History That Doesn't Suck - 198: The Pacific Tide Turns at Coral Sea & Midway

Episode Date: February 2, 2026

“It was almost unbelievable, but I was seeing it. Almost simultaneously, three [Japanese] carriers were wiped out. I knew what it meant. By golly, we did it!”  This is the story of a battle that changed how wars are fought at sea—and of the thin margin between disaster and destiny. In the spring of 1942, Japanese forces surge across the Pacific, confident their next move will finish what Pearl Harbor began. But beneath the surface, American codebreakers are listening, watching, and waiting. Fresh from the hard-fought Battle of the Coral Sea, the U.S. Navy limps forward with damaged carriers, exhausted pilots, and an untested commander named Chester Nimitz. Across the ocean, Admiral Yamamoto Isoroku sets an intricate trap meant to lure America’s carriers into annihilation near a tiny atoll called Midway. What follows is not a clash of battleships, but a duel fought primarily in the air—where minutes matter, mistakes are fatal, and pilots will dive straight into fire with no idea if they’re already too late. By the morning of June 4, 1942, both sides believe victory is within reach. Only one is right. ____ Connect with us on HTDSpodcast.com and go deep into episode bibliographies and book recommendations join discussions in our Facebook community get news and discounts from The HTDS Gazette  come see a live show get HTDS merch or become an HTDS premium member for bonus episodes and other perks. HTDS is part of Audacy media network. Interested in advertising on the History That Doesn't Suck? Contact Audacyinc.com. To learn more about listener data and our privacy practices visit: https://www.audacyinc.com/privacy-policy Learn more about your ad choices. Visit https://podcastchoices.com/adchoices

With the RBC Avion visa, you can book any airline, any flight, any time. So start ticking off your travel list. Grand Canyon? Grand. Great barrier reef? Great. Galapagos? Galapago? Switch and get up to 55,000 avion points that never expire. Your idea of never missing out happens here. Conditions apply. Visit rbc.com slash avion.

Forget the usual chocolates and flowers this Valentine's Day. We've got the perfect gift. The history that doesn't suck Key West and Bahamas cruise this spring. Book now through Valentine's Day and save $100 off per cabin for a four-night VIP experience aboard the beautiful celebrity reflection. From May 18th to the 22nd. This isn't just a vacation. It's the official book launch party for my new book.

Been there, done that. How our history shows what we can overcome. Every guest receives an advanced signed copy of the book and gets access to exclusive onboard events, including a private performance of my live show and other fun history-loving activities. You can not only save $100 per cabin, but you can also choose the exact location of your cabin. Visit hdscruise.com slash one zero for $100 off per cabin. That's hdscruise.com slash 100. It's mid-morning, May 7, 1942, and 20-year-old naval fireman, third class Bill Liu,

is in the depths of the oil taker USS Neo Show, part at work with two other sailors in the stuffy and cramped number one magazine as their vessel cuts through the waters of the Southwest Pacific's Coral Sea. We can only imagine what exact duties he might be fulfilling at the moment. Is he assisting in moving ammunition to the guns above? Perhaps he's inspecting for fire hazards. After all, the Neo Show may have just refueled the aircraft carrier USS Yorktown and the cruiser USS Astoria yesterday,

but it's still the case that one little spark here could easily send this 25,000-ton ship and its nearly 300 souls to the depths. But whatever typical task he's doing, it comes to an end as he picks up the JV film, and a sailor describes the action above. Here comes three, three off our bow. Okay, time out. Before we get too deep into this battle, the Battle of the Coral Sea, let's get just a touch more background.

As we know from recent past episodes, the Japanese Empire has spread rapidly through the Pacific, perhaps especially after its attack on Pearl Harbor last year, December 7, 1941. The Japanese have swept through the Dutch East Indies, taken the U.S. Commonwealth of the Philippines, and pushed into the British Crowns territories everywhere, from Singapore to the those on eastern New Guinea. And right now, on May 7th, the Japanese are a few days into a multi-pronged action called Operation Moe, intended to take Port Moresby. Located on Australia administered Papua's southern coast and just across the coral sea from the land down under, Port Moresby would position the Japanese well to cut off U.S. supplies to Australia and then

to move in for the kill. But this hasn't gone as smoothly as Japanese leadership had hoped, not with the Americans having cracked Japan's operational code system, J.N. 25. Fully aware of the general strokes of the Japanese forces plans, Rear Admiral Frank Jack Fletcher's aircraft carrier, USS Jorktown, surprised the Japanese at their newly established based on the island of Tulagi on May 4th. This was followed by two days of both sides' respective aircraft carrier-led fleets trying to catch the other in the vast coral sea. And now, this May 7th morning,

the Japanese have honed in on the oil tanker USS Niosho and its accompanying escort, the destroyer USS Sims, mistaking the retreating Nio Show for one of the Americans' carriers. As this mistake slowly becomes clear, most of the Japanese aircraft are called off, but not the dive bombers. They soon swoop in, and sailors deep in the Nio Show's hold, like Bill Liu, are getting that news over the JV phone. Ah, and that brings us a us back to our story. With some two dozen or more IHED3A2 dive bombers, or VALs as they know, dropping one bomb after another, Bill and his fellow sailors feel every hit as it shakes the whole ship. One is too close for comfort, shaking them so hard, he tears the cork plaster right off the

wall. The voice on the other side of the JV phone yells, Are you guys still alive down there? Yes, we are, but I'm sure scared. The other sailor answers with a nervous laugh. So are we. Bill must be wondering. Did he really survive Pearl Harbor, only to die in the hole of this tanker? After seven bombs hit the Neo Show, and three strike the Sims, Bill hears the cry. Abandon ship!

It's contrary to the captain's orders, but not knowing any better, he makes his way to the deck, and plunges into the coral seas waters. Bill has no live fest. His was stolen. He even knows who stole. But that won't help him now as his continued arms start to give out. Slowly, he decides that there's just no point.

He gives up. Bill lets himself start to sink below the blue surface. But as he comes up for a last, desperate breath, the young fireman hears a voice call out. Hold on, Bill. Hold on. I'll help you. This unnamed savior lets Bill hold on to his life jacket. until a boat in their damaged chip pulls them both from the waters to return them to the listing but still floating Neosha.

There, the survivors send out a distress call and wait. It's the next day, May 8, 1942. Japanese and American scouts are both zipping through the skies over the coral sea. As they do, the Neosho is still listing, and the Sims is at the bottom of the Pacific. But so is the light Japanese aircraft carrier, Shoeho. She was sunk yesterday morning by aircraft from the carrier's USS Yorktown and USS Lexington, blasted with upwards of seven torpedoes and at least a dozen bombs. The sinking of the Shoho brought the invasion of Port Moresby to a pause,

leading to this morning's situation in which the Japanese and Americans alike are attempting to seek and destroy the other's carriers. And not long after 11 a.m., both sides find their respective targets. Hundreds of miles apart, machine guns of Japanese zeros and American wildcats are both singing the same song, accompanying the sound of bombs striking aircraft carriers from the sky. The Americans hit Japan's Shokaku with three 1,000-pound bombs, forcing many of her aircraft to land on her sister carrier, Zui Kaku.

Meanwhile, far out of sight from this action, the Japanese are landing their punches, too. They strike the Lexington with two bombs and torpedoes. Last, Lady Lex, as she's known, won't survive the day. The Yorktown struck too, and she's leaking oil, badly. Despite neither side's carriers ever seeing the other, both have lost hundreds of men by the day's end. And as each recoils to lick their wounds, Bill Liu and other surviving sailors are still stuck on the listing wheel show, praying that the distress call is heard. Welcome to History That Doesn't Suck.

I'm your professor, Greg Jackson, and I'd like to tell you a story. Bill Liu and his fellow survivors do pull through. The destroyer USS Henley saves them a few days later. It then scuttles the oil tanker, sending the Neo Show to join the Sims at the bottom of the Coral Sea. The Battle of the Coral Sea is often overlooked, yet it is truly noteworthy. This isn't only because it's where the U.S. first sinks a Japanese aircraft carrier, nor is it because the battle is a strategic victory for the Allies, even if a tactical victory for the Japanese, who lost more men but fewer ships. Naturally, both sides will claim victory.

No, the Coral Sea is also of great significance because it is the first full step into the modern world of naval warfare, a world in which planes, not ships, do the attacking. Did you notice that aircraft did all the attacking here? Moreover, the Japanese and American fleets, never even came close enough to see one another, let alone fire at one another in this battle. Yes, the Coral Sea proves that the once mighty battleship is now a dated technology. Sea battles are now air battles, or, as Lieutenant Commander John A. Colett, will put it later this year, quote, air power has not displaced sea power. Air power is sea power, close quote.

Nonetheless, the importance of the importance of the war is the sea power. of the coral sea is often eclipsed by the seismic shift in the Pacific War, caused by another battle about a month later, the Battle of Midway. And this battle is our story for the remainder of this episode. We'll begin by setting the stage as we take in some high-level Japanese battle plans. We'll then pivot across the ocean to the U.S. where the newly minted commander-in-chief of the U.S. Pacific Fleet, or Sinkpack, Chester Nimitz, has some inside knowledge about those Japanese plans. After that, we'll follow the action of the Grand Battle itself, particularly on its first and decisive day of fighting, June 4, 1942. As at the Battle of the Coral Sea, we'll

find that air power is sea power, as planes clash and bomb aircraft carriers near the Midway atoll, located about midway, pun intended, between Japan and the Pacific coast of America. But let's not give anything away. Rather, let's begin. our tale by backing up just ever so slightly to take in the whole Japanese strategy in the Pacific for the summer of 1942. Ready? Rewind. In the spring of 1942, the land of the rising sun truly feels like an empire kissed by the early morning's first rays of light, both internally and abroad. Within its massively expanded borders, Japan claims it's fighting the effect of European imperialism with its greater East Asia co-prosperity sphere. Founded back in 1940 by foreign minister

Matsuoka Yosuke, this initiative asserts that is, casting off the evils of European imperialism, to bring Manchukuo, China, Southeast Asia, the Pacific Islands, in short, the quote-unquote eight corners of the world, under Japan's supposedly benevolent rule. Hmm, but is it? Or has European imperialism simply been replaced by Japanese imperialism. Many living within this co-prosperity sphere already say it's the latter. As for abroad, Japan's navy is ready to extend the empire's reach all the more. And as stated in a March 7th, 1942 directive, quote, deprive the United States of its will to fight, close quote.

And commander-in-chief of the Imperial Japanese combined fleet, Yamamoto Isoroku, believes he has just the plan for this. He wants to move against Alaska's Aleutian Islands, that is, the chain of islands trailing toward Russia's Asian coast, and a far greater importance in his mind, the Midway Atoll. Now, just what is this Midway, you ask? Located 1,135 nautical miles west-northwest of Pearl Harbor, and 2,200 of those same nautical miles east-southeast from Japan,

Midway Atoll is, well, about the middle of the way between the United States West Coast and Asia. As for its geographical structure, it's a Pacific Ataal, like many others, a coral reef encircling a lagoon. Specifically, Midway has two less than two mile long islands nestled in the middle. Put on the map by Whalers in 1859, the U.S. attempted to carve a channel through the lagoon a decade later. That didn't work, but the U.S. Navy, nonetheless, less began making use of the islands around the turn of the century, and by the late 1930s, as war with Japan loomed, that formerly failed channel received new attention. It was soon completed with an airfield. Thus, in the months before Pearl Harbor, the small atoll became a

crucial American island airfield. In brief, the Midway Atoll is like an immobile aircraft carrier in the middle of the Pacific. And taking these two little islands and Alaska's most western Aleutian Islands would give Japan a mighty new perimeter. That said, Yamamoto is less worried about actually capturing Midway than drawing the U.S. Pacific Fleet out of the safety of Pearl Harbor to be engaged and destroyed. Such a defeat, Yamamoto believes, will crush the American's hopes and push them toward giving up and making peace. This outcome alone would make a surprise attack on Midway worthwhile.

As for the Aleutian Islands, this strike is more about dividing American attention, and complicating its response at Midway. Getting a toehold on Alaska would be great, but the real focus is crushing America's ability and will to fight before its mighty industrial machine can fully mobilize. Some harbor doubts about these plans. And those doubts do not vanish. But officially, the Battle of the Coral Sea is framed as a victory,

and enough confidence remains for the operation to go forward. On the night of May 25, 1942, and Mamoto holds a party aboard his battleship, the Yamato. But does the night harbor an ill omen? Steward Omi-Hajiro realizes that the cook has boiled the main dish of Thai, which is a whole fish, and miso instead of salt. In Japanese, the saying to put miso on food, idiomatically means to make a mess of things. Well, unlike his steward, the optimistic Yamamoto doesn't make much of the mistake.

He and his officers drink to Japanese victory all night. Only days later, Vice Admiral Nagumo Chuichi, the very same who led the attack on Pearl Harbor, once again sails out of Japanese waters with his massive naval force, Kido Butai. Though lacking the two aircraft carriers damaged in the Coral Sea, he still has four of these massive, powerful, plane-carrying vessels, the Akagi, Kaga, Hear You, and Soar You,

as well as a few battleships and cruisers and roughly a dozen destroyers. Meanwhile, another part of the Japanese combined fleet sails off to make its near-simultaneous attack on Alaska's Aleutian Islands. Yamamoto's plan is now officially in motion. Back in America, this same May, 1942, the newly appointed commander-in-chief of the U.S. Pacific Fleet, otherwise called the Sink Pack, Admiral Chester Nimitz, knows something's fishy.

Chester's had a long Navy career. In 1909, he became a submariner and rose quickly through the ranks during World War I before eventually being entrusted with the role of Sinkpack after husband Kimmel's perceived failures at Pearl Harbor. A fast bio, I know, but the key thing to follow is that Chester is a proper Navy man, now holding one of the most coveted, or feared, depending on how you see it, positions in the U.S. Navy. Basically, he's running everything in the Pacific outside of Douglas MacArthur's command. And Chester is busy crossing his fingers that his codebreakers, the Combat Intelligence Unit, under the command of Joseph John Rochefort, has figured out what the Japanese Navy is up to.

It's pretty clear that the Quito Bhutai has been practicing maneuvers for a great battle. The million-dollar question is, where do they plan to have it? And I guess the second million-dollar question then becomes, when do they want to have it? It's Thursday, May 14th, 1942. Or in Captain Joe Rochefort's windowless basement, dubbed the dungeon, an office in the old administration building of Pearl Harbor's Navy Yard, where the expert codebreaker has been working basically around the clock to crack the subset of Japanese JN25 code.

They've termed JN25B. And it seems like he's getting close. Hmm. He'd probably like to find a few. focus without us hanging over his shoulder, though. So as Joe hammers out the final details of what might be a huge breakthrough, let's take a second to understand this code. The JN25 consists of 40,000 to 45,000, five-digit number groups, some of which are just fillers designed specifically to fool code breakers. On top of those number groups, the coded messages are further enciphered. Tell you what,

I'll let historian Craig Simons explain it to you. quote, the encoder selected a five-digit number from this cipher tablet and added it to the first number group in the message. The next cipher number was added to the second number group and so on throughout the message. An indicator buried in the message itself revealed the exact location, page number, column, and line, where the cipher number additives could be found in the secondary tablet. Thus, the code group for East might be 10,0002. But it would be encrypted again by adding another five-digit number from the cipher tablet. If the encoder added the number 45,038, the word east became 55,264. To decrypt the message, the recipient needed the initial code book, the secondary code tablet, and the indicator.

Close quote. In other words, cracking this code is no small thing. And now that we can appreciate that, let's rejoin Joe in his basement. Excitedly, Joe calls up fellow codebreaker, Edwin Layton. I've got something so hot here. It's burning the top of my desk. You'll have to come over and see it. It's not cut and dried, but it's hot. The man with the blue eyes will want to know your opinion of it. Edwin dashes to the underground bunker, darting past the Marine, guarding the door.

He's soon greeted by Joe. The master codebreaker points to a semi-decrypted message that has the words Coriakou Boutai in it. Edwin also sees a geographic designator. Two letters, simply A-F, which refer to a, and I quote, forthcoming invasion. Joe is ecstatic. The term Coriaku Boutai popped up right before major battles in places like Java, Sumatra, and Bali. It's pretty clear to him that A-F,

as the target. But Joe can go further. Doing what Edwin calls a brilliant piece of detective work, he quickly convinces his friend that the objective is midway. Edwin explains, quote, The clinchers were two messages sent out by the second fleet command to its associated air units. The first went to the AF occupation force, which was ordered to proceed direct to the Saipan Guam area and wait for the forthcoming campaign. The second one ordered another unit to load its base equipment and ground crews in advance to A.F., everything in the way of the base equipment and military supplies, which will be needed for the K campaign will be included, close quote. From here, Joe is quick to rationalize that the mysterious K option, as he puts it,

is tied to the mass of Japanese forces in Saipan. He knows that A.H is Oahu, and A.K. is the French frigate shoals. If supplies for air units are being prepared to be sent to this AF, it's pretty clear that AF has to be an island base near enough to Pearl Harbor. Midway is really the only option. And so, Joe's done it. He's pieced together enough of the JN25B to know that the next Japanese target will be the Midway atoll. Now, if he can only get the rest of the U.S. Navy on board.

The discovery is immediately run up the chain of command until it reaches Admiral Chester Nimitz. who doesn't take much convincing to trust his codebreakers. But the higher-ups in Washington aren't as easily swayed. Is this mysterious AF actually Midway? A few days later, on May 20th, Joe and his team make another incredible discovery. The Kido Butai is set to depart from Japan on May 27th. Now, you and I already know that,

but Washington, D.C. was thinking that this attack on AF, aka Midway, wouldn't be until late June. Why then would the Japanese fleet be leaving so early? Well, that's because, as this next round of decrypted information suggests, the attack is actually happening on June 2nd or 3rd. Chester is ready to pounce, but he's being held back by that DC bureaucracy. So, Joe devises a scheme that's endorsed by the Admiral. To confirm, without a doubt, that Midway is in fact what Japan means by AF,

a fake message is transmitted saying that the atolling, hole's distillation plant has broken. Well, sure enough, two days later, a message is sent to Tokyo that AF has a little fresh water. It's brilliant. And to make this even better for the codebreakers, Japan's subsequent messages confirm that the assault will take place on one of the first days in June, just as they thought. Admiral Chester Nimitz knows he's going to have to face the Japanese fleet. There's no hiding from Yamamoto's armada. But he has the right men for the job. And tactical command will be Task Force 17 commander, Rear Admiral Frank Jack Fletcher. Yes, we caught mention of this Iowa native at the start of this episode, when we saw Jack,

or Black Jack, as he's also called, just like our old army commander from the last World War, John Pershing, score supposed victory at the Battle of the Coral Sea. With him is Rear Admiral Raymond Spruins, who's commanding Task Force 16. Chester tells the two rear admirals that The goal is, quote, to inflict maximum damage on the enemy by employing strong attrition attacks, governed by the principle of calculated risk, which you shall interpret to mean the avoidance of exposure of your force to attack by superior enemy forces without good prospect of inflicting as a result of such exposure, greater damage on the enemy, close quote. Okay.

But in practice, what does that actually mean? It means that, on May 28th, the day after the Japanese carriers began heading out to Midway, Raymond Spruent sails out of Pearl Harbor with Task Force 16's two aircraft carriers, USS Hornet, and his flagship USS Enterprise, as well as six cruisers and 11 destroyers. Two days later, May 30th, Blackjack Fletcher follows with two cruisers and six destroyers and the Pieste de Resistence, his flagship, the aircraft carrier USS Yorktown. Yes, despite its severe thrashing in the Battle of the Coral Sea, 1,400 men managed to complete repairs that should have taken months in a mere two days.

Convinced that they put the Yorktown down for the count, the Japanese will never see her coming. Meanwhile, Yamamoto is hitting a few roadblocks, or water blocks, if we can make that a thing. Aerial reconnaissance isn't possible because an American ship is, anchored where the Japanese planned for their refueling station to be. The submarines that were supposed to intercept American ships between Oahu and Midway aren't in position. And to make matters even worse, intelligence is reporting that Midway is on alert. Air patrols are going out and cranes are visible, suggesting that the Americans know something is coming,

which, as we know, they do. Yamamoto wants to alert Kido Butai commander Nagumo Tzuichi immediately, since the admiral is still operating under the assault. that the U.S. knows nothing about Japanese plans, but, as with Pearl Harbor, the fleet is traveling under radio silence. A heavy fog ushers both navies toward Midway. Nagumo and his trusted chief of staff, Husaka Ryunovska, are anxious. How will they properly navigate the dual mission they've been assigned if they can't see the American fleet? See, the Japanese plan is twofold. Attack the atoll on June 4th to land on the 6th, but also,

also secretly find and destroy the American fleet. But how can one happen without tipping the U.S. off to the other? Well, it seems pretty clear that a land invasion will be a complete failure if the naval and air forces aren't neutralized. So the air and sea part has to come first. Meanwhile, Captain Oishi Tamosu makes what the rest of the Japanese forces think is a good point. To quote him, even if the Americans are already aware of our movements and have sordid to meet us, They can't be far out from base at this moment, and certainly can't be near us. Close quote. But, oh, is he wrong?

Out on Air Patrol in his P.B.Y. Catalina on the morning of June 3rd, instant Jack Reed is about 600 nautical miles west-southwest of Midway, when he sees something that looks to him like, quote, miniature ships in a backyard pool. Close quote. The group is roughly 30 miles in front of him. Jack asks his co-pilot. Do you see what I see? Peering down at the Pacific below,

Insin Hardiman replies, You damn right I do. The two pilots think they've found the full Kido Butai. In response, nine midway dispatched B-17 flying fortresses try and fail to bomb these ships that very afternoon. In reality, these miniature ships are the invasion transport group

under Vice Admiral Kondo Nobutake. Now, clearly, the Vice Admiral knows that the Americans know he's coming. But that doesn't mean that the Americans know about the rest of the Japanese fleet, because Admiral Nagumo is approaching with his four carriers from a separate more northern route. The plan is for his aircraft to strike midway and soften it up before these transports land their 5,000 men. So, not wanting to risk alerting the Americans to the rest of the fleet's presence, nor willing to deviate from the plan. Condo does not break radio silence to inform Nagumo of the B-17's failed attack. Thus, as night falls on June 3rd,

the ever-so-silent Japanese ships sail on in their two respective groups, knowing they'll be in position by morning. But as they do, American commanders Black Jack Fletcher and Raymond Spruent's also have their sailors and fly-boys ready. Blackjack has made an incredibly lucky, yet informed inference. He's brought the U.S. carriers just north of Midway, which, which happens to be more in line with the Japanese aircraft carrier's path. Scuttlebutt amongst American sailors has it, but because they've broken the Japanese coat, the Rising Sun's ships are sailing straight into a carefully laid trap.

Well, let's see if that's the case, shall we? At 2.45 a.m., June 4, 1942, the Akagi's loudspeakers jolt Japanese airmen from their slumber. They quickly consume their multi-decade traditional pre-attack meal of rice. rice, soybean soup, dry chestnuts, and sake. At 4.30 a.m., an air officer shines the green lantern, and the planes hurled down the carrier's deck and into the faint lit morning. Aboard his flagship aircraft carrier, Akagi, Japanese Vice Admiral Nagumo Chuichi, still thinks the American ships are on route from Pearl Harbor, arriving in about 48 hours.

He likely can't wait for them to show up at Midway, only to realize that the Japanese have gotten their first. Okay, pause. Is it actually 4.30 a.m.? Japanese logs say 1.30 a.m. American Rear Admiral's Black Jack Fletcher and Raymond Spruents say it's 6.30. But on the atoll, it's 4.30. These complications on the time are due to today's battle being so close to the international date line. For simplicity's sake, then, we'll stick with midway time, the time zone in which the atoll is located. But if things get to the time, get a little fuzzy with other reports you've read, you now know why. Okay, back to sunrise at Midway. At 5.34 a.m., Lieutenant Howard Addy is patrolling in his Catalina aircraft when he comes out of a cloud and is met with the fearful sight of Japanese carriers and several other warships. Yes, he spotted the Kido Butai. Howard immediately radios to headquarters.

He'll later recall this moment as being, quote, like watching a curtain rise on the biggest show on earth, close quote. Rear Admiral Jack Fletcher gets the report but wants more confirmation. At 607, he sends his fellow rear admiral Raymond Spruent's a message, proceed southwesternly and attack enemy carriers when definitely located. I will follow as soon as planes recovered. But even as Raymond reacts, around 100 Japanese aircraft, including Ieichi D3A2 dive bombers, otherwise known as VALs,

Nakajima B5-N torpedo bombers, also known as Kates, and their deadly escorts of Mitsubishi A6M fighters, or Zeros, are already coming in hot. Thanks to a heads up from their radar, some two dozen of Midway's Marine fighters, consisting of Brewster F2A buffaloes and Grumman F4F Wildcats scrambled to meet their incoming foe. As with the takeoff of the Doolittle raid, U.S. filmmaker John Ford is in the thick of it,

capturing it all as the Japanese drop 38 tons of explosives on the atoll. The Japanese do plenty of damage, yet, despite that, and having the numbers, they are less successful than their wildest hopes. Around 7 o'clock, strike leader Tomonaga Joichi radios back that, quote, there is need for a second attack. Close quote. Around this same time, As the fog finally begins to clear,

Rear Admiral Raymond Spruance is making a crucial decision, the decision to listen to Chief of Staff, Miles Browning. Likewise assuming that the Japanese will need to make a second strike, Miles believes that if American aircraft strike right now, they can catch the Japanese busily refueling and unable to fight. Though just put into this command, due to the hospitalization of his predecessor, Rear Admiral Spruence is a deeply analytical man

and sees the logic. Damned the well over a hundred mile distance and lack of other details then. They will not wait. Time is of the essence. As three waves of midway-based aircraft take to the no longer foggy sky and ineffectively attempt to torpedo and bomb the Quito Bhutai,

Raymond orders every aircraft on the Enterprise and the Hornet, apart from 32 Wildcat fighters held back as his fleet's defending combat air patrol to attack the Japanese fleet. Seems it really will be, as our patrolling pilot, Lieutenant Howard Addy, put it, the biggest show on Earth. But as these planes take off, flying at different speeds, some in different directions, the attack is not getting off to a good start.

It's sometime between 9 and 10 a.m., June 4, 1942. Having taken off from the aircraft carrier USS Hornet about an hour earlier, U.S. Naval Aviator, Ensign George Gay, is in one of 15 Douglas TBV-1 devastating. stateer bombers that make up torpedo squadron 8, also known as VT8. George is flying as tail in Charlie, which is to say as the navigator at the back of the group. As he and the squadron fly north of midway, George sees black smoke far out on the right horizon. That's got to be the Japanese fleet, or rather the black stains of downed aircraft, American

aircraft, sent to their watery graves while attempting to strike the dreaded Hito Buntai. closing in george hears squadron leader lieutenant commander john c waldron trying to radio in the siding to hornet air group commander stanhope ring no one responds worse still as they approached the kido boutai george realizes that their 15 plane squadron over torpedo bombers has no accompanying dive bombers should they wait and regroup there's no time japanese zeros would take them out first it's at this point that the ensign gets instruction over the radio from the skipper. Oof, pailing out on the strategy of a coordinated attack with dive bombers is definitely bold. Good luck indeed, men.

George and his squadron descend to attack level at 110 knots, slowly closing in on the Japanese carrier, Soryu. But while still about eight miles out from striking distance, they're discovered by enemy aircraft. George feels a frantic panic season. As he later recall, zeros were coming in from all in. coming in from all angles on both sides at once.

The planes of Trapido 8 are falling at irregular intervals. Some were on fire, and some did a half roll and crashed on their backs completely out of control. Amid the chaos, George hears the steadying voice of his commanding officer radio in. But it's hard to stay steady when zeros are unleashing 20-millimeter cannon shots. It's turning level fast. Still, none of Uncle Sam's boys are dissuaded. They fly on. George watches in horror as the squadron commander, John Waldron's already bullet and cannon-riddled plane,

is hit once more by a cannon shell and bursts in flames. The horror grows greater still as John pulls his right leg out of the cockpit, desperately trying to avoid the flames, eating up his devastating. But with everything going on, the lieutenant commander isn't quick enough. He's still in the plane as it hits the waters and disappears. George is one of the few in the squadron still in the air. But for how long? As machine gun fire rips through his devastation, his gunner, Robert, Bob Huntington, manages to eke out.

It got me. Before slumping over in his seat. Turning around, George shouts to his friend, Are you hurt bad? Can you move? No response. Bob is perfectly silent as a bullet rips through George's arm. Turning back around, George looks like. out the cockpit window and realizes none of the other 14 planes in the squadron are still alongside

him. It's just him. Not one to abandon the mission. He locks him, preparing to drop his pickle as is called, or a torpedo. He punches the torpedo release bud, but nothing happens. Okay, time to use the backup, the manual release. The cable comes up in his hands. George has no idea if the torpedo drops, but that's no longer an issue. Another one of those devastating cannon shells from a Japanese zero has just set his engine a flame. With flames licking at his left leg, George turns off the fuel to avoid an explosion and attempts a water lane. The right wing of his plane slams into the Pacific, flipping the devastator into a cartwheel. Scambling out of the waterfield cockpit, George throws off his helmet and goggles,

afraid they'll reflect the sun and leave the Japanese right to him. He checks on Bob, confirming what he feared while in the sky. The gunner is long gone, sinking into that blue clear water alongside their plane. Our intrepid navigator manages to maneuver underneath the black cushion as zero soar overhead. Here, he waits and prays that his fellow Americans find him before the Japanese. It's a slaughter. Insin George Gay is the only survivor of torpedo squadron 8. And this is well representative of the whole.

as one uncoordinated attack after another of American torpedo bombers strike the Quito Boutai with disastrous results. By around 9.30 a.m., aircraft from Rear Admiral Blackjack Fletcher's Yorktown joined in, but of the roughly 47 planes that have taken off so far, only six are still airborne. And for all that sacrifice, not a single Japanese carrier has been hit. But as the Japanese combat air patrol fly at a lower altitude to engage these doomed demerit, torpedo squadrons. And as the four Japanese carriers are sufficiently disrupted to slow their next wave's takeoff, Lieutenant Commander Clarence McCluskey's 37 dive bombers from the carrier enterprise are scanning the horizon. Ahead, a thin white trail catches the commander's eye,

awake slicing across the ocean. Hmm, it's a Japanese destroyer. Could it lead to a Japanese carrier? He decides to follow. Back on the American carrier, the Enterprise, the man behind the plan, Chief of Staff, Miles Browning, is coordinating radio communications, ensuring Clarence's squadron can attack quickly once the Japanese fleet is found. He continues to push aggressive action. Attack! Attack! Clarence responds, Will Co. As soon as I find the bastards. 20 minutes go by. And now, the planes are low on fuel. But finally, fortune favors them. Clarence's dive bombers spot a Japanese carrier, the Kaga. To her right is the Akagi.

Swooping down alongside Lieutenant Richard, Dick Bests, bombing six from the Enterprise. These American flyboys hope to succeed where their numerous dead or dying friends in the waters below met failure. It's just after 10 a.m., still June 4, 1942. Lieutenant Commander Clarence McCleskey and his 37 SPD dauntless dive bombers are flying alongside Lieutenant Richard Dick Bess's and Wilmer Earl Gallagher's squadrons. Perfectly focused, Clarence radios his fellow pilot. At 1800 feet, Earl releases his bomb over the Caga,

pulling his plane up quickly, but not without lingering just a moment longer than protocol. He's desperate to know. As he struck this foe that destroyed Pearl Harbor, he watches right until a bomb explodes on the Caga's deck. Clarence couldn't be happier, and more bombs follow, slamming into the flight deck, fronpling the once-mighty aircraft carrier. Japanese commanders aboard the Akagi are so transfixed by their neighbor next door,

they don't even see the attack on their own ship coming. Dick and his bombing six are on it. Thanks to the sacrifice of those earlier waves of American torpedo bombers, like the one that left George Gay, the lone survivor, Japanese zeros are circling low, effectively defending at the wrong altitude. Dick and two of his fellow bombers take advantage of this. Flying in a V formation, the three American aircraft approach from the AB. We've got a small target, the width of the Akagi, not its length.

This is going to be tricky. Sinking to 1,500 feet, Dick releases his cargo. Like Earl, he goes against proper procedure to watch the 1,000-pound bomb land on the Akagi's flight deck. He sees other explosions on the bow and stern of the air. the ship and knows his team has managed to land three heads. As they soar away, the lieutenant looks out to see that everything is blown up. Yes, everything. Sailors and pilots down on the Akagi are left in complete panic as lines of planes that were preparing for takeoff explode. And that's not even the worst of their situation. The elevator or the mechanism that allows

planes to move from the hangar, the deck takeoff is contorted. And to make matters worse for the Japanese, fires are slowly working their way across those parts of the carrier that aren't already damaged. Chief of staff, Usaka Ryunosuke, shouts to his commander Nagumo Chuichi. We must move to another ship. Nagumo refuses. He keeps repeating, we are all right. Over and over him, helplessly into the madness. The fire continues to spread, hitting fuel, turning the Icage into a raging inferno. Even still, Nagumo won't leave. Finally, Husaka tries another strategy. He reminds the Admiral that he's in charge of the whole fleet, not just this one's ship. That gets him. That Gummo snaps to it with a short

curtain on. Cusaka springs into action. Break the window! The men used 45-foot-long rope to evacuate. As Cusaka later recalls, I couldn't find a way down. Everything was so covered with smoking flame. There was no way of getting down from the bridge except by a rope, which we hung from the bridge. When I got down, the deck was on fire, and anti-aircraft and machine guns were firing automatically, having been set off by the fire or the ship. Bodies were all over the place, and it wasn't possible to tell what would be shot up next. I had my hands and feet burn. A pretty serious burn on one foot.

That is eventually the way we abandoned the Akkadma. Helter Skelter, no order of any kind. The Americans have landed a massive blow, not only to the Japanese fleet's fighting strength, but its spirit. The Japanese central point of command, arguably the most important ship, if not for fighting ability, then for morale, has been sunk.

And it's forced Adron Nagumo Chuichi to flee, helter-skelter from his burning command post. Nonetheless, he and Kusaka set up shop on the Nagara and begin plotting a naval attack to counteract the air raids. In the meantime, American dive bombers have also hit the sore unit. At around 1025, she becomes the Kido Butai's third lost aircraft carrier in this battle. And it's quite the scene. U.S. Navy aviator Max Leslie will later recall it as, quote,

the greatest inferno and Holocaust I could ever imagine, with debris and material flying in all directions, close quote. Still floating. In the Pacific's blue waters, lone VT8 survivor George Gay watches the dive bombers, successful attacks taking out the Kaga, Akagi, and Soryu. Three of the Kedobutai's four aircraft carriers. He remembers how magnificent the scene was. It was almost unbelievable, but I was seeing it.

Almost simultaneously, three Japanese carriers were wiped out. I knew what it meant. By golly, we did it. Upon returning to the Enterprise, the return. the returning American pilots are met with cheers. As one unnamed sailor recalls, we were exultant, not just at the revenge for Pearl Harbor,

sweet as that was, but at our renewed sense of power and superiority over the Japanese fleet. Yes, it seems that everything has turned on a dime, that the gamble, taken by rear admiral Raymond Spruence, and chief of staff, Miles Browning, and sending out the enterprises and the Hornets aircraft, so early in piecemeal were the right move after.

all. Well, let's not get too excited. The Battle of Midway isn't over yet. It's 2.42 in the afternoon, June 4th, 1942. USS Yorktown is peacefully anchored within proximity of Midway. Well, as peaceful as as an aircraft carrier can be in the midst of a major naval battle. Ever since noon, the miraculously repaired post-coral Sea aircraft carrier has been refueling and launching Wildcat and dive bomber planes into battle. Then suddenly, at 2.43 p.m., a torpedo strikes frame 90 of the port side of the ship. As a curly-haired incident named John Jack Crawford will later recall, it was a real whack. You could feel it all through the ship. I had the impression that the ship's hull buckled slightly. Spot on, Jack. There's now a sizable puncture in a Yorktown's hole, 15 feet below the waterline.

That's not good. Even worse, six. Six out of nine boilers are out of commission. A few minutes later, a second torpedo comes screaming into the port side of the ship, this time near frame 75. Both of the strikes overlap, creating a massive 60 by 30 foot crater all across the side of the ship. Water gushes in, making it clear that the two-day turn-around fixed ship is no match for Japanese torpedoes.

As this large cavity continues to let water in, the generator floods. Emergency generators can't kick in with the intense water damage, and the power goes out, darkening the ship. Luckily, it's still afternoon, so sunlight provides some visibility. The ship pitches to a 26-degree angle, making it hard for crew members to walk around and assess the damage. Then, just 12 minutes after the initial hit, at 255, Captain Elliot Buckmaster gives the dreaded order to abandon ship. But Jack and this fellow crew members don't panic. They've trained for this. sailors emerge from below deck.

They slashed through the suspended canvas bag by the hangar deck, holding the K-Pock-filled life vests, spilling out the safety devices for both healthy and wounded sailors. Knowing perhaps that the shoes will do them no good in the ocean, men from the Yorktown take off their footwear and line them up properly on the deck. That's right. They do this even as the ship pitches all the more.

What can I say? Navy disciplines the utmost. Ever worried about the men, the captain urges his remaining crew members to gather on the rising starboard side of the ship. He watches as they lower themselves down 60 feet to the water on knotted ropes. Wanting to be the last one on the Yorktown, Elliot waits until he's confident everyone is in the water. He then climbs hand over hand on the 30-degree pitched deck of his ship

before finally stepping off the stern into the sea. Elliot has done well by his men. And it's even, dare I say, a positive affair for some. seaman ER Bud Kwan, who, upon stripping off his heavy, water-soaked anti-flash overhauls, is pulled out of the water by none other than his high school classmate from Wilmer, Minnesota, Peter Newburgh. Many Yorktown survivors do their best to make light of the situation while waiting for a rescue ship to pull them out of the water. Men bob in life vests, holding out a thumb as if they're trying to hitch a ride. Others call out, taxi, taxi. A group begins singing the beer barrel polka.

Most of the Yorktown men are rescued. Meanwhile, the battle rages on, and the Americans have their next target of mine. The Kedobu ties fourth and only remaining aircraft carrier, the Hiru. Pilots on the American's two remaining carriers, the Hornet and the Enterprise, are now fueled by vengeance as well. They want to get payback for the Yorktown's demise. And this time, there will be no guesswork. While the Hiru wasn't grouped as closely as the other three Japanese carriers that have now met their end,

Admiral Blackjack Fletcher sent 10 planes out to find it before the attack on the Yorktown occurred. Physically and emotionally exhausted from hours of flying and the loss of far too many friends in a matter of hours, they nonetheless managed to spy the elusive last carrier as they flew back to the American fleet. Armed with that intelligence as the sun draws toward the horizon, the Americans are more than ready to attack the hear you. It's now just before 5 p.m. June 4, 1942. bomber Norman Jack Dusty Klyse and his fellow aviators are peering through cloud cover as they fly over the Pacific. As they do, they soon see their target. The Japanese carrier, Here You. But beyond its own aircraft, the Here You also has its protective entourage of six other ships. And unlike this morning,

Japanese fighter pilots are on high alert for their American enemy. Dusty climbs to an attack altitude of 19,000 feet. He's instructed by Lieutenant Wilmer, Irving. Earl Gallagher to circle clockwise and approach to hear you from the south. Dusty and his fellow pilots do so, emerging from the cloud cover as the setting sun casts its golden rays across the Pacific's waters, all but blinding the Japanese anti-aircraft gunners as they attempt to spot the incoming American aircraft. At 5.05 p.m., Earl drops the first bomb. According to Dusty's later recollections, the commander's bomb is aimed perfectly,

but suddenly, here you made a radical turn to port. The helmsman on that carrier saw our approach and tried to spin the carrier 180 degrees. Gallagher had just gripped the bomb release lever, and he jerked his plane to correct for the air. The skipper's bombs jolted loose, and the force caused his plane to shudder like a T-boned ottoman. He pulled out of his awkward dive, his bombs splashing harmlessly astern of his target. The next pilot is Reed Stone. Following closely behind Earl, Reed also doesn't have time to correct against the here-you-s sudden turn. But the third aviator, Richard Jakarta, manages to land a hit.

Unsuccessful against the Caga this morning, Richard redeems himself by dropping a 500-pound bomb on the forward elevator of the Here You. It's a massive score for the Americans. And then it's Dusty's turn. As I plunged toward the sea, forth in line, I remember thinking this was my toughest dive yet. In the morning, I had to hit a moving target. Now I had to hit not only a moving target,

but one that was also in the middle of a sharp turn. In a few seconds, I sized up the enemy carrier and determined its speed and turning radius. Here you, smaller than Kaga and Akagi, turned remarkably fast. Once again, I aimed for the unblemished rising sun on the flight deck. I didn't aim directly to hit the ship, but aimed for where the ship was going to be

as it continued to turn. I took my plane down to a low altitude, about 1,500 feet, and released my payload. My bombs plunged into here you smoking flight deck. Pulling up from his successful mission, Dusty does exactly what he's not supposed to do and what so many other pilots have done today. He looks over his shoulder to watch the explosion.

But I'm glad he does, because he so vividly describes the damage in a spectacular metaphor. My bombs smashed into the flight deck and, like a giant hand rolling a taco, just folded it over. With the deck keeled away, I saw Hear You's innards,

rows of planes kept below decks. Flying debris and flames pulverized them and produced such a huge fire that little else could be seen on Hereu's bow. Still, the fire was nothing in comparison to the fires I had seen in the morning attack. Our friend Dick Best from this morning's Akagi mission also manages to land a bomb on the Here You.

Back on the Enterprise, Dusty gives this smoking taco report to his boss, but as the pilot says, I'm not sure he appreciated my metaphor. Returning to his room and logging the day's events in his diary, Dusty writes that he's got to, quote, read the prayer for our suicide TBD squadrons. Close quote.

Yeah, like George Gay's whole squadron and everyone else who failed to return to their rooms tonight. Here's Dusty's prayer. Now, O Lord, won't you please take care of those wonderful ones who loved us so much? They were willing to die for us without hesitation. As day turns into night and dusty falls asleep, it's pretty clear who's won this battle. As the destruction settles, rear admiral Raymond Spruence remembers his boss's instructions.

Take calculated risks to destroy the enemy. Raymond infers that the Japanese are playing to their strength and mounting a night attack, so he orders his ships to head east and wait for daybreak. He'll later put it into the official battle report. I did not feel justified in risking a night encounter with possibly, superior enemy forces, but on the other hand, I did not want to be too far away from Midway the following morning. I wished to have a position from which either to follow up retreating enemy forces or to break up a landing attack on Midway. Abboard his distant flagship, the Yamamoto,

Yamamoto and his staff anxiously searched for a way to hit back at the Americans. Full of emotion, the Admiral finally realizes the extent of American naval strength. He tells his staff, I am the one who must apologize to His Majesty. At 255 a.m., on June 5th, Yamamoto orders of withdrawal. With the huge amount of the Japanese fleet, either in flames or making its way to the bottom of the Pacific Ocean, Yamamoto gives yet another shocking order, half-destroiers torpedo Akagi. I mean, it's the best option. Otherwise, the U.S. will seize the ship and be able to both learn the inner workings of a Japanese aircraft carrier

and display it as a battle trophy. Vice-Admiral Ugaki Matome is frustrated. He writes in his diary that, quote, emotion must not be mixed with reason. Close quote. With hundreds of Americans and some 3,000 Japanese dead, the Battle of Midway is essentially over by the evening of June 4th. Behindside is 2020 and rear admirals Blackjack Fletcher and Raymond Spruence, not to mention U.S. Pacific Fleet Commander Admiral Chester Nimitz, and Commander, Commander Commander and chief of the Imperial Japanese combined fleet, Yamamoto Isoroku. Don't know that. The next few days see what we can call a smattering of action.

As the Japanese retreat on the morning of June 5th, Raymond Spruence wants to ensure that the Japanese don't get away too easily. American planes find and hit two of the land of the Rising Sun's cruisers, the Mogami and Mikum. Mogami manages to escape, just barely alive. But thanks in part to our dive-bombing friend, Dusty Clasp. Mekuma is mortally wounded and sinks the following day. Dusty Klyse is the only pilot to score hits on three Japanese ships during the battle.

That same June 5th, Admiral Chester Nimitz announces, it is too early to claim a major Japanese disaster. The enemy appears to be withdrawing, but we are continuing to battle. But just 24 hours later, on June 6th, the commander-in-chief in the Pacific is slightly more optimistic, even if still hedging his bets. To quote him again, a momentous victory is in the making, but the battle is not over. But by the next day, June 7th, Yamamoto abandons the operation altogether.

After refueling on the 7th and 8th, the combined fleet turns back toward Japan. While Yamamoto's Alaska-bound forces have captured two Aleutian islands, a story that will return to another time, that small success certainly was not worth the thrashing he's taken here at Midway. Back in the land of the rising sun, Prime Minister Tojo Hideki orders that the truth about Midway be hidden from both the public and some Japanese officials. Imperial headquarters announces on June 10th that Japan has, quote, secured supreme power in the Pacific, close quote. Citizens in Tokyo celebrate with the flag procession and lantern parade. But as we know, this propaganda couldn't be further from the truth. The Battle of Midway was a massive American victory,

one that naval historian Samuel Morrison succinctly sums up as, quote, a victory of intelligence, bravely and wisely applied, close quote. Admiral Chester Nimitz would agree, according to him, had we lacked early information of the Japanese movements, and had we been caught with carrier forces dispersed, the battle of Midway would have ended differently. And so, for the first time in this war, Japan has lost a major battle in the Pacific,

A loss that will turn their strategy from one of aggressive offense to a holding pattern, desperate to stave off the Pacific Fleet of the very much awakened giant, that is, the United States. Yes, the tide is turning in the Pacific. But the fight ahead is an ugly one, a deadly one, one of horrific, gruesome battles for one Pacific Island after another. Nonetheless, these tales of island hobby will have to wait for another day because it's time for us to catch up with the fight

on the other side of the globe. That's right. Next time, we're returning to the European theater. History That Doesn't Suck is created and hosted by me, Greg Jackson. Episode researched and written by Greg Jackson and Riley Newbell. Production by Airship. Sound design by Molly Bach. Audio editing

by Muhammad Shahe. Theme music composed by Greg Jackson. and additional composition by Lindsay Graham of Ayrshire. For a bibliography of all primary and secondary sources consulted in writing this episode, visit htDSpodcast.com. H.TDS is supported by fans at htbspodcast.com slash membership. My gratitude to you kind souls providing funding to help us keep going. Thank you.

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