in the victorious expansion of the Empire of Japan. On May 3 a battle took place off the coast of Australia in the Coral Sea in which the Japanese failed to achieve a decisive victory, and in early June the Imperial Navy lost four aircraft carriers in a battle off Midway Atoll, which was a real disaster. Naval aviation suffered irreparable losses, losing its most experienced and trained pilots.
And now the Americans and their allies became so bold that they decided to launch a counteroffensive by landing on Guadalcanal Island. And he, Vice Admiral Gunichi Mikawa, had a real opportunity to disrupt this enemy operation, but he limited himself to winning the sea battle, and, with his tail between his legs, turned his ships around, afraid of aircraft attacks from American aircraft carriers.
To distract himself, Mikawa sat down in a chair at his desk and turned on the radio, trying to tune in to the Tokyo radio wave. Soon he heard the familiar callsigns of "Kyokai Hoso" of the NHK Japan Broadcasting Corporation. Through the usual rustle of interference the announcer was talking about the weather, and the Vice Admiral grimaced, realizing that in the next few minutes he would not hear anything important. At that moment, Mikawa didn't yet know how badly he was wrong.
The slight crackling of the air suddenly turned into an unpleasant screech, which was almost immediately replaced by an unfamiliar silence, and then it was cut through by a distinct and somewhat lifeless voice, speaking Japanese clearly, but with a strange, unnatural accent.
“Vice Admiral Mikawa, if you would be so kind as to give me a few minutes of your time…”
Mikawa twitched with his whole body, staring at the radio receiver like it was a poisonous snake.
“Don't worry, Vice Admiral. Unfortunately, our communication is one-way, so just listen to me. If you want details about who I am, I will explain, but not now, because it is not so important at the moment.
What is important is that the enemy aircraft carriers that you feared when you decided to abort the operation had, the night before, withdrawn from Guadalcanal and have left the Solomon Islands area. Yesterday your aircraft attacking the U.S. landing zone inflicted serious casualties on their deck fighters, and Admiral Fletcher decided that if your planes from Rabaul base attacked his ships, the deck aircraft would not be able to repel them effectively. As a result, he gave the order to withdraw the aircraft carriers from the possible strike zone. I understand that you have no reason to believe me, but you have seaplanes, and you can at least partially verify my words, and so that you do not doubt, I will first give you the exact coordinates of the point where the American destroyer is drifting, which has become dead in the water as a result of damage, and also indicate the anchorage of the unloading transport ships. The decision is yours, Vice Admiral, but if I were you, I wouldn't pass up the chance. One more thing. The situation, as you can imagine, is constantly changing, and if you want to keep up with these changes, don't forget to turn on your radio regularly.”
On August 7, the weather was inclement, and Japanese patrol planes were unable to fly a reconnaissance flight over the waters of the Solomon Islands, which played a key role in the initial phase of the battle. Guadalcanal and several smaller islands nearby were the target of the U.S. landing party. If the slow transport ships had been detected on approach to the landing point, the chances of the landing party reaching the islands would have been reduced to a minimum. However, it happened as it happened, and eleven thousand Marines under Brigadier General Alexander Vandergrift landed almost unhindered. Their main objective was to take over the unfinished airfield at Cape Lunga.
Japanese units, taken by surprise, came under fire from the ship's guns and bombing strikes by aircraft from U.S. aircraft carriers. Panicked, they offered little resistance and the next day, after an arduous march through the tropical jungle, Vandergrift’s paratroopers took control of the airfield. The Japanese withdrew in disarray, abandoning construction equipment, vehicles and food supplies.
The General was pleased with the start of the operation. He accomplished the task with minimal casualties, something he had not expected at all. Nevertheless, the situation in which the Marines found themselves could not be called simple. The enemy quickly recovered, and numerous Japanese aircraft appeared in the sky, but the real problems began on the night of August 9.
The lightnings of gun salvos blazed into the sea, and the rumble of distant explosions rolled on shore. The Imperial Navy was unwilling to tolerate the Allied landing on Guadalcanal. Vandergrift could only guess at the course of the naval battle, but all his previous experience told him to prepare for the worst-case scenario.
The transport ships were still unloading, and the landing site had to be covered from land. At the same time, the perimeter around the seized airfield had to be reinforced as much as possible. Vandergrift had to stretch his forces, and this caused him serious anxiety. Heavy weapons were still in the holds of the transport ships or, at best, just now being unloaded on the beaches, and a Japanese attack could follow at any moment. By midnight the roar of the guns had died down for a while, and there was a tense silence that could have meant anything.
An hour later a confused message came from the fleet, which indicated that the squadron covering the landing party suffered heavy losses, but the Japanese ships did not continue the attack and, having made a turn, went to the northeast, rounding the island of Savo.
“Speed up the unloading as much as possible,” Vandergrift muttered through his teeth as he read the radiogram. He was well aware of the value of such statements by sailors and knew how to put two and two together. The General was well aware that even if the aircraft carriers that had recently departed the Solomon Islands tried to return, they would not be able to stop Japanese heavy cruisers at night. Of course, the report of the departure of the Japanese squadron could be true, and then they could consider themselves very lucky, but for some reason the General did not believe it, and the next few hours confirmed that his pessimism had more than good reason.
First there was a short fight somewhere not too far out to sea. Several volleys of heavy guns were heard, followed by a powerful explosion that brightly illuminated the horizon for a few seconds. About twenty minutes after it was quiet, the engines of Japanese seaplanes sounded in the sky, and flare bombs flashed over the beaches and the anchored transport ships, turning the landing site, which looked like a bustling anthill, into a perfect target.
A scattering of bright flashes appeared in the relative silence near the horizon. There was no need to explain to Vandergrift what it was.
“Everybody take cover!”
There was no need for this command. His soldiers and sailors from the transport ships knew very well what the night volley of a squadron of heavy cruisers looked like. Twenty seconds of tense waiting and the landing zone turned into a sea of fire. The transport ships were the first to be hit. They each carried a 102 millimeter cannon to defend against submarines that had surfaced above the water, but their occasional shots could do nothing to change the picture of the merciless beating of the landing force.
Howitzers, tanks, and, most importantly, shells for the most part were still unloaded, and the transports, which had no armor, exploded from the first or second shell hit; the Japanese gunners knew how to shoot, and in literally ten minutes the American ships were finished. Vice Admiral Mikawa's squadron, which had come closer to shore, shifted the fire to the beach, and turned the unloaded equipment and the paratroopers' property into piles of burning rubble.
There was nothing more to do here, and Vandergrift ordered his men to withdraw to the captured airfield. However, the Japanese squadron did not limit itself to destroying transports and bombarding the landing site. Its commander was well aware of the aim of the landing, and in a few minutes the cruisers' guns shifted their fire to the positions of the Marines at Cape Lunga. The Japanese were careful not to shell the unfinished runway itself – they obviously hoped to use it in the future, but the whole area around the airfield was hit by heavy shells. Seaplanes circled over
