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 the Marines' heads, periodically dropping flare bombs and correcting their ships' fire.
Taking cover in a shallow trench, Vandergrift clenched his fists to the point of pain. In his imagination, he could clearly see that a few kilometers from the airfield Japanese soldiers, encouraged by the actions of their fleet, were preparing for a night attack. An attack that he would have nothing to repel with.
“Irs, they're not fugitives,” Letra's voice sounded worried and… indignant. “In the cargo compartment they had not medical capsules, but minidrons for in-system reconnaissance. Lieutenant, forty hours ago they hacked into our satellite!”
“Did the network defense hold? And why are you only telling me this now?”
“It was a damaged satellite that had no direct access to the network, but it still had a lot of information in its storage devices. The good news is that all this information belongs to the period before the attack on the Moonbase, which means that the rebels know nothing about your actions on the planet. After being damaged by rocket shrapnel, the satellite went into a passive mode, waiting for the arrival of a repair drone, which, as you understand, never arrived. We don't have a military network, as you remember. The security protocols are completely different. The machine was not online and was monitored sporadically. Another test revealed the fact of a third-party connection. You know the rest.”
“Why aren't they attacking?”
“They fear a stab in the back from our base. Put yourself in their shoes. The wreckage of the cruiser that tried to destroy the base in a frontal attack is dangling in lunar orbit, and all they have appears to be a destroyer, and it's not the fact that it is fully combat-ready.”
“I like this less and less by the minute. Apart from assumptions, we have nothing.”
“It's not all bad news, Lieutenant. Satellites have detected activity in orbit. Eight hours ago, someone was using short-range communications systems around the Solomon Islands, making a transmission over a narrow radio beam, just as I do, simulating local radio communications.
It was not possible to intercept the message, but it is clear what happened. Immediately after that, Japanese Admiral Mikawa abruptly changed his plans and turned his squadron, which was already leaving the combat area, in the opposite direction. As a result, the tactical defeat of the Allied fleet turned into a real disaster. They lost all their transport ships off the coast of Guadalcanal. The Marines who managed to disembark suffered