January 2008

WORLD WAR II
Valiant Sacrifice: Death in the Skies Over Midway
4 June 1942

During 1stLt Daniel Iverson’s attack on the Japanese carrier Akagi, his Dauntless dive bomber sustained more than 200 hits, one of which shot off his throat microphone.

Story by Dick Camp
Photo courtesy of Marine Corps History Division

Part I
“Many bogey aircraft, 310 degrees, distance 93 miles, angels 1.”
—Radio Station, Sand Island

The heart-pounding wail of the island’s air-raid siren sent the Marine pilots scrambling to man their aircraft. No one wanted to be caught on the ground in a bombing raid. Second Lieutenant J. C. Musselman, Marine Fighting Squadron 221 duty officer, jumped in the squadron truck and raced along the line of aircraft revetments gesturing wildly. “Get airborne,” he yelled. Within minutes, the taxiway was crowded with an assortment of aircraft urgently scrambling to get into the air.

Major Floyd B. Parks led off with a five-plane division of Brewster F2A-3 Buffalo fighters. He was followed closely by three other F2A-3 divisions and one three-plane division of Grumman F4F-3 Wildcat fighters led by Captain John F. Carey. Altogether, VMF-221 put 26 aircraft into the air. (One aircraft flown by 2dLt Charles S. Hughes developed engine trouble and turned back.) Douglas SBD-2 Dauntless and Vought SB2U-3 Vindicator dive bomb­ers from Maj Lofton R. Henderson’s Marine Scout-Bombing Squadron 241 joined the stampede. With­in minutes, Marine Air­craft Group 22’s two squadrons were in the air, leaving an empty field and a strange quietness after the frenzied roar of departing aircraft.

Marine Fighting Squadron (VMF) 221
Capt Carey peered intently through the windshield of his Wildcat fighter. White clouds cut visibility, making it difficult to see the reported “many planes heading Midway.” Carey’s three-plane division was at 14,000 feet searching for inbound Japanese raiders; 2dLt C. M. Canfield was echeloned right and slightly to the rear, while Capt Marion E. Carl was several hundred yards behind. Canfield slid behind his leader, as Carey “made a wide 270 degree turn, then a 90 degree diving turn.” Canfield’s radio suddenly came alive with the electrifying, “Tally-ho! Hawks at angels 12” … a slight pause … “accompanied by fighters.”

Arrayed in five “V” formations 2,000 feet below, 72 Japanese Nakajima B5N2 (Kate) torpedo planes and Aichi D3A1 (Val) dive bombers roared toward the island. An escort of 36 Mitsubishi A6M2 (Zero) fighters flew out of position just above and behind them to prevent the Americans from getting one free pass before they could intervene.

The Japanese-type Zero carrier fighter first saw combat in China where its 300 mph speed, maneuverability and armament—two 20 mm cannons and two 7.7 mm machine guns—proved vastly superior to anything the Chinese could put in the air. When the United States entered the war, the Zero achieved almost mythical status when it was matched up against the obsolete Brewster Buffalo, Curtis P-36 and P-40 fighters. It obtained an impressive kill-loss rate and seemed to many American airmen to be invincible.

However, in reality, the Zero had two serious defects; it was underpowered and lightly constructed. It proved to be no match for the new American aircraft rolling off the assembly lines in early 1943. By the end of the war, the Zero was obsolete.

Carey started his run, “high side from the right,” on the leader of the first “V.” He waited until the enemy plane filled his gun sight and then mashed the firing button. Four .50-caliber machine guns shredded the bomber, setting it on fire, but not before its gunner put a round through Carey’s windshield. Milliseconds later, the Kate blew up, filling the air with debris.

Canfield followed Carey through the enemy formation and “fired at the number three plane in the number three section until it exploded and went down in flames.” In the middle of the run, the thoroughly aroused Zero escort dove on the three Americans, cannons and machine guns blazing. Carl said, “[I] made a high-side pass on one of the fighters some 2,000 feet below. My fire passed through my target, and I pulled away and up. I was surprised to see several Zeros already swinging into position on my tail.” The fight was on!

Island “AF”
By the summer of 1942, the Japanese juggernaut appeared to be unstoppable. Guam, Bataan, Corregidor and Wake Island fell after the surprise attack on Pearl Harbor, sending thousands of American military into captivity. Many in the United States thought that Hawaii would be next, a belief that was strengthened by the ineffectual bombing of Oahu by a Japanese seaplane on the night of 4-5 March 1942.

About that time, U.S. Navy cryptologists at Station HYPO in Hawaii (HYPO was phonetic code for “H,” or Hawaii, and was actually Fleet Radio Unit Pacific) had achieved remarkable success in “breaking” the Japanese fleet code, JN-25B. However, the code was so complicated, that only partial decrypts—every six or seven words, 10 to 15 percent—were translated, leaving the analysts with a difficult puzzle to solve.

Several of these partially decrypted messages indicated that a Japanese operation was going to be conducted against “AF” in late May or early June 1942. It was to be led by Admiral Isoroku Yama­moto, the architect of the Pearl Harbor attack, and was to be comprised of four of the six aircraft carriers—Akagi, Kaga, Hiryu and Soryu—that destroyed the American battle line on 7 Dec.

Navy code breakers argued over whether “AF” stood for Midway, an island located approximately 1,159 miles northwest of Oahu, or some other location, including the U.S. West Coast or even Hawaii itself. A ruse was developed to resolve the argument. Midway was advised to broadcast in the clear (uncoded) that the island was experiencing a water shortage. With­in days, a Japanese message was intercepted advising of a “water shortage at AF,” ending the controversy. ADM Chester W. Nimitz, commander in chief of the U.S. Pacific Fleet, rushed reinforcements to Midway, including 18 badly needed SBD dive bombers and seven F4F fighters for MAG-22.

“Flying Coffins”
“It is my belief that any commander that orders pilots out for combat in a F2A-3 should consider the pilot as lost before leaving the ground.”
—Capt P. R. White

VMF-221
The Brewster Buffalo was the first U.S. Navy fighter monoplane to enter fleet service. When developed, it was on the leading edge of naval-aircraft design. As a midwing monoplane, it incorporated retractable landing gear, an enclosed cockpit and split flaps. The third modified version had increased armor protection for the pilot and fuel tank, as well as improved equipment, which increased its weight. The extra weight caused a drop in speed and climb rate. The aircraft was armed with two synchronized .50-cal. machine guns in the upper cowl and one .50-cal. in each wing. However, its lack of speed and climb rate made it easy prey for the Japanese Zero. The Buffalo was called the “Flying Coffin” by those who flew it in combat.

Maj Parks led his division’s obsolete Buffalos against the Japanese dive bombers and was immediately jumped by the faster, more agile Zeros. One pilot described the uneven dogfight. “[It] looked like they were tied to a string while the Zeros made passes at them.” Parks, one of the first victims, bailed out of his burning aircraft. His parachute opened, and, as he dangled from the shroud lines, one of the Japanese strafed the helpless pilot all the way down and continued to fire even as the body landed on a reef.

Parks may have had a premonition the night before his death. Normally an extrovert, he was moody and distracted. Capt Kirk Armistead tried to cheer him up. “By this time tomorrow, it’ll all be over.”

“Yeah,” Parks replied, “for those of you who get through it.” All the pilots in Park’s division were shot down.

Capt Armistead’s seven-plane division (six F2A-3s and one F4F) attacked in column, starting their firing run at 17,000 feet. His target consisted of “five divisions of five to nine planes each, flying in division “Vs.” He made a high-speed, head-on approach. “I saw my incendiary bullets travel from a point in front of the leader, up through his plane and back through the planes on the left wing of the V.” He looked back as he continued his dive and saw three Japanese planes fall­ing in flames.

Capt William C. Humberd rolled in behind Armistead. He shot down one bomber in a high-side approach and attacked again from the other side. “I was halfway through another run when I heard a loud noise and, turning around, saw a large hole in the hood of my plane … and two Jap Zeros on me about 200 yards astern,” Humberd said. He pushed over in a steep dive to escape, but one of the enemy planes stayed on his tail.

“I stayed at water level with full throttle until I gained enough distance to turn into him. We met head on,” said Humberd. “I gave him a long burst at 300 yards, and he went down on fire.”

Armistead pulled out of his dive and zoomed back to 14,000 feet for another run. Suddenly three Zeros made a firing pass on his Buffalo. “I received three 20 mm shells and 20 7.7 mm rounds … which sawed off a portion of the aileron,” he said. Armistead pushed over in a power dive, barely in control as his aircraft cork­screwed toward the ocean. The Japanese fighter pulled off, assuming that the American was done for. However, Armistead gained control, pulling out at 500 feet before shakily landing on Eastern Island.

Humberd landed shortly afterward with his battle-damaged aircraft. “My hydraulic fluid was gone, and my flaps and landing gear would not lower, so I used my emergency system to lower my wheels.” He landed safely, although his plane had a number of holes. Three or four were in the left gasoline tanks, and two 20 mm holes were in the fuselage.

Not so fortunate was 2dLt William B. Sandoval. One of his wingmates thought that he was drawn flat on his firing run and got “nailed” by a backseat gunner. He failed to return and was listed as killed in action, along with 2dLts Martin E. Mahannah and Walter W. Swansberger.

Capt Philip R. White was the only pilot in the second division to survive. “After the first pass, I lost my wing man and the rest of the division.” Capts Daniel J. Hennessey and Herbert T. Merrill, 2dLts Ellwood Q. Lindsay, Thomas W. Benson and John D. Lucas were all shot down. After a series of violent maneuvers, White was able to outmaneuver the enemy fighters while shooting down one and possibly two Aichi 99 dive bombers. In an after-action report, he stated, “The F2A-3 is not a combat aircraft. It is inferior to the planes we were fighting in every respect.”

Wildcat
“The performance of the F4F-3 is markedly inferior to that of the Japanese Zero in speed, maneuverability, and rate of climb.”
—MAG-22 after-action report

The first Wildcat fighters were delivered to the Navy in November 1941 and to Marine squadrons after Pearl Harbor. It was a low-wing monoplane with a 1,200-hp Pratt & Whitney engine that gave it a speed of 300 mph, somewhat slower than the Zero. It was armed with four .50-cal. machine guns. The Wildcat was involved in the early battles—Coral Sea and Midway. Of the six Wildcats that flew in combat at Midway, two were lost, and the others suffered battle damage.

Capt Carey pulled out of his dive and started to make a “high wing over” attack when his F4F was raked by a burst of fire that tore through his right knee and left leg. In excruciating pain and in danger of losing consciousness, Carey “dove at about a 40-degree angle and headed for a large cloud about five miles away.”

At the same time, Canfield’s Wildcat was “hit on the right elevator, left wing and flap and just ahead of the tail wheel by a 20 mm cannon shell. There was also a .30-caliber hole through the tail wheel and one that entered the hood on the right side about six inches up, passing just over the left rudder pedal and damaging the landing gear.” He wisely followed Carey to safety.

“I went around the cloud in the opposite direction,” Canfield reported, “and joined up with him again. Carey headed in the general direction of the island on an unsteady course and kept dropping and falling behind. I kept throttling back so he could keep up. His wounds kept him from working the rudders, and his plane was ‘all over the sky.’ ”

The two pilots reached the field, which was under attack, and prepared to land. Canfield discovered that he did not have any flaps to slow him down. “When the wheels touched the ground, the landing gear collapsed, and the plane slid along the runway. When it stopped, I jumped out and ran for a trench just as a Japanese plane strafed my abandoned plane.”

Marion Carl also was lucky. He “headed straight down at full throttle” and managed to shake his pursuers. He pulled out of the dive, climbed to 20,000 feet, leveled off and looked for another target. Below him, three Zeros were circling, intent on finding another victim. They didn’t see Carl “drop astern and to the inside of the circle made by one of the fighters.”

Carl continued, “I gave him a long burst, until he fell off on one wing … out of control, [and] headed straight down with smoke streaming from the plane.” Despite being shot up, Carl was able to limp back to safety. (Carl went on to become the Marine Corps’ seventh-ranking fighter ace with 18½ victories. He retired in 1973 as a major general with 14,000 flight hours.)

Of the 25 aircraft that rose to challenge the Japanese, 15 were shot down, and only two of the remainder were flyable after the brief but deadly encounter. The air group listed 15 pilots missing, later changed to killed in action, and four wounded in action. VMF-221 had been all but wiped out as a fighting unit. Marion Carl wrote, “Most of the surviving pilots were stunned by their experience. … The CO and exec both were missing; nobody seemed to know if any of the others might have bailed out. … VMF-221 was a shattered command.”

The surviving pilots could take some solace in downing six confirmed Japanese planes and damaging 34 others, saving the island from an even heavier bombing. One observer noted that the first and second wave of Japanese dive bombers left the carriers with 72 planes. Only 38 reached the island.

Author’s note: The author wishes to thank Maj Jack Elliott, USMC (Ret), aviation historian, and Ben Kristy, curator of aviation at the National Museum of the Marine Corps, for their assistance in editing the text. The author used the Marine Corps monograph “Marines at Wake” and the MAG-22 after-action report as references.

Editor’s note: Retired Col Dick Camp currently is the Vice President, Foundation Museum Operations at the National Museum of the Marine Corps. He also is the author of several books, including “Leatherneck Legends,” “Battleship Arizona’s Marines at War” and “Iwo Jima Recon.” His forthcoming “Devil Dogs at Belleau Wood” will be published in May 2008. His books are available from the MCA bookstores or online at www.mca-marines.org.