Chapter 612: Instinct
Aboard the Japanese Combined Fleet’s flagship, the battleship Nagato, Yamamoto Isoroku gazed at the eastern horizon, squinting his eyes as if lost in thought. However, his fingers tapped incessantly on the tabletop, indicating he was not daydreaming but deeply contemplating something.
“Ogasawara-kun, tell me… do you think the Americans will actually come?” Yamamoto suddenly asked, seeing the orderly responsible for his daily life bring him a cup of tea. Asking an orderly a question that would decide the future of the entire fleet seemed, in itself, like a childish game.
“Your Excellency, Marshal… I am just an orderly,” the man, who had been with Yamamoto for two full years, quickly replied with his head bowed. “This is a matter your subordinate does not understand. I am only responsible for your daily life and meals.”
Yamamoto waved his hand, clearly not satisfied with the old orderly’s answer. He took a sip of tea, looked at the cross-hatched pattern on the cup in his hand, and asked again, as if unwilling to give up, “Tell me your thoughts, just your personal opinion. I am very interested to hear it. Think of it as… curiosity… yes, just curiosity.”
“Your Excellency, Marshal, your subordinate feels that since we have already sunk all the American warships, they certainly won’t have the guts to come and harass us,” the orderly said after a moment’s thought, voicing his opinion.
Yamamoto nodded in satisfaction, as if he had just confirmed something, and then waved his hand to dismiss the orderly. In truth, his heart was filled with fear. Some of the warships in the Combined Fleet were running low on fuel, and the carrier air groups had been in continuous combat for over ten days. At this moment, his fleet was exhausted and unfit for further battle.
However, over 30,000 Japanese soldiers were still fighting and dying on Kauai and Oahu, so the Combined Fleet could not leave. Too much of the Japanese army’s strength had been consumed here, which made the shrewd Yamamoto feel a sense of unease. He feared that the Americans would launch a counter-attack at this very moment and prayed countless times in his heart that they would not suddenly appear.
“A telegram from the destroyer Akikaze. They have spotted four aircraft taking off from the American airfield on the island of Hawaii, apparently on a reconnaissance flight,” a staff officer reported, walking up behind Yamamoto and bowing his head to deliver the latest intelligence.
“What? Reconnaissance planes?” Yamamoto squinted his eyes, repeating the words, before they suddenly shot wide open. “At this time, the Americans, reconnaissance planes… what are they looking for? The fleet! They’re looking for… Nagumo’s fleet!”
Muttering to this point, he abruptly stood up and slammed his hands on the table. “They’re here! The Americans! They’ve finally come! Send a message to Nagumo Chuichi! Order him to prepare for anti-ship operations! Notify all warships to launch their reconnaissance planes to search the nearby seas, especially the area east of the Hawaiian Islands! Find the American fleet!”
Yamamoto Isoroku had a keen instinct for the American fleet’s arrival. This wasn’t because of some magical skill in command, but because he was constantly considering all the possible counter-attack measures the Americans might take. He felt that if he himself were the commander of the U.S. Navy, he would definitely choose this exact moment to launch a counter-attack against Japan.
As the Commander-in-Chief of the Japanese Combined Fleet, Yamamoto Isoroku was one of the few commanders in the Japanese Navy who could correctly assess America’s strength. He understood, or at least partially understood, America’s war potential and could guess some of the strategic aims of the American high command, just as Nimitz and Roosevelt could guess the Japanese’s actions.
Therefore, at this moment, upon learning that the American fleet might be approaching, his mind was in turmoil. He was not yet ready to face them. He was hesitating, torn between abandoning Oahu and turning back, or taking a risk and fighting a battle with the U.S. Navy here and now. He frowned, suddenly hoping that this was all a false alarm, that he was just being overly nervous.
“A reconnaissance plane from the battleship Mutsu has spotted one American destroyer. Fearing it would be shot down, the seaplane did not approach for a closer look and only relayed the message. The report says he saw one destroyer, possibly followed by a second.” After more than thirty minutes, a Japanese reconnaissance plane finally found the American fleet. At almost the same moment, the American fleet also discovered the general location of the Japanese Navy.
Nagumo Chuichi, leading his four weary Japanese carriers, immediately launched a counter-attack on the detected American fleet. Because he had carried out Yamamoto Isoroku’s order and prepared his carrier aircraft in advance, equipping them with anti-ship torpedoes, he could now calmly order his planes to take off and pounce on the American fleet.
Aboard his flagship, the commander of the Japanese Navy’s First Air Fleet, Nagumo Chuichi, stared at the intelligence report. After comparing it with the naval chart, he confirmed the attack mission with his air group commander: “The first wave will attack here. Sink the American carriers as quickly as possible and then return. The second wave will have to launch in the interim, so time is of the essence.”
“Hai!” The air group commander snapped to attention, bowed, and acknowledged loudly, “Please rest assured, the air group will certainly complete its mission and destroy the last of America’s carrier fleet strength.” After speaking, the commander, with his military sword at his side, left the bridge to encourage his pilots for the attack on the American fleet.
On the flight deck, Japanese pilots were raising their arms and shouting, roaring for their imminent departure. Cries of “Long live His Majesty the Emperor!” echoed across the carrier deck. Some of the aircraft engines were already starting up, and Japanese ground crews were making final checks to ensure the safeties on the torpedoes were disarmed.
“Sato-kun, this flight will determine whether the Combined Fleet can attack the American mainland. You must display the glorious Bushido spirit of our army, sink the American carriers, and bring a glorious victory to the Empire,” said Captain Suzuki, his hand on the hilt of his sword. He had just come from Nagumo’s bridge to the flight deck and was speaking with grave importance to Sato, the commander of the frontline air unit.
“Hai! Suzuki-kun, please rest assured,” Sato replied, clearly full of confidence for this mission. “My fighter pilots all have over 15 hours of flight time. They are arguably the most elite pilots in the world. This time, the Americans dare to provoke the samurai of our Great Japanese Empire. I will definitely make them regret their foolish decision.”
Sato had reason to be proud. Since participating in the operations against the American forces in the Philippines months ago, his carrier air group had shot down a total of 90 American aircraft of various types. His unit had several aces, and even Admiral Nagano Osami (the man who was Yamamoto Isoroku’s backer) from Imperial General Headquarters had personally praised him.
“Depart! I will be here awaiting your safe return! Push the Imperial Navy to the glorious pinnacle!” Suzuki nodded, signaling that Sato could depart. Sato gave a sharp nod and turned towards his plane.
Not far from the two of them, a line of pilots raised their hands and let out a pre-departure cheer: “His Majesty the Emperor! Banzai!” The entire deck was a hive of activity. The first aircraft was already taxiing towards the takeoff position.
Standing on the bridge, Nagumo Chuichi watched his carrier aircraft begin their takeoff runs. Unconsciously, his palms had become sweaty. Logically, the fleet was not in good condition. Neither the carrier pilots nor the sailors on the warships had had any rest. It was clearly not rational to engage in a decisive battle at this time.
But as a commander in the Japanese Navy, he also knew that running away was not something an Imperial soldier should do. On Oahu and Kauai, 49,000 soldiers were still fighting and dying. For the sake of these Imperial elites, the Combined Fleet could not choose to retreat in the face of the enemy.
“May Heaven bless the Emperor, and may his martial fortunes be long-lasting,” Nagumo Chuichi prayed silently in his heart. At this moment, praying was the only thing he could do. If the Japanese Navy could withstand the pressure, or rather, if his naval air force could withstand the pressure and win this crucial battle, then Japan could continue to dominate the Pacific for a long time to come. But if anything went wrong, what he held in his hands was the very lifeblood of the Japanese Navy. As a commander, he knew he simply could not afford to lose it.
“Admiral! A message from Marshal Yamamoto! The battleships Nagato, Mutsu, Ise, and Hyūga have moved to the fleet’s left flank. Marshal Yamamoto hopes to use the four battleships’ higher speed to approach the U.S. Navy from the side and attack the American fleet with their main guns to distract the enemy,” an officer reported to Nagumo Chuichi.
American planes had already found the location of the Japanese carrier fleet, so maintaining radio silence would be self-deception. The Japanese Navy was not foolish; they immediately used their superior forces, splitting into two groups to encircle the American fleet.
“The Marshal is personally braving danger. He is truly a model for all Imperial soldiers,” Nagumo Chuichi said in admiration, then gave the attack order: “After the first wave is launched, prepare the second wave immediately! Send out bombers and torpedo planes simultaneously! We must sink the enemy’s carrier fleet!”
One after another, Japanese planes leaped from the carrier decks and formed up into flight formations in the distance from Nagumo Chuichi’s bridge. They flew towards the rising morning sun, a massive swarm heading for the confirmed coordinates.
On the other side, the American fleet’s battle alarms were already sounding. Nimitz knew the enemy was now aware of his arrival. However, a few hours earlier he had received intelligence that some Japanese carrier aircraft had appeared at Darwin, Australia. This news convinced Nimitz and Spruance not to turn back and run, but to stay and fight to the death.
“Admiral Spruance, command of the carrier fleet is yours. Please take over,” Nimitz radioed to his subordinate before the battle began. “God bless America. Victory will be ours!”
Published: 2025-09-11T01:44:52.000+00:00
Last Edited: 2026-01-22T13:21:04.000+00:00
URL: https://www.patreon.com/caleredhair/posts/mtr-c612-138629932
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