Chapter 33 Chapter Thirty-Two

Colonel Henry propped his head on one hand, and sat listlessly in the emergency cabin next to the bridge, reading a detective novel. The cigarette between his fingers was almost burned out. "The pilots are talking on the radio, Colonel." Airsign Sergeant Hynes saluted him at the door. "Excellent." He jumped up, hurried into the wheelhouse, sat on the high chair, and pretended to be comfortable, but he couldn't fool anyone.The naughty bastards on the ship have long been imitating his stooped posture and his quick little movements when he smokes nervously.He just lowered his head and smoked, looking at the sea, and the staff on duty cast knowing glances at each other.The loudspeaker on the bridge blared a fragment of speech from the faint microphone of the distant plane: "...Earl, you deal with the one on the left... attack... Hey! Eleven o'clock position There's a Type Zero...Victor Purcell, I'm Tim Sutley, I've been hit, I'm going to crash-land, wish me well...Wow, look at how much that bastard burns! … ..."

"Sounds like they've done a good job, sir," ventured the first officer, as he paced up and down, wiping the sweat from his face. Pug just nodded, straining his ears in vain to pick out his son's characteristic timbre; but the excited lads in the air yonder all sounded alike.These scraps, laced with fiery foul language, elicited laughter and gossip on the bridge, which Pug, in his nervousness, ignored for once. The conversation on the plane faded away, Colonel Henry glanced around, and the conversation on the bridge died down.There was silence for a while, only the sound of crackling static.The pilot on the way back began to report his position calmly, and sometimes he said a joke helplessly, because he was out of fuel and planned to make an emergency landing on the sea; but there was no news from Warren.Later, the radar soldiers reported that a "friendly plane" was approaching.The fleet turned lumberingly into the wind.Pug's watch reported small black dots low in the western sky, gradually turning into planes rumbling across the screen toward the carrier.The "Yorktown", whose hull was hidden in the distance to the west, also had planes landing on the deck.Pieces of planes came into view of Pug's binoculars, and he made up his mind that he wouldn't worry if none of the SBDs shook their wings when they flew overhead.Like everyone else, Warren probably ran out of fuel and had to land on the surface.But when the dive bombers landed on the Enterprise, he was still counting them.Thirty-two at departure.Ten came back...eleven...twelve...and a while passed, still nothing; a while, he thought.I saw planes landing on the "Hornet" one after another: there were a few on the "Enterprise", but there were no more dive bombers...

"There's a Dreadnought flying over the starboard bow, Colonel!" a helmsman yelled from the other side of the bridge.Pug hurried across the cab.The plane shook its white-starred wings, rumbled over the foredeck, and headed back toward the Enterprise, the goggled pilot waving a long arm.Victor.Henry kept his face facing the sea, watching the plane approach the aircraft carrier and prepare to land.He didn't want to reach out and wipe his wet eyes.No one on the bridge approached him.A few minutes passed like this. The deputy captain shouted from the cockpit: "The 'Yorktown' reported that many planes of unknown origin appeared on the radar screen, Colonel. The bearing is 275, and the distance is 40. The speed of the attack is 200 nautical miles per hour. "

Pug spoke anyway, "Okay. Get into combat readiness." On the "Enterprise", the officer in charge of landing grinned and scratched his throat with the signal board.Warren's wheels rattled and rattled on the deck.The blocking device hooked the wheels, and a surge of resistance sent him lunging forward, his chest pressed against the harness, his heart ecstatic with joy.arrived home!He cut the engine, took the aeronautical board, jumped out of the plane, and saw his operator, Cornett, also jump on the deck, and slapped it. his back.The ground crew immediately pushed the plane towards the elevator.

"Okay, we made it," Warren yelled, trying to drown out the rumble of the engines of another bomber that was slanting down its fuselage.The bang of the battle siren drowned out his voice.The sailors cleared the Dreadnoughts (6-S-9, Peter Goff's, thank God!) that were thumping down on the flight deck, and rushed to the combat stations in a steady stream.The bell rang loudly, and the tweeter blared: "The fighter plane is ready to take off." Cornett trotted away.Warren jumped into the nearest flak emplacement.The helmeted gunners glanced startled at the pilot who had fallen among them, and a telephonist waved at the gray mesa-like thing on the western horizon. "Fire Command reports an attack on the Yorktown, Captain."

"Yes, they deal with it first. Anyway, it's better to be vigilant." "It's damn true," said the sailor with the gunner's name on his helmet. "Sir," he snapped, showing his white teeth, and everyone laughed. Warren was triumphant, thinking how good these American boys were, the weather was amazing, and there was nothing better than fighting.But this time, when I took the injured plane, the pointer of the fuel gauge stopped at zero, and returning triumphantly, it was like starting life again with a million dollars.The fighter jets continued to take off.Warren and the gunners plugged their fingers into their ears and stared at the Yorktown as one plane after another roared from the deck.The plane was still taking off when a plume of smoke rose from the distant gray shadow of the ship. "Damn it, they hit it," said the gunner sadly.

"Maybe their frigate is setting off a smokescreen," said another sailor. "That's no smokescreen, fool," said the gunner. "Bombed outright, and—for God's sake!" He aimed his flak frantically at a cluster of tiny black dots in the sunny sky. "Here's a bunch of bastards. Flying straight for us." "Attention all gunners." The tone of the tweeter was urgent. "The aircraft coming from port aft are not, again, not hostile, friendly. Stop shooting. They are returning aircraft from the 'Yorktown', low on fuel, requesting an emergency landing.' Yorktown ' Got hit. Again, stop shooting. Get moving, get ready to land."

The fringes of red, yellow and green jersey jumpers peeked out from under the lifejackets of the plane's ground crew scurrying about on the deck.Warren jumped out of the gun emplacement, galloped across the deck in the wind, and descended into the cabin.He glanced towards the torpedo bomber squadron standby room and became calm.Teletypes rattling, words moving on unread screens: Yorktown reports three bombs Lower deck badly damaged Empty leather armchairs with dice boards, playing cards , pictorial magazines and sports magazines with pictures of half-naked women.The ashtray full of long-squeezed cigar ends and cigarette butts gave off a strong smell.My God, Lindsay's squadron must have had some bad luck!However, it was also possible that they were somewhere else, from the wardroom or the ship's medical department, which meant those who had returned. ...

The standby room of his own squadron, though far from crowded, was angry and noisy.Two of the ten pilots here were in reserve and hadn't taken off.That is to say, eight of the eighteen people have come back so far.There are only eight!They talked and laughed, holding coffee mugs or sandwiches in one hand, and gesticulating the movement of the plane with the other hand.On the deck above, the planes of the Yorktown were thumping down, engines roaring, and teletypes rattled a report of damage. The Yorktown was burning and immobilized in the sea; rescuers began to bring the fire under control, but the Enterprise had to contain its scout plane as well.

Warren told the debriefing officer about his combat experience, chalked his dive on the blackboard, and at this time, the beaming pilots talked non-stop—who hit the target and who missed it? Hit, who was attacked by the Zero plane.Whoever is seen burning or falling into the sea may be forced to land on the return voyage.There was no dispute about the one bomb Warren dropped that was absolutely true, amazingly effective, and reliable.In other cases, there is no agreement, and they are not even sure how many aircraft carriers they saw in total—five, two, three, four, there is no consensus at all; Even the number of bombs that missed hits is not certain, and some different opinions are close to quarreling.

The squadron leader called Warren to the Flight Operations Department, and he hurried to the dark, low-headed plotting room where the loudspeakers blared.Gallagher and an exiled captain from the Yorktown huddled together to confer, surrounded by ozone-emitting, green-lighted radar monitors marked with orange markers marking Japan. Large plexiglass compass card for the route of the raid.McCluskey was back wounded, Gallagher said, so he was going to lead the group to attack the fourth carrier.Scout planes have gone out to pinpoint its location.His squadron lieutenant was missing, so it was Warren's turn down the line.Warren immediately assembled a bomber squadron from the surviving pilots of the 6th Bomber Squadron and the 6th Reconnaissance Squadron, as well as the pilots of the "Yorktown".In Warren's view, it was quite normal to be promoted to the commander of the squadron all at once in this glorious day.Gallagher was Myles.Browning called to go away.Warren drew up a plan of attack with the squadron leader of the "Yorktown", a stern-faced southerner, who wanted to immediately counterattack the Japanese aircraft carrier that had disabled his aircraft carrier. . Back in the 6th Scout Squadron standby room, Warren called together the pilots of the Enterprise's Dreadnought and the Yorktown's exiles.Standing in front of the blackboard with his hands on his hips, he gave a new order and simply warned the personnel of the Sixth Bomber Squadron and the Sixth Reconnaissance Squadron not to argue endlessly over the issue of hits or misses in the morning sortie. "This is another opportunity for everyone to strike," he said. "We'd be damned if we didn't work together like good brethren, so put your combativeness on the Japs." The meeting went off without a hitch.The pilots of the Sixth Bomber Squadron and the strangers aboard the Yorktown were under Warren's command from the start.The pilots and their interim captains quickly dictated who would be in charge of whom and where the squads would be placed in the flight.He listened to them and realized they were forming a makeshift squadron that worked.Warren forgot about fatigue.He almost forgot that some pilots did not return.One thing he loves even more than flying is any leadership job.He hadn't been in command since leading a group at the Naval Academy. The news came that the Yorktown, having put out the fire and regained fleet-like speed, had been hit by an air raid, torpedoed, was burning, tossed aside, and might have had to abandon it, but even with the news he I can stand it too.The most important thing is that the fourth aircraft carrier has been discovered and the battle has begun.Warren, in a daze as if in a dream, gave his hastily formed squadron final instructions and stepped into the cockpit of an SBD-2 with, as usual, Cornett in the back seat.A dizzy, numb, pleasant feeling filled Warren's soul.He seemed to be piloting a rocket that could only fly for a few hours, tense, energetic, alert, unafraid, and cheerful.Great things were happening all around him, but he had to do his job clearly and simply: fly this plane, lead this squadron, find that aircraft carrier, drop a bomb on target. As Warren took off, he had almost forgotten that he was flying into an uncertain future; he thought with a wry smile that it was a bit like falling in love with a woman for the second time.No need to wait for torpedo bombers or fighter jets to strike together.The fighter jets had to stay behind to defend the Enterprise and the smoking Yorktown; the torpedo bombers had all been written off.It was said that a squadron of dive bombers aboard the Hornet would join in the attack; but Gallagher, finding no movement from the Hornet, decided to set off and lead the group westward.The uninterrupted flight was straight toward the sun, across a cloudless blue ocean.An hour later, the Japanese aircraft carrier appeared on the horizon, at the predicted position directly ahead, surrounded by a dense circle of escort ships.In the distance to the south, in the dazzling afternoon sun, the hulls of the other three destroyed and smoldering aircraft carriers were still floating in a straight line on the water surface, with strange appearances. A bull that was slaughtered.Gallagher made a sharp turn around this fourth aircraft carrier, so that he could attack against the glory of the setting sun.Warren thought to himself, this time the fuel was sufficient, and the target of the attack was only one aircraft carrier. He didn't have to do a random dive attack like he did in the morning, but try to follow the rules during the drill as much as possible. Flak flickered on the sea like a lawn full of fireflies.There was an explosion of black smoke in the air.Zeros swarmed into the air to meet them.This time the situation is different!The aircraft carrier whipped up a wide, white, curving wake, making a bewildering sharp turn sideways at high speed, and the hull banked sharply.The squadron was newly formed, and now it showed its original shape: the dives were jagged.Warren watched as bombs splashed water.It was his turn to dive himself.The sound of Knett's machine gun firing continuously, the brown and green Type Zero aircraft went straight up, and then slammed down like an eagle catching chickens, spitting out a series of red tracer bullets, and the shrapnel rattled. He tried to put the distractions of the wing-beating, the noise, and the aircraft carrier's hideous zig-zagging to the back of his mind.He rushed down several thousand feet, his ears sore and sweating, and managed to keep his sights on the warship; but the unpiloted plane was wobbly, and the aircraft carrier often slipped out of sight.He decided to drop the bomb.I regretted it in a blink of an eye.His hand obeyed his will, and the moment the trigger dropped the bomb he knew it would miss.When he felt his stomach sinking and his waist hurt, he raised the nose and climbed, he looked back and saw a white water column rising from the sea in front of the mothership.But just as the sea water splashed on the upturned bow, a huge fire burst out on the after deck, like a startling red and yellow flower, and then there was an explosion on the front deck, and the smoke shot up, and the whole elevator was lifted from the deck. It flew up and slammed back onto the island superstructure, spewing flames and splinters.It turned out that someone else hit it, thank God.Another aircraft carrier was damaged. Warren walked through clouds of black smoke, leaning against the sea to avoid the flak fire, and the shrapnel from the flak whipped up the foaming blue sea waves. Think, it's a battleship and a cruiser - charge at full speed towards the vast sea.Despite the heavy anti-aircraft fire and the active Zeros, when these scattered planes joined together and led by Gallagher to form a formation, it was strange to say that Warren counted only three missing.Behind them, the billowing smoke of the aircraft carrier was reddened by the flames of the ship and the low setting sun.The smug call on the walkie-talkie must have hit four bombs, maybe five.This is just like the battle in his mind: he took a risk and lost some planes, but the formation was not disrupted, and he returned victorious.This is really not much different from air raiding an island.The morning sortie was a mess and a botch by comparison.Of course, thanks to the first air strike that burned out most of the Japanese air power, the fourth carrier was destroyed so easily.Only those belated dive bombers on the Hornet, flying high in the opposite direction in the red sunset, half an hour late, reminded one of the morning's mess . Warren spotted the Northampton among the crowd of escort ships and, as was his custom, flapped his wings when flying over her.He felt exhausted as he lowered the wheels on the ship in the afterglow of the setting sun.He gave a perfunctory report, almost unable to open his eyes, and stumbled into his cabin.He fell on the bunk, thinking he would fall asleep right away.Unexpectedly, even though he was so tired that his whole body ached, he still couldn't fall asleep and just stared blankly at the neat bunk of the deputy squadron leader.They were cabin mates, but not close friends.On the blanket lay a half-pack of Camels.Hanging on the bulkhead was a smiling photograph of his girlfriend, Lois, a girl from a naval family.That short, dark-haired, sallow-faced guy from Front Royal, Virginia, Ken.Turner died.He'd never be able to run his father's farm in Hereford; so was he still alive, on a life raft over there somewhere?Warren tried to close his eyes, only to see the yellow deck coming towards him, the plane bursting with a thud, and colorful flames in and out. "Go to hell," he said aloud, and went to Gallagher's cabin, where some sleepless pilots discussed what was going to happen tomorrow; most importantly, how to assign reconnaissance and attack duties.It was obvious that the pursuit would be at full speed all night; go out to reconnaissance at dawn, and take off at sunrise to attack.The Japanese invaders cannot be given a chance to breathe.Without air cover, their battleships and cruisers were as vulnerable as the Prince of Wales and the Repulse.This is a good fighter to wipe out the Japanese fleet, so the dive bombers will have plenty of search missions tomorrow.People talked about it, and about the joy of destroying four aircraft carriers.No one saw them sink, so getting them to the bottom of the ocean might be part of the next day's work.But Gallagher thought the destroyer would drop torpedoes to do the job. The pilots came and went in and out of the cabin, and the pilots of the "Yorktown" and the pilots of the Sixth Bomber Squadron came to see the surviving personnel of Warren's squadron.After a while it was proposed to go to the officers' mess room for cold meats and coffee, and everyone marched cheerfully onward.Warren withdrew, returned to his bunk and fell asleep.When he awoke he wondered vaguely that it must be the next morning, for he felt refreshed and well-slept; but the luminous ostensibly indicated ten-forty-five.It turned out that he took a nap, which took less than half an hour. This is not going to work, he thought.He took a shower, put on his military uniform and windbreaker, and went out onto the deck.A bright moon, dim stars.Warren remembered that twenty-four hours ago he had wondered if he would ever live to see the stars again.Well, the stars are up there, and he's still here.As he paced the flight deck in the cool breeze, a long series of visions unfolded in his mind.This battle marked a dividing line in his life--a veritable "halfway"!He had been a mischievous rascal, but an outstanding cadet, an outstanding engineer, an outstanding deck officer;He really followed his father's example in conduct, though in some respects he was willing to depart from his father's prim ideas and formal manners.But for the past twenty-four hours he had put all of that behind him. Flying is a great business, and a few more battles like this will fill him with glory and success.In peacetime, the navy is a hard job under unfavorable conditions, with little money and narrow paths.His father had wasted his life and his wonderful talents, what a waste.In five minutes of combat, he, Warren, did more for the country than Victor.Henry accomplished even more throughout his naval career.It wasn't that he looked down on his father—that was absolutely unacceptable, he thought his father was better than most—but Warren felt sorry for him.This example is outdated.His father-in-law is an even better example.Ike.Ragucho operates in a real world of money and politics.The Navy, by contrast, is a grotesque asteroid spinning in the harshness of space.It serves a purpose, but it is nothing more than a tool in the hands of those who are really powerful. As these thoughts flashed through Warren's weary mind, the fresh morning breeze and rhythmic pace made him feel at ease.The battle is not over yet, and it depends entirely on his energy and luck.He understands this, but after this most dangerous day, the stars still shine on him.He stopped, stretched, and yawned, and then he noticed that the Big Dipper and Polaris were hanging clearly on the port side, and directly behind the stern, a bright yellow moon was sinking. Almighty God, this task force is heading east.Major General Spruance withdrew the defeated enemy and retreated! This discovery surprised Warren in a way he had never been before.This violates the first rule of the Navy, so solemnly stated in "The Rock and the Reef": Never retreat from a possible battle, but always look for opportunities; The enemy takes any respite.Any update on the massive Japanese reinforcement fleet—six aircraft carriers or something—on the approach to Midway? He hurried down to the waiting room and found Peter alone.Alone, Goff was leaning pensively in a reclining chair, smoking a corncob pipe, and staring intently at the screen of the teletype. "Where are you all, Pete?" "Oh, still munching in the dining room, I suppose." "Any news?" The second lieutenant glanced at him with dim eyes and sullen face. "News? I just know that we have encountered a cowardly general. Do you know that we are withdrawing?" "I know. What's going on?" "Who knows? There's an uproar in the command room. Listen to what's going on in the dining room. They say, for Spruance could be court-martialed for this matter. " "What reason does he have? He must have his reason." "Hey, it's not like fighting, Warren," said the second lieutenant, flushing with anger. "A staff officer almost couldn't get him to get the plane off today. That's what it is. He's always procrastinating and dawdling about making up his mind. We'd never get off the deck without Colonel Browning. Take off and make that first attack. The Japs will break us, not the other way around. God, if only Halsey didn't fall asleep with that weird sickness!" "Where are we going? What's going on about that?" "I don't know for sure. I think we'll turn our course back in the morning so we can cover Midway at dawn. By then, needless to say, these yellow-faced devils will be on their way back. We're halfway to Japan." Warren yawned, took a sandwich from a plate full of food, and lounged in the chair next to Goff.He was disappointed, but also vaguely relieved. "Oh, we blew up those aircraft carriers anyway. Maybe he's going to stop when he wins. That's not bad poker." "Warren, he blew our chance to wipe out the Japanese fleet." Warren was tired and didn't want to waste any time talking to the young man. "Listen, maybe they still want to take Midway tomorrow. It's going to be a busy day again. Take the time to get some sleep." "Warren, how did you feel when you dropped that bomb on the target?" Pete.Goff stroked his bushy beard and grinned childishly. "I missed the shot twice, it's far from it." "Oh, what a relief. It's a relief. There's nothing like it." Warren yawned and stretched. "But, Pete, I'll tell you. On the long flight back, I couldn't help but think of so many Japs burned alive, their bodies flying apart, and those planes going up into the sky like firecrackers, and that squawking warship Wreck it up and burn people out. Then I remembered, in this goddam navy, we're paid to do some shit." It was cloudy at dawn.There is no dawn search, so they will not attack during the daytime.At sunrise, the task force plowed steadily through the iron-gray waves at fifteen knots.There was no order for any airborne operations.On the hangar deck, there were still the clanging knocks and screams of personnel working all night.There was a gloomy atmosphere in the waiting room.The gasping pilot had breakfast at three o'clock, waiting and waiting, waiting for what would happen.At ten o'clock, the sun broke through the clouds, but there was still no order.No alarm.It was like sailing in peacetime, except that it turned around to headwind to catapult the aircraft and recover the combat patrol aircraft overhead.There were more and more complaints, saying that the major general let the Japanese go. Meanwhile, conflicting messages rattled across the teletypewriters. The reconnaissance planes on Midway found the fourth aircraft carrier, smoking, but not sunk, still on the move. No, that was actually the fifth aircraft carrier, which was hit by an Army B-17 bomber. No, that fourth aircraft carrier is missing. No, the Japanese fleet was split into two, one was heading west toward Japan, and the other was retreating northwest with a smoking aircraft carrier. The reported azimuth is sometimes east and sometimes west on the chart, making people confused.There was a perception among the drivers that something very, very bad had happened "up there" after that glorious first day. What actually happened was an argument between Major General Spruance and Halsey's staff. In the minds of the staff, Raymond.Spruance, still the tactical commander of the screen fleet, had been brought up by luck to command the battle that was supposed to be fought by Halsey.The boss had convinced them that Spruance was talented, but this night's withdrawal had shaken their confidence.Facing the test of actual combat, he seemed to miss a historic victory. As for Spruance, he had lost faith in them, too.He had expected them to carry out the battle plan with experienced skill, but in fact this was their first battle.Lieutenant General Halsey has so far directed only a few hit-and-run raids on those atolls.A procrastinated first takeoff, a miscalculation of the enemy's movement, and a miscalculation of a choice point are all discouraging failures.Smashing four enemy aircraft carriers (since Spruance had not received reliable word of the sinking) was a big achievement; but more American planes were forced to crash-land due to running out of fuel than the enemy shot down.Three torpedo bomber squadrons went into battle without escort. The pilots on the "Hornet", except for the 8th Torpedo Bomber Squadron who committed suicide, did not rush to fight.This is bad stuff.Then, on the second sortie, the staff actually—unbelievably—forgot to inform the unfortunate Hornet of the order to attack, so they took off late, for nothing. The staff, still brooding over the retreat of the previous night, demanded to pursue the enemy at full speed, and immediately ordered the search and attack fleet to take off, no matter whether the sky was cloudy or not.But Spruance would not leave Midway without air escort until he knew that the Japanese had sailed out of range to attack Midway; and he wanted to keep the existing planes and pilots until he knew where the enemy was. Only after confirming the information, can a direct attack be launched.Such was the stalemate in the flagship command room.The restless pilots in the waiting room, with their own lives at stake, guessed pretty well that something "above" was going badly. After one o'clock the order was finally given.Fleet speed will be increased to twenty-five knots.Squadrons were to pursue the Japanese fleet, which was said to be retreating with a "smoking aircraft carrier."The Dreadnoughts would set off following vague trails, search in multiple directions, strike at what they found, and return before dark, because they hadn't been trained to land at night.The pilots couldn't help but look at each other, and they followed the order to draw on the aviation map.It was eerily quiet. Warren.Henry was called to Orr.Gallagher's sleeping quarters.Wade.McCluskey, pale and exhausted, sat in Gallagher's armchair, his khaki jacket bulging where his body was bandaged.Gallagher chewed on a dead cigar and closed the door. "Have time to map out the new plan of attack, Warren?" "Okay, sir." "what do you think?" "This is a plan to invite everyone to go swimming." Wade.McCluskey, his face wrinkled and sad, interjected, "You know Spruance, don't you?" "My father knew it, sir." "That's it." McCluskey struggled to his feet. "Let's talk to the commander." The captain of the Enterprise waited for them at his desk, a large office with sunlight pouring in through the open portholes.McCluskey briskly laid the matter out and asked him to intercede with Browning and, if necessary, with Spruance.The captain stared at him, nodded slowly, pulling and releasing a thick rubber band with idle fingers.He was in an unenviable position between the pilot and the general's staff. "Oh, well, Wade," he said, trying to sigh and only groaning. "I'm assuming you know how to use two-legged gauges and how to add. There may be some in the staff who can't. Let's go up to the flagship shelter." myles.Colonel Browning, perched on Halsey's favorite stool, was examining a large chart showing plans of attack.For the first time since Halsey left the ship, the chief of staff was feeling happy.The major general waited for the search plane on Midway Island to send the exact information that the enemy had been found, and delayed the operation again and again.At last Browning, exasperated, pointed out that the sun waits for no one; if they don't take off immediately, a whole battle day will go by without taking an offensive action; Not to mention Washington. Spruance conceded defeat nonchalantly, as if on purpose to give everyone a little more freedom of movement. "Very well, Colonel. Make a plan of attack and execute it immediately." The result was this chart.It was hastily made up by the staff officers, beautifully drawn in blue and orange-red inks, and according to this plan, it needs to be carried out once in the increasingly distant and wider triangular sea area where the Japanese invaders may still be found Large-scale mopping up.Of course, as the hours passed, the area grew larger and larger like a fan.I wish Spruance had listened to everyone's opinions sooner!However, the brothers may still catch the Japanese.Major General Spruance stood on the outer platform, resting his elbows on the bulwarks, watching the planes being put into place for takeoff.Fortunately, this person did not resent others after being subdued.Spruance, though taciturn and even more stubborn than Halsey, did not hold a grudge when he backed down.Browning had to admit it. There was a sound of footsteps on the iron escalator, and then the three pilots were led by the captain into the shelter.McCluskey was straightforward with Miles.Browning said the attack plan would cause every existing dive bomber on the Enterprise to drop overboard.Even with five hundred pound bombs, the factors of distance, time, and fuel did not work together, yet the plan called for a thousand pound bombs.There is no room for gasoline consumption in combat.The captain tactfully suggested whether to ask the staff to review the plan. Browning countered that there was nothing to review.A plan is an order.Tell the pilots to pay attention to saving fuel, and if there is no trouble in navigation, they will not fall into the sea.McCluskey responded at the top of his voice, declaring that he would not take his battalion out on these orders, even if court-martialed.Both sides yelled and shouted. Major General Spruance walked into the room and asked what was the matter.First it was Browning, then McCluskey made an angry statement.Spruance glanced at the nautical chronograph, sat down in the armchair, and scratched his shaven face.在战斗期间不刮胡子，是海尔赛参谋人员的习惯，而他也照着办，尽管跟他那浆硬而一无污点的卡其军服以及闪闪发亮的黑皮鞋一比，这夹白的棕色胡子茬儿看来确实很是古怪。 “亨利上尉，你已经接到了命令！”斯普鲁恩斯突然声色俱厉地对华伦用刺耳的声音这么说，使他们都吃了一惊。“这份鲁莽劲儿，究竟算什么呀？你操什么心呢？难道你以为参谋人员不是万分慎重地制订这个方案的吗？” 面对斯普鲁恩斯这冷冰冰、阴沉沉的盯视，华伦声音发抖地开口说：“少将，参谋可不上天啊。” “这种回答是目无领导！你父亲处在你的地位，不是会二话不说就执行命令的吗？不是会跨上飞机，按照吩咐去做吗？” “对，将军，他会这样做。不过，如果去问他的意见——就象你问我那样，长官——他会说，你再也见不到你手下的任何飞机啦。因为事情就是这样。” 斯普鲁恩斯噘起一张线条分明的阔嘴，庄重的大眼睛朝其他人膘了一下，摸摸下巴，然后双手交叉搁在脑后。“好吧，”他转身对韦德。麦克拉斯基说，“我依你的驾驶员们的意见办。” “什么！”布朗宁陡地叫了一声，象一个人被扎了一刀时的惨叫。他把军帽啪地扔在甲板上，脸涨得通红，噔噔噔地走出旗舰掩蔽部，只听见砰砰的快速脚步声一路下了铁梯。军帽滚到斯普鲁恩斯脚边，他把它捡起来，搁在椅子扶手上，安详地说：“把作战军官叫来，韦德。” 下午三点，俯冲轰炸机各中队终于根据一个修正方案在越来越阴沉的天色中离开“企业号”和“大黄蜂号”。在大范围的搜索中，他们只看见朵朵白云和大片灰色的海水。在火烧般红的夕照中返航，他们碰上孤零零的一艘日本驱逐舰，就朝它直扑。敌舰在下雹子般的弹雨中东躲西转，高射炮吐出红色曳光弹，甚至打下了一架飞机，最后天黑了，大队长不得不放它没受损伤地过去。这些无畏式飞机凭着Y －E 返航讯号，在越来越浓的夜色中轰隆隆地飞回去，华伦不禁寻思，他们到底怎样回舰降落呢？他还感到着恼，因为自己把炸弹投得离这艘驱逐舰很远，并且整个中队也竟然一颗没投中。 “企业号”上，布朗宁想通了，平息了怒火，恢复了职业军人的冷静心情，回进掩蔽部。斯普鲁恩斯对他的态度跟平时一般和气。夜色降临时，麦克拉斯基报告搜索大队正在返航中，斯普鲁恩斯象海尔赛那样踱起步来，这还是这场战役中第一回。两人在朦胧的暮色中踱来踱去，布朗宁终于脱口而出地说：“将军，我们不能不开灯啊。” 斯普鲁恩斯那模糊的身影停住不动了。“碰上潜艇怎么办？” “长官，我们外围有屏护舰队。如果有条该死的潜艇钻了进来。那是太不幸了。小伙子们可得降落啊。” “谢谢你，布朗宁上校。我同意。立刻开灯。” 在此后的年月里，雷蒙德。斯普鲁恩斯难得对他战时的所作所为发表明确的声明，其中有一次他说，战争中他只有一次感到担心，那就是飞机从中途岛外围在黑夜中归来的时候。 因此，使华伦又惊奇又宽慰的是，前面远方漆黑的海面上竟陡地亮起一片白光。几艘航空母舰显现出来，象制作精美的小模型。作战军官通过无线电发来有关紧急降落的指示。驾驶员们小心翼翼、心情紧张地开始有生以来第一次在航空母舰上作夜间降落。耀眼的探照灯光使这看来好象马戏班的特技表演。华伦觉得奇怪，原来竟这么轻而易举。他砰地降落下来，在灯光里钩住第二道阻拦索，就象在中午太阳光里一样；他然后匆匆赶到负责降落的军官的控制台上，观看其他飞机回舰。等未一架轰炸机一降落——只有一架掉在海里，机上人员被护卫驱逐舰顺利地搭救起来——灯光马上熄灭了。 舰只、飞机都看不见了。黑夜中的天空刷地出现在眼前。 “你怎么说？”华伦对那负责降落的军官说。“瞧这些星星。” “诺思安普敦号”没点灯的舰桥上，维克多。亨利高高兴兴地吩咐副舰长解除战备状态。这次惊人的突然开灯，迫使这条巡洋舰立刻进入对潜艇的战备状态，另一方面也使他心上放下一块石头。帕格心想，那架不幸失事的飞机不会就是华伦的那一架。他还意识到，这次蔚为壮观的夜间回收飞机的行动实在就是本战役的结局了。也许还要花一两天工夫来肃清掉队的残敌，可是日本舰队已经走了，斯普鲁恩斯不会尾随他们去追踪好一程路的。护航的驱逐舰的燃料快耗尽了，他可不能把它们撇在这一带海域里。帕格非常钦佩而也有点泄气地注视着斯普鲁恩斯的战略调动步骤。第一夜的后撤，以及谨慎追击战术，确保了对日本强敌的巨大胜利。他把他们狠揍狠打了一顿，自己却没赔上老本。 如今在星光下，帕格。亨利站在舰桥外面的平台一端，又忍不住思念起华伦来。这两天来的守望使他老了；他从自己的精神状态、从自己呼吸的本身中感觉到这一点。在那使他担惊受怕的头天早上，他心里不断地闪现着圣经上的有一节文字，好久以前对一家人念圣经时，这一节曾使他一度悲不自胜。每天早晨，家中的一员要轮流读一章，而关于大卫和押沙龙之间最后的一战正轮到他念。 “我儿押沙龙啊，我儿，我儿押沙龙啊！我恨不得替你死，押沙龙啊，我儿，我儿。” 当着三个孩于那明亮而严肃的眼光，他念到这一节时声音哽住了，就啪地合上书本，慌忙走出屋去。上一天早晨，他心头涌起一股痛苦难熬的父爱，这些词句在他脑海里一遍又一遍地响起，象一支折磨人的老歌。等到一看见华伦那架无畏式飞机刷地飞过前甲板，它象一张突然被击破的唱片，倏地停了。自此以后，帕格把他这身处险境的儿子抛在脑后，几乎就象他有意忘掉他那不贞的妻子，免得勾起伤心的回忆一样。他甚至坚决不再去看“企业号”上飞机调动的情况。华伦昨天第二次飞过，使他很安心。然而帕格明白，要直等到他跟他儿子在珍珠港重聚一堂，才能松一口气。他没法绝对有把握地说华伦还活着，看来也没法去打听。但是反正最大的危机已经过去，如今只有等待了。 这两天来，维克多。亨利指挥着一条大型战舰，一炮未发、一事无成地驶来驶去，他儿子呢，可以说就当着他的面在冒着最大的风险打仗。他心想，他怕再也不可能忍受比这两天更揪心的日子了。 旗舰掩蔽部中，气氛平息下来了。当斯普鲁恩斯规定夜间追击的速度仅为每小时十五海里时，大家都没意见。他和参谋长如今彼此了解啦。布朗宁主张全然不顾燃料消耗多少，拚命追击；由油轮跟在后边，以防万一燃料告尽。斯普鲁恩斯则要节约用油，免得万一作战拖延时日，没机会加油。他们两人到底谁对，如今要由上级和历史来作裁决了。 第二天一早，尼米兹拍来急电，给迈尔斯。布朗宁先尝到了一点甜头，因为太平洋舰队总司令同意他的意见。他连忙亲自把电报送给斯普鲁恩斯，只见他正趁天未破晓在舱房里煮咖啡。尼米兹在电文中说，第八鱼雷轰炸机中队唯一生还的人员已被搭救，他证实了三条日本航空母舰都受了重创。因此进逼敌人而加以打击的时机成熟了。他们俩都熟悉最高指挥部发下的电文中含蓄的语言。这是老实不客气地责备他们小心得过分了，并且警告他们，如果放走了已受重创的敌人。该负全责。关于那位驾驶员获救的消息，不过是铺填而已。 不动声色地签了这张薄薄的电文纸，斯普鲁恩斯问道：“关于这个你采取了什么行动？” “拂晓搜索随时可以出发，将军。'大黄蜂号'上的轰炸机装好一千磅的炸弹，作好准备，只等和敌人一接触就出击。” “好极了。'斯普鲁恩斯是难得这样说的。”吩咐巡洋舰上的水上飞机一发现敌人就穷追不舍，上校，别放他们跑掉。 " 华伦亲自参加拂晓搜索。尽管很疲劳，但飞行还是比呆在待命室里发愁来得愉快。在星光里起飞，在黎明和日出时分作长程飞行，使他好象从紧张中喘过气来，舒坦多了。他什么也没找到，但他听到彼特。戈夫从南部搜索区用无线电发来一篇激动的长报告。显然有两条大型战舰，不是巡洋舰就是战列舰，在黑夜中相撞。它们由驱逐舰护卫着，正慢腾腾地行驶着，周围是一大片浮着油迹的水面，其中一艘的头部看来被撞破了。可怜的彼特，飞到了两条庞大的操纵失灵的破船上空，却没带一颗炸弹！这将是让“大黄蜂号”上的轰炸机提高它们那可怜巴巴的战绩的大好机会。在归途中飞近屏护舰队时，他再度下降，飞越“诺思安普敦号”，看见他父亲在舰桥上若无其事地挥手打招呼。“大黄蜂号”上的轰炸机早起飞了。 “企业号”的待命室里，飞行员们贪婪地听着扩音器里源源不绝地传出的驾驶员之间在无线电中相互打趣或偶尔说的粗话，这时，“大黄蜂号”上的飞机找到了那两条破船，用半吨重的炸弹予以重创。等这次空袭结束，巡洋舰上的巡逻机报告说两艘军舰都被打得稀巴烂，在焚烧，但仍在极慢极慢地行进。电传打字机在胜利的光辉中变得调皮起来，拼出这些字样：看来企业号还有的是投弹练习的机会看到这个，戈夫少尉发出一声怪叫，招来一阵哈哈大笑，萎靡不振地倒在椅子上，熬红了眼的驾驶员中间，有几个摇起头来。 叫阿，彼特，你大显身手的机会来啦，'哗伦疲乏地笑笑。“这回只消看准了下蛋，十拿九稳的。” peter.戈夫脸容又板又白，说：“我要直掷在烟囱里。” 大伙儿离开待命室时，华伦拍拍戈夫的肩膀。“听着，彼特，收起掷在烟囱里那一套。无非是又一次轰炸任务罢了。你在这次战争中有的是机会呢。” 少尉戴上钢盔，长着红胡子的下巴额儿僵着不动，一副年青人的倔强相，使华伦强烈地想起拜伦，不禁悲从中来。“我不过是不喜欢领了军饷不干事罢了。” “你出勤飞行就尽了本份啦。” 风向这时转了偏西。麦克拉斯基——尽管受了伤，已经又参加战斗了——熟练而迅速地带领大队出击。飞行员们尽管筋疲力尽，但华伦发现他们在编队飞行中越来越在行了。战斗本身就是所大学校，这是没问题的。 半小时飞行后，地平线上出现一层烟，说明下面就是那些打击对象。麦克拉斯基的大队里包括三架幸存的鱼雷轰炸机，但上面命令只有在没有高射炮火的情况下才能使用鱼雷。从一万英尺高空中通过双筒望远镜观看，这两条军舰已被打烂到不堪设想的地步——在一片飘动的烟雾和跳跃的火焰中，大炮歪斜了，舰桥悬挂着，鱼雷发射管和飞机弹射器奇形怪状地耷拉着。“大黄蜂号”上的飞行员曾报告说是战列舰，但在华伦眼里，它们活象一双被打坏的“诺思安普敦号”巡洋舰。两艘军舰都在稀稀拉拉地打出高炮曳光弹，还有几发炮弹爆成一团团黑烟。 “啊，这样只好不使用TBD 鱼雷轰炸机啦。”麦克拉斯基的声音清晰地传来。他把对付这两条巡洋舰的任务分配给俯冲轰炸机分队，于是攻击开始了。 第一分队由加拉赫率领，公事公办地完成了任务；至少命中三颗炸弹，掀起滚滚浓烟和烈火，高射炮火也停止了。华伦正要带领自己的分队对远在下面那熊熊燃烧的残骸俯冲，回头望望彼特。戈夫，朝机外伸出一只手，在最后关头亲热地对他表示，劝告他不要激动；他然后驾轻就熟地把机首朝下，着手俯冲，从望远瞄准镜中望出去，正好是那条烧得正旺的巡洋舰。 华伦穿过零星无力的高射炮火，俯冲了约莫一千英尺，座机被击中了。他觉得机身惊人地一震，听到被炸裂的金属发出可怕的刺耳声响，看到一幕奇特的景象：自己那蓝色机翼被炸断，一个锯齿形的碎片飞走了，残余部分吐出樱桃红的火舌。他最初的反应是吃惊得目瞪口呆。他从没想到过自己会被击落，尽管明知道危机重重。眼看被宣判死刑了，他还是不相信这是真的。他的前程展开在他面前，不知还有多少年月——安排得井井有条，活生生的远大前程！然而要创造什么奇迹也只有几秒钟啦。他那受惊的头脑里回旋着这些令人目眩的念头，他徒劳地使劲扳动操纵杆，就在这时候，火焰烧遍了那断裂的机翼，他从耳机里听见科尼特惊叫了一声，可是听不明白。飞机朝一旁下坠，开始朝下旋冲，机身拚命摇晃，发动机直冒着火。蔚蓝色的海面在华伦眼前不断地旋转，在视野的四周是一圈火焰。他看见下面不远的地方就是溅着浪花的波涛。他拼命去拉开座舱罩，可是拉不开。他吩咐科尼特跳伞，没有回音。座舱里越来越热，在这高温中，他那僵硬的身体朝前紧贴在安全带上，挣扎了又挣扎，不停地挣扎。他终于不由自主地停下了。说到底，再也没办法啦。他已经尽了自己的全力，如今死的时候到啦。这对老爸爸来说将是难受的，然而爸爸会为他感到骄傲。这就是他最后的有条理的念头，关于自己的父亲。 海洋气势汹汹地涌起打着漩的、溅着浪花的大浪，朝他迎面扑来。已经全完了吗？ 火焰在华伦面前跳跃，使他在世的最后几秒钟内什么也看不见。烤得他疼痛难熬。飞机砰的坠落入海，象在黑暗里猛地挨了一拳。华伦最后的感觉是又舒服又凉快的：海水冲洗着他被烤焦的脸和双手。飞机砰地爆炸开来，但是他感觉不到了，伤残的身子开始漫长而缓慢地下沉，平静地沉到茫茫大海的海底，他最后安息的地方。有几秒钟工夫，一缕黑色的轻烟标志着他掉在海面上的地点。接着，象他的生命一样，这缕轻烟被风吹散，无影无踪。 我儿押沙龙啊，我儿，我儿押沙龙啊！我恨不得替你死，押沙龙啊，我儿，我儿！