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Chuck watched in mesmerized horror. For a moment it looked as if it might do no harm. Then it went off with a boom and a flash of flame. The two Chicago pianos aft were destroyed in an instant. Small fires appeared on deck and in the towers.
To Chuck's amazement the men around him remained as cool as if they were attending a war game in a conference room. Admiral Fletcher issued orders even as he staggered across the shuddering deck of the flag bridge. Moments later, damage control teams were dashing across the flight deck with fire hoses, and stretcher parties were picking up the wounded and carrying them down steep companionways to dressing stations below.
There were no major fires: the carbon dioxide in the fuel lines had prevented that. And there were no bomb-loaded planes on deck to blow up.
A moment later another Val screamed down at the Yorktown and a bomb hit the smokestack. The explosion rocked the mighty ship. A huge pall of oily black smoke gouted from the funnels. The bomb must have damaged the engines, Chuck realized, because the ship lost speed immediately.
More bombs missed their targets, landing in the sea, sending up geysers that splashed onto the deck, where seawater mingled with the blood of the wounded.
The Yorktown slowed to a halt. When the crippled ship was dead in the water, the Japanese scored a third hit, and a bomb crashed through the forward elevator and exploded somewhere below.
Then, suddenly, it was over, and the surviving Vals climbed into the clear blue Pacific sky.
I'm still alive, Chuck thought.
The ship was not lost. Fire-control parties were at work before the Japanese were out of sight. Down below, the engineers said they could get the boilers going within an hour. Repair crews patched the hole in the flight deck with six-by-four planks of Douglas fir.
But the radio gear had been destroyed, so Admiral Fletcher was deaf and blind. With his personal staff he transferred to the cruiser Astoria, and he handed over tactical command to Spruance on the Enterprise.
Under his breath, Chuck said: "Fuck you, Vandermeier--I survived."
He spoke too soon.
The engines throbbed back to life. Now under the command of Captain Buckmaster, the Yorktown began once again to cut through the Pacific waves. Some of her planes had already taken refuge on the Enterprise, but others were still in the air, so she turned into the wind, and they began to touch down and refuel. As she had no working radio, Chuck and his colleagues became a semaphore team to communicate with other ships using old-fashioned flags.
At half past two, the radar of a cruiser escorting the Yorktown revealed planes coming in low from the west--an attack flight from the Hiryu, presumably. The cruiser signaled the news to the carrier. Buckmaster sent up twelve Wildcats to intercept.
The Wildcats must have been unable to stop the attack, for ten torpedo bombers appeared, skimming the waves, heading straight for the Yorktown.
Chuck could see the planes clearly. They were Nakajima B5Ns, called Kates by the Americans. Each carried a torpedo slung under its fuselage, the weapon almost half the length of the entire plane.
The four heavy cruisers escorting the carrier shelled the sea around her, throwing up a screen of foamy water, but the Japanese pilots were not so easily deterred, and they flew straight through the spray.
Chuck saw the first plane drop its torpedo.
The long bomb splashed into the water, pointed at the Yorktown.
The plane flashed past the ship so close that Chuck saw the pilot's face. He was wearing a white-and-red headband as well as his flight helmet. He shook a triumphant fist at the crew on deck. Then he was gone.
More planes roared by. Torpedoes were slow, and ships could sometimes dodge them, but the crippled Yorktown was too cumbersome to zigzag. There was a tremendous bang, shaking the ship: torpedoes were several times more powerful than regular bombs. It felt to Chuck as if she had been struck on the port stern. Another explosion followed close behind, and this one actually lifted the ship, throwing half the crew to the deck. Immediately afterward, the mighty engines faltered.
Once again the damage parties were at work before the attacking planes were out of sight. But this time the men could not cope. Chuck joined the teams manning the pumps, and saw that the steel hull of the great ship was ripped like a tin can. A Niagara of seawater poured through the gash. Within minutes Chuck could feel that the deck had tilted. The Yorktown was listing to port.
The pumps could not cope with the inward rush of water, especially as the ship's watertight compartments had been damaged at the Coral Sea and not fixed during her rush repairs.
How long could it be before she capsized?
At three o'clock Chuck heard the order: "Abandon ship!"
Sailors dropped ropes over the high edge of the sloping deck. On the hangar deck, by jerking a few strings crewmen released thousands of life jackets from overhead stowage to fall like rain. The escort vessels moved closer and launched their boats. The crew of the Yorktown took off their shoes and swarmed over the side. For some reason, they put their shoes on the deck in neat lines, hundreds of pairs, like some ritual sacrifice. Wounded men were lowered on stretchers to waiting whaleboats. Chuck found himself in the water, swimming as fast as he could to get away from the Yorktown before she turned over. A wave took him by surprise and washed away his cap. He was glad he was in the warm Pacific: the Atlantic might have killed him with cold while he was waiting to be rescued.
He was picked up by a lifeboat. The boat continued to retrieve men from the sea. Dozens of other boats were doing the same. Many of the crew climbed down from the main deck, which was lower than the flight deck. The Yorktown somehow managed to stay afloat.
When all the crew were safe they were taken aboard the escorting vessels.
Chuck stood on deck, looking across the water as the sun went down behind the slowly sinking Yorktown. It occurred to him that during the whole day he had not seen a Japanese ship. The entire battle had been fought by aircraft. He wondered if this was the first of a new kind of naval battle. If so, aircraft carriers would be the key vessels in the future. Nothing else would count for much.
Trixie Paxman appeared beside him. Chuck was so pleased to see him alive that he hugged him.
