Challenge for the Pacific

At first, he was surprised and gratified to hear that Captain Yasuo Sato’s six destroyers had successfully put the Ichiki spearhead ashore at Taivu. Next, he was aggrieved and dismayed to hear of Colonel Ichiki’s destruction. Then, he was shaken to learn that American aircraft had landed at Henderson Field, thus making his attempt to put troops ashore more difficult than ever.

Nevertheless, Tanaka the Tenacious plowed on. At least he would have the support of Combined Fleet, which had sortied from Truk shortly after his own departure.

Isoroku Yamamoto had assembled his customary massive armada. He was going to direct it by radio from aboard Yamato, cruising in the vicinity of Truk.

There was the Advance Fleet force of battleships led by Vice-Admiral Nobutake Kondo and the Striking Force of three carriers commanded by Chuichi Nagumo. Yamamoto was going to bait the American carriers with light carrier Ryujo. While their aircraft were away attacking her, planes from Shokaku and Zuikaku would make surprise strikes on them. After they were destroyed, Kondo’s fleet would batter Guadalcanal. And Kondo had the battering power. Yamamoto, an old battleship man much as he might emphasize air power, had seen to that. Big Mutsu and the bombardment sluggers Hiei and Kirishima, backed up by six heavy cruisers, would wreck Henderson Field and mangle the Marines so that the troops aboard Mikawa’s transports would only have to mop up.

Moreover, there was added insurance: about a dozen submarines had been sown in waters southeast of Guadalcanal. They lay athwart the American supply line. One day, American sailors would give those waters the descriptive name of Torpedo Junction.

By August 20, Yamamoto knew that Admiral Fletcher’s carriers were at sea. Two days later he had placed Combined Fleet in position to attack about two hundred miles north of the southern Solomons. Fletcher’s three carriers—Saratoga, Wasp, and Enterprise—were about three hundred miles to their southeast. The Americans were operating as independent groups for fear of Torpedo Junction’s numerous torpedoes.

By the same date Fletcher also knew that the enemy was at sea. One of Slew McCain’s long-ranging Catalinas had detected Tanaka’s transports. Tanaka had himself realized that he had been observed. From flagship Jintsu, a light cruiser, he reported to Rabaul. Admiral Mikawa at once ordered him to turn about and make north. Tanaka obeyed. And then he received a message from Admiral Tsukahara commanding Southeast Area Force, and therefore superior to Mikawa, instructing him to proceed as ordered.

Furious, Tanaka was now positive that Rabaul did not know what it was doing. But he did not turn about as Tsukahara had ordered, for it would be impossible to reach Guadalcanal the morning of August 24 as scheduled. And that was indeed fortunate for Tanaka.

By August 22 General Vandegrift was also aware of Tanaka’s approach. He felt chilled at the prospect of large-scale enemy reinforcement. As yet, he had no way of knowing that the First Marines had all but destroyed the enemy to the east. Vandegrift debated risking his new Cactus Air Force, so-called after the code name for Guadalcanal. He decided that he must, and sent Mangrum’s bombers and Smith’s fighters roaring aloft. He watched them go from the top of the Japanese pagoda-like structure which had become Cactus Air Force’s headquarters.

The Marine planes ran into a solid front of weather. Driving rain misted their windshields. Visibility fell close to zero, and they had to turn back. Vandegrift watched them come in. He was pacing the Pagoda’s muddy floor when Mangrum entered to make his negative report. Vandegrift thanked his pilots courteously, but Mangrum thought that the general was deeply distressed.³

Next day, in clearing weather, the Marine fliers again went on the hunt; but Tanaka had turned north as ordered and they missed him.

Vandegrift’s distress deepened.

Martin Clemens was very much distressed. He was worried about Mr. Ishimoto. His capture and torture of Vouza made it clear that as long as Ishimoto was alive, Clemens’s scouts were in mortal danger. They could not feign neutrality and mingle with the enemy with Ishimoto about.

After the battle of the Tenaru, Clemens had had his men comb the battlefield for Ishimoto’s body. They did not find it.

Then Gumu, a scout who had become separated from the Brush patrol, came into the perimeter reporting he had been caught by Ishimoto. Gumu had been sitting beside a track with ten stones to count the Ichikis as they passed. He made a movement and was discovered by Ishimoto and four soldiers. They had Father Oude-Engberink, Father Duhamel and Sister Sylvia and old Sister Edmee of France and Sister Odilia of Italy with them. The missionaries were under guard, having been brought from their mission at Ruavutu.

Gumu said Ishimoto had tried to make the fathers go back to the Americans and tell them that the Japanese were too powerful and that they should surrender. They refused, and they and the sisters were taken east.

Ishimoto also tried to make Gumu carry his pack. When Gumu said he was sick and could not lift it, Ishimoto hit him across the mouth. Gumu continued to feign illness and was at last released. Coming west, he met another native who told him he was the lone survivor of five natives who had carried a wounded Marine back to American lines. Ishimoto and his soldiers had bayoneted the other four to death.

According to Gumu there were quite a few parties of Japanese wandering about in the east. But no new force had landed. For this news, at least, Clemens was thankful; and he passed it along to Marine intelligence.

Haruyoshi Hyakutake was puzzled, as well as distressed.

General Hyakutake had heard from signal men whom Colonel Ichiki had left behind at Taivu and their report was astounding. Annihilation? It had never happened before. Moreover, in a military given to writing reports wearing rose-colored glasses, there was absolutely not a single euphemism available to describe it. Hyakutake at last notified Imperial General Headquarters: “The attack of the Ichiki Detachment was not entirely successful.” Then he ordered Major General Kiyotake Kawaguchi and his brigade of five thousand Borneo veterans to stand by for movement to Guadalcanal.

Admiral Raizo Tanaka had resumed course for Guadalcanal. Shortly after noon of August 24 his lookouts sighted heavy cruiser Tone speeding southward on the eastern horizon, followed by Ryujo flanked by destroyers Amatsukaze and Tokitsukaze. Tanaka was encouraged. These ships were his indirect escort to Guadalcanal. Even though Ryujo was to decoy the Americans, she could still fly off aircraft to bomb Guadalcanal.

Commander Tameichi Hara stood on the bridge of Amatsukaze steaming at twenty-six knots off Ryujo’s starboard beam. He looked at the 10,000-ton decoy and wondered how her green pilots—replacements for the veterans lost at Midway and latterly over Guadalcanal—would stand up to Ryujo’s first battle test.

Grimly recalling how his and Admiral Tanaka’s fears had been realized at Midway, Hara kept glancing apprehensively upward. He looked at Ryujo steaming serenely along and wondered if her skipper was not taking her decoy role too fatalistically. She had no aircraft ready to fight. True, Ryujo had flown off fifteen fighters and six bombers to attack Guadalcanal. Nevertheless, Hara knew that she still had nine more fighters belowdecks and he wondered why some of them were not at least armed and ready.

Even after American scouts sighted them, Ryujo acted like a mesmerized ship, sending two fighters up only after Amatsukaze and the others had begun blasting with antiaircraft guns. Hara lost his temper. He dashed off a message for an Eta Jima classmate aboard Ryujo.

“Fully realizing my impertinence, am forced to advise you of my impression. Your flight operations are far short of expectations. What is the matter?”⁴

It was a rude message—incredible for a Japanese—and the Ryujo force was