Chapter 907: The Commander's Flag

General Nagumo Chuichi had always considered himself the world’s foremost authority on naval aviation. Through his and Yamamoto’s efforts, Japan’s naval air arm had once been the best in the world, possessing the formidable Zero fighter and two thousand battle-hardened, elite pilots.

But now, facing the dense attack formations of the American carrier planes, a pale sense of powerlessness made it almost impossible for him to stand upright.

Just moments ago, his flagship, the aircraft carrier Akagi, had been struck by a bomb from an American plane, leaving a massive hole in its flight deck. While it hadn’t caused a major fire or explosion, it had completely crippled the carrier’s ability to launch and recover aircraft.

His warship hadn’t sunk like the battleship Mississippi, nor had it capsized like the Hyūga. Yet, in this sea battle, the Akagi was already out of the fight, knocked out of the ring by a single, non-crippling blow.

“Bakayaro! It’s just one bomb, can it really not be repaired?” Nagumo demanded, frowning at the Akagi’s damage control officer. “You must understand, this battle is of the utmost importance to the Great Japanese Empire!”

The officer stood at attention, his head bowed, and answered solemnly, “Your Excellency, Admiral, I simply cannot repair the damaged deck in a short time. Even with all-out repairs, the… the… sun is already setting. In two hours, you still won’t be able to launch any aircraft.”

He was right. Even if the damage control crews managed to patch up the carrier, it was useless at night. The Japanese fleet would still have to face the superior American forces with only two carriers. Nagumo wavered. He didn’t know whether to retreat or to hold his ground.

“Send a message to Marshal Yamamoto. Ask him if we should remain here and fight, or if we can temporarily withdraw,” Nagumo said, unable to make a decision himself. He resorted to a foolish but foolproof tactic: ask his superior, Marshal Yamamoto Isoroku.

When in doubt, ask the boss. Can’t go wrong, right? That was Nagumo’s thinking. Little did he know, the pressure on Yamamoto was even greater than his own. At least Nagumo was still in the fight; Yamamoto was desperately trying to close the distance with the American fleet.

Nagumo did not understand America. He did not know how terrifying that country would become in this war. He didn’t know that by the war’s end, the United States would have mobilized over ten million soldiers, produced over a hundred aircraft carriers, and churned out tens of thousands of tanks from its factories, a flood that would drown the Great Japanese Empire.

Now, he was even discovering he didn’t understand his opponent. He only knew the American fleet’s commander was named Spruance1. That was one of the few pieces of American intelligence he had. This level of intelligence gathering made the hair on the back of his neck stand up, a premonition of indescribable danger.

The Japanese were skilled at studying their opponents. Before the First Sino-Japanese War, they had sent thousands of spies to infiltrate China and gather intelligence. The information these spies reported back was often things the Chinese themselves didn’t fully grasp.

From the total weapons production of the Jiangnan Arsenal to the entire country’s mobilization mechanism, the war preparations of the bureaucracy and the army, and the resolve of the high command—all of it was collected by these spies, compiled into a detailed report on China’s condition, becoming the primary source for the Japanese military’s study of China.

It was by relying on such detailed intelligence that Japan had won the First Sino-Japanese War, a war in which the two sides were not so far apart in strength, and had completed its rise. But now, Japan did not understand America. It didn’t even know that the new American carriers were nearing completion, nor did it know the true scale of the American fleet.

From the reports coming back from the first wave of attack planes, Nagumo had learned something he hadn’t known before: the American fleet had not four, nor five, but a full seven aircraft carriers. This made the mission his fleet was undertaking simply impossible to complete. He had underestimated the Americans’ air defense, and he had underestimated their attack power.

After the war with Japan began, the Americans had implemented counter-espionage measures. The first was to place the entire Japanese-American population under control, to prevent them from carrying out sabotage and to prevent the enemy from conducting espionage. Even Chinese and Southeast Asian expatriates in America had their movements restricted. All people of Asian descent had lost their freedom of movement in the United States.

In this way, the intelligence network the Japanese had built in the United States had been completely paralyzed, unable to detect a single shred of American intelligence. This asymmetry of information had turned Japan into a blind, vicious wolf, ferocious but crashing about like a headless fly.

“The intelligence agencies are useless,” Nagumo muttered with a bitter smile, watching the rescue crews working around the crater on the damaged deck of the Akagi. “The Americans already have such a massive carrier fleet, and they still swore to me that they only had four carriers! I’ve already lost 40 planes. If this goes on, it’ll really be the end.”

With the Akagi unable to launch its planes, the strength of the Japanese Naval Air Arm had been cut in half. Now, if Japan’s second wave of attack echelons could scrape together 30 planes, it would be a miracle. But given the scale of the U.S. Naval Air Arm, if those 30 planes were to actually launch an attack, it would almost certainly be a one-way trip.

I can’t retreat at a time like this! That was Nagumo’s thought. In this situation, even a determined escape would not end well. It was better to grit his teeth and fight the opponent to the death, a battle of mutual destruction. At least he could leave behind a heroic name for fighting to the last, and not be cursed by later generations as a coward who feared death.

Nagumo’s hand unconsciously tightened on the hilt of the officer’s sword at his waist. He then made up his mind to sacrifice his fleet to create a better opportunity for Yamamoto. He looked at his first officer and gave the order to continue the attack. “Order the carriers Kaga and Hōshō to launch their planes for a second surprise attack on the U.S. Navy’s carrier fleet! Long live the Great Japanese Empire! Long live His Majesty the Emperor! The eight hundred gods will bless Japan’s fortunes of war!”

At this time, the first wave of American attack planes had already returned to base, so the Japanese fleet was also in the process of saving its own shattered fleet on the battlefield. Two destroyers were burning, thick smoke pouring from them. A cruiser was now only visible by its bow, which was still above the water. The Japanese Navy’s escort ships had paid a heavy price to ensure the safety of the carriers. Countless sailors were waiting for rescue ships to pick them up.

Nagumo didn’t know what the 30 planes of the second wave could accomplish, but he still prayed that they could easily sink two of the American aircraft carriers and complete a stunning reversal of the entire battlefield. At this moment, his palms were covered in sweat. He didn’t know if it was from nervousness or because the weather was simply too hot.

BOOM! Just as Nagumo was considering whether to transfer his flagship to the still-operational carrier Kaga, a small explosion occurred on the Akagi. For some unknown reason, a plane had suddenly exploded, also damaging a very important elevator on the carrier.

“There’s nothing to hesitate about anymore. Signal the Kaga. I’m transferring my command there,” Nagumo said, looking at the smoking elevator on the carrier’s deck. He glanced at his men behind him. “Get the small boats ready, quick! We don’t have much time.”

After giving his orders, he looked at the captain of the Akagi and made his arrangements. “I’ve made the arrangements. The destroyer Shigure will provide cover and protect you all the way west. Retreat to the home islands first. Please await news of our victory. Long live the Great Japanese Empire!”

“Hai!” The captain didn’t know if he was excited because he could finally get the hell out of there and was temporarily safe, or because he had heard the slogan “Long live the Great Japanese Empire.” In any case, he was very excited. He stood at attention, bowed, and said to Nagumo, “Your Excellency, Admiral, you too, take care!”

Nagumo waved his hand and was then surrounded by his men and led off the command bridge. His commander’s flag was slowly lowered from the flagpole of the carrier Akagi, and then it was neatly folded into a square by two sailors. Nagumo watched as his flag was put away, then turned and, with his retinue, guards, and staff, jumped onto a small boat and headed for the carrier Kaga on the slightly choppy sea.

What he had not expected was that this was the last time he would leave the carrier Akagi, and also the last time the Akagi, as his flagship, would make its mark on the Pacific battlefield.

Half an hour later, the U.S. Naval Air Arm swarmed in. The Japanese carrier Hōshō was the first to be hit by an aerial bomb while dodging a torpedo and ultimately capsized in the waters of the Solomon Islands. The destroyer Yukikaze was ordered to rescue the sailors from the Hōshō and then left the combat area. The entire Japanese First Air Fleet had suffered heavy losses. The American attack planes were attacking every target they could, as if they had gone mad.

Then came a rare piece of good news: the carrier-based planes from the Kaga had sunk an American escort carrier. But immediately after, the Japanese Navy received the news that their own carrier planes had been completely wiped out. Apart from the 50 carrier planes that had left the battlefield with the Akagi, almost all the Japanese carrier planes that had participated in the battle had now been lost.

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