Ghost Carrier: They Died to Fight Another Day by Robert Child Page B
Authors: Robert Child
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engulfed in a white and orange fireball. No outline of the ship remained visible. The raging inferno of twisted iron and molten metal sank beneath the waves in under two minutes. The Admiral shouted to the Communications officer, “Any word from our squadron?”
“Negative, Admiral, we lost radio contact with Commander Sunderland five minutes ago.”
“What about our torpedo bombers?”
“Not a word, sir.”
Mullinnix slammed his hand down on the map table as the battle continued to rage around him. Ship to ship radio transmissions conveyed the desperation. Shouts, screams, and explosions pierced the air. Hundreds of men were dying horrible deaths all around him.
Turning to the west from the bridge, Mullinnix could see the twisted heap of the disabled cruiser Baltimore burning and sinking stern first. Only it’s bow number “68” remained above water. The ship had taken three direct torpedo hits in its bomb bay from the Kates. Coral Sea’s gunners destroyed two of the swooping dive bombers. One, skidding across the carrier’s deck in flames, took out two of their reserve Wildcat fighters and all three aircraft tumbled into the sea.
As Mullinnix watched the Baltimore’s bow number finally slip below the sea, a second formidable wave of enemy planes arrived. Twenty-one devastating Japanese “Val” D3A dive bombers each fitted with a single 500 pound bomb filled the sky. At this point in the Pacific war, the “Vals” had sunk more allied warships than any other axis aircraft, and now they were zeroing in on the American task force’s Gridley class destroyer USS Maury. The ship has been fitted with radar fire control two years earlier. Vals, pounded left and right, were burning and crashing into the sea. But the number of enemy aircraft was simply too great. Three D3As were able to slip past the Maury’s radar accurate guns to drop three 500 pound bombs dead center on her deck. She blew up in a blinding flash, causing Mullinnix and the other officers on the Liscome bridge to shield their eyes.
When he pulled his hand away from his eyes, the Admiral took in the burning wreckage surrounding his flagship. He quickly determined that none of the carriers had been hit with the exception of the Coral Sea where the burning Japanese torpedo bomber had slid across her flight deck.
In the sudden momentary lull in the battle, Mullinnix shouted to his communications officer, “Any word yet from Pacific Command?”
“Yes, sir, they are just sending the secure orders in now.”
Mullinnix frowned at the officer. He knew this was bad.
“I’ll take them in my ready room,” he said and quickly exited the bridge.
The Admiral stood silent in his ready room staring at the task force’s new orders feeling equal parts relief and disbelief. The order had been transmitted via a secure channel and approved by President Willkie himself. Preserve life. Stand down, surrender. Cease all hostile action against the enemy.
Mullinnix had to act fast if he was going to preserve remaining sailor lives. He raced to the ship’s radio room and directed the radio operator to hail the Commander of the Japanese armada. The battle was over.
The American battle group drifted dead in the water, the guns of the remaining ships left afloat silenced and their crews taken off line.
Liscome Bay floated as cold iron at the center of what was left of the task force; sister carriers Corregidor and Coral Sea and the destroyers Hoel , Franks , Hughes and Hull .
The ships were quiet with the majority of the crews on all ships confined to quarters as the special surrender detail assembled on the Liscome . No sailor could recall in any modern war when an American carrier had ever prepared for the humiliating ritual of being boarded. But it was happening, and the Japanese Admiral was expected within the hour.
Admiral Mullinnix, his uniform disheveled from the battle, stewed in his ready room. How had it come to this , he wondered. How had a once
“Negative, Admiral, we lost radio contact with Commander Sunderland five minutes ago.”
“What about our torpedo bombers?”
“Not a word, sir.”
Mullinnix slammed his hand down on the map table as the battle continued to rage around him. Ship to ship radio transmissions conveyed the desperation. Shouts, screams, and explosions pierced the air. Hundreds of men were dying horrible deaths all around him.
Turning to the west from the bridge, Mullinnix could see the twisted heap of the disabled cruiser Baltimore burning and sinking stern first. Only it’s bow number “68” remained above water. The ship had taken three direct torpedo hits in its bomb bay from the Kates. Coral Sea’s gunners destroyed two of the swooping dive bombers. One, skidding across the carrier’s deck in flames, took out two of their reserve Wildcat fighters and all three aircraft tumbled into the sea.
As Mullinnix watched the Baltimore’s bow number finally slip below the sea, a second formidable wave of enemy planes arrived. Twenty-one devastating Japanese “Val” D3A dive bombers each fitted with a single 500 pound bomb filled the sky. At this point in the Pacific war, the “Vals” had sunk more allied warships than any other axis aircraft, and now they were zeroing in on the American task force’s Gridley class destroyer USS Maury. The ship has been fitted with radar fire control two years earlier. Vals, pounded left and right, were burning and crashing into the sea. But the number of enemy aircraft was simply too great. Three D3As were able to slip past the Maury’s radar accurate guns to drop three 500 pound bombs dead center on her deck. She blew up in a blinding flash, causing Mullinnix and the other officers on the Liscome bridge to shield their eyes.
When he pulled his hand away from his eyes, the Admiral took in the burning wreckage surrounding his flagship. He quickly determined that none of the carriers had been hit with the exception of the Coral Sea where the burning Japanese torpedo bomber had slid across her flight deck.
In the sudden momentary lull in the battle, Mullinnix shouted to his communications officer, “Any word yet from Pacific Command?”
“Yes, sir, they are just sending the secure orders in now.”
Mullinnix frowned at the officer. He knew this was bad.
“I’ll take them in my ready room,” he said and quickly exited the bridge.
The Admiral stood silent in his ready room staring at the task force’s new orders feeling equal parts relief and disbelief. The order had been transmitted via a secure channel and approved by President Willkie himself. Preserve life. Stand down, surrender. Cease all hostile action against the enemy.
Mullinnix had to act fast if he was going to preserve remaining sailor lives. He raced to the ship’s radio room and directed the radio operator to hail the Commander of the Japanese armada. The battle was over.
The American battle group drifted dead in the water, the guns of the remaining ships left afloat silenced and their crews taken off line.
Liscome Bay floated as cold iron at the center of what was left of the task force; sister carriers Corregidor and Coral Sea and the destroyers Hoel , Franks , Hughes and Hull .
The ships were quiet with the majority of the crews on all ships confined to quarters as the special surrender detail assembled on the Liscome . No sailor could recall in any modern war when an American carrier had ever prepared for the humiliating ritual of being boarded. But it was happening, and the Japanese Admiral was expected within the hour.
Admiral Mullinnix, his uniform disheveled from the battle, stewed in his ready room. How had it come to this , he wondered. How had a once
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