LCDR C. Wade McClusky's
Douglas SBD-3 "Dauntless"
Commander, Enterprise Air Group
By Ken Durling

Photo by Ken Durling

HISTORICAL COMMENTARY
by Rear Admiral C. Wade McClusky, U.S.N. (Ret.)

The following is an eyewitness account written by Rear Admiral C. Wade McClusky. Admiral McClusky was the Air-group Commander aboard the Carrier ENTERPRISE during the actual battle and, himself, led the initial bombing that resulted in the sinking of several Japanese carriers. The following commentary is only part of the story. The Admiral modestly neglects to tell you what exhaustive research from additional historical sources disclosed to the Avalon Hill design staff: that "Lt. Comdr." C. Wade McClusky's methodical and tenacious pursuit of the enemy was probably the most important contributory factor toward the success of the battle.

***

On the ENTERPRISE, reveille came early that fateful morning of 4 June 1942, 3:30 a.m. to be exact. Breakfast was served as usual but the usual quips were missing. Rather a hushed note of expectancy prevailed throughout the wardroom.

We pilots waited impatiently in our respective "ready rooms". Finally orders came from Flag Plot. The position of the enemy striking force was given as of 0930 (based on a 0810 contact report) as Lat. 30- 05N, Long. 179-03W, heading 135°, speed 25 knots. My orders were to make a Group attack on this Force. Radio silence was to be maintained until sight contact with the enemy made. That was the extent of my instructions. The HORNET Group was likewise to be launched and although the HORNET Group Commander was senior, no command relationship or coordination between the groups was prescribed. No information was received to indicate how the YORKTOWN Group was to participate. So with this meager information we manned our planes on the flight deck.

At 0902, the ENTERPRISE launched a combat patrol of 8 Wildcats (Grumman F4F's). At 0906, the dive bombers started launching. This group composed of my group section, 3 SBD's, Scouting SIX and Bombing SIX, for a total of 33 SBD's. We rendezvoused and circled the carrier waiting for the Torpedo Squadron and fighter escort. Action seemed to come to a standstill on the ENTERPRISE. Finally, at 0945, by flashing light signal, I was ordered to "proceed on mission assigned". No information was given as to why the torpedo planes and fighters were delayed. This meant, of course, that we would be without fighter protection, a rather serious predicament.. The Dauntless, as the SBD was called, on account of its slow speed was an obsolescent plane at the time of Pearl Harbor.

Climbing to gain altitude, I led this small force on a southwesterly course and figured to intercept the enemy about 1120. At our departure time they were believed to bear about 240°, distance 155 miles and heading toward Midway at 25 knots. Our Task Force was to maintain a course of 240° to close the enemy except when flight operations dictated otherwise.

Arriving at the estimated point of contact the sea was empty. Not a Jap vessel was in sight! A hurried review of my navigation convinced me that I had not erred. What then was wrong!

With the clear visibility it was a certainty we hadn't passed them unsighted. Allowing for their maximum advance of 25 knots, I was positive they couldn't be in my left semi-circle, that is, between my position and the island of Midway. Then they must be in the right semi-circle, had changed course easterly or westerly, or most likely, had reversed course. To allow for a possible westerly change of course, I decided to fly west for 35 miles, then to turn northwest in the precise reverse of the original Japanese course. After making this decision, my next concern was just how far we could go. We had climbed, heavily loaded, to a high altitude. I knew the planes following were probably using more gas than I was. So with another quick calculation, I decided to stay on course 315° until 12:00 o'clock, then turn northeastwardly before making a final decision to terminate the hunt and return to the ENTERPRISE.

Call it fate, luck, or what you may, because at 11:55 I spied a lone Jap cruiser scurrying under full power to the northeast. Concluding that she was possibly a liaison ship between the occupation forces and the striking force, I altered my group's course to that of the cruiser. At 12:05 that decision paid dividends.

Peering through my binoculars which were practically glued to my eyes, I saw dead ahead about 35 miles distance, the welcome sight of the Jap carrier striking force. They were in what appeared to be a circular disposition with 4 carriers in the center, well spaced, and an outer screen of 6 to 8 destroyers and inner support ships composed of 2 battleships and either 4 or 6 cruisers. At my altitude positive identification except for the carriers was nearly impossible.

I then broke radio silence and reported the contact to the ENTERPRISE. Immediately thereafter I gave attack instructions to my Group. Figuring that possibly the HORNET Group Commander would make the same decision that I had, it seemed best to concentrate my two squadrons on two carriers. Any greater division of the bomb-load we had might spread out the damage but I believed would not sink or completely put out of action more than two. Picking the two nearest carriers in the line of approach, I ordered Scouting SIX to follow my section in attacking the carrier on the immediate left and Bombing SIX to take the right-hand carrier. These two carriers were the largest in the formation and later were determined to be the KAGA and the AKAGI. As a point for later mention, after radio silence was broken, LT. "Dick" Best, skipper of Bombing SIX, radioed that he was having oxygen trouble, had dropped to 15,000 feet and would remain at that altitude to commence the attack. One remarkable fact stood out as we approached the diving point - not a Jap fighter was there to molest us. Our reasoning attributed this to the one-track Jap mind whose principal fear was the torpedo plane and defeat they had sustained by that plane in the Coral Sea.

It was at 1222 when I started the attack, rolling in a half-roll and coming to a steep 70° dive. About half-way down, anti-aircraft fire began booming around us - our approach being a complete surprise up to that point. As we neared the bomb-dropping point, another stroke of luck met our eyes. Both enemy carriers had their decks full of planes which had just returned from the attack on Midway. Later it was learned that about the time we had discovered the Jap forces, an enemy seaplane had detected our forces. Apparently then, the planes on deck were being refueled and re-armed for an attack on our carriers. Supposing then, we, Air Group SIX, had turned southward toward MIDWAY as the HORNET Group did - I can still vividly imagine the ENTERPRISE and HORNET at the bottom of the sea as the YORKTOWN was some three days later.

In the meantime, our bombs began to hit home. Scouting SIX obtained at least eight direct hits. The first division of Bombing SIX obtained at least three direct hits on their assigned target with 1,000 lb. bombs. Both carriers were then enveloped in masses of flames and smoke. The second and third divisions of Bombing SIX, in accordance with squadron doctrine, then divided their attack between both carriers, obtaining many hits. Violent explosions resulted.

The story now for awhile will have to be an individual telling. I leveled off at mast-head height, picked the widest opening in their screen and dropped to deck-level, figuring any anti-aircraft fire aimed at me would also be aimed at their own ships. All their ships' fire must have been pretty busy because I was well through the screen before I noted bursting shells creeping up behind. With the throttle practically pushed through the instrument panel, I was fortunate in avoiding a contact with death by slight changes of altitude and varying the getaway course to right and left.

Time now to relax and figure my navigation to the home carrier. But not for long! It was quick work to figure the return course and as I raised my head from the plotting board, a stream of tracer bullets started chopping the water around the plane. Almost immediately my gunner, W.G. Chochalousek, in the rear seat, opened fire. Then a Jap "Zero" zoomed out of range ahead of me. A hurried glance around found another Zero about a thousand feet above, to the left and astern, about to make another attack. Remaining at 20 feet above the water, I waited until the attacking plane was well in his dive then wrapped my plane in a steep turn towards him. This not only gave him a more difficult deflection shot but also enabled my gunner to have free room to maneuver his guns. Then ensued about a 5 minute chase, first one Zero attacking from the right, then the second from the left. Each time I would wrap up towards the attacker with Chochalousek keeping up a constant return fire. Suddenly a burst from the Jap seemed to envelope the whole plane. The left side of my cockpit was shattered and I felt my left shoulder had been hit with a sledge hammer. Naturally enough it seemed like the end, we sure were goners. After an undeterminable period, probably only two or three seconds, I realized there was an unusual quietness except for the purring engine of the old Dauntless. Grasping the inner phone I yelled to Chochalousek, but no answer. It was difficult to turn with the pain in my left shoulder and arm, but I finally managed and there was the gunner, facing aft, guns at the ready and unharmed. What happened was that he had shot down one of the Zeros (probably the one that got the big burst in on us) and the other one decided to call it quits.

When we got back we found that our plane had been hit about 55 times, including 3 large hits by 20 millimeter shells, and, to boot, our rudder was peppered with our own 30 caliber bullets. A new twin mount 30 caliber free gun had just been issued, a spread between barrels of about eight inches and our enterprising gunner figured he could fire straight aft on both sides of the rudder at the same time. Fortunately, the effect wasn't vital.

Back on course again, I began a slow climb, anxiously peering about for our Task Force. At 1320 I had reached 1,000 feet and the spot I figured should be the rendezvous point. Nothing was in sight. Still climbing, I called the ENTERPRISE and asked if they had a change in position. Almost immediately "Ham" Dow's voice came back from Flag Plot stating simply "Wait". At 5,000 feet I began to get a faint signal from my automatic navigational radio beam, a special device that gave an approximate course back to the source of transmission. While orienting to this new course, "Ham" Dow came in by radio giving a "new" position for the Task Force. This proved to be about 60 miles south of where they were supposed to be. It has always been a mystery to me, why, after radio silence was broken, they hadn't enlightened us poor pilots on their subsequent changes of courses or position. Who knows, maybe some of those lost due to running out of fuel might have returned!

Some 20 minutes later, I spotted, in the distance, our Task Force and headed for the first carrier I could see. I dropped down to the landing circle height, wheels and tailhook down, ready to land aboard. While on the downwind leg, about a minute before landing, it dawned on me that this was the sister- ship YORKTOWN and not the ENTERPRISE. A glance at my gas gauge showed the pointer wavering around 5 gallons. With fingers crossed, I pulled off and headed for the ENTERPRISE, then about 5 miles away. Talk about luck, this was my day. I made a straight-in approach on the ENTERPRISE and landed aboard. The Landing Signal Officer claims he waved me off, but I didn't see it and furthermore, figured I didn't have enough gas to go around again anyway. So, I taxied up the deck, was stepping out of the plane when what happened! The YORKTOWN on whose deck I was just about to land, was under heavy attack by bombing and torpedo planes from the fourth Jap carrier, the HIRYU.

Without a word about Torpedo SIX, this phase of telling would not be complete. They were launched at 0950 and like the YORKTOWN and HORNET Torpedo squadrons, proceeded to attack independently. As previously related, the Japs, profiting by their experience in the Coral Sea, developed an excellent Torpedo Defence and in addition, kept all their fighter planes at a low altitude. The majority of Torpedo Planes were shot down before reaching the dropping point. The pilots and men of those planes set an example of moral courage and devotion to duty hard to beat anywhere. Torpedo SIX lost 10 out of 14 planes; Torpedo EIGHT lost all of her 15 but one pilot was saved; the YORKTOWN Torpedo Squadron lost 10 out of 12. From a practical viewpoint, their attack enabled our dive bombers to approach unmolested and consequently score the many devastating hits that meant victory.

***

Admiral McClusky's eyewitness account ends at this point. Upon his return to the Carrier he was immediately ordered to sick-bay. There were five bullets or parts of bullets imbedded in his left arm and shoulder, four of which remain today (according to the Admiral) leaving no impairment of any sort. Of course, the actual event lasted several days . . . all of which was somewhat anti-climactic. The"fate" of the battle was decided on the initial attack just after noon on the 4th of June.

- from the Avalon Hill game "Midway" - Battle Manual Copyright 1964

EDITORS NOTE: The above account has not been corrected for grammar or content. Since this is an original account by RADM McClusky, I felt it would translate best if left totally in his own words. Also note that the times used in RADM McClusky's account are not local Midway time. To convert the times in this account to Midway time, subtract two hours.

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