Chapter 906: America's Heroes

Every nation has its heroes. If a nation has no heroes, then even if it continues to exist, it is but a humble tribe. As a powerful nation, the United States of America naturally had its own heroes, and many, many of them.

Ogden didn’t know if he counted as a hero. When his battleship was besieged by two Japanese Nagato-class battleships, he had been as wretched as a child who had lost a fight. When a shell struck his bridge, blowing half of his command tower away, the captain had suffered a severe head injury.

A simple bandage couldn’t close his wound, and soon the blood seeping from the top of his head had stained the gauze red. But now he seemed immensely tall. At least in the eyes of the surviving American sailors, he was indeed a hero to be looked up to.

The USS Mississippi was also an old battleship. Although it was launched not long after Japan’s Nagato-class, it was armed with pitiful 356mm main guns. Although the Mississippi was equipped with a full twelve of these guns, due to problems with range and power, it was never able to pose a fatal threat to the Japanese ships.

And in order to ensure it became the target of the Japanese warships, it had pushed forward by two kilometers. This had put the American battleship formation in a very bad position, but it had also allowed the Japanese to confirm their target, concentrating all their firepower on the forward-jutting American warship.

“Only two battleships, and the U.S. Navy’s battle line is already in disarray. This navy really has no future,” Yamamoto Isoroku said smugly, lowering his binoculars. He now seemed to have victory in his grasp, as if he could already feel the tail of victory in this sea battle.

Although the Japanese Eastern Yamamoto Fleet’s speed had been slowed by the American crossing of their T, the American battleship force tasked with the delay was not having an easy time. The USS Mississippi, at the front, was already ablaze, having been repeatedly hit by Japanese naval gunfire.

This time, the Japanese Navy’s guns had an advantage in caliber. Although the American battleship Mississippi had twelve main guns, they were only 356mm in caliber. The Colorado, with the same caliber guns, couldn’t fire in dense salvos due to problems with its hull strength.

But the two Japanese battleships, Nagato and Mutsu, were new, powerful warships equipped with eight 406mm main guns, completely overwhelming the U.S. Navy in terms of firepower.

The gunnery duel between the two sides was a chaotic affair. Both sides were using the floatplanes carried on their battleships for gunnery spotting, so the hit rates had significantly improved. The American warship had even miraculously hit a Japanese warship first, but the Americans had been aiming for the Nagato and had instead hit a Japanese light cruiser not far away.

Although the U.S. Navy had scored the first hit, this did not mean they would have such good luck all along. What followed was a gunnery training course for the Japanese battleships. The Nagato and the Mutsu fired nearly four salvos in one go, and finally, on the fourth salvo, they hit the USS Mississippi, which was protruding from the American fleet’s formation.

Fortunately, American battleships had always prioritized armor protection over speed, which was considered a key design indicator. So although its guns were outclassed, the Mississippi’s main armor was not at a significant disadvantage. Its more than 13 inches of armor allowed it to withstand the Japanese Navy’s onslaught.

By the time the Japanese Navy had fired its eighth salvo, the Mississippi, having taken two direct hits from large-caliber shells, was still returning fire with its remaining two main gun turrets, smoke billowing from it.

As the minutes ticked by, Yamamoto also gradually lost his patience. After all, if he could not quickly take out these two American battleships, then his fleet would not be able to quickly approach the U.S. Navy—for the advantaged Yamamoto fleet, this was undoubtedly a losing proposition.

“Bakayaro! Keep firing! Show them the skills you’ve learned in your gunnery training and get a higher hit rate!” In his anxious wait, Yamamoto finally couldn’t help but start to put pressure on his subordinates. After all, this battle was too important for him and for the Great Japanese Empire. Absolutely no accidents were allowed.

Of course, he didn’t know yet that behind the sturdy Mississippi, the Colorado, which had been firing to disrupt the Japanese battleships’ aim, was actually a not-so-sturdy “showpiece.”

And yet, it was this very showpiece that, on its slow second salvo, had hit Yamamoto’s own flagship, the Nagato, and with one shot had struck the Nagato’s secondary battery on the side, directly causing the battleship to catch fire. The battleship Mutsu was so alarmed that it sent a signal asking to confirm if Marshal Yamamoto was injured.

The battle dragged on, minute by minute. The battleship Mississippi finally could not hold on any longer. Another round of Japanese shells landed around it. One of them struck the warship’s flank, directly penetrating its armor. The huge explosion destroyed its boilers, reducing the warship’s already very slow speed to a near standstill.

This suddenly improved the hit rate of the Japanese Navy’s 16 406mm main guns by several notches. Hitting a stationary target was a very easy matter for the well-trained Japanese gunners. And so, a few minutes later, the Mississippi was hit again by the Japanese. The entire warship began to list.

Unlike in the past, the U.S. Navy did not immediately abandon ship this time, but continued to fire without stopping, returning fire frantically with its one remaining turret. The final result of this stubbornness was that although they did not hit a Japanese warship, they had managed to delay Yamamoto’s assault fleet here for a full two and a half hours.

In the end, the American battleship USS Mississippi sank in the waters of the Solomon Islands. Of the more than 1,000 officers and men on board, only 410 survived. And what made Yamamoto Isoroku most despair was that just half an hour after the Japanese Navy had sunk the Mississippi, they had sunk the merely-for-show Colorado.

And it was only at this time that they understood the real reason for the American battleships’ forward-jutting formation. Yamamoto Isoroku looked at the surface of the water where the USS Mississippi had sunk and disappeared, and only after a long while did he recover from his shock and panic. He had always believed that only the soldiers of the Great Japanese Empire were the most self-sacrificing soldiers in the world, but at this moment, he realized he was wrong, wrong in a somewhat absurd way.

The destroyer Yūdachi had ultimately traded itself for the American North Carolina because the U.S. Navy’s destroyer squadrons were inexperienced and in a bad position, and also because the North Carolina had been damaged and its speed reduced, making it unable to dodge the torpedoes. All of this had an element of luck.

But the American battleship USS Mississippi had not held back Yamamoto’s assault fleet by relying on luck, but on that truly dauntless spirit. What made Yamamoto most desperate was the waste of time. His fleet had been delayed here for too long, and it was already afternoon.

If Nagumo Chuichi’s fleet could not defeat the American carrier fleet, then when night fell, he, Yamamoto Isoroku, would have to choose again whether to risk a night battle or to command his troops to take the opportunity to flee. As long as they could drag it out until the next sunrise, then the Solomon Islands would become the graveyard of the Japanese Combined Fleet.

“Don’t waste any more time with the remaining American ships. Full speed west! We have to catch the main American carrier fleet before dark!” Yamamoto Isoroku finally recovered from his mind filled with fear and confusion and hurriedly gave the order to continue west. All he could do now was to pray, to pray that Nagumo Chuichi could defeat the American carrier fleet, and to pray that his own assault fleet could catch up with the American fleet.

Of course, from the current look of things, the Japanese Navy seemed to have already completed their pre-designed script. At least so far, they had already sunk three American battleships and two aircraft carriers, while only losing two of their own old battleships. This was a completely acceptable price. If the battle were to end now, then the performance of the Japanese army could be said to be almost perfect.

The only pity was that the battle was far from over, and in terms of sequence, it was now the Americans’ turn to counter-attack. After all, at this time, the American carrier planes had already broken into the air defense circle of the Japanese Combined Fleet’s First Air Fleet. The outcome of the subsequent battle would depend on the result of this carrier-based aircraft collision.

Spruance took the telegram that had been sent from the rearguard, read the message on it with a tragic feeling, and then stood at attention, taking off the military cap on his head. Only then did he hand the message to his subordinate, and this telegram was passed, in silent silence, through the hands of everyone in the command room.

The battleship Mississippi had sunk. The battleship Colorado had sunk. Of the four American battleships that had participated in the battle, three-quarters had been lost after the start of the battle. For the frontline commander, Spruance, this was a blow so huge it was indescribable. A mountain of pressure was on his shoulders, making it difficult for him to breathe.

If he were to back down at a time like this, then so many losses would just be worthless. So Spruance slammed his palm on the table and, with the air of someone who had burned his boats, gave the order to continue the attack. “The Mississippi has set an example, so we have even less reason to retreat… After recovering the second wave of attack aircraft, immediately launch the fourth wave, target—the Japanese carrier fleet! Continue the attack until all Japanese carriers are sunk!”

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