may also recognize the Midway Memorial visited in 1960 in this novel’s postscript wasn’t erected by the American Battle Monuments Commission until 2015. The moment and inscription, however, is powerful and fits.

  Otherwise, every effort was taken to accurately capture what it was like to live during this turbulent period and face the Imperial Japanese Navy in air-sea combat.

  For the real thing, be sure to check out the many great historical works about the Pacific War covering the events from the Pearl Harbor attack up to this decisive battle. Sources for this novel (in no particular order) included Never Call Me a Hero by N. Jack “Dusty” Kleiss, Enterprise by Barrett Tillman, The Battle of Midway by Craig L. Symonds, Wade McClusky And The Battle of Midway by David Rigby, World War II: Carrier War by Stephen W. Sears, Dec. 7, 1941: The Day the Japanese Attacked Pearl Harbor by Gordon W. Prange, Carrier! Life Aboard a World War II Aircraft Carrier by Lt. Commander Max Miller, How Carriers Fought: Carrier Operations in WWII by Lars Celander, and Douglas SBD Dauntless Pilot’s Flight Operating Instructions by the U.S. Navy.

  Of course, any errors are the author’s. If you’re a history buff and see any you’d like to share with Craig, email him at [email protected].

  “Tora! Tora! Tora!”

  —Japanese code word radioed by Captain Mitsuo Fuchida, strike commander to the Imperial Japanese Navy flagship, to signal the first wave had achieved total surprise at Pearl Harbor

  “Before we're through with them, the Japanese language will be spoken only in Hell.”

  —Admiral Bull Halsey as he surveyed the attack’s horrific aftermath

  “The whole course of the war in the Pacific may hinge on the developments of the next two or three days.”

  —Admiral Chester William Nimitz, Sr., Commander in Chief, on the eve of the Battle of Midway

  “The air was just like a beehive.... I was utterly convinced then that we weren’t coming back. There were still so many Zeros.... Then I saw this glint in the sun—it looked like a beautiful silver waterfall. These were the dive bombers coming down.”

  —Lieutenant John S. Thach, commander of the Fighting Five (USS Yorktown)

  COUNTDOWN TO WAR

  As 1941 drew to a close, the United States remained a neutral power in a world embroiled in war. Nazi Germany had overrun most of Europe and invaded the Soviet Union. In the East, the Empire of Japan continued its war against China while pushing into French Indochina to cut American aid to its enemy.

  A year earlier, Japan signed the Tripartite Pact with Germany and Italy to form the Axis Powers, a warning to America that if it attacked Japan, it would find itself at war in the Atlantic as well as the Pacific.

  Public opinion in the United States held steady against war, forcing President Franklin Delano Roosevelt to carefully navigate U.S. interests in these conflicts while placing the nation on a war footing.

  Starting in 1938, the U.S. began to restrict trade with Japan, culminating in freezing the empire’s assets and cutting off oil sales. This strained Japan’s war economy, as its leaders believed the empire had only enough oil reserves to operate its fleets and aircraft for two years.

  In 1940, Roosevelt ordered the Pacific Fleet west to base at Pearl Harbor.

  While diplomats from the two nations negotiated how to improve their deteriorating relations, Japan’s military planned an ambitious military campaign against Western European colonial possessions in southeast Asia, including the grand prize of the Dutch East Indies with its rich oilfields.

  The only problem was their flank would be open to an American response from its bases in the Philippines. If Japan made its move, would America intervene?

  Japan’s leadership divided over whether they should attack the United States first and whether they could win such a fight, especially in a prolonged conflict.

  Believing a long war was unwinnable, Prime Minister Konoe made a case for negotiation and concessions. Minister of War General Tōjō and Chief of the Imperial Japanese Navy (IJN) General Staff Fleet Admiral Nagano argued that further negotiation was no longer useful, stating the only way to satisfy U.S. demands was to give up everything the empire had gained in China.

  Konoe resigned, and the hardliner Tōjō became prime minister. Tokyo offered to exit Indochina in exchange for an aid package, but the U.S. rejected this and repeated its demand that Japan leave China.

  In early November, Nagano presented a bold and revolutionary plan to Emperor Hirohito. The brainchild of Admiral Yamamoto, the plan involved an attack against the American Pacific Fleet at Pearl Harbor using carrier-based planes.

  After neutralizing it, they could seize all southeast Asia without interference. By the time the Pacific Fleet recovered, Japan would have a strong defensive ring established to safeguard its empire and possibly invade the Territory of Hawaii.

  On December 1, the emperor approved this audacious gamble.

  The attack force was already underway and crossing the Pacific in the event that peace negotiations failed. Consisting of six aircraft carriers and numerous warships, submarines, and support vessels, it carried the strongest naval air force ever assembled, more than three hundred fifty planes.

  Led by Yamamoto himself, the fleet had been tasked by Nagano to deliver a “fatal blow” to the Pacific Fleet.

  The war, which had engulfed so much of the world, was coming to America.

  The resulting conflict would last four nearly years, span the world’s largest ocean, and kill millions. It was a fight between giants, though its battles were won or lost due to the actions of individuals. While the actions of a single person may not win a war, wars are won by the sum of the actions of those who fight them.

  “There aren’t any great men,” Admiral William “Bull” Halsey would remark during the war. “There are just great challenges that ordinary men like you and me are forced by circumstances to meet.”

  This is th
e story of one such man, a pilot serving aboard the USS Enterprise in the Bombing Six.

  THE NUGGET

  Major air and naval installations on the island of Oahu, Territory of Hawaii, December 1941.

  1

  WAR IN THE AIR

  Just before the war started, Navy Ensign Harry Hartmann found himself thirty dollars in the hole. He was also only minutes away from performing an impromptu “carrier landing” on the rough ground outside the Wheeler Airfield Officers’ Club.

  The patrons had all cleared out hours ago except for him and several boozy pilots from the Hawaiian Air Force’s 47th Pursuit Squadron. Ceiling fans lazily churned cigarette smoke wafting up from their table, where Wild Bill dealt fresh poker hands from his deck of cards.

  Harry was having the time of his life.

  Just yesterday morning, he’d arrived at Oahu by steamer and marched straight to the Pearl Harbor docks to report to the personnel office and subsequently to the aircraft carrier Enterprise. Fresh from advanced flight training, where he’d learned to fly the scout bomber Douglas (SBD) Dauntless plane, Harry was an ensign and a nugget—a pilot on his first deployment, a diamond in the rough awaiting polish.

  Only Enterprise hadn’t been there, probably held up by bad weather or some other mishap. So he did what any young Navy man did given surprise liberty, which was sightseeing with one eye looking for opportunity to get into some serious trouble.

  Wild Bill and his comrades had discovered the wide-eyed nugget wandering around Pearl City and offered to show him the sights. The warm, muggy night suddenly opened with the promise of adventure and mischief. Harry had bounded after them like a puppy with a busted leash, and they’d toured Honolulu’s fleshpots before driving north to Wheeler to play poker through the night.

  These Army Air Corps guys were a different tribe, and ever since they found out he hailed from Nebraska they’d started annoyingly calling him cowboy. They were all right, though, and they’d taken him under their wing.

  They were at most only a few years older, but to Harry they seemed far wiser and more worldly. He loved listening to their stories, envied their easygoing familiarity and inside jokes.

  “You guys are the best,” he said. “I mean it.”

  Wild Bill smiled as he finished dealing. Sporting a pencil-thin mustache, he projected the very image of a dashing movie pilot. “Always glad to give a warm welcome to a fellow traveler in the big green machine.”

  “I have to get back, though.” The sun had come up hours ago, the time was approaching 0800, and the night’s buzz had faded to a sullen, mild headache. “This will have to be my last hand, gentlemen.”

  Big Red fixed Harry with a bloodshot glare. “We’re playing until we’re done, cowboy, unless you plan on walking back.”

  “The party isn’t over,” Wild Bill chimed in. “Don’t give up on us yet.”

  Harry considered arguing the point but decided against it. Big Red was brusque and intimidating, and being a nugget, he wanted these guys to like him, even if they were Army. Besides all that, he really was hoping they’d give him a ride back to Pearl, which was five miles south.

  He shrugged and swept his cards from the table. “I can stay a little longer.”

  “Good man. All for one and one for all.”

  Harry inspected his hand to find a lousy pair of threes. Even when playing seven-card draw, he kept pulling garbage. He had no luck tonight.

  When it came his turn to bet, he called by tossing two dollars in the pot, hoping he’d get a good draw. Wild Bill had told him a couple times that his luck was bound to turn around, and Harry hoped he was right.

  He said, “Don’t you guys have to fly today?”

  “It’s Sunday.” The pilot lit a fresh cigarette. “The day of rest.”

  “Then I hope the Japs don’t attack on a Sunday.”

  The men chuckled, though they tensed a little in their chairs. Everybody knew President Roosevelt had boxed Japan into a corner by cutting off American oil.

  Without oil, Japan couldn’t run its navy. Without its navy, it couldn’t dream its dreams of empire; its only choice was to go big or go home.

  Now war was in the air, thick as thunderheads in the atmosphere at Pearl, a coming storm expected to burst at any moment.

  Big Red belched. “If they attack us first, it’ll be the Philippines that gets it.”

  Oahu based the Pacific Fleet and numerous warships and airfields, and it bristled with guns. Local commanders worried far more about sabotage from Japanese agents than a foolhardy direct attack.

  “Then they’ll send us over,” Wild Bill said. “And we’ll show their emperor what’s what and put the yellow boys in their place.”

  “The Army will win the war. The Navy’s job is to get us there.” Big Red gave the nugget a judging once-over. “While you carrier jocks cover the Navy.”

  Harry bristled, forgetting for a second the pilot was drunk and twice his size. “You should ask the Italians about the stomping the British carrier jocks gave them at Taranto last year. I’m sure they came out of the attack with a newfound respect.”

  The man snorted. “You’re desperate.”

  “Now, Harry,” Wild Bill chastised. “We all have our part. Not everyone gets to play the hero.” He turned to the pilot next to him. “How many do you want, Taylor?”

  “Huh?” The fighter pilot, who’d been nodding off, stirred to life. “Oh.” He gave his cards a bleary stare. “I’ll take three.”

  Wild Bill dealt him three cards. “What about you, Red?”

  The hulking pilot smiled. “I’m standing pat with what I got right here.”

  “Welch?”

  “Two should do the trick.”

  Wild Bill squinted at Harry. “How about you?”

  He gazed woefully at his terrible hand. “Four for me.”

  “Good man. A pilot greets risk as a comrade, and he never gives up the fight.”

  Harry had spent the whole night eating up the man’s platitudes about the virtues of pilots and brothers at arms—one for all and all for one, and all that—but this time he frowned. “Yeah, I guess.”

  The draw had given him even more garbage. All he had was his pair of threes.

  That wasn’t his biggest problem, though. Something wasn’t right.

  Something he’d seen.

  The betting proceeded at a brisk pace. Taylor bet, Big Red raised, Welch folded, and then Harry’s turn came again.

  “I fold.” He felt a little sick. “I’m going out for some air.”

  “You’ve had a bad run.”

  “Don’t I know it.”

  “Your luck’s will turn soon, I’m sure of it.”

  “Right.” He hauled himself from his chair.

  Outside the O-Club, a gentle breeze stirred the palm trees. The air was pleasantly warm, though the day promised to be another hot one. Used to the club’s gloom, Harry’s eyes narrowed as they adjusted to the sun’s morning glare.

  From here, he spotted the flight line, hangars, barracks, tower, and rows of P-36 and P-40 fighters, more than a hundred planes in all. They were parked wingtip to wingtip in neat rows to make them easier to guard against sabotage.

  Meanwhile, his anger slowly mounted. No doubt now about what he’d seen.

  Wild Bill had dealt Harry’s cards from the bottom of the deck. The cheating bastard.

  Usually, bottom dealing was a way to give yourself or a friend one or two ringer cards. If you had two aces in your hand, you could deal yourself a third, using the draw as a Trojan Horse.

  The pilot wasn’t doing that.

  He’d been dealing to Harry from the bottom of the deck from the beginning, a separate set of cards filled with junk, leaving the top part of the deck loaded with great hands for the Army guys.

  Wild Bill had been chummy from the start, while Big Red had been accepting if a bit belligerent. Taylor and Welch were nice enough though a bit standoffish, as if they couldn’t understand why Wild Bill had taken an intere
st in him.

  It dawned on Harry that these guys didn’t like him after all. They were just bored and having fun with a Navy nugget fresh off the boat.

  He stomped back inside spoiling for a fight. “Hey. Lieutenant.”

  Another winning smile. “You ready for another go at Lady Luck?”

  “You’re a cheating son of a bitch.”

  The smile didn’t waver. “And you shouldn’t gamble.”

  He clenched his fists. “You were bottom dealing. You’ve been bottom dealing my cards since the beginning.”

  Taylor and Welch looked taken aback—clearly, they hadn’t been in on it—while Wild Bill and Big Red exchanged a glance.

  “It’s time to start walking home, cowboy,” the big pilot said. “Beat it before you get a different kind of beating.”

  “Consider tonight an education in inter-service relations,” Wild Bill advised.

  In his anger, Harry hadn’t thought farther ahead than confronting the pilot about the cheating. Now that he had, he didn’t know what to do.

  Maybe they were right, and he should just walk it off until he could laugh it away. He was about to start his first deployment and didn’t need any trouble.

  That decided it.

  “You guys turned out to be real jerks,” he said as a parting shot.

  “Nice knowing you, cowboy,” Big Red called after him.

  Just keep walking, Harry told himself.

  Only he’d never been any good at accepting a personal insult, especially one that wasted his time playing him for a fool, which later would lead him to believe he was probably a bad fit for the military.

  In the end, he’d eat it from his own tribe because that’s how it worked, but these guys were Army, and he didn’t have to eat anything.

  Fuming, Harry marched back to the table, where the men had already forgotten about him and now talked about taking a swim after the game ended.