Here is chapter 5. I ran up against the Twitter per hour/day limit. I will finish twittering the chapter in 20 minutes, hopefully. Until then enjoy chapter 5 of VENGEANCE at Midway and Guadalcanal.
Chapter 5
Battle of Midway
04:30 Local (15:30 GMT) 4 June 1942
Pacific Ocean, northwest of the island of Midway
The Kido Butai (carrier strike force) turned into the wind, while on the flight deck of the Hiryu, Ensign Ishiro Rabato stood with the wind at his back. In front of him, twenty-seven propellers spun in the pre-dawn darkness, reflecting glints of light from the dim, takeoff centerline lights that were built into the deck. He knew that within the dark cockpits, the pilots all had their eyes on his shadow as he flipped on his red, coned flashlight.
Checking his watch at exactly 04:30, Rabato waved the light in a tight circle as the strike leader, Lieutenant Joichi Tomonaga ran his Aichi D3A Val’s engine to full power, and the Kinsei 54 pumped out 1,070 horsepower. Rabato leaned into the wind, extending the flashlight and touching it to the deck. Tomonaga released his brakes and raced down the deck, coaxing the heavy, Val dive bomber into the black air.
10:30 Local (15:30 GMT)
Weis Field
David and J.T. taxied the blue and yellow PT-17 Kaydet into takeoff position on the grass strip. J.T.’s style was much more relaxed than Irish’s. After bringing the aircraft to a halt, he brought the voice piece to his mouth.
“Okay, Davy-boy, put your hands and feet on the controls and follow me through the takeoff.”
J.T. started the takeoff roll with David lightly touching all the controls and feeling their movement. As the RPM of the engine increased, he felt the gradual increase of right rudder. Then the airspeed flickered and the control stick centered to the neutral position, raising the tail. Very quickly, sixty knots showed on the airspeed indicator and the stick moved slightly aft, rotating the aircraft smoothly into the mid-morning sky.
04:30 Local (15:30 GMT)
Midway Field
Captain Paul Lady of VMF-221 kissed off his wingman and pushed the throttle forward on his Twin Wasp R-1830-86 engine. The F4F-3 Wildcat accelerated quickly and leaped into the air. It was a vast improvement over the lumbering F2A-3 Buffalo his wingman was wrestling with behind him. Even though the Buffalo’s Wright Cyclone R-1820-40 engine produced the same 1200 horsepower as his Wildcat, the design was so poor, aerodynamically, that its performance was terrible. Pilots simply called it the pig.
Captain Lady pulled the power back so his wingman could catch him while he manually cranked up the gear. The single advantage the Buff had over the Wildcat was hydraulically actuated gear. With his wingman now aboard, he started a slow climb to altitude to take his CAP (combat air patrol) station.
04:45 Local (15:45 GMT)
Overhead Hiryu
Each squadron rendezvoused overhead Hiryu at its own altitude, and the squadron commanders joined the strike leads squadron at 14,000 feet. Overhead Akagi, Kaga, and Soryu, the same meetings were taking place. After each air wing was formulated, the strike came together over Hiryu and sortied toward Midway at 05:24. One-hundred-eight war birds turned toward what they believed was an under-equipped garrison abandoned on Midway. The Japanese aviators were intent on crushing its defenses in a single, decisive blow.
05:34 Local (16:34 GMT)
U.S. Navy Catalina PBY, Patrol Plane number 3V58
150 nautical miles northwest of Midway
Petty Officer Third Class Elmer A. Kiel Jr. scanned the water from a blister window protruding from the fuselage of the PBY. The design of the window allowed him great visibility as he searched the waves 20,000 feet below, looking for the Kido Butai. Only nineteen years old, he had already survived the Pearl Harbor raids, having arrived on board Kaneohe Naval Air Station a few weeks before December 7, 1941. The grandson of the mayor of St. Louis, he knew he could have missed the show altogether, but he had left the comfort of a privileged life behind to seek adventure in the U.S. Navy. He had found it.
Kiel put down the binoculars, rubbed his eyes, and reached for a sip of cold coffee. As he raised the cup to his mouth, his tired eyes detected movement. They widened as he focused on 108 aircraft passing 6,000 feet below, just barely visible in the early dawn sky. Looking at the reciprocal of the air armada’s course, he could see in the distance the Kido Butai with at least two aircraft carriers.
After passing the information to the aircraft commander, Kiel quickly tapped out in Morse code: Many planes heading Midway, 320 at 150 nautical miles.
05:45 Local (16:45 GMT)
CAP Station Whiskey
Captain Lady received a hot vector toward known Bandits over his radio receiver, steering him toward the enemy. (A vector is a compass heading, hot means suspected bad guys or declared bandits—known bad guys—are on that compass bearing, i.e., turning the CAP to face the enemy.) The message was chilling.
Snap vector 320 for 100, one group, multiple Bandits, angels 14, declared hostile weapons free.
The hair stood up on the back of Captain Lady’s neck as he turned to a heading of 320 degrees and pushed his power up as high as he could and still keep the Buff on his wing. At their combined speed, he figured he was fourteen minutes from combat, fourteen minutes away from a life-and-death struggle with a far superior and experienced foe.
What the hell, he thought, no balls, no glory.
VMF-221 scrambled all twenty-eight of its fighters, nineteen Buffs and nine Wildcats, to meet the enemy. Ordered to escort their own strikers, instead they flew straight toward the fight. Every other aircraft on Midway took to the air: six TBF-1’s, four Army Air Corps B-26’s loaded with torpedoes, and fourteen B-17 Flying Fortresses. The last aircraft into the air were VMSB-241’s sixteen SBD and eleven SB2U-3 dive bombers, at 06:10.
Kiel transmitted the Kido Butai position, course, and speed to Midway, Task Force 16 and Task Force 17. Positions were plotted. Rear Admiral Fletcher planned for a 07:00 launch of strike packages from Enterprise, Hornet and Yorktown.
06:01 (17:01 GMT)
78 nautical miles northwest Midway
Captain Lady rolled in on the biggest flight of aircraft he had ever seen from 20,000 feet. With the sun at his back, he and his wingman were undetected. He was surprised to see the Zero fighter escort below the bombers; they obviously didn’t expect an airborne threat. Using his 6,000-foot advantage to gain speed, he was quickly at redline. Picking a Val dive bomber, the outside wingman of the last division, Captain Lady desperately tried to concentrate; he had never seen so many planes in the sky at once. Before him stretched 108 aircraft from four carrier air wings, all headed for his home base on Midway.
Focus, focus, one at a time, he told himself. Gun sight to target, master arm on, charge the guns, piper to target, piper to wing root. Three thousand feet, 2,500 feet, steady, trigger down!
The words resonated through his conscious as the six .50-caliber machine guns erupted. A fusillade of destruction rained on the Val. It succumbed immediately, disappearing in a black-and-orange blur as Captain Lady streaked past the debris.
Flashing overtop of two divisions of Zeros on his attack run, he knew he would not be allowed to attack with impunity for long. Still at combat-rated power on his R-1830-86 Twin Wasp engine, his speed advantage would give him a shot at one more Val before he had to sweat the Zeros’ counterattack. Suddenly, the morning sky lit up with tracer fire from all the other Val’s tail gunners as his quarry’s explosion dramatically announced his arrival.
His next target was a target of opportunity, literally centering itself in his gun sight after he had pulled off his first kill. Estimating the distance at 2,000 feet, Captain Lady admired the Japanese air crew’s formation discipline as he centered the piper on the Val. Tracers from the collective fire of the tail gunners began to converge on his Wildcat as he squeezed the trigger; again, the aircraft immediately exploded. He flinched as he saw tracers pass off of his right side, until he realized they were from his own wingman; he too had drawn blood, plunging a third Val to the calm sea below.
Captain Lady felt exposed now. He immediately pulled five G’s, straight up. With his Wildcat’s nose pointed in the pure vertical, he unloaded the induced drag by pushing to zero G. Having started at his redline speed of 275 knots, he was now temporarily a rocket ship, ascending out of the fight and, he hoped, out of danger. He knew the Zeros were behind him and his wingman; he also knew they could not shoot at zero G, because their guns would jam. He prayed they had not reached top speed in the chase. If they had not, he could out zoom-climb them by converting excess airspeed (potential energy) into (kinetic energy) to gain altitude. If they had—he was toast.
Captain Lady climbed as high as he dared. His airspeed was being rapidly tugged away by the Earth’s gravitational force. At fifty knots indicated, he used that force and sacrificed all his remaining energy in the form of airspeed to get the nose coming down by yanking the control stick into his lap.
As it was approaching the horizon, with airspeed dropping to zero, he pulled the throttle to idle and neutralized the ailerons and rudder so he wouldn’t induce a spin, but kept the stick all the way in his lap to keep the nose coming down.
Once the heavy nose began to seek the center of the Earth, Lady was able to turn his attention back to the fight. Scanning below for the enemy, the Marine fighter pilot instantly knew his gamble had paid off: 500 feet below him, a Mitsubishi A6M2 Zero-Sen fighter was falling toward the ocean with him. As gravity pulled at the heavy nose of the Wildcat, it began to regain airspeed. With the first twitch on the airspeed indicators needle, he began to feed in throttle and right rudder to keep the Wildcat in balanced flight.
It was then, to his horror, that he saw his own wing man spinning out of control to the Pacific. Captain Lady forced himself to let it go. He was still in a fight for his life. With smooth precision, he continued to accelerate his Wildcat until he had enough airspeed to pull the nose onto the Zero for the kill.
The Japanese Zero pilot was attempting the same delicate dance so he could escape; he didn’t make it. Captain Lady got the piper on the Zero’s exposed belly and blew him out of the sky.
Continuing to fly aggressively, he pulled aft of the debris field and finished the bottom half of a loop. Now nose low and accelerating dramatically, he rolled right to make a head-on pass at two Zeros that were climbing to engage him. They closed at over 500 mph as he made every attempt to shoot them both in the face. Tracers filled the morning sky again.
He didn’t stick around to see what happened as they flashed by, guns blazing. Finding himself in the middle of the largest enemy formation in the Pacific, he decided to scoot out their six o’clock by extending in the opposite direction at full speed and live to fight another day. He still had some ammo and figured he could re-attack them on their way out, if he played his cards right.
06:15 Local (17:15 GMT)
Hiryu
To Ensign Ishiro Rabato, the eastern sunrise seemed remarkably similar to the Imperial Japanese Naval Fleet flag that flapped wildly from the yardarm of the Hiryu. Viewed through the flickering propeller of a turning Mitsubishi A6M2 Zero-Sen fighter, the kaleidoscope effect made the rising sun look like the Japanese battle flag: red rays emanating from a circle of the same color in the center.
Surely the sight before him was a good omen. No doubt, Midway would fall like Wake before it. Hawaii would be next, and then the Imperial Fleet would rule the Pacific from its new base at Pearl. America would certainly sue for peace, the war would be won and the gi jinge’ driven from the Pacific forever.
A launch signal of a black square with two black balls going up the yard arm refocused Rabato’s attention on the task at hand. He quickly wound up his flag in a tight circle. The Nakajima Sakae 21 engine ran up to full power. Glancing at the flags to ensure the ship was turned into the wind, he touched the deck and launched the Zero. Its 1,130 horsepower strained against the wind as it rumbled off the deck, settling slightly due to its weight before it began a climb overhead. In quick succession, he launched the other seven CAP aircraft. With each, the flight deck crews bowed and waved jubilantly in unison as the fighters took to flight. They were sure that the end of this day would bring endless glory to the Emperor’s navy.
06:20 Local (17:20 GMT)
23 miles Northwest Midway
VMF-221’s remaining twenty-six fighters slashed through the Japanese Strikers, taking Lieutenant Tomonaga by surprise. The intelligence reports claiming a defense force similar in size to what had been on Wake were egregiously in error, and he was furious. He knew even before the attack runs began that another strike would be required before putting the amphibious force on the beach.
All around him, a furious dogfight raged. Its progress could be tracked by the smoking aircraft plunging into the Pacific. This was certainly not to plan, but what Tomonaga did not realize was that most of the flaming aircraft were American F2A-3 Buffalos. After bombing and strafing Midway, Tomonaga had his radio man raise the fleet and signal the need for a second raid. As the signal was being sent to the Japanese command, a lone Wildcat attacked from the northwest, flaming his wingman and riddling his Val with .50-caliber rounds.
12:20 Local (17:20 GMT)
Weis Field, Texas
After an hour-and-a-half of basic air work, J.T. took the airplane and entered the landing pattern at Weis. Flying up the runway, he made a sharp, 180-degree turn to the downwind portion of the pattern. Abeam the end of the runway, he set 1700 RPM and 23 inches of MAP. He flew the descending half-circle of a military-style pattern, talking to David throughout the entire approach. Rolling wings level for what seemed to David to be a very short groove length, J.T. eased off the power and flared, smoothly rolling onto the grass strip.
David was surprised how much the throttle moved aft in the flare, and J.T. seemed to read his mind as they rolled to a stop.
“Military aircraft are heavy and produce a lot of drag in the landing configuration,” he said, “especially these bi-planes. So we have to hold some power to keep from falling out of the sky. Bottom line: maintain a constant airspeed and rate of descent.”
David nodded and tried to absorb the control inputs he felt as he followed J.T. on the controls. They had come to a stop only a third of the way down the runway.
“Okay, David, your turn. Take off, climb to pattern altitude, then turn downwind and land.”
His first approach was rough. However, because he was preoccupied worrying about that, the takeoff went much better. J.T. had a knack of saying the right thing at the right time.
“Don’t over-think it. Just keep the airplane pointed straight, and be smooth,” was all he said as they rolled down the runway.
David’s newfound skill at keeping control during takeoff did not transfer to the landing phase, however. His biggest problem on approach was being rough on the power. He would alternate between not enough and way too much, going from falling like a rock to climbing instead of descending. He got fast, then slow, then fast again.
It all culminated in three bounces before J.T. took control and powered them back into the air. He kept the control of the aircraft for the next approach. At the abeam, he set landing power and smoothly rolled into an approach turn.
David was looking at the touchdown zone over his left shoulder when J.T. brought him back into the cockpit.
“David, the first ninety degrees of turn should be mostly on instruments: power, turn needle, airspeed and rate of descent. Scan them all, check your progress over the ground to see what the wind is doing to you, adjust and back into the cockpit,” he said.
“Look at me in the mirror.”
David looked back and saw J.T. with his left hand, the throttle hand, held over his head. Quickly scanning the instruments, David was surprised to see that they remained stable. His gaze alternated between the mirror and instruments, waiting for a massive fluctuation, but it never happened.
In the flare just before touchdown, J.T. called over the mouth piece, “Ease the throttle to idle.”
David complied, and the Stearman settled nicely onto the runway.
They did a touch-and-go, and on climb-out J.T. turned it back over to David.
“Less is more,” he said.
David shook his head; he didn’t understand.
“The less you move the flight controls, the more control of the aircraft you keep.”
David nodded, understanding. Power plus attitude equals performance. A stable platform is easier to control; correct with small, conscious movements.
07:15 Local (18:15 GMT)
Midway
Midway radio transmitted the all clear and called all fighters to land and re-service. Of the twenty-eight fighters that had launched, only ten returned. Of that ten, only two would ever fly again. Captain Paul Lady’s Wildcat was one of the two.
He flew low over the field to get a look at the runway, staying fast in case he got jumped by a Zero. Satisfied that the runway was intact, he pitched up steeply to the abeam, extending the gear and flaps. Flying a very steep and tight approach, he landed in seconds, then hustled over to a revetment.
Hiryu
Admiral Nagumo, convinced by Tomonaga’s transmission and the attack on his fleet by the B-26’s, had already directed the reserve strike group to be reloaded with fragmentation bombs for a second raid on Midway.
The American fleet had not been found. He must act on the information he knew to be fact, not endless possibilities. Nagumo was the product of the absolute structure of Japanese society. He had a cultural inability to act on a hunch. American naval officers were the exact opposite: risk takers, even gamblers. And more important, they were used to making decisions on their own, far away from micro-managing command staffs. Rear Admiral Fletcher had launched air strikes without knowing exactly where the Kido Butai was located.
Admiral Nagumo ordered all air wings to download the War at Sea weapons packages and upload fragmentation bombs for another attack on Midway. This meant unloading torpedoes and armor-piercing bombs, then reloading strike aircraft with anti-personnel fragmentation bombs.
Nagumo’s staff still worried about U.S. carriers in the area. A scout had reported a task force consisting of five cruisers and five destroyers at 08:10. Satisfied, they continued to load for the Midway strike.
A mere ten minutes later, at 08:20, the same scout reported a carrier in the task force. Members of his staff called for an immediate strike, but Nagumo rejected it because the strikers were now loaded with fragmentation bombs and his fighters were not yet refueled. He directed that the load be changed again, back to War at Sea packages, and set a launch time for 10:30.
On deck, the Japanese ordnance men reversed the load for a second time. Space on a ship was always an issue. Since constant indecision on weapons loads was never foreseen, there were only enough weapons carts for a single load. They had to violate standard operating procedure by laying the fragmentation bombs on the flight deck as they uploaded the War at Sea package. Then they could load the frags onto the carts and take them below to the armored weapons magazines.
During the change in weapons loads at 08:37, the Kido Butai had to turn into the wind to recover the first Midway strike and the CAP. Tomonaga flew his Val at full speed over the Hiryu. Performing an aggressive carrier break turn at the bow, he jerked the throttle to idle and pulled four G’s to slow his aircraft. After 180 degrees of turn, he dropped the landing gear and extended the flaps, keeping a forty-five-degree angle of bank turn in as he pulled to centerline and slowed to his approach speed, leveling his wings in the groove of the Hiryu. Five seconds later, the LSO (Landing Signal Officer) gave him a cut signal and he trapped on board. Taxiing clear immediately, he shut down and ran to Flag Plot (admiral’s planning room, where they “plot” all ships movements). Confusion reigned on deck after the recovery finished at 09:18. Fuel lines (hoses) were stretched everywhere among the bombs and aircraft.
Two minutes later, the first American strikers started their torpedo attack runs against the Akagi and Kaga. Lieutenant Commander Waldron led the fifteen TBD Devastators of VT-8 against the Kido Butai. Only Yorktown had managed a coordinated launch, so Waldron led his squadron against the heart of the Japanese fleet with no fighter escort. Zeros pounced on the torpedo bombers, and the slow-moving aircraft were savaged by the fighters and AAA (Anti Aircraft Artillery). One by one, they fell into the sea. Ensign George Gay was the only pilot to get his aircraft to a launch point before he was shot down. Gay was also the only squadron member to survive the attack.
VT-6 followed Torpedo Eight. The squadron lost ten of fourteen aircraft. VT-3 was the next squadron in the grinder. As they began a run, they shifted to the Hiryu. This move dragged the Japanese CAP along; over thirty Zeros descended on them. The commanding officer, Lem Massey, had tried to coordinate a high/low attack with McClusky’s Bombing Three, but he could not see them through the clouds. When Massey was flamed, the squadron formation fell apart, and they met the same fate as Torpedo Eight and Six.
Not a single torpedo struck a targeted ship; three squadrons obliterated in what seemed a futile attempt. However, the torpedo squadrons had brought the Zero CAP virtually to the surface to engage them. The few Zeros at altitude were engaged with Thatch and his Wildcats. Using his new tactic, dubbed the Thatch Weave, they were holding their own against superior odds but could not help VT-3.
When VT-3 turned to attack the Hiryu at 10:20, the Akagi began its launch as the Zeros pursued the torpedo bombers. Overhead, VB-6 and VS-6 SBD Dauntless dive bombers, twenty-four in total, rolled in on Kaga with vengeance in mind.
Simultaneously, Lieutenant Commander Dick Best led six SBD Dauntless aircraft in a plunging dive toward Akagi, pointed almost straight down. With the Zeros out of position, they were all able to drop their bombs unmolested. Two thousand-pound bombs landed amid the Akagi’s air wing as the first aircraft were taking off. Four more fell on Kaga. Both ships were instant infernos as the bombs on deck and fuel lines fed the conflagration.
Less then two minutes later, Lieutenant Commander Leslie led Bombing Three’s seventeen Dauntless SBD’s in an attack on Soryu. Three thousand-pounders ignited the same kind of inferno that was burning on Akagi and Kaga as the Zeros chased the few surviving torpedo bombers down on the deck (low altitude).
At 10:50, Rear Admiral Yamaguchi ignored Admiral Nagumo and launched eighteen Vals and six Zeros from the Hiryu against the American task force. He would follow an hour later with his Nakajima B5N Kate bombers. With the rest of the carrier force in flames, he had no intention of getting his air wing caught on deck. Yamaguchi wanted to strike the Americans quickly and put them on the defensive.
The Hiryu strike, led by Lieutenant Kobayashi, flew east to engage the Americans. Rear Admiral Fletcher put a fresh CAP up over Task Forces 16 and 17. At 12:00, the forces met, a mere twenty miles from Yorktown. U.S. Navy Wildcats dropped seven Vals in rapid order, and more CAP’s joined the melee. Their Zero escort finally caught up after chasing another flight, and the Wildcats were forced to fight for their lives. Seven surviving Vals attacked the Yorktown. Three bombs found their mark, one doing severe damage.
Task Force 17, having only one carrier, the Yorktown, sent its CAP to recover on the Hornet and Enterprise with Task Force 16. They, in turn, put up a CAP over Yorktown as her crew fought to get her speed back up.
At 13:00, the Hiryu finally got confirmation that it was up against three U.S. Navy aircraft carriers. Ten Kates and six Zeros were readied and launched at 13:31, led by Lieutenant Tomonaga. Task Force 17 was only eighty-seven nautical miles away.
By 14:30, Yorktown’s crew had her speed up to nineteen knots when Tomonaga found her. Formed in a battle formation called a chutai, he had the Kates formed up in a ten-plane V with two Zeros in the middle and two on each end. TF-17 radar picked up the attackers and vectored Yorktown’s CAP toward them. They missed. The FDO (fighter direction officer) quickly reversed them, and the F4F-3 Wildcats gave chase.
Catching the Kates, two Wildcats shot down two of the bombers before being engaged by the Zero escort. Yorktown began to launch fighters in an attempt to fend off Tomonaga. Thatch had just cranked up his gear when he saw Tomonaga pierce the screen of cruisers and destroyers. Turning toward the Kates, he got off a string of fifty just as Tomonaga dropped his torpedo. The Kate’s right wing collapsed and Tomonaga impacted the water. His torpedo missed.
Two more Wildcats came off the deck of Yorktown, each downing a Kate immediately. The fourth to come off was jumped by two Zeros as he turned toward the second flight of Kates. Lieutenant Barnes, engaged in a two-to-one fight, held them off long enough for McClusky’s division of Wildcats to come to his rescue, downing both Zeros in a single slashing run. Two more Zeros jumped Barnes, and the seven fighters got into a swirling dogfight over Yorktown.
Yorktown launched more fighters as the last Kates closed on her. Wildcats made a firing pass but missed; four torpedoes went into the water and two hit. Yorktown slowed and went dead in the water.
As the USS Yorktown began to list to starboard, the new flight leader, Lieutenant Hashimoto, sent a message to Yamaguchi: carrier engaged two certain hits. Yamaguchi misinterpreted the message to mean: two carriers hit.
Fletcher received new coordinates for the Hiryu from one of Yorktown’s scouts. After passing the information to Task Force 16, he gave the order to abandon ship on the Yorktown. At 15:25, as the Yorktown was sinking, the Enterprise launched another strike of twenty-five dive bombers and eight Wildcats.
Lieutenant Gallaher was in the lead SBD Dauntless dive bomber. Thirty-four aircraft and crews were depending on him to find the Hiryu. Glancing west, he saw that the sun was low and he had no time to waste. Plotting the last known latitude and longitude on his movement board, he also plotted the last known course and speed. Gallaher projected the rendezvous point and wagged it a bit to the south. He sweetened up his course and checked his time again.
At 16:20, he saw the Kido Butai and it sent a chill down his spin. He was very aware of how many men had already died today and he didn’t much want to join them, but his duty was clear. After maneuvering his strike to a position overhead the Hiryu at 19,000 feet, Gallaher rolled, inverted, and pulled toward the Hiryu below at 16:58. Thirty-three aircraft followed.
Ensign Rabato was at his station waiting to launch another scout plane. His confidence was rattled by the day’s events. He had seen the Akagi and Kaga destroyed and he yearned for retribution. He was waiting with anticipation to launch the strike group being readied below in the hangar deck.
AAA guns came alive, announcing yet another attack. Rabato looked up and saw the first SBDs dropping their bombs. Mesmerized, he watched as the tiny dots grew; he knew two of them would hit. The first bomb hit aft, knocking him to the deck with its concussion. Without thinking, he stood as the second one hit amid ship. Again, he was knocked to the deck. The scout plane was ablaze—he couldn’t believe his eyes. Rabato tried to get up and noticed his legs were gone.
Strangely, incomprehensibly, a calming silence filled his ears as the destruction and chaos raged around him. Reduced to a mere spectator of his own existence, he watched as another bomb fell close by and blew him overboard. The cool Pacific water revived him just long enough to get a glimpse of the Hiryu in flames, bow to stern.
Rabato slipped below the surface while half a world away, David drifted asleep, unaware of the titanic struggle that had taken place as he was floating on the gentle, spring air of Texas.
