Yamato shoved off from Tokuyama at three-twenty on the afternoon of April 6, exactly twenty minutes after the first of the kikusui dove on the American ships off Okinawa.
On that morning of April 6 the Fast Carrier Forces were discovered by Japanese scout planes in the northern Ryukyus. Some 100 fighters and bombers were brought down on them.
Later in the day American air patrols flying off Okinawa’s now-operable airfields were drawn off into battle with Japanese fighters sent down in advance of the kamikaze.
At three o’clock, with the way cleared for them, the suiciders struck. They dove on the destroyers of the radar picket screen and among the forests of masts in the Hagushi Anchorage. Some 200 came for five hours until darkness veiled the targets or magnified the death pyres of American ships.
Destroyers Bush and Calhoun went down, the minesweeper Emmons, LST 447, and the ammunition ships Logan Victory and Hobbs Victory. Nine other destroyers were damaged, as were four destroyer escorts and five mine vessels. Up north, the carrier Hancock and two destroyers of the Fast Carrier Forces were hit.
It was an impressive day’s work for the first sally of the kikusui, even though they had lost 135 planes. But the kamikaze reports were as usual exaggerated, dovetailing with those from the 32nd Army claiming 30 American ships sunk and 20 more burning. Such bloated estimates helped inflate the spirits of Yamato’s 2,767 officers and men as the sleek dreadnought tore through the night, making for the Inland Sea’s southeastern gate at Bungo Strait.
There had been a ceremony. At six o’clock, all men and officers not on duty had been broken out on deck. A message from Admiral Ozawa was read:
“Render this operation the turning point of the war.”
The men sang the National Anthem, gave three banzais for the Emperor, and returned to quarters. At ten o’clock, Yamato was in the Pacific Ocean—racing down Kyushu’s eastern shores with her consorts gathering about her, shooing the American submarine Hackleback away, swinging to starboard off Kyushu’s southern nose to sail west through Van Diemen Strait into the East China Sea.
Admiral Ito was taking the Surface Special Attack Force on a big swing west-northwest in hopes of pouncing on the Americans off Okinawa at about dusk of the next day.
But Hackleback had already alerted Admiral Spruance and shortly before half-past eight the next morning a scout plane from Essex spotted the Japanese force just southwest of Kyushu, less than 400 miles above Okinawa.
Patrol planes began taking off from Kerama Retto.
At ten o’clock, Yamato’s pathetic pair of fighter escorts flew back to Japan.
At ten-thirty Rear Admiral Morton Deyo was ordered to take six battleships, seven cruisers and 21 destroyers north and place them between the approaching Japanese warships and the American transports. At almost the same moment the patrol planes found Yamato sailing at 22 knots in the middle of a diamond-shaped destroyer screen, with cruiser Yahagi trailing behind. The big planes shadowed the naked enemy fleet like vultures.
“Hope you will bring back a nice fish for breakfast,” Admiral Turner signaled Admiral Deyo.
The commander of the intercepting force seized a signal blank and pencil to write his reply. “Many thanks, will try—” An orderly handed him an intercepted message. Scouts of the Fast Carrier Forces had found the enemy. Three groups totaling 380 planes were preparing to strike. “Will try to,” Deyo concluded, “if the pelicans haven’t caught them all!”
The “pelicans” had.
At half-past twelve the American warbirds were over the target. Ten minutes later two bombs exploded near Yamato’s mainmast. Another four minutes and a torpedo had pierced her side. At the same moment destroyer Hamakaze stood on her nose and slid under, and Yahagi took a bomb and a fish and went dead in the water.
There was a respite.
The Americans came again at half-past one and planted five torpedoes in Yamato’s port side. Water rushed into boiler and engine rooms and great Yamato began to lean to port. Rear Admiral Kosaku Ariga, Yamato’s captain, ordered counter-flooding in the starboard boiler and engine rooms. Ensign Mitsuru Yoshida attempted to warn the men there. Too late. They were sacrificed.
Still Yamato listed, and she had but one screw working. Her decks were a shambles of cracked and twisted steel plates. Her big guns would not work. The watertight wireless room was filled with water, and an explosion had wrecked the emergency dispensary and killed everyone inside.
At two o’clock the final attack began.
Hellcats and Avengers plunged from the skies to strike at the hapless ship. Yamato was shaken fore and aft and the entire battleship shuddered violently. Communications with the bridge were cut off, the distress flag was hoisted, the steering room became flooded, and with the rudder jammed hard left, mighty Yamato sagged over to a list of 35 degrees.
“Correction of list hopeless!” the executive officer cried.
Down came the Americans for the death blow.
“Hold on, men!” Ariga shouted. “Hold on, men!”
Bombs were striking around and upon Yamato, raising a giant clanging, flinging waves of roaring air across her decks, jumbling men together in heaps. Out of one pile crawled high-ranking staff officers. Admiral Ito struggled to his feet. His chief of staff arose and saluted him. The two men regarded each other solemnly. Ito turned, shook hands with each of his staff officers, wheeled and strode into his cabin, either to embrace death or await it—the world will never know which. Admiral Ariga rushed to save the Emperor’s portrait, but met death instead.
Yamato was dying slowly, like the giant she was. Her decks were nearly vertical, her battle flag all but touched the waves, explosions racked her monster body, her own ammunition began blowing up—and all around her were her sister ships in death agonies. Yahagi was sinking, Isokaze, Hamakaze, Asashimo and Kasumo had received their death blows.
At twenty-three minutes after two Yamato slid under, a full day’s steaming from Okinawa.
Japan had lost her navy, the suicide battleship had failed, and it was now up to the kamikaze and the men of Lieutenant General Mitsuru Ushijima.
