Chapter 908: Sunset

Of course, the bad news for the Japanese Navy didn’t stop there. What happened next was enough to make the entire Japanese Navy collapse. The American carrier planes finally broke through the numerically inferior Japanese air defense line, dropping bombs and torpedoes on the endlessly maneuvering Kaga.

First, a torpedo struck the Kaga’s side armor dead-on, leaving a huge hole in the warship’s flank. A second torpedo then completely wrecked her stern. The two propellers were twisted into a tangled mess by the explosion, and the flooding caused the Kaga to list to 20 degrees.

The damage control personnel on the carrier Kaga frantically tried to save their warship. In the end, they actually managed to save the Kaga, which had two bomb holes in its flight deck and was listing at 21 degrees, a feat that shocked Nagumo Chuichi himself.

But this was no damage control drill. On a real battlefield, the Kaga had basically lost all its power and was completely unable to keep up with the fleeing fleet. So even though the Kaga had not sunk, no one’s mood could be lifted.

In the end, Nagumo Chuichi gave the order for a destroyer to launch torpedoes, to “execute” the aircraft carrier Kaga, which was still struggling on the water, unwilling to leave. With four of Japan’s own torpedoes hitting their target, the two aircraft carriers of the First Fleet were completely wiped out.

A few minutes after the Yukikaze had disengaged from the battlefield, the flagship of Nagumo Chuichi’s First Air Fleet of the Combined Fleet, the Kaga, was sunk by American carrier planes. Nagumo Chuichi, Yamamoto Isoroku’s right-hand man, ultimately did not stubbornly choose to commit seppuku. Instead, supported and surrounded by his men, he transferred to the heavy cruiser Mogami and wretchedly left the battlefield that had belonged to him.

As the sun was about to sink below the horizon, Yamamoto Isoroku received a telegram from Nagumo Chuichi. The news in the telegram plunged him into complete despair. The annihilation of the bait fleet had not been enough to shake Yamamoto’s resolve for a decisive battle, but the loss of the First Air Fleet made this naval marshal seem to have aged ten years in an instant.

“Three American carriers sunk, one heavily damaged… Kaga and Hōshō sunk, carrier Akagi severely damaged. The remnants of the First Air Fleet have rendezvoused with a portion of the remnants of the bait fleet and are retreating towards the Philippine Islands.” Yamamoto repeated the contents of the telegram and then handed it to his adjutant. This naval battle, in the end, he had “won,” but the victory was too ugly.

The carrier Hōshō was nothing much. Its loss was its loss… but the carrier Kaga was one of the few main carriers in Japan’s hands now. Such a loss was definitely a heart-wrenching one for the entire Japanese Navy. But fortunately, they had still won. At least on the surface, Yamamoto had managed to stabilize the situation. As for other matters, he really didn’t want to think about them now.

What Yamamoto Isoroku did not know yet was that one of his submarines, responsible for reconnoitering the movements of the U.S. Navy, had, by a strange twist of fate, slipped into the core of the American fleet. Taking advantage of the chaos in the U.S. Navy, it had fired off four torpedoes in one go, sinking the American aircraft carrier USS Hornet.

So in this battle, the United States had ultimately had four carriers sunk by the Japanese Navy. If one were to add the three battleships, the Solomon Islands could be said to be the graveyard of the U.S. Navy’s warships—a full seven capital ships had been sunk here. The U.S. Navy’s Pacific Fleet had lost almost three-fifths of its strength.

Of course, the Japanese Navy was not feeling very comfortable at this time either. The battleships Ise and Hyūga had been sunk, and the carriers Hōshō and Kaga had been sunk. By this accounting, the Japanese Navy had also lost four warships. In terms of overall ratio, it was indeed a great victory.

But as the saying goes, “the weather is unpredictable, and a person’s fortune can change in an instant.” Yamamoto Isoroku did not yet know that the American carrier Hornet had been sunk by one of his own. So what he understood was that the United States still had four carriers lurking nearby. The unlucky thing was that the Japanese submarine that had sunk the Hornet had subsequently been sunk, so the news of the Hornet’s sinking had not reached Yamamoto’s ears until the very end.

“Report! Your Excellency, Marshal! A… a message just came in. On the way… on the way back, the aircraft carrier Akagi was discovered by an American submarine. After taking four torpedo hits, rescue efforts were unsuccessful. In the end, all personnel were evacuated, and the ship was scuttled…” Under the law of “misfortunes never come singly,” Yamamoto Isoroku received even worse news—the First Air Fleet, at the last moment, had also been completely wiped out.

“…” The Americans really were lucky to a certain degree, to be able to sink another Japanese carrier at a time like this. Yamamoto Isoroku really wanted to shout a loud “Bakayaro,” but he gritted his teeth and, in the end, did not let out this classic Japanese curse.

Forcibly swallowing the curse on his lips, Yamamoto finally let reason triumph over impulse. He swept his gaze over the officers on the bridge and gave the order to end the Battle of the Solomon Sea. “Turn about. The fleet will disengage from the U.S. Navy. We will leave the Solomons under the cover of darkness and return to the Philippine Sea overnight.”

Yamamoto knew that a night battle at this time would be of no benefit to him. He only had two battleships, while the Americans still had one new battleship. The outcome of a night battle between the two sides was unknown, but as long as the Americans could hold out until dawn, then he would not even have the chance to leave with the Nagato and the Mutsu.

So Yamamoto decisively gave up the idea of continuing to fight. At this point, he could still use “victory” as a pretext. If he were to really lose the Nagato and the Mutsu, then he would have no choice but to commit seppuku.

However, what Yamamoto did not know yet was that in the face of the American ships, which were equipped with a large amount of radar, his decision not to fight a night battle was undoubtedly a decision that had saved the Japanese Navy. And so, as night fell, the Solomon Islands returned to their former tranquility. The entire battlefield had so abruptly fallen silent.

The American fleet had suffered heavy losses, but it had occupied the entire battlefield. The Japanese naval forces had retreated in a sorry state, ultimately ceding this quiet sea area that they had seemed to want to fight to the death for at the beginning.

It was only at this moment that everyone seemed to remember the operational objectives of the two warring sides in launching this naval battle: the Japanese Navy had wanted to annihilate the main force of the U.S. Navy in one battle, to buy some breathing room for the deteriorating situation in the Pacific; while the Americans were trying to capture the Solomon Islands to pave the way for their subsequent strategy.

Suddenly, an interesting thing had happened: the Japanese had achieved their intention of heavily damaging the U.S. Navy; the U.S. Navy had also completed its pre-conceived idea of capturing control of the Solomon Sea.

And so, the Japanese Imperial General Headquarters received a telegram from Yamamoto Isoroku, sent during his retreat, claiming a great victory for Japan in the Battle of the Solomon Sea. In the end, at the cost of three carriers and two battleships, they had sunk three American carriers and three battleships, successfully annihilating the main force of the U.S. Navy’s Pacific Fleet. Such a “great victory” was probably the most costly victory for the Japanese Navy in many years, but it had indeed given the Japanese Navy a short period of rest and refit.

But someone had to take the blame for the heavy losses, and this person had to have enough “weight.” On the way back to the Philippine Sea, Yamamoto Isoroku received a telegram ordering him to return to the Japanese home islands and to immediately hand over command of the Combined Fleet.

With that, Yamamoto Isoroku’s Combined Fleet had come to an end, and the Japanese Navy also welcomed its longest large-scale period of rest and refit since the surprise attack on Pearl Harbor. Of course, this rest and refit had a price, and a very heavy one at that.

With the Combined Fleet having once again run away without looking back, the Japanese Army on the Solomon Islands immediately began to face supply difficulties and the immense pressure of the U.S. Navy. Seven days later, the U.S. Marines began to land on the Solomon Islands on a large scale, and the two sides engaged in a fierce struggle.

In the end, the isolated and helpless Japanese army units lost the Solomon Islands. The American flag was suddenly raised on the flank of the hundreds of thousands of Japanese troops far away in Australia. At the same time, a hundred thousand American troops landed in Australia, and the good times for the Japanese forces in Australia had finally come to an end.

So, strategically speaking, Spruance had gritted his teeth and had held on to the very end. The U.S. Navy had achieved its goal of counter-attacking Australia and retaking the Solomon Sea. And so Spruance also sent back a telegram, claiming that although the losses were heavy, they had still won this Battle of the Solomon Sea.

After this development, later historians discovered an interesting phenomenon: both sides in this naval battle insisted that they were the victors. Of course, after learning that the Hornet had been sunk, the Japanese historical researchers were even more convinced of their own idea.

But the sun over the Solomons still set on time on this day, bringing endless darkness to all the soldiers here. The sea was still covered with a large number of Japanese naval corpses. The U.S. Navy’s rescue efforts were slow to begin, only starting the next afternoon, so the survival rate among the Japanese sailors in the water was very low.

And Akado, who was preparing his own press conference speech, first frowned after learning the news of the end of this naval battle. He felt that the Japanese Navy had squandered its fleet and had almost been defeated by the U.S. Navy. Thinking of this, he gave a bitter smile and said, “The sun has set.”

Subsequently, in the flash of the reporters’ cameras, he ascended the podium and, along with Chamberlain who was standing beside him, confirmed to the Axis reporters the fact of the American troop landing in Australia. Akado, with his hands confidently on the podium, said slowly to the reporters below, “From now on, as long as the American troops do not leave the territory of the Axis allies, the war will never end!”

Advance chapters at Nightjar Reads · nightjarreads.com