This Day in Goodlove History, June 4

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This Day in Goodlove History, June 4
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Jeff Goodlove email address: Jefferygoodlove@aol.com
Surnames associated with the name Goodlove have been spelled the following different ways; Cutliff, Cutloaf, Cutlofe, Cutloff, Cutlove, Cutlow, Godlib, Godlof, Godlop, Godlove, Goodfriend, Goodlove, Gotleb, Gotlib, Gotlibowicz, Gotlibs, Gotlieb, Gotlob, Gotlobe, Gotloeb, Gotthilf, Gottlieb, Gottliebova, Gottlob, Gottlober, Gottlow, Gutfrajnd, Gutleben, Gutlove

The Chronology of the Goodlove, Godlove, Gottlob, Gottlober, Gottlieb (Germany, Russia, Czech etc.), and Allied Families of Battaile, (France), Crawford (Scotland), Harrison (England), Jackson (Ireland), LeClere (France), Lefevre (France), McKinnon (Scotland), Plantagenets (England), Smith (England), Stephenson (England?), Vance (Ireland from Normandy), Washington, Winch (England, traditionally Wales), including correspondence with George Rogers Clark, Thomas Jefferson, and ancestors William Henry Harrison, Andrew Jackson and George Washington.
The Goodlove Family History Website:
http://familytreemaker.genealogy.com/users/g/o/o/Jeffery-Goodlove/index.html
The Goodlove/Godlove/Gottlieb families and their connection to the Cohenim/Surname project:

• New Address! http://www.familytreedna.com/public/goodlove/default.aspxy





June 4, 1738: Birthdate of King George III, the British monarch best remembered as the ruler during the American Revolution. During his reign conditions of his Jewish subjects would improve on several fronts as can be seem from the establishment of the London Board of Shechita, establishment of the Jews’ Free School and Jewish Blind Society.[1]



June 4, 1764: David Vance and wife Janet sold 288 acres in Hampshire County, Virginia (now West Virgina) to Bryan Bruin. Apparently the deed was never recorded. However, on September 14, 1767 in Hampshire County, Virginia (now West Virginia) Bryan Bruin sold a large tract of land on Green Spring Run to John Mitchel. The tract consisted of seven parcels that Bryan Bruin had purchased from different people. One of those seven parcels had been purchased from David and Janet Vance. The deed stated described that parcel as: "288 acres which was granted to David Vance by Deed from the Proprietor of the Northern Neck bearing the date of April 14, 1762, and the said David Vance and Janet, his wife, conveyed to the said Bryan Bruin by Deeds of Lease and Release bearing date the days of June 4 and 5, 1764." [2]

June 4, 1777:

“4 June- The staff officers were sent to New York to receive orders from General Howe. They were told that the troops were to go to Staten Island the next day, to debark there, set up camp, and to recover [from the sea voyage]. In the city there were some English regiments and not far away stand various Hessian regiments, camped separately… Here and there the colonists have laid out defensive positions but they have all been abandoned….[3]

June 4, 1777: “4 June – It was the King of England’s birthday. Therefore at twelve o’clock noon, Fort George fired some twelve cannon shots and afterward, at one o’clock, all the warships and several transports fired [their cannons]. At nine o’clock, all the warships and several transports fired illuminated as proof that all the inhabitants at least gave the appearance of being good subjects of the King….[4]

June 4, 1777:

Rueffer’s diary contains the following entry on 4 June. “Today we received … the order to be standing by ready on the common place at six o’clock in the morning in order to be embarked at the King’s Wharf on the North River.”[5]

King George III is the 13th cousin 9x removed of Jeffery Lee Goodlove

June 4, 1779, 06/04/1779 Michael Huffnagle, on behalf of John Godfrey Godfrey had been bought by Edmund Lindsey, who sold him to Edmund Rice, who sold him to William Newell. Term of servitude was up, Godfrey was released by the court. (This may not be a slave; endentured servant). Westmorelan, PA.[6]



June 4, Battle of Sandusky.[7]





June 4, 1782

In seventeen hundred and eighty two,

on the fourth day of May, as I tell it to you;

the [sic] crossed the Ohio, as we understand,

and bold Crawford gave them Command.



Their number four hundred eighty and nine,

and to take the Sandusky Town, was their design.



Our number four hundred 80 and nine

To take the Sandusky it was our design,

When only three Indians to us did appear.

They never suspected their journey was hard and severe,

and they were a great way in the enemies land,

But still we marched on with our small chosen band.



Till we came to the plain, that beautiful place,

Where we met with the Indians, a vile Tory race.

They thought to surround us and kill us all there,

But they were mistaken, most, of us got clear,



Our battle began on the 4th day of June, about 2 o’clock in the afternoon, We fought them till dark till we could no more see, Our killed and wounded was twenty and three.



But they did not fight us so hard the next day They were carrying their dead and wounded away, We killed three to one, it was always agreed But now we must try for the road with all speed.[8]



William Crawford is the 6th great grandfather of Jeffery Lee Goodlove



[June 4, 1782—Tuesday]

For those of the army who had never before seen the Sandusky Plains, their first view of it yesterday was breathtaking. The heavily forested hills through which they had been riding for the better part of a week had abruptly leveled out into high plains, with vast fields of grass as far as the eye could see. Their guides told them this type of terrain would continue all the way to the Sandusky towns, still some 30 miles distant: deep, thick grasses that were emerald green in their lush new growth and so high that the early morning dew soaked their horses and bathed the riders themselves to their waists. There was a deceptive sense of peace to the vista and a strong illusion that they had entered upon an expansive green sea where the surface was calm and smooth except where breezes touched down and rippled the grass in pleasant waving swaths all the way to the western horizon. The illusion of a sea was further enhanced by, here and there in the distance, great isolated groves of trees projecting above the grasses, appearing to be a series of lovely islands. So strong was this sense, in fact, that almost immediately the men referred to these groves as islands and dubbed them with colorful names based on their size or shape or color. Smaller groves, hazy and indistinct in the distance, loomed above the grasses like ships traversing the sea from one of the larger islands to another.

Some of the men, however, viewed the deep grass with a rise of fear; in this sort of cover, a whole great army of Indians could lie hidden beyond detection, abruptly to rise at any given moment and pour a devastating fire into the troops. Their fear became infectious, and soon the initial serenity of the scene was replaced in the men’s minds with uneasy expectation.

Their route since leaving the deserted ruins of Schoenbrun behind had been gradually to the northwest for some 15 miles before their guides turned them on a more directly westward course, a course they had more or less followed over the days since then. Having seen scattered individual Indians at intervals and occasional small parties of them, everyone realized that any hope of reaching the Sandusky villages and attacking by surprise had been lost. When they finally encountered one of the main Indian trails leading toward the Sandusky, they directed their course along it and the traveling became easier.

The first casualty to the army had occurred when one of the privates who complained of not feeling well abruptly leaned sideways and flopped loosely to the ground. When his companions stopped to assist him, they found he was dead and attributed it to exhaustion. He was buried and his grave ridden over by the column of horses so it would not be found by the Indians and the body perhaps disinterred for the scalp.

At length the trail crossed a small stream that was meandering generally northward. Their guides, John Slover, Jonathan Zane and Thomas Nicholson, reputed to be very familiar with this country, said it was the headwaters flow of the Sandusky River. In only a few miles they encountered it again, the stream having swung back to the south and now beginning to take a more generally westward flow. From this point on, the trail they rode followed the left bank of the stream as it gradually increased in size by tributary creeks and the outflow of numerous good springs in the region. Visions of farming such a lush, richly soiled and well-watered land were strong in the minds of many of the volunteers; a seed planted and already germinating that one day, when the Indians had been driven out or destroyed, they would return here to claim land and establish their own prosperous farms.

Just after sunset yesterday they had come to a fine spring where the water was cool and fresh and sweet. It was here that Col. Crawford ordered the army to halt and make camp for the night, warning the men to see to their weapons because the likelihood was strong that they would engage the Indians the following day; not only had glimpses of Indians been seen on their flanks, but the guides had informed him that they were, at this point, only seven or eight miles from Half King’s Town.

As dawn broke this morning, the army roused to find itself in the midst of a dense fog, which made the soldiers very nervous, for fear the Indians would take advantage of it to creep up close and attack them. An order to maintain silence was softly relayed through the companies, and the men squatted at their cook fires and ate their breakfasts with freshly loaded and primed rifles close at hand. Sunrise, when it came, did little more at first than brighten the fog, though they knew that as the sun climbed higher, its rays would quickly burn away the mist. But the sunrise brought something else that was chilling in its implication.

Barely audible in the far distance to the north came the deep dull booming of cannon being fired. Maj. John Rose noted it in his journal, as did Pvt. Michael Walters, the latter writing that he heard the sound of six cannons fired. Hurriedly checking their rifles again, saddling their mounts and reloading their gear, the army started its march again in three columns, each with four riders abreast, while a company of light horse under Capt. William Let, acting as an advance unit, rode a quarter-mile ahead. Shortly after this morning’s movement began, the trail they were following rounded a wide bend in the Sandusky River, and now the army moved in a more northwestward direction over the gently roofing sea of grasses. Very quickly the sense of tension among the men increased, as word was passed that they were approaching the principal target of their expedition, Half King’s Town, believed to be the major stronghold of the Wyandots.

Soon they came to the place to which guide Thomas Nicholson said the Moravian Indians had been relocated the previous fall when forced by the Wyandots and hostile Delawares to move. He said it was called Captives’ Town. He also had heard, he said, that the Moravians, soon after learning of the massacre of their kin at Gnadenhütten, had moved to the mouth of the Auglaize River on the Maumee. They expected to find no one at Captives’ Town and were not disappointed. The level ground overlooking the Sandusky River where the Moravians had stayed throughout much of the winter was plain enough to see, but scant trace of their temporary residence remained; nothing more than a number of places where fires had been built and a few jumbles of sticks where makeshift shelters had collapsed.

Soon afterward Col. Crawford brought the troops to a state of full-alert readiness as they approached the place where guide John Slover said the principal Wyandot village, Half King’s Town, was located. Slover said he had been there many times during the six years he had spent in captivity with the Miamis and occasionally after that, during the succeeding six years he had spent as a captive of the Shawnees. Then he had actually lived there for a considerable while after being captured by the Wyandots. No one, Col. Crawford was certain, was better qualified to guide them at this point than John Slover, and the commander was thankful to see that the grasses were less dense here, most of them only knee high or less and thus affording little cover for any kind for ambush. Nevertheless, a strong aura of apprehension overhung the whole army.

Now, when the village itself came into sight, they saw no signs of life, apart from a single dog that quickly slunk out of sight with its tail between its legs. They advanced with care and saw there was something very strange about the place. The doors to the cabins were open or missing, the wegiwas were caving in on themselves and the whole village was unkempt, uncared for, unlived in. It was apparent to Col Crawford that not only had this major Wyandot village been abandoned, it had been so for a considerable while. This, for many of the men in his force, confirmed their worst fears: They were expected. The commander immediately summoned the guides and asked for an explanation.

“Colonel,” said John Slover, “I have no idea what’s happened here. This place was bustin’ out with Wyandots last February. I can’t imagine they’re really gone.”

“Been a month, mebbe, since they were here, from the looks of things,” Jonathan Zane put in. “Where you figger they went, Tom?”

Nicholson, who had spent a great deal of time among the Wyandots, shook his head and shrugged. “Dunno. Mebbe down to Lower Sandusky. Mebbe only to McCormick’s.” Lower Sandusky was in excess of 40 miles farther down the Sandusky River, just above its mouth at Sandusky Bay, and Alexander McCormick’s Trading Post was on the Sandusky about eight miles downstream from this abandoned village.

Col. Crawford gave orders for the army to rest and drink at the fine spring here, fill their canteens and let their horses graze on the lush grasses, but he warned that all should keep themselves at the ready for instant action. He then called his officers to council.

Immediately heated arguments erupted among the officers. Some felt that the Indians, fearful of the approaching Americans, were in flight ahead of them and should be pursued all the way to Lower Sandusky if necessary; others believed all indications underlined the fact that the Indians were aware of their approach and had now positioned themselves somewhere ahead, where the terrain was most advantageous to themselves, to ambush the American army. This latter group favored returning home immediately.

The guides were asked for their opinion, and those three men briefly discussed the matter among themselves as the officers waited. Then both Thomas Nicholson and John Slover deferred to Jonathan Zane as their spokesman, and he turned his attention to the commander, slowly shaking his head.

“Colonel,” he said, “I got me a bad feeling. We all do. We don’t like the looks of this at all. I don’t know what’s goin’ on, but the three of us”—he indicated Slover and Nicholson— ‘know there’s some more Indian towns—Wyandot and Delaware both—just a few miles ahead. The fact that we haven’t seen any Indians at all might mean they could be waiting for us in force, that all of ‘em are gathering someplace ahead to hit us with maybe two, three, four times as many men as we’ve got. l— three of us, in fact—think we ought to get the hell out of here quick-like.”

“You mean turn back?” Col. Williamson blurted incredulously. “Without firing a gun?”

“I mean turn back and get ourselves back to where we came from just as soon as we can,” Zane said firmly.

Capt. John Hoagland snorted and then laughed without humor. “Oh, sure,” he said derisively. “We’ve just marched ten days through the wilderness to engage the Indians, and because we find an abandoned village, we simply turn around and go back. Makes sense to me.” He snorted again and then spat to one side. “For God’s sake, Colonel, let’s get on with what we came here to do.”

“Give me fifty men of my choice,” Col. Williamson spoke up, “and let me go ahead to the town that’s supposed to be there, and I’ll burn ‘em out.”

Col. Crawford shook his head. “Permission denied. We are not going to weaken this force by sending out detachments on a whim.”

Crawford was personally inclined to take Zane’s advice. Nevertheless, considering that the majority of the other officers seemed to agree with Hoagland, the consensus was to continue forward on the trail following the Sandusky River down stream. Col. Crawford decided that they would go onward at least until this evening and, when camp was made, the matter would be discussed again in light of what they had discovered between now and then. Allowing the troops and horses to have a little more rest, Crawford at length gave the order for the march to resume, now with Capt. William Leet’s advance light horse company hardly 300 yards ahead.

Three miles later, still not having encountered any opposing Indians, the army paused again when it came to several more fine large springs bubbling from the earth at a slight bluff. Here Crawford, more nervous than he cared to admit, called a halt and gave the order to dismount and break ranks for the noon meal, despite the fact that they had rested only a short time before. As the men did so, some of the more outwardly apprehensive began murmuring that, since many of them now had only five days’ provisions remaining in reserve, maybe the advice of their guides ought to be followed.

Crawford held another council with his officers. Ever more suspicious of possible ambush, he directed his adjutant and aide, Maj. John Rose, to take a detachment of two dozen men and reconnoiter the country ahead. The main army would follow as soon as they had finished eating. Maj. Rose selected his men and set out at once.

Through the prairie grasses the advance detachment now rode, heading directly northward toward a large island of trees looming in the distance. Their passage through the grasses on both sides of the narrow path left a clear trail for the main army to follow. The grove, three miles north of where the army had paused, turned out to be a relatively dense woodland, somewhat oval shaped, with the southeastern end squeezed together and then flaring out again, almost like the neck of a flower vase. The trail they were following passed through this grove for a quarter-mile close to its northwestern edge, where it flowed over a small knoll. Maj. Rose made a mental note that because of the timber’s elevation on this small hill, it could prove to be a vantage point from which to fight, should the Indians attack. Though the trees were close together and there was abundant fallen timber in various stages of decomposition, there was not a great deal of undergrowth. A short distance into the island of trees, Maj. Rose discovered a pleasant glen less densely filled with trees. Here he ordered his men to leave most of their excess baggage and continue forward as a light unit traveling fast, ready to engage a small force of Indians or to flee in the face of a larger one.

Leaving their excess gear in the care of a four-man guard, who would await the arrival of the main army, Maj. Rose and his men rode on, soon leaving the grove and ? through the prairie along the Indian trail now angling to the northeast. In less than a mile the trail forked, one portion turning more to the north and the other somewhat more easterly. Rose elected to follow the branching left path—the road that the guides had said led northward to Lower Sandusky and, eventually, Detroit.

They traveled another mile and a half, with the way ahead appearing to be nothing more than a continuation of the unbroken undulating prairie to the left and a line of trees three quarters of a mile distant tO the right, which Rose correctly assumed was the growth along the Sandusky River.

Abruptly, three Indian horsemen were sighted, who apparently saw Rose’s detachment simultaneously They fled, and the detachment pursued. The Indians maintained a steady distance ahead of them and Rose, after a few minutes, suspecting the three were leading them into an ambush, called a halt. It was wise that he did. With startling suddenness, a huge horde of Wyandots and Delawares, led by Monakaduto, Pimoacan and Wingenund, war painted and wearing little more than breechclouts boiled up and out of a hidden ravine and engaged them with musket fire. The attackers split into a V shape in an effort to encircle the detachment.

The Indians in the forefront of the attack were Delawares under Pimoacan and wingenund, and Simon Girty was with them. Close on their heels were the Wyandots led by Monakaduto, accompanied by the newly arrived British force of Rangers, most of them clad as Indians, along with a number of Frenchmen and slaves, plus the Indians brought along under Capt. Matthew Elliott Chippewas, primarily with a scattering of Ottawas and Miamis.

Most fortunately for the American advance detachment, Maj. Rose had stopped them just in time. The Indians had been forced to spring their ambush prematurely when most of the volunteers were still out of range of the Indian bows and muskets. Rose instantly sent Pvts. William Meetldrk and Cornelius Peterson galloping back to warn the main army and, with the remaining force, fought off the attack while gradually falling back through the prairie from rise to rise, pausing every so often to fire at the Indians and temporarily halt them, all the while returning toward the island of trees where they had left their baggage. Rose consistently kept himself closest to the Indians during the retreat ? close, in fact, that on one occasion some of the few Indians who were mounted came close enough to hurl tomahawks at him, which he coolly dodged in a rather remarkable display of horsemanship.

As the riders sent back to warn the army passed through the grove, they alerted the baggage guards to prepare to fight. Without pause they continued back on their own trail and in five miles met the main army, which was just beginning to come toward them from the area of the springs. Crawford listened grimly to the report Meetkirk and Peterson brought.

Fearing for the safety both of Rose’s advance detachment and of his own men knowing how fatal it could become to be surrounded by the approaching enemy in this open prairie terrain—Col. Crawford immediately ordered his entire force forward at a gallop to the grove, where if necessary a more protected defensive stand could be made in the cover the timber would provide.

Rose and his men, in the meantime, with their retreats and pauses, had finally reached the grove of trees again, an hour after the ambush had first been sprung. Taking cover behind trees and logs, they sent a more effective fire at the enemy, causing them to swing wide to the southeast and begin to enter the woods there to similarly afford themselves of cover.

Crawford’s force neared the grove on the other side, and the commander and his men could hear the distant gunfire coming from the northern fringe of the island of trees. Following the trail, they thundered up the low wooded hill to the glen where Rose had deposited his baggage. Recognizing the advantage the elevation on this slight hill would play as a defensive position, the commander selected its crest as a core for their stand. He ordered a number of the companies to spread out on the perimeter of the entire woodland, drive out any enemy encountered and hold the ground. Immediately, then, he led the remainder of his troops down the northern slope of the wooded knoll to the relief of Rose’s detachment.

None of Rose’s men had been killed, either in the ambush or during the three-mile retreat, although a couple were slightly wounded. Rose reported, however, that he believed that at least a couple of the attacking Indians had been killed, despite the advantage their ambush afforded. It was difficult to be certain, however, because of the shoulder high grasses.

Even though all this initial fighting had occurred on the northern and eastern perimeters of the woodland, a rumor soon circulated that, under cover provided by the tall grasses, the Indians had spread out around the entire grove. Whether true or not, those on the northern side provided little target for the Americans as they popped up into sight only long enough to aim and fire, then squatted again, hidden, to reload.

The Battle of Sandusky was on.

Capt. John Hoagland, who had so brashly advocated going on, against the advice of Jonathan Zane, soon became one of the first casualties. A ball struck him in the forehead and knocked him lifeless to the ground. A short time later Pvt. James Little also fell dead, when he momentarily stepped from behind his protective tree and took a bullet in the center of his throat that broke his neck.

Crawford was informed that the Indians had penetrated the southeastern end of the grove, and he ordered several companies to drive them out, which they did after a brief hot fight, during which Capt. James Munn pursued several warriors into the grass, only to be sent sprawling when a bullet passed through his right leg just above the ankle. A Wyandot with upraised tomahawk raced past screaming and Munn tried to scramble out of the way, but his leg was broken and he was unable to lunge as much to the side as he intended. It was enough to save his life, but the tomahawk grazed him and laid open the side of his face. Before other warriors could rush up and finish the job, one of Munn’s privates, William Brady, hoisted him onto a horse and plunged back into the woodland with him. The private brought him to the knoll where the wounded were being treated, and Dr. John Knight skillfully set Munn’s leg and bandaged his face.

At the same time, Indians all along the woodland’s northern perimeter continued firing from the grasses. If there were Indians on the south side of the grove, they were keeping well hidden and the way seemed open for retreat, but, though Crawford seriously considered such a move, he decided against it, figuring it to be a trap where his force, strung out in a retreat march, could be successfully ambushed by unseen Indians already in hiding in the tall grasses.

Pvt. Jonas Sams had taken a position behind a huge, relatively isolated black oak standing at the very edge of the northern flank of the woods. Unlike so many of his fellow volunteers, who were firing at every movement of the grass, real or imagined, he chose his targets with care. At age 26, he was an experienced hunter and woodsman, and well knew the value of waiting to let the quarry betray itself. When the call had been raised for this campaign against the Sandusky towns, he had ridden with other militia members from Thorn’s Tavern—located on the road from Redstone to Washington village—to the rendezvous at Mingo Bottom.

Using a Pennsylvania rifle that shot a .69 caliber ball, Jonas Sams methodically selected his targets and fired with considerable success throughout the day. Specializing in long shots, by the end of a few hours he had fired his rifle 18 times and knocked down at least half of the Indians at whom he had aimed, with little doubt in his mind that he had killed the majority of those who fell. At one point he spotted a British officer a considerable distance away, clad all in white except for his hat and boots. Jonas took a bead on him and fired. The range was even greater than he thought, and the ball ripped through the grasses short of his target. Jonas reloaded and, revising his aim, shot again. As he later wrote to his father:



the second time I fetcht him to the ground. He was a great way off but I had a gun that carried almost an ounce ball and I raised the hind sight the second time and he fell off his white horse.



A short while later Sams again shot an Indian, and, spotting another within range, he got in too much of a hurry and dropped a fresh ball into the barrel of his gun before putting in the gunpowder. Because of this, he was forced to run back into the woods to get the jammed ball out by on briching it. While doing so, he was disgusted to see a number of the volunteers hiding from the Indian gunfire, cowering behind fallen trees or in root holes, either not firing their rifles at all or occasionally shooting at random, without aiming and without the least possibility of hitting an enemy. Once he got the ball out and properly reloaded his weapon, he raced back to the isolated oak tree and continued to fire at the Indians until it got too dark to see them.

Casualties were fairly light during the first few hours and, in the middle of the afternoon, convinced that the Indian force attacking them was not as strong as at first believed, Col. David Williamson sought out Col. Crawford and requested permission to take a detachment of 200 men and make a sudden charge out of the woods to engage them. Crawford, however, continued to believe it would be ill advised to divide his force and, much to Williamson’s dismay, rejected the plan. Crawford was correct in his refusal because, as the day wore on, it became evident that the Indian force ranged in numbers from 600 warriors to as many as 1,000, perhaps more. Pvt. Hugh Workman of Leet’s light horse had been paying close attention to how many Indians were arrayed against them and he was appalled by the odds, concluding that there were no fewer than 1,000 warriors on hand, plus the British Rangers, making the odds greater than two to one against the Americans.

Not long after the battle first broke out, the rifle of Pvt. John Sherrard of Capt. Biggs’s company became jammed and useless. Looking for some way to continue helping, he approached Dr. Knight at the knoll, who was having a tough time keeping up in his care for the wounded. The surgeon, in the process of treating Pvt. John McDonald, whose right thigh had been broken by a ball, suggested that since Sherrard had no weapon, he scout around in the woods and try to find a spring or some other source of water for the men, wounded or otherwise, who were suffering from thirst because of the acrid smoke that so severely burned their throats.

Sherrard methodically searched the woods for the better part of an hour before he finally located a deep pool of stagnant water in the root hole of a large storm-toppled tree. From that point on, while the battle continued raging about him, he made frequent trips to the pool, filling canteens and other containers and bringing the water to the wounded and to the soldiers still actively fighting. The water was warm and distasteful, but it was wet and the soldiers accepted it gratefully. Unfortunately, it was also contaminated and, within just a few hours, the men who drank it began getting very sick, weak and feverish and were wracked by vomiting.

By four in the afternoon, the noise of the gunfire was deafening and the fighting had become quite general all along the grove’s northern perimeter. A pall of murky bluish-white smoke drifted wraithlike through the trees and hung like an evil mist over the prairie. Several of the horses of the volunteers had been killed or injured early in the fighting, and by this time all that could be reached and moved had been taken well into the woods.

While directing the defense amid the trees, Col. Crawford reached for the powderhorn on his hip, but it was shattered and carried away by a ball only an instant before he would have grasped it. A nearby private who had two powderhorns stepped up and, grinning, handed the extra one to his commander. “Try to take better care of this one, sir,” he said jokingly. An instant later that soldier’s grinning was ended for a long time, or perhaps permanently, as his upper lip was shot away.534

In the midst of all the thunder of gunfire, shrieks, yells and cries of pain, there came the wholly unexpected sound of singing. It was Pvt. John Gunsaula. His rifle had misfired and, in checking it for the reason, he found that he had fired so much that a charred residue of gunpowder was coating the underside of his flint, preventing it from creating a spark when it struck the pan. So now, seated on a log with his hunting knife in hand, he unconcernedly sang a Dutch melody of his youth while he picked his flint with the tip of his knife, bit by bit cleaning off the black debris.

“Mighty nice singin’, John.” The voice of Pvt. Daniel Canon drifted down to him from above, and Gunsaula looked up and waved, continuing to sing through his smile. High overhead in the treetop, Canon and a few other men had found a far more advantageous and successful location than ground level for spotting their attackers. Their gaze moved back and forth continuously as they watched the grasses beyond the trees, anticipating that telltale movement of the foliage that would indicate the hiding place of a warrior who would sooner or later rise to shoot and would instead meet a bullet from one of these sharpshooting snipers.

By late afternoon, a number of squaws had come forward and joined in the affray in their own way. Beating on kettles with sticks and screeching in shrill, harsh voices, they added significantly to the din in an effort to further intimidate and demoralize the Americans. When they happened across dead Americans, most of them already scalped, they took their weapons and goods and stripped them of their clothing. If the dead they encountered were Indians, they quickly carried them off. Mortally wounded prisoners they encountered were dispatched with tomahawks or knives, scalped and similarly stripped of anything worthwhile. Any soldiers not mortally wounded were carried off as prisoners to the villages to be questioned and most likely tortured to death.

It was from one such prisoner that the Indians learned that Col. David Williamson, perpetrator of the Moravian Massacre, was with the Americans as second in command. At once plans were discussed about how they might be able to kill him.

Later in the afternoon, Simon Girty, riding a large gray horse, appeared alone at a distance, a white cloth of truce hanging from the end of a pole tilted over his shoulder. So far as could be seen, he was unarmed. When a slight lull came in the firing, he cupped his mouth and called out loudly:

“I want to talk to Colonel Williamson. The Indians are agreeable to talking peace if he will come out to meet me and discuss terms.”

Someone among the defenders yelled back for Girty to wait while the colonel was summoned. Girty, responding with a wave, remained sitting quietly astride his horse. At the end of some ten minutes, Col. Williamson, on foot, appeared at the fringe of the woods, accompanied by several volunteers and Dr. Knight. The latter had known Girty well at Fort Pitt, and there had been a degree of friendship between them at one time. Col. Williamson had known Girty, too, but he viewed the distant horseman with distaste; no love had ever been lost between himself and Girty at Fort Pitt. In fact, eight years ago, just before Dunmore’s War, he and Girty had been engaged in a brawl, until Girty, who was getting the worst of it, was unexpectedly rescued by a huge young frontiersman who turned out to be Simon Kenton. Now the officer motioned those with him to stay where they were among the trees, and he took several steps out into the open.

“Girty!” he called. “This is Dave Williamson. What do you want?”

“Peace talk,” Girty shouted in return. “Just you’n me to start. Let’s end this damn fight right now. C’mon out here, an’ you an’ me’ll talk it out.”

“So you can kill me when I get close?” Williamson replied scornfully.

“I ain’t got no weapons,” Girty replied. “Tell you what. You come seven steps forward an’ stop, an’ I’ll do the same.”

Williamson considered this a moment and then stepped forward seven paces and stopped. Girty kneed his horse forward even more than that and stopped, the movement carrying him within range of a good shot. Immediately one of the volunteers at the fringe of the woodland leveled his rifle and took a bead on Girty, and was in the process of squeezing the trigger when Dr. Knight’s hand closed across the cocked hammer and thwarted the shooting.

“What’s the matter with you, man?” he growled. “You don’t shoot a man under a flag of truce.”

Almost on the heels of this little tableau, an Indian suddenly rose from hiding in the grasses, hardly 30 yards from Williamson, and snapped off a shot at him. The ball missed, and the colonel wheeled and raced back behind the closest tree, a large sugar maple slightly apart from the grove. As he spun into cover behind the broad trunk, five or six other shots came from the grasses and slammed into the tree but did not harm the officer. Immediately the volunteers returned the fire, but neither Girty nor any of the Indians appeared to be hit. Girty, cursing loudly, wheeled his big gray horse around and galloped off in the deep grass.

Once again the pitch of battle rose and continued as the day dwindled away. The Indians found a certain degree of both satisfaction and frustration in the pro­longed fighting: satisfaction in the knowledge that their bullets were gradually taking a toll on the Americans boxed in within the island of trees, and frustration from the failure of the attempt to kill Col. Williamson and from the fact that these Americans had managed to get themselves ensconced in a defensive posture considerably to their advantage. Already too many Indians had been killed or wounded in the effort to draw them out of the timber and onto a more equal footing. Many of the younger, brasher warriors, overconfident in their fighting abilities, wanted merely to plunge into the woods and meet the Americans in hand-to-hand combat, but Pimoacan, Wingenund and Monakaduto dissuaded them of such a notion; it was not the Indian way to engage in a war of attrition. Nevertheless, not even the chiefs themselves were pleased with the results of the battle thus far.

“Patience, my brothers,” Matthew Elliott told them. “You have them where you want them. They cannot go anywhere and they have no water, so they will very soon begin to suffer from the lack of it. It will drive them to do desperate acts, and men who are desperate make mistakes. You have only to hold them here until the artillery arrives, and then the woods will no longer protect them.”

It was reassuring, but only because they were as yet unaware that the British artillery was bogged down in a marsh some seven or eight miles to the north; the exhausted horses were no longer able to budge the heavy guns.

Just before sunset a number of individual American soldiers, their eyes reddened and smarting from the searing mist of gunsmoke in which they had been fighting for so many hours, began making daring dashes out of the protective timber and into the prairie in search of the enemy. One of these was Pvt. Michael Myers, who took refuge behind a single large black walnut tree some distance from the grove. As he stood leaning against the tree and looking for an Indian to shoot, the bark of the tree exploded close to his head as it was struck by a ball, showering splinters painfully into his cheeks and forehead but luckily missing his eyes. Carefully peeking around the trunk in the direction from which the shot had come, Myers saw a warrior ducking down below his own cover, an oak that was the only other isolated tree in this area. The oak tree forked into two main trunks three feet above the ground, and Myers aimed his rifle steadily at the base of the V. A few moments later there was a movement, and the head of the hidden warrior came into view. The ball from Myers’s rifle struck him in the center of the forehead and carried away the whole back of his skull.



A short while later, Myers detected a movement in the grass that he assumed was several Indians crawling along. Instead of shooting at the moving grass as so many others were doing, he waited, watching closely. Eventually the crawlers reached an area where the grasses were thinner and Myers saw one of them rise to shoot. He shot first, sending the Indian tumbling with a broken thigh and scattering his com­panions. Two of the army’s sentinels rushed out into the grass and one, who had a sword, cut off the wounded Indian’s head with a single hard slash.

The other volunteers who had left the cover of the woods moved about in a stooped manner below the tops of the deep grasses, emulating the mode of fighting of their attackers, bobbing up to aim and fire, then ducking down again to reload before continuing their crouching search. But it was a very hazardous pursuit and so many were being wounded—Pvts. Joseph Edgington and James Bane among them— that Col. Crawford quickly sent out an order curtailing the practice.

Pvt. Angus McCoy, while remaining in the fringe of timber, did not take advantage of the available cover but chose to stand fully exposed to the Indians as he fired. Remarkably, after several hours he remained unwounded, but his clothing had been riddled with holes from the balls that had so narrowly missed him.

As evening came on and the twilight deepened, the heavy gunfire gradually diminished until it became only isolated and momentary exchanges. The question of whether the Americans were truly surrounded by the foe was more or less resolved when, in the growing darkness, fires sprang into life in a wide arc out of effective rifle range. Both to contain the Americans and to prevent their making a surprise night attack, the Indians built 50 or more individual fires, mainly along the northern rim of the woodland and around its eastern end, closest to the Sandusky River, but there were also scattered blazes on the southern flank and the western end. They kept the fires burning brightly all night. About the only areas that remained dark were those where the trail to the south passed through, and toward the southwest where an expansive cranberry bog was close to the grove.

The day-long battle had left the Americans exhausted and victims of growing demoralization. They were all suffering from thirst, and those who had drunk the contaminated water from the root pool were miserable in their sickness and could no longer be considered effective fighting men. Worse yet, their supply of ammunition was precariously low; the hours of shooting had gravely diminished their powder and lead. As the soldiers refilled their powderhorns and shot pouches from the dwindling reserves, they were cautioned about excessive shooting and advised to choose their targets carefully and fire only when reasonably sure of hitting an enemy.

Col. Crawford ordered double-strength sentries for the night’s guard: two men at each assigned post along the perimeter of the woods, so that the weary guards could help keep each other awake and fire alarm shots if, under cover of the darkness, the Indians attempted to infiltrate the woods.[9]



6-19-2007-25[10]



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June 4th Tuesday, 1782

June 4th Tuesday.—Early this morning we heard the discharge of several cannon at some considerable distance. It was impossible to judge with certainty by their report, as the air was heavy on account of a very thick fogg. the report was to the N. Some Showers of rain we had yesterday afternoon, occasioned the discharge of all our rifles before we march’d. This was ordered to be done in Companies— Seven miles from this Spring we encamped on, we discovered a quarter of a mile from the Road the remains of the Town of the Moravians who were removed from there again last Spring. It extended along the Sandusky River, which is but shallow here & I counted 26 Houses burnt and 9 standing. A litle distance farther down, on the East end of a glade, likewise contiguous to the River, some Cabbins of the Half King were yet to be seen.

A short distance before we reached this place we crossed a Creek, which some count to the Waters of Sioto others say it is a branch of the Sandusky. Immediately beyond it, is a ravine. Where the path leads across this river the woods are brushy & the ascent on the North Side steep.

Beyond the glade you ascend a hill; and here the Shawnoe path joined our Road to Sandusky. A short distance beyond it, is the old Town along a small Spring—counted 20 miles from the beginning of the plains.

Here some murmur arose among the men & near 100 combined not to proceed any farther, as they thought the Indians were moved to Lower Sandusky, because no signs of anything living was discernible about this place. Upon the affirmation of the pilots that they had heard the Town had been removed 2 miles lower, all agreed to proceed that distance, whilst others were keen to go on to the lower town.

We continued our march about 5 miles farther on through an alimost continued glade, and halted in the skirts of a piece of Woods, where the Majority was for returning & not to go on any farther, discouraged by the scarcity of their provisions, and that there was not the least sign of any cultivation or habitation, nor of catle or horses. I had the Command of 2 Companies mounted on the best horses amounting to 40 men assigned me. I employed these in reconnoitring the Woods—posting them as Vedettes, whilst the Line halted—and in covering with some Foot the passing of Defiles, whilst marching towards the ennemy. Here Col. C—d requested me to go a head some miles and reconnoitre the Country whether I could discover the Town or signs of an ennemy. Meanwhile he would take the sense of the Body, whether to proceed or to return. Col. Williamson at the same time told me, he had been assured by old Shabo the town was removed 8 miles lower down the river from the old Town. I was escorted by 24 Horse[11], their Baggage & provisions incumbered them too much for a rapid move, this we left hid 1 miles from the main Body[12]. I had gone when about 3 miles near the entrance of a piece of woods my advance discovered the roofs[13]of 8 houses[14].


Scan At the same time I saw a party of Indians upon my right along the edge of a wood, and a large Body trying with the utmost velocity to gain my Rear.[15]

to apprize the main Body of the approach of an enemy as I knew them to be in the utmost confusion, disputing & quarelling—to detain the enemy by a show of an attack and faint resistance, to gain our party time to form a disposition and possess themselves of proper ground—not to have my retreat to them cut off, which was not very well possible in these plains—and lastly not to loose the Baggage & provisions of my men, were the points I wanted to gain.

I dispatched immediately 2 of the swiftest horses, and by dispersing my men suspended the enemy’s attention whilst I sent a party to secure the provisions etc who I ordered to wait for me &. the rest at the spot.[16] I continued forming my men upon eminences and then again dispersing them over the plains, that I gained a good Deal of time. But observing that their main force drew towards my Rear, to take possession as I imagined of a piece of woods through which I had to pass, on account of a morass to my left, I was obliged to join my men at the provision with some haste. this drew near 50 Indians naked & painted into the plains. Scan_1On an eminence where I joined the remainder of my party I formed the whole and exchanged some shot. By this time I observed the main Body in motion in my Rear, marching up to that piece of woods, where I feared the enemy in­tended to cut off my retreat.[17] Here both parties met one another and a hot firing immediately commenced at 4 P.M.— Scan_2Our people possessed themselves in a short time of this piece of Woods, & a hot fire was kept up untill Sun Set in a small Skirt, which had communication with those woods the enemy was in. Col. Gaddis who commanded in our Rear kept his ground & about sunset push’d the ennemy out of a skirt communicating with the enemy’s Woods like the one in front—His party was far superior to the enemy, and it costed him much ado, to get his men to a push.[18] Major Brenton on the Left, had extended his Wing to far, & lost rather ground. He saw himself obliged to contract his Line. The firing ceased at sunset[19]—We were very much distressed on this ground for the want of Water, & discovered at last a pudle of Rain Water at the foot of an old turned up tree.

We had in this day’s action 2 men killed upon the spot. three more died in the night of their wounds. Nineteen were wounded. of whom three more are mortally so. One man of ours was scalped in that point of Woods, where Gaddis commanded. I heard but of two scalps our party took.

the whole Body was to remain upon their arms all night. Notwithstanding we could not find men to cover our right flank for near half a quarter of a Mile.[20]



On Thursday, the 4th of June.

On Thursday, the 4th of June, which was the eleventh day of our march, about one o’clock we came to the spot where the town of Sandusky formerly stook; the inhabitants had moved 18 miles lower down the creek nearer the lower Sandusky; but as neither our guides or any who were with us had known any thing of their removal, we began to conjecture there were no Indian towns nearer than the lower Sandusky, which was at least forty miles distant.

However, after refreshing our horses we advanced in search of some of their settlements, but had scarcely got the distance of three or four miles from the old town when a number our men expressed their desire to return, some of them alleging that they had only five day’ provisions; upon which the field Officers and Captains, determined in council, to proceed that afternoon and no longer. Previous to the calling of this council, a small party of light hgorse had been sent forward to reconnoiter.

I shall here remark by the way, that there are a great many extensive plains in that country. The woods in general grow very thin, and free from brush and underwook; so that light horsemen may advance a considerable distance before an army with out being much exposed to the enemy.

Just as the council decided, and express returned from the above mentioned party of light horse with intelligence that they had been about three miles in front, and had seen large body of Indians running towards them. In a short time we saw the rest of the light horse, who joined us, and having gone one mile further, met a number of Indians who had partly got possession of a piece of woodes before us, whilest we were in the plains; but our men alighting from their horses and rushing into the woods, soon obliged them to abandon that place.

The enemy being by this time reinforced, flanked to the right, and part of them coming in nearer, quickly made the action more serious. The firing continued very warm on both sides from four o’clock until the dusk of the evening, each party maintaining their ground.[21]



June 4, 1782

Having in the last war been a prisoner amongst the Indians many years, and so being well acquainted with the country west of the Ohio, I was emplyed as a guide in the expedition under Col. William Crawford against the Indian towns on or near the river Sandusky. It will be unnecessary for me to relate what is so well known, the circumstances and unfortunate events of theat expedition; it will be sufficient to observe, that having on Tuesday the fourth of June, fought the enemy near Sandusky, we lay that night in our camp…[22]



Scan_4

During the night of June 4 both forces lay upon their arms. The invader’s light horse was ordered to remain dismounted so as to fight on foot. Within the woods, cooking fires burned.

To prevent night sorties on either side, larger fires were lighted. One line of fires was fueled by the American militia along the edge of the woods they occupied. Farther out in the surrounding prairie Indian sentinels kept another line of fires lighted. [23]



June 4, 1782

Augusta Moore. Male, 11, Abraham.

William Harrison. Male, 40, Larrow; female, 17, Sall; male, 15,Jacob.

Thomas Moore. Male, 40, Simon; female, 17, Sall; male, 15 Jacob.[24]



Augustine Moore is the brother in law of the 5th great grandaunt, William Harrison is the 5th great grandfather, and Thomas Moore is the brother in law of the 5th great grandaunt of Jeffery Lee Goodlove.



June 4, 1790: On opposite sides of what had been a tall monument. The top fallen off, these inscriptions on the square base:

Geo. W. Crawford, born June 4, 1790, died September 20, 1871.



Winnie, wife of George W. Crawford, born March 4. 1801, died August 6, 1871.



Harriet, dau. of G. and Winnie Crawford, died August 26, 1860. Aged 26 years, 24 days.



Richard Crawford, son of G. and Winnie Crawford, b. November 28, 1833.



5. Mrs. Emahiser says that in 1958 she saw a marker:

Julian Crawford, 21 years, died 1851. [25]





June 4 1822: With the idea of division in mind (Bullskin and Connellsville) the court was again petitioned in March, 1822, when an order was issued to Isaac Meason, Moses Vance, and Thomas Boyd to act as commissioners to view the proposed township. On the 4th of June, (June 4) 1822, their report was made and approved by the court, although not fully confirmed until Oct. 31, 1822, when Connellsville township was erected.[26]



Isaac Meason is the husband of the 5th great grandaunt and Moses Vance is the 1st cousin 7x removed.

June 4, 1824: Andrew Jackson arrived home at the Hermitage. [27]

Andrew Jackson is the 2nd cousin 8x removed.

June 4, 1826: Josiah McKinnon married Catharine Harrison. [28]



Josiah McKINNON - 4627. Son of Daniel McKINNON - 4622 & Nancy HARRISON -

4624. Born 1804. Died February 20, 1837 in Logan, OH. Residence Auglaize, OH.



Early Clark County, Ohio Families, Vital Statistics, Volume 1 Friends of the

Library Genealogical Research Group Warder Public Library Springfield, Ohio

45501 1985 Submitted by: Helen Graham Silvey 6947 Serenity Dr., Sacramento,

CA 95823



He married Catherine HARRISON - 4628, daughter of Lawrence HARRISON - 1132 &

Mary ALLISON - 1130, June 4, 1826 in Clark, OH. Born 1774. Residence Frederick

Co. VA; KY; Clark Co. OH.



They had the following children:



i. Daniel F. McKINNON - 4632

ii. Nancy McKINNON - 4634

iii. Joseph McKinnon JOSIAH - 4638[29]



JOSIAH MCKINNON: Civil War[30]



Josiah McKinnon is the 3rd great granduncle and Catharine Griffin Harrison is the wife of the 3rd great granduncle of Jeffery Lee Goodlove.



June 4, 1832: Perry GODLOVE b: JUNe 4, 1832 in Guernsey co, Oh. [31]

June 4, 1838 – The round-up of the Cherokee left in North Carolina, with most being taken to camps in Bradley County.[32]

Sat. June 4, 1864

Clear until 2 pm then rained

Nothing of note transpired today

Cloudy all night[33]

May 26-June 4, 1940: British forces retreat across the English Channel to Great Britain.[34]

June 4, 1940: William Bryer Rowell13 [Arminda Smith12, Gabriel D. Smith11, Gabriel Smith10, John “LR” Smith9, Ambrose J. Smith8, Christopher Smith7, Christopher Smith6, Thomas Smythe5, Thomas Smythe4, John Smythe3, Richard2, William1] (b. June 12, 1867 in Carroll Co GA / d. February 7, 1955 in Carroll Co GA) married Victoria Lee (b. February 4, 1870 in Carroll Co GA / d. June 4, 1940 in Carroll Co GA) on December 8, 1887 in Carroll Co. GA.

A. Children of William Rowell and Victoria Lee:
. i. Grover Rowell (b. December 25, 1892 in GA / d. February 5, 1971 in GA)
. ii. Margaret Rowell (b. May 15, 1896 in GA)
. iii. Leonard Rowell (b. May 5, 1899 in GA / d. September 12, 1906 in GA)
. iv. Minnie Lee Rowell (b. April 15, 1904 / d. April 14, 1947)
. v. Eva Rowell (b. February 12, 1906 in GA / d. April 17, 1947)
. vi. Lloyd Rowell (b. October 23, 1909 in GA / d. June 7, 1947 in GA)[35]



William Bryer Rowell is the 6th cousin 5x removed and Victoria Lee is the wife of the 6th cousin 5x removed of Jeffery L. Goodlove.



June 4, 1942: The United States declares war on Romania.[36]



June 4, 1942L: On 4 June 1942, a conference initiated by the "Reich Minister for Armament and Ammunition" Albert Speer regarding the nuclear energy project, had decided its continuation merely for the aim of energy production.[22][37]



June 4, 1942: Heydrich is severely wounded in Prague by the “Anthropoid” team. He dies of his wounds on June 4.[38]



1942 - Battle of Midway

Battle of Midway
June 4 - 6, 1942


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------




"You will be governed by the principle of calculated risk...."
Admiral Chester W. Nimitz

For Enterprise, the Battle of Midway began in May 1942, with a crucial bit of deception in the South Pacific. In early May, Task Force 16 - centered around Enterprise and Hornet CV-8 - had raced southwest, in an attempt to join Lexington CV-2 and Yorktown CV-5 (under Rear Admiral Frank Jack Fletcher) and deflect the expected Japanese move on Port Moresby, near the southeast tip of New Guinea. Japan's attempt to capture the port precipitated the Battle of the Coral Sea (May 7-8 1942), which ended the day before TF-16's arrival. Coral Sea was a narrow strategic victory for the United States. Repelled from Port Moresby, Japan also lost light carrier Shoho, while fleet carrier Shokaku was badly damaged and Zuikaku's air group was effectively destroyed. US Navy losses included Lexington, while Yorktown sustained heavy damage.

Coral Sea was the only major carrier battle of the war that Enterprise missed. Arriving a day too late, she and Hornet were sent north, to defend phosphorous-rich Ocean and Nauru islands. The cruise north, however, was cut short by two seemingly contradictory messages from Admiral Chester W. Nimitz, Commander in Chief of the Pacific Fleet. The first message originated with Admiral Ernest King, Chief of Naval Operations, who "advised" TF-16's Commander, Vice Admiral William F. Halsey, not to operate in range of enemy land-based planes, and beyond the range of friendly airfields, "unless especially favorable results" would result. The second order came from Nimitz himself: Halsey should let TF-16 be observed by enemy search planes ... but remain out of reach of attack planes.


http://www.cv6.org/images/vt6-midway-s.jpg


Midway: Legend & Fact


"History is always written wrong, and so always needs to be rewritten."
- George Santayana


It has been many years since the long-standing Western version of the Battle of Midway has been challenged. With the publication of "Shattered Sword" in late 2005, a Midway account authored by Westerners but told from the Japanese point of view and strongly supported by Japanese primary sources, the battle has been cast in a new light.


Some may find the new portrayal discomforting. "Shattered Sword" dismisses the fondly-held belief that the American victory at Midway resulted from sheer luck and divine intervention. It deflates the image of dive bombers saving the day, striking just as enemy was about to launch a devastating attack. It paints Japan's carrier striking force, the Kido Butai, as having significant weaknesses in its defensive capabilities. It compels the reader to question just why they thought they knew what happened at Midway.


The most perplexing question raised by "Shattered Sword" is why Western writers repeatedly included highly questionable statements in account after account, despite clues in Western sources that suggested major inconsistencies in the traditional telling.


For example, why did so many accounts depict armed planes packed on the decks of the Kido Butai when the USN dive bombers attacked, though seasoned observers such as VB-6 commander Dick Best reported exactly the opposite? Why did few question the assumption that the Aleutians operation was intended to lure the US fleet out of Hawaii ... when it was timed to start only a day before the main Midway operation, hardly giving the US fleet time to get underway?


Explanations range from limited access to Japanese materials, to intentional distortions in available Japanese sources (particularly Fuchida's "Midway: The Battle That Doomed Japan"), to insufficient skepticism on the part of Western researchers. This writer is one of many who have been forced to reevaluate their account - and the methods that produced that account - in light of "Shattered Sword".


After reading "Shattered Sword", other titles such as "Miracle at Midway" and "Incredible Victory" lose some of their allure. Midway - the battle - does not, however. The US victory may not have been a miracle, but that only increases its significance. The lopsided results were the result of carrier doctrine developed over twenty years of trial and error, the cool application of basic military theory, and the willingness of many, many pilots to accept poor odds of survival for the opportunity to do what they'd been trained to do. Japan suffered from poor strategy, relatively inefficient operational practices, and inadequate air defense and command systems that were overwhelmed by relentless American attacks.


"Shattered Sword" puts the credit, and the blame, for the outcome where it belongs: with those who planned and fought the battle, not with fate or fickle luck. And it reminds us that we only ever know part of the story. To remain intellectually honest we must be willing to admit the evidence that says we were wrong.


Halsey followed his instructions to perfection. The next day - May 15, 1942 - an enemy "snooper" appeared on Enterprise's radar, 70 miles out. The plane was allowed to approach. In a short while, Enterprise's intelligence unit overheard a contact report sent by the snooper. Fighters were scrambled, but were unable to intercept the first snooper, nor the several that soon arrived to radio contact reports of their own. Sure that Task Force 16 - and the two carriers - had been sighted and reported, Halsey turned his force due east. The next day, Task Force 16 was ordered to "expedite return" to Pearl Harbor ... and to avoid being sighted again.

This ploy, and overly optimistic assessments of Coral Sea, led Japanese intelligence to conclude that three US fleet carriers, at most, were operating in the Pacific: Enterprise, Hornet, and possibly Wasp CV-7. By allowing Halsey's force to be sighted on May 15, Nimitz intended to convince the Japanese that Enterprise and Hornet were deep in the south Pacific, and forestall any operation in that area that Japan might have planned. This, in turn, freed Nimitz to commit both carriers to operations in the north Pacific, over two thousand miles away.

In total, three US carriers stood off Midway on June 4: Enterprise, Hornet and Yorktown. (Midway was the first and only battle where the three Yorktown-class carriers fought together.) Halsey and Task Force 16 arrived in Pearl Harbor on May 26, where the ships reprovisioned hurriedly and sortied on May 28 for the north Pacific. Yorktown limped into Pearl on May 27, entering Dry Dock #1 the next day. Nimitz himself personally inspected the weary carrier before telling the yard manager, "We must have this ship back in three days." She was. Early May 30, battered, patched, but battleworthy, Yorktown stood out of Pearl Harbor, bringing up the rear of Task Force 17, RADM Fletcher commanding.

Task Forces 16 and 17 rendezvoused on June 2 northeast of Midway, at a spot of empty ocean optimistically designated "Point Luck". At that time, RADM Fletcher assumed tactical command of the combined force, for VADM Halsey, Fletcher's senior and normally commander of Task Force 16, was ill. Unrelenting stress and sweltering days in the south Pacific had given Halsey a severe case of dermatitis. Gaunt and sleep-deprived, Halsey had been admitted to the hospital, but not before recommending his own replacement: Rear Admiral Raymond Ames Spruance.

Halsey and Spruance had little in common. Halsey wore aviator's wings, Spruance was strictly a surface sailor. Halsey commanded a carrier force, Spruance commanded cruisers. Halsey was a fiery, aggressive leader, Spruance cool and reserved. But Halsey respected Spruance's judgement, and Spruance's cruisers had operated closely with Halsey's carriers for months. Moreover, Spruance "inherited" most of Halsey's able staff, including CDR Miles Browning: arguably the most aggressive carrier tactician in the Pacific at that time. At Midway, Spruance, commanding TF-16, was formally subordinate to RADM Fletcher. As events transpired, however, with few exceptions Spruance called the shots.


"The enemy is not aware of our plans." - VADM Chuichi Nagumo

"I anticipate that first contact will be made by our search planes out of Midway at 0600 Midway time, June 4, 325 degrees northwest at a distance of 175 miles." - Captain Edwin T. Layton

In the days before June 4, evidence grew that Pacific Fleet Intelligence had pulled off a major intelligence coupe. Though the Kido Butai - Japan's "Carrier Striking Force" - had not yet been located, Midway-based planes had made numerous contacts with other Japanese units, including transports approaching from the southeast. Midway PBYs had even scored a torpedo hit on one of the transports shortly before 0200 June 4 (Midway time)[1]. And as predicted, the Japanese had struck at Dutch Harbor and other points in the Aleutian islands on June 3, a diversion intended to draw the American fleet out of Pearl Harbor.

Expecting four or five Japanese carriers to close Midway from the northwest, Nimitz's Operations Plan 29-42 - detailing the defense of Midway - directed Fletcher and Spruance to operate northeast of Midway, on the flank of the anticipated enemy thrust. Fletcher and Spruance were to avoid placing themselves between the enemy and Midway, and instead "inflict maximum damage on enemy by employing strong attrition tactics." In a separate letter, Nimitz continued: "You will be governed by the principle of calculated risk, which you shall interpret to mean the avoidance of exposure of your force to attack by superior enemy forces without good prospect of inflicting ... greater damage on the enemy."

Dawn on the fourth of June found RADM Fletcher concerned by the lack of information about the enemy's disposition. That an attack on Midway was imminent there was no doubt, but the whereabouts of the enemy's carriers remained unknown. With battle expected, Enterprise's crews had awakened at 0130, taking breakfast between 0300 and 0400, before the pilots and airmen settled in their ready rooms to await instruction. Shortly before dawn, Yorktown launched ten VS-5[2] SBD-3s to search north of the US fleet, to a distance of 100 miles. While the Japanese were expected to approach Midway from the northwest, Fletcher wanted to be sure his own flanks were secure. Operating some 200 miles north-northeast of Midway, Fletcher was confident the Japanese could not be to the south, nor did he expect them to launch a strike against Midway from more than 300 miles out: i.e., 100 miles north of his own force.

Fletcher was not alone in searching for the Japanese that morning. On Midway, sixteen B-17s had taken off at 0415 to attack enemy transports approaching from the west, and 22 PBYs had set out to find the Japanese carriers. Those carriers, in turn, were now just 240 miles northwest of the atoll - 215 miles west of Task Forces 16 and 17 - and readying their first strike. Under the command of Vice Admiral Chuichi Nagumo, Kaga, Akagi, Soryu and Hiryu prepared 108 planes for launch: 36 Type 99 dive bombers (later known as "Vals"), 36 Type 97 level bombers ("Kates"), and 36 Type 00 fighters ("Zeroes") as escort. Their target was Midway: their mission to soften the atoll's defenses and eliminate its air strength. The planes were in the air by 0440, when work immediately began on arming an additional 105 aircraft, to strike any American ships that might interfere. Cruisers Tone and Chikuma, and battleship Haruna launched float planes to search for an enemy task force. No naval opposition was expected, however.


http://www.cv6.org/images/midway-4111.jpg
Midway Atoll, looking west, November 1941. Eastern Island is in the foreground, Sand Island is behind.


For the pilots in the ready rooms of Enterprise and her sister ships, time seemed to slow to a crawl as they awaited word of the enemy carriers. An hour had passed since Yorktown had launched her SBDs when Task Force 16 intercepted a brief, electrifying message from a Midway PBY at 0534: "Enemy carriers." Long minutes passed without amplification. At 0553, a second PBY radioed "Many planes heading Midway". Clearly the Japanese were out there, but where? Finally, at 0603, nearly half an hour after the original message, a solid contact report was received: "2 carriers and battleships bearing 320° distance 180 course 135 speed 25."

Quick calculations placed the Japanese 175 miles west-southwest from the US task forces. (In fact, the PBY report was in error: the Kido Butai was nearly 200 miles distant.) In Yorktown, Fletcher wondered where the other enemy carriers might be. If he tipped his hand now, launching a full strike against the two carriers the PBY had spotted, he left himself vulnerable to a counterstrike from the other carriers he suspected were out there. Instead, Fletcher decided to hold Yorktown in reserve, and at 0607 instructed Spruance's Task Force 16: "Proceed southwesterly and attack enemy carriers as soon as definitely located."


"It is not believed that the enemy has any ... carriers ... in the vicinity."
- VADM Chuichi Nagumo

"Task Forces 16 and 17 ... should be able to make surprise flank attacks on enemy carriers from position northeast of Midway."
- RADM Raymond Spruance

In Enterprise, Spruance and his staff conferred. Within minutes of receiving Fletcher's message, Spruance decided to launch at 0700: to throw everything Task Force 16 had at the Japanese, who he estimated would be 155 miles distant when found by the attack group. For reasons which have never been well understood, Spruance's intentions were not clearly communicated to Hornet - the second carrier in TF-16 - with the result that Hornet did not know of the launch until seven minutes before the scheduled time. Fortunately, Hornet's Air Group had been ready to fly for hours, and Hornet and Enterprise were both prepared to launch when they turned into the gentle southeast wind at 0656.


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Moving at high speed, Enterprise prepares to launch Torpedo Six the morning of June 4, 1942. Note dive-bombers forming up, near the right edge of the photo.


One of the ironies of Midway was that Yorktown - the only US carrier with wartime experience in carrier-vs-carrier combat - was initially held in reserve, while Hornet and Enterprise were called on to launch the first all-important blow against the Japanese fleet. Naval doctrine of the time held that enemy aircraft were a carrier's worst enemy. A flattop's best chance of survival was to destroy the enemy's carriers before they could launch an attack themselves. In short, fortune favored the side that could land the first punch. In Yorktown, Fletcher, Captain Elliott Buckmaster, and their staffs had acquired first-hand experience in organizing and launching a full strike against an enemy force, and were ready to apply the lessons learned to the present situation. Unfortunately, there had not been time to pass these insights along to Enterprise and Hornet. As a result, TF-16's strike organization quickly broke down, with unfortunate consequences.

Enterprise and Hornet directed their squadrons to form up overhead and depart as a group. The two air groups would operate independently, but squadrons within each - fighters, torpedo bombers, scouting and bombing squadrons - were to maintain contact and synchronize their attack. When Enterprise began launching at 0700, her flight deck was spotted, first, with eight Wildcat fighters for Combat Air Patrol. Behind the Wildcats were 37 SBD-2 and SBD-3 bombers from Scouting and Bombing Six: six VS-6 SBDs carrying a single 500-lb bomb, thirteen with one 500-lb and two 100-lb bombs, and eighteen VB-6 SBDs armed with one 1000-pounder each bringing up the rear. By 0725, all the planes were in the air, less four with mechanical troubles, forming up and climbing in lazy circles over the Big E. Then, in the words of Enterprise Air Group commander LCDR C. Wade McClusky, things "seemed to come to a standstill." For long minutes, plane handlers struggled to strike below the disabled SBDs, and bring Torpedo Six's TBD-1 Devastators up to the flight deck. Finally, over 20 minutes after the last Bombing Six SBD had clawed into the air, the first VF-6 Wildcat sped down Enterprise's flight deck, followed shortly afterwards by LCDR Eugene Lindsey's Torpedo Six. But McClusky and the SBDs, signaled by Spruance at 0745 to "proceed on mission assigned", were already gone. The attack group fragmented further when Fighting Six unintentionally took up station over Hornet's Torpedo Eight squadron, leaving Torpedo Six without fighter escort.

Hornet Air Group fared little better. Its Torpedo and Bombing/Scouting squadrons parted ways soon after launch, unable to agree on the course to follow. Only Yorktown, which Fletcher ordered to begin launching at 0838, formed a well-coordinated strike. The battle-tested Air Department ordered Yorktown's squadrons to make a "running rendezvous". The slowest planes - Torpedo Three's TBDs - launched first, and departed immediately. Bombing Three and Scouting Five launched next, followed by Fighting Three's fighters as escort. The faster planes naturally overtook the slower planes, and the strike group proceeded as a whole.

Meanwhile, a degree of disorganization had also beset the Kido Butai. As late as 0640, when the commander of Kaga's attack group reported "great results obtained" in the strike against Midway, all seemed to be going according to plan. Then twenty minutes later - nearly the same moment that Enterprise began launching - the leader of the Japanese strike, LT Joichi Tomonaga, contacted Nagumo: "There is need for a second attack...". As if to emphasize the point, at 0710 the first of several groups of Midway-based planes found and attacked the Japanese carriers. Six TBF-1 Avenger torpedo planes went in first. The Avenger's combat debut was not encouraging. Five of the TBFs were brought down by Zeroes and anti-aircraft fire, while the sixth - its control surfaces shredded by enemy shells, the gunner dead, the radioman and pilot wounded - survived to drop its torpedo and struggle back to Midway. There were no hits. Four torpedo-bearing B-26 Marauders, attacking moments later, similarly failed to score a single hit, though their strafing fire killed two Akagi crewmen. Two of the bombers never returned to Midway.

Nagumo needed no further convincing: Midway was alert, throwing punches, and might yet land one. No US ships were expected, and indeed none of the float planes launched earlier had reported any contacts. At 0715, Nagumo ordered that the planes reserved for attacking any naval targets, be rearmed to attack ground targets. The task was only partially complete, when cruiser Tone's No. 4 float plane found the US fleet.

At 0728, Tone's scout reported "ten ships, apparently enemy", roughly 240 miles north of Midway, steaming south-southeast at high speed. (This was probably Fletcher's Task Force 17.) No ship types were identified, and Nagumo and his staff may not have immediately suspected the presence of US carriers. For fifteen minutes, Nagumo weighed his options. Finally, at 0745, Nagumo ordered Akagi and Kaga to suspend rearming, directed his force to again prepare to attack surface ships, and ordered his scout to "ascertain ship types."

Before the float plane could respond, more Midway-based planes found the Japanese. At 0755, sixteen Marine Corps SBD-2 Dauntlesses, led by Major Lofton Henderson[3], attacked Hiryu. Six planes, including Henderson's, were shot down by Zeroes before they could drop. The remainder pressed home the attack, but could score only a single near miss. Downing one Zero as they escaped the enemy formation, just eight planes returned to Midway. Of those, six were too shot up to fly again. A lull followed, with Tone's scout reporting at 0809 that the enemy force was composed of cruisers and destroyers, five each. Nagumo barely had time to read the dispatch before Midway lashed out again. Fifteen B-17s (recalled from their mission to strike the transports) bombed Hiryu from 20,000 feet. The airmen claimed hits on two carriers: in fact, they scored at best a near miss, with most of the 68 tons of bombs dropped falling wide of the target. A few minutes later, eleven obsolete Vindicator dive-bombers - also from Midway - approached, first aiming for a carrier, then targetting the battleship Haruna. Given the planes' sluggish performance, it's remarkable that nine survived the mission, but again, not a single hit was scored.


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Akagi, followed by a destroyer, turns sharply as Army B-17's attack. Note the "Rising Sun" painted on her flight deck forward, and the absence of planes on her deck.


In a moment, we'll take leave of the Kido Butai, to catch up with the US carrier attack groups, particularly Enterprise Air Group. There were, though, two more incidents in the Japanese force which fundamentally changed the course of the battle. At 0820, as the Midway-based attacks ended, Tone's scout revised its earlier report: "Enemy is accompanied by what appears to be a carrier." For the first time, Nagumo knew with certainty he faced an American flattop. The news came as a shock: the Japanese plan assumed the American fleet would not arrive for several more days. Nagumo had two options: immediately launch the 36 dive bombers spotted on Hiryu and Soryu to attack the enemy carrier, or wait until his Midway strike was recovered and then prepare an all-out strike. Unable to spare fighters to escort the dive bombers, constrained by Japanese doctrine calling for large, coordinated strikes, and not sensing the critical situation he faced, Nagumo chose to wait.

At about the same time, the submarine USS Nautilus SS-168, commanded by LCDR William Brockman, raised its periscope in the middle of the Japanese force, discovering ships moving "across the field at high speed and circling away to avoid the submarine's position." One of eleven US subs stalking the waters north and west of Midway, Nautilus had already endured strafing and depth-charging. Now she invited further attacks, though not before getting off a torpedo at a large enemy ship: a miss. For many minutes, the cruiser Nagara and destroyer Arashi depth-charged her. As the attack ended, Nautilus again raised her periscope: Arashi pounced. More depth-charging ensued, until Arashi broke off the attack at 0918 and sped away to rejoin Nagumo's force.

Under scattered cumulus clouds in an otherwise clear sky, the destroyer's wake etched a brilliant white streak across the calm sea. Like a ghostly thin finger, it pointed directly towards the Kido Butai.


"The enemy lacks the will to fight..." - VADM Chuichi Nagumo

"This is the real thing today, the thing we have trained for, and I will take my squadron in." - VT-6 Commander LCDR Gene Lindsey, flying despite internal injuries suffered in a landing accident days before.

As related earlier, what organization there was in Enterprise's attack group had fallen apart during the launch. Concerned about fuel consumption, at 0745 Spruance had ordered Bombing and Scouting Six to depart, even before Torpedo Six and its fighter escort were airborne. Air Group Commander, LCDR C. Wade McClusky, had led his bombers west-southwest, on course 231° True, anticipating he'd encounter the Japanese around 0920.

Fighting Six Commander, LT James S. Gray, and ten F4F-4 Wildcats were to protect VT-6's vulnerable TBD-1 Devastators. But cruising at 20,000 ft., Gray was unable to distinguish one torpedo squadron from another, and inadvertently took up station over Hornet's Torpedo Eight, commanded by LCDR John C. Waldron. Waldron, who had sparred with Hornet Air Group Commander, CDR Stanhope C. Ring, over the course to be followed, led Torpedo Eight away from the rest of the air group, heading southwest while Hornet's bombers and fighters took a more westerly course.

Torpedo Eight was the first US carrier squadron to find the enemy fleet. Approaching low and from the northeast, the fifteen Devastators came upon Nagumo's force at 0920, immediately after the last plane from the morning strike against Midway had landed. Nagumo had abruptly changed course, from southeast towards Midway, almost due north, to evade further strikes from Midway and to close the American ships. Expecting neither fighter support, nor coordination with Hornet's bombers, Torpedo Eight attacked immediately. At first, Waldron divided his squadron to pin his target - likely Akagi - between two groups of planes, but as Zeroes swarmed over then, VT-8 formed up again on Waldron's TBD. Grinding along at perhaps 100 knots, the Devastators began to fall to the Zeroes. Several were splashed almost immediately. Waldron's wing tank was hit; just before the plane slammed into the water, he was seen climbing from the cockpit to escape the flames. The remaining planes pressed on, now targeting Soryu in the center of the Japanese formation, but their determination wasn't enough. Of the fifteen planes, only one - Ensign George Gay's - dropped its torpedo: a miss. Of the thirty men, only one - Ensign George Gay - survived the mission, crashing shortly after his attack, to become a front row spectator for the events that followed.[39]

[3] In August 1942, Marines on Guadalcanal named their captured airfield Henderson Field, in honor of Major Henderson.

Torpedo Eight's attack was nearly finished when Enterprise's Torpedo Six located the Japanese. Had Waldron not attacked first, Gene Lindsey's TBDs might have passed harmlessly to the south. Instead, smoke laid by screening ships attracted Lindsey's attention, and at 0930 he turned northeast to investigate. Lindsey made out three carriers, selected the closest, Kaga, as his target, and like Waldron split his group into two sections for the attack. Spotted by Japanese lookouts at 0938, Torpedo Six was set upon by Zeroes. To make matters worse, Kaga soon turned north, forcing the section led by LT Arthur V. Ely into a stern chase and forcing Lindsey's section into a wide half-circle clockwise around the outside of the screen to try to gain the carrier's port bow.

Ely's section immediately encountered Zeroes and concentrated anti-aircraft fire. Ely radioed for Jim Gray's Wildcats using the pre-arranged signal - "Come on down, Jim" - but there was no response from the fighters. After seeing the TBDs they believed were Torpedo Six disappear into clouds, Fighting Six had taken up station some fifteen miles northeast of the Japanese - on the opposite side of the fleet from VT-6's true position - and awaited the call for assistance. The call, though sent several times, was never received.

The results were predictable. Ely's section gamely closed in on Kaga, only to be cut down plane-by-plane by slashing Zero attacks. Two of the seven Devastators survived to make their drops: those flown by Machinist A. Walter Winchell and Chief Machinist Stephen B. Smith. Though damaged, both planes approached within 1000 yards of Kaga and made good their drops, with no results. Escaping the enemy screen independently, both aircrews survived the mission, though only Smith's plane returned to Enterprise. Their TBD out of fuel, Winchell and his gunner Douglas M. Cossitt ARM 3/c ditched, and spent the next seventeen days in their rubber raft, before being rescued by a Midway-based PBY on June 21.

Spared the Zeroes' attention while trying to reach attack position, Lindsey's section drew fierce opposition when they began their run-in. One rearseat gunner, William C. Humphrey ARM 1/c, succeeded in knocking down a Zero, but four of the seven planes in Lindsey's section - including Lindsey's plane itself - were destroyed by Zeros. The remaining TBDs released their torpedoes - to no effect - and escaped the enemy force with relative ease: all three eventually returned to the Big E.


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Eleven TBDs of Enterprise's Torpedo Six spotted on her flight deck, about 0730, June 4, 1942.


Yorktown's Torpedo Three, despite the benefit of a small fighter escort led by LCDR Thach, suffered similarly. Only one plane of VT-3's twelve ever returned to Task Force 17; too damaged to land, it ditched near the task force. The pilot was picked up later by destroyer Hammann; the gunner died of wounds before then. Carrier Hiryu evaded the five torpedoes the squadron dropped.

It is easy to dismiss the torpedo plane attacks as gallant but ineffective. To do so clouds the truth about just how close they came to success. The men and officers in VT-3, VT-6 and VT-8 knew they were flying obsolete planes, knew about the deadly Zero, knew the powerful force they were taking on and understood that their odds of survival were not good. But they were also professionals, and when they found the Japanese, they pressed their attack with skill and determination. They closed in to within a few ship-lengths of their targets before dropping their torpedoes. They closed in close enough to strafe the enemy ships and kill, close enough to force the enemy carriers to make sharp evasive maneuvers, close enough to clearly see warplanes spotted on the flight decks, preparing to strike at their own carriers. Perhaps only a few planes survived, but the ones that did presented a credible threat to the Japanese.

If the Japanese had doubts about their opponent's "will to fight", those doubts were fading now. Mitsuo Fuchida, who observed the attacks from Nagumo's flagship Akagi, praised the brilliant performance of the Zero pilots, while also recognizing "the dauntless courage shown by the American fliers." What neither Fuchida nor his fellow officers fully appreciated was the toll that the repeated - apparently futile - attacks had taken on Nagumo's force. No longer in close formation, Akagi was separated by 6000 yards from Kaga and Soryu, too far away for mutual anti-aircraft protection. Hiryu had practically disappeared over the horizon. Many of the patrolling Zeroes still swarmed over the remnants of VT-3, and the remainder of the fighters in the air were poorly positioned for countering additional attacks. Aboard the ships, the anti-aircraft guns had been brought down to low elevations: with their primitive fire control systems, they were ill-prepared to counter planes diving from overhead. In the carriers, the hangar decks were packed with armed and fueled planes. Moreover, in the haste to re-arm planes, fuel lines had been left full, and bombs and torpedoes scattered on the hangar decks instead of stowed away in magazines.

A false sense of security prevailed in the Kido Butai. The strike being prepared could inflict tremendous damage on the American carriers, but it had to be launched first. Until then, Kaga, Akagi, Hiryu and Soryu were extremely vulnerable. And while the fleet's anti-aircraft defenses had coped well with the slow-moving torpedo planes and other scattered attacks, it hadn't yet faced dozens of fast-moving dive bombers simultaneously ... nor was it prepared to.


"We plan to contact and destroy enemy task force." - VADM Chuichi Nagumo

"Earl, follow me down." - Enterprise Air Group Commander LCDR C. Wade McClusky

Though the torpedo squadrons had little difficulty finding Nagumo's carriers, the scouting and bombing groups did not fare so well. Hornet's VB-8 and VS-8 failed to contact the enemy at all, flying north and some miles west of Nagumo, before giving up and retiring. The 32 SBDs of Enterprise's Bombing Six and Scouting Six[4] had expected to intercept the enemy at about 0920. Having flown too far southward, and unaware that Nagumo had changed course at 0915 to nearly due north, at 0920 McClusky and his men found nothing but thousands of square miles of empty ocean. Positive the Japanese could not be to the southeast, McClusky decided to continue southwest for another 35 miles, then turn northwest - the reverse of the enemy's expected course - and finally east and back to Enterprise. Under the circumstances, it was a tough decision to make. Enterprise's bombers had been in the air for more than two hours, and fuel consumption was becoming a worry. The search southwest turned up nothing, and for many minutes the leg northwest seemed fruitless as well. Then, at 0947, just a few minutes before he would turn east for home, McClusky spotted the wake of a single ship. At the time McClusky thought it was a cruiser, but whatever it was, it was making good time to the northeast. Suspecting that it might be hurrying to rejoin the main Japanese force, McClusky turned his bombers to parallel the course of the ship: Arashi.

At 1002 - approximately the same time that Torpedo Six's attack ended and Torpedo Three's began - the Enterprise bombers found the Japanese. McClusky radioed a brief contact report, and made for an attack position. Time was short. One plane - flown by ENS Tony Schneider of VB-6 - ran out of fuel shortly after the sighting, and the remainder were not much better off. At first, some of the airmen even thought the ships below were their own task force. In Bombing Six, several planes had expended their oxygen supply. Their commander, LT Richard Best, led his planes down to 15,000 ft. from 20,000 ft., and took off his own oxygen mask to demonstrate it was no longer needed.

But another serious threat was conspicuously absent. As the SBDs reached their pushover point - the point where each bomber would roll into a steep dive on the target below - no enemy fighters interfered, no anti-aircraft shells burst in their midst. Enterprise's SBDs began their attack unopposed.

Approaching from the southwest, McClusky resolved to attack the two closest carriers: Kaga to the west, Akagi to the east. Five thousand feet below, Bombing Six commander Dick Best radioed McClusky his intent to attack the nearest carrier - Kaga - but apparently McClusky didn't receive the message. At 1022, McClusky and his wingmen led LT Earl Gallaher and Scouting Six into the attack. Best was surprised to see friendly planes hurtling past him, plunging down on Kaga. Two sections of Best's VB-6, missing their commander's signal to form up, followed as well. Hurtling downward at 450 feet each second, the SBDs yielded Kaga little time to react. Releasing at approximately 1500 feet, McClusky and his wingmen - ENS William Pittman and ENS Richard Jaccard - missed, but the next bomb, a 1000-pounder dropped by LT Gallaher, hit Kaga squarely in the aft flight deck, amidships. The next two planes scored near misses. One plane, unable to recover from its dive, slammed into the sea, killing pilot ENS John Q. Roberts, and his gunner Thurman R. Swindell, AOM 1/c. But behind them, LT(jg) Norman "Dusty" Kleiss scored a hit alongside Kaga's forward elevator; a second hit struck fueling equipment, spraying the bridge with burning gasoline. As many as six additional hits followed. Flames and smoke made it impossible to count with precision. In the hangar decks, fuel and munitions set off a conflagration which soon overwhelmed the ship.

To the northeast, at 1026 Dick Best and the remaining planes of VB-6 attacked Akagi. Best and his wingmen, LT(jg) Edwin J. Kroeger and ENS Frederick T. Weber, scored a hit and two near misses with 1,000-pound bombs on the carrier, with Best's bomb setting off munitions sitting unprotected in the hangar. Mitsuo Fuchida described the scene:

Looking about, I was horrified at the destruction that had been wrought in a matter of seconds. There was a huge hole in the flight deck just behind the amidship elevator. The elevator itself, twisted like molten glass, was drooping into the hangar. Deck plates reeled upward in grotesque configurations. Planes stood tail up, belching livid flame and jet-black smoke.

In just five minutes, Enterprise's Scouting Six and Bombing Six destroyed two Japanese fleet carriers. Kaga was abandoned at 1700 and sank at 1925. Akagi was abandoned just after Kaga slipped under the waves, and scuttled before the dawn June 5. Attacking nearly simultaneously with McClusky's SBDs, Yorktown's Bombing Three, led by LCDR Max Leslie, inflicted such extreme damage on Soryu that she too sank that evening. A single carrier, Hiryu, escaped damage the morning of June 4.

In their ready rooms that morning, the pilots had been directed to retire towards Midway before turning northeast to return to the US carriers. Now pulling out from their dives, they did so, eager to escape the ships in the Japanese screen, and the Zeroes that soon swarmed angrily over them. Air Group Commander McClusky's shoulder was wounded as two Zeroes pounced on his SBD, but his gunner, Walter G. Chochalousek ARM 1/c, brought down one with the plane's .30-caliber machine gun, discouraging the second Zero in the process. Floyd Adkins AMM 2/c, gunner in the VS-6 SBD flown by ENS William R. Pittman, shot down an enemy fighter, despite having to manhandle his 175-pound machine gun which had broken free of its mount. Six VS-6 Dauntlesses formed up on the SBD flown by LT Charles R. Ware. Earl Howell ARM 2/c, a gunner in one of those planes, had "flamed" one Zero already. By flying slowly very low over the water, weaving as the enemy planes made their passes, and concentrating their fire, this group succeeded in keeping their assailants at bay: not one plane was brought down by enemy fighters.


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Clifton R. Bassett AOM 2/c, of Yorktown's Bombing Three is carried on a stretcher, suffering wounds received during the afternoon attack on Hiryu.


But the surviving planes now faced an equally serious challenge: the flight back to Task Force 16. There were two major problems. First, all of the planes by now were critically low on fuel, having expended it first in long delay after launch, then the extended search for the enemy, and finally in their efforts to evade the enemy fighters. Second, no-one knew exactly where Task Force 16 was. Often, airmen would be informed of a "Point Option" before launch: the anticipated position of the carrier when the planes returned from their mission. But this morning, no Point Option had been given. The pilots had been told only that after launching, Enterprise and Hornet would resume steaming southwest at 25 knots.

Despite their efforts to conserve fuel, one by one the bombers' tanks ran dry, leaving their crews with no option but to ditch and hope for rescue. One of the first was in LT Ware's group: the Scouting Six SBD manned by ENS Frank O'Flaherty and Bruno P. Gaido AMM 1/c, a hero of the Marshall Islands raid the past February. When last seen by their friends, O'Flaherty and Gaido had ditched safely and were climbing into their raft. Later picked up by a Japanese destroyer, the two men were interrogated and then murdered by drowning. Of the remaining five planes in LT Ware's group, only one - manned by ENS John McCarthy and Earl Howell ARM 2/c - ever returned to Task Force 16. The remainder misjudged the correct course home, and vanished into the north Pacific.

Others had better luck. In Bombing Six, ENS Tom Ramsay and his gunner S. L. Duncan ARM 2/c ditched and were eventually rescued by a Midway-based PBY on June 12. LT Joe Penland and H. F. Heard ARM 2/c also ditched, but were rescued the next day by Phelps DD-360. ENS McCarthy and LT C. E. Dickinson managed to find TF-16, both landing in the water nearby. In total, five of the fifteen planes in Bombing Six, and eight in Scouting Six, returned to Enterprise (two too damaged to fly again), the last landing just past noon, having spent five hours in the air. In Torpedo Six, just four planes came back, one so damaged that it was immediately pushed overboard.

With the exception of the torpedo squadrons, most of Yorktown and Hornets' attack groups eventually returned. Scouting Eight returned directly to Hornet, bombs still slung below the planes' bellies. Most of Bombing Eight landed at Midway, also without striking a blow at the enemy. Yorktown's Bombing Three, having ravaged Soryu, returned to Task Force 17 nearly intact. Yorktown, however, refused them permission to land. Knifing through the waves at 30.5 knots, cruisers Portland CA-33 and Astoria CA-34 ahead and astern, and encircled by destroyers, the patched-up veteran of Coral Sea was preparing to repel an enemy attack.[40]

1942 - Battle of Midway




Well, I've got on my tin hat. I can't do anything else now! - RADM Frank Jack Fletcher

Around 1150, Yorktown's radar had made unexpected contact with a group of planes 32 miles west-southwest. These planes represented the most powerful strike the Japanese could muster: eighteen dive-bombers escorted by six fighters, all from the unscathed carrier Hiryu. Launched at 1045, just after the devastating US dive-bomber attack, the strike group was guided to Yorktown by a float plane from the cruiser Chikuma. The attackers were greeted by a determined combat air patrol, composed of 12 Yorktown F4F Wildcats reinforced by eight more F4Fs from Enterprise and Hornet Air Groups (four each). Under Yorktown's direction, the F4Fs intercepted the enemy strike at 1156, one minute after the Japanese spotted the carrier's wake. In running the gauntlet formed by VF-3, VF-8 and VF-6 (and in that order), eleven of the eighteen bombers were brought down. The rest reached positions ranging from west to southwest of Yorktown and began their dives.

At this point in the war, naval anti-aircraft fire was more impressive than effective. The first two bombers to attack were blown to pieces by Yorktown's 1.1-inch anti-aircraft guns, yet the first landed its 242-kg bomb just aft the carrier's No. 2 elevator, while the second scored a near miss, spraying the stern with splinters and starting fires. Several near misses followed, before one lucky hit detonated deep in uptakes for the ship's boilers. This blow instantly reduced Yorktown to a single operable boiler, and she slowed rapidly, vitally damaged by enemy bombs for the second time in less than a month.


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Yorktown CV-5 under attack, June 4, 1942. Note water fountaining from a torpedo exploding against her port side.


Yet Yorktown's fight was not over. Seeing her flight deck out of action, most of Bombing Squadron Three flew some 30 miles southeast to land aboard Enterprise. The Big E's crew prepared the new arrivals and the remaining planes of Enterprise Air Group for a second strike. Based on intelligence gathered before the battle, and the reports of the returning airmen, Spruance and his staff believed three of four Japanese carriers had been knocked out. The fourth carrier clearly posed a threat, and had to be eliminated. But hours had passed since the last contact report, and Spruance could not afford another hurried, disorganized strike. However, before Yorktown was attacked, Fletcher had again sent out his scouts: ten SBDs of "Scouting" Five launched at 1133 to search out to 200 miles. While they wouldn't make contact soon enough to save Yorktown, they would seal Hiryu's fate.

Fletcher transferred his flag from the damaged Yorktown to Astoria at 1323. Less than ten minutes later, Hiryu launched her second strike: smaller than the first, it consisted of ten torpedo planes with six Zeroes as escort. By this time - thanks to search plane reports and information gleaned from a captured Torpedo Three pilot - the Japanese knew they faced three American carriers, and believed one of those carriers to be heavily damaged, if not sunk. So it is perhaps understandable that when Hiryu's second strike spotted an apparently undamaged carrier an hour after launch, they assumed it wasn't the same carrier that had been attacked around noon. But it was. Coolly and efficiently, Yorktown's men had put her fires out, patched up her flight deck, and brought her boilers back on line. At 1350, less than two hours after the attack, she was making five knots, her engine room reporting her capable of 20.

At 1427, the cruiser Pensacola CA-24 - one of four ships sent from TF-16 to assist Yorktown - reported incoming planes 45 miles out. Again, VF-3 and Enterprise's Fighting Six greeted the intruders. Three Zeroes and as many as five torpedo planes were lost to the Wildcats' guns, though it is possible one or two of the torpedo planes fell victim to an innovative defense developed by the cruiser Astoria. Firing large caliber shells into the sea ahead of the low-flying torpedo planes, the cruiser created virtual walls of water, which would violently halt any plane unfortunate enough to fly into them.

Several torpedo planes did slip through, however. At about 1444, two torpedoes slammed into Yorktown's port side in succession, well below her waterline. Losing steam and electrical power instantly, she also listed to port unnervingly: six degrees just after being hit, rapidly increasing to 17 and then 26 degrees. Though the decision has been debated ever since, Fletcher afterwards strongly supported Captain Buckmaster's command to abandon Yorktown at 1455.


Yorktown Avenged

This second attack on Yorktown only increased the tension in Task Force 16. Spruance's staff, CDR Browning in particular, had wanted to launch a second strike immediately after the morning strike had returned, but Spruance had preferred to wait. Now radio messages and billowing smoke confirmed that Yorktown was under attack again, while Task Force 16's bombers still sat idle. Then, moments after Yorktown was struck by torpedoes, one of her scouts radioed a contact: one carrier, two battleships and escorts, 110 miles west of Yorktown's midday position. Spruance ordered a strike launched. Available on Enterprise were 25 dive bombers: seven from VS-6, three from VB-6, and the remainder from VB-3, all led by LT Earl Gallaher of Scouting Six. Repeating the morning's misstep, Hornet was informed of launch less than fifteen minutes before planes began rolling down the Big E's deck, at 1530. By that time, Hornet was busy retrieving the VB-8 SBDs that had flown up from Midway. When she was able to launch her own strike, the Enterprise and Yorktown bombers had been gone for half an hour.


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Hiryu burning shortly before sinking, June 5, 1942. Her forward flight deck has been peeled open, smoke streams from every opening.


Despite this, the attack went more smoothly than the morning's. Flying directly to their objective, at 1645 Enterprise's attack group spotted the target: a carrier - Hiryu - with several heavy ships, separated by several miles, according to the Bombing Six action report. Climbing to 19,000 feet, Scouting Six led the attack from out of the sun at 1705. Several Zeroes attacked the bombers before and during their dives, downing the Dauntless manned by ENS Frederick T. Weber and Ernest L. Hilbert AOM 3/c. As Hiryu turned radically, the first three Dauntlesses missed the mark. Seeing the misses, Bombing Three's LT Dewitt Shumway changed his target from the battleship Haruna to Hiryu, following VS-6. Then followed a succession of four direct hits on the forward half of her flight deck: some certainly made by VB-3, others possibly by VS-6. Additional hits were scored by VB-3 and Dick Best's Bombing Six, though like that morning, flames and smoke poured out in such volume as to make counting impossible. Two VB-3 SBDs attacked Haruna, but missed. Two other VB-3 SBDs fell to Zeroes during and immediately after the attack, but for the price of three planes, Enterprise and Yorktown had bagged their fourth carrier of the day. Hornet's SBDs arrived fifteen minutes after this attack. Finding Hiryu heavily damaged, they focused their efforts on ships in her screen but failed to score any hits, ending a day of frustration for Hornet Air Group.

The Enterprise and Yorktown bombers returned to Task Force 16 at 1808, and all landed by 1834, shortly before sunset. At 1920, the last fighter from Enterprise's combat air patrol touched down, and for the airmen who had survived, the long, challenging day came to an end. For many, particularly in the fighter sections that had patrolled over the task force during the day, it wasn't until evening that they learned of the terrible price the torpedo squadrons had paid for the day's triumphs. [41]

Howard Snell was on board the Enterprise and the Battle of Midway. Howard Snell is the uncle of Jeffery Lee Goodlove.



June 4, 1942: Heydrich is severely wounded in Prague by the “Anthropoid” team. He dies of his wounds on June 4.[42]

June 4, 1944: Rome is captured by the American 5th Army.[43]



On June 4, 1975 paleontologist in North Carolina discover animal fossils over 620 million years old.[44]

June 4, 2010: Midway survivors in Norfolk for commemoration of WWII battle


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WVEC.com

Posted on June 4, 2010 at 4:22 PM

Updated Friday, Jun 4 at 4:39 PM

NORFOLK (AP) -- Several survivors of the Battle of Midway attended ceremonies Friday on Naval Station Norfolk to mark the June 1942 campaign in the Pacific.

Events were held aboard the aircraft carrier USS George H.W. Bush.

"I'm just glad to see that the Navy and the civilian population stil recognizes and honors the effort that we put out there in the Pacific theater," Bill Eckel told 13News.

"We didn't have anything but what we had we went out and fought with it. We had the spirit and then we had the leadership, second to none," added Howard Snell.

The two men, now 87, were part of the ceremonies paying tribute to the 307 U.S. shipmates killed in action that day.

A vintage TBM-1 Avenger conducted a fly-over during the ceremony. The Avenger made its combat debut during the decisive battle. It's also the same model of aircraft flown by the carrier's namesake George H.W. Bush.

Midway is regarded by many historians as the most important Pacific battle. The resounding victory for U.S. naval forces occurred six months after Japan's attack on Pearl Harbor. It occurred between June 4 and June 7 and was a turning point in the war.

The Navy remembers the sailors who fought at Midway each year.

(Copyright 2010 by The Associated Press. All Rights Reserved.)[45]



June 4, 2010



http://www.public.navy.mil/airfor/cvn77/PublishingImages/Photo_gallery/1005/100604-N-3885H-069.jpg


100604-N-3885H-069 NORFOLK, Va. (June 4, 2010) -- Howard Snell, a veteran of the World War II Pacific Naval Battle of Midway, salutes during the 68th Anniversary of the Battle of Midway Commemoration on board USS George H.W. Bush (CVN 77), June 4. (U.S. Navy photo by Mass Communication Specialist 3rd Class Nicholas Hall)

http://www.public.navy.mil/airfor/cvn77/PublishingImages/Photo_gallery/1005/100604-N-3885H-073.jpg






100604-N-3885H-073 NORFOLK, Va. (June 4, 2010) -- William Eckel, right, and Howard Snell, veterans of the World War II Pacific Naval Battle of Midway salutes during the 68th Anniversary of the Battle of Midway Commemoration on board USS George H.W. Bush (CVN 77), June 4. (U.S. Navy photo by Mass Communication Specialist 3rd Class Nicholas Hall)



http://www.public.navy.mil/airfor/cvn77/PublishingImages/Photo_gallery/1005/100604-N-3885H-089.jpg

100604-N-3885H-089 NORFOLK (June 4, 2010) -- William Eckel, left, and Howard Snell, veterans of the World War II Pacific Naval Battle of Midway salute during a wreath presentation honoring the heroes lost at Midway during the 68th Anniversary of the Battle of Midway Commemoration on board USS George H.W. Bush (CVN 77), June 4. (U.S. Navy photo by Mass Communication Specialist 3rd Class Nicholas Hall)[46]



100604-N-3885H-089 NORFOLK (June 4, 2010) -- William Eckel, left, and Howard Snell, http://www.public.navy.mil/airfor/cvn77/PublishingImages/Photo_gallery/1005/100604-N-6509M-018.jpg

v100604-N-6509M-045 NORFOLK, Va. (June 4, 2010) -- Howard Snell, left, and William Ecke, right, veterans of the World War II Pacific Naval Battle of Midway, salute the American flag during the National Anthem at the 68th Anniversary of the Battle of Midway Commemoration on board USS George H.W. Bush (CVN 77), June 4. (U.S. Navy photo by Mass Communication Specialist Seaman Daniel S. Moore)eterans of the World War II Pacific Naval Battle of Midway salute during a wreath presentation honoring the heroes lost at Midway during the 68th Anniversary of the Battle of Midway Commemoration on board USS George H.W. Bush (CVN 77), June 4. (U.S. Na[47]vy photo by Mass Communication Specialist 3rd Class Nicholas Hall)





100604-N-3885H-089 NORFOLK (June 4, 2010) -- William Eckel, left, and Howard Snell, veterans of the World War II Pacific Naval Battle of Midway salute during a wreath presentation honoring the heroes lost at Midway during the 68th Anniversary of the Battle of Midway Commemoration on board USS George H.W. Bush (CVN 77), June 4. (U.S. Navy photo by Mass Com





















munication Specialist 3rd Class Nicholas Hall)






dod-uss-yorktown-midway-battle_20100604084526_JPG

Scene on board USS Yorktown (CV-5), shortly after she was hit by three Japanese bombs on June 4, 1942. (Photo from U.S. National Archives)

NS Norfolk marks Midway anniversary

68th anniversary of important WWII Pacific battle

Updated: Friday, 04 Jun 2010, 5:03 PM EDT
Published : Friday, 04 Jun 2010, 8:46 AM EDT

NORFOLK, Va. (AP) - Naval Station Norfolk marked the Battle of Midway with several survivors of the June 1942 campaign in the Pacific.

Friday's commemoration ceremony took place aboard the aircraft carrier USS George H.W. Bush, which is homeported at the world's largest naval base.

Midway is regarded by many historians as the most important Pacific battle. The resounding victory for U.S. naval forces occurred six months after Japan's attack on Pearl Harbor. It occurred between June 4 and June 7 and was a turning point in the war. During the battle, U.S. Navy carrier strike forces, augmented by shore-based bombers and torpedo planes, decisively defeated an Imperial Japanese navy carrier task force.

At Friday's ceremony, a vintage TBM-1 Avenger conducted a fly over. The Avenger got its combat debut during the decisive battle and is also the same model of aircraft flown by the aircraft carrier's namesake George H.W. Bush.

Battle of Midway veterans William Eckel and Howard Snell were in attendance. Both men served aboard ships during the battle.

The Navy remembers the sailors who fought at Midway each year.

Click here for an interactive look at Midway.

Copyright AP Modified, Copyright 2012 The Associated Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed. [48]

















June 4, 2010:


http://www.public.navy.mil/airfor/cvn77/PublishingImages/Photo_gallery/1005/100604-N-6509M-049.jpg




CLICK HERE FOR 68th ANNIVERSARY OF
THE BATTLE OF MIDWAY COMMEMORATION
PHOTOS




68th Anniversary of the Battle of Midway


USS GEORGE H.W. BUSH (CVN 77) Hosts 68th Anniversary of the Battle of Midway Commemoration
From USS GEORGE H.W. BUSH Public Affairs

NORFOLK, Va. (NNS) -- USS GEORGE H.W. BUSH (CVN 77) hosted two World War II veterans and hundreds of Sailors from across the Hampton Roads area, as they observed the 68th anniversary of the historic Battle of Midway on the flight deck of the aircraft carrier June 4.

The commemoration, hosted by Commander, United States Fleet Forces, Adm. J.C. Harvey Jr., was attended by Battle of Midway veterans William Eckel and Howard Snell. Both men served aboard ships during the battle, and traveled to Norfolk to attend the ceremony.

The Battle of Midway, which is often referred to as the turning point of World War II, took place June 4-7, 1942, when the Japanese sent the majority of their naval force to capture Midway Island, which was being used by U.S. forces as an airfield. The battle was primarily fought by aircraft launched from aircraft carriers. By the battle's end, the Japanese had to retreat after losing vital air superiority. The U.S. lost the carrier Yorktown while four Japanese fleet carriers were lost along with their crew.

The commemoration featured musical selections played by Fleet Forces Band, a moment of silence, remarks from Harvey and Kilcline, and an invocation and benediction led by Cmdr. Cameron Fish, command chaplain. A vintage TBM-1 Avenger conducted a fly over during the ceremony. The Avenger got its combat debut during the decisive battle and is also the same model of aircraft flown by the aircraft carrier's namesake George H.W. Bush.

The ceremony also featured a wreath-laying presentation, as Harvey was joined by Eckel and Snell to pay homage to the brave men who lost their lives during the battle.

"It was important to me that this event be by Sailors, about Sailors," Harvey said. The event that took place 68 years ago today was done by young American Sailors and pilots wearing dungarees and khakis. So to make that connection with them we are wearing our flight suits, our flight deck jerseys along with our Navy working uniforms, to pay honor to those young Sailors who stared everything in the face, when everything was on the table and rose to the occasion."

"We come together today to honor the brave men who fought to defend Midway, they were just ordinary Americans who responded to the call to serve their nation, but at Midway they were heroes," said guest speaker Commander, Naval Air Forces Pacific, Vice. Adm. Thomas J. Kilcline.

Fish, whose father served in the Navy during World War II, recalled the huge impact that one naval battle had on not just the Navy, but countless individuals as well.

"The battle changed the tide of the war," he said. "I remember my father saying that things looked bleak. The success at Midway both halted the advance of the Japanese and lifted the spirit and morale of the whole nation. The Battle of Midway affects me very personally because it affected my father and mother. If it were not for that victory, I might not be here today," he said.

Kilcline said that our victory was not without a cost, we lost the aircraft carrier Yorktown along with 145 of our aircraft and 307 Americans lost their life in that battle while paying the ultimate cost for victory.

Fish also explained the significance of having two veterans on board for the commemoration.

"Having the veterans in attendance was absolutely wonderful," he said. "It's an honor and a privilege and extremely humbling to have them. These men were there, during the climax of World War II, and now they're here today."

Harvey discussed the importance of the commemoration being held on the Navy's newest aircraft carrier.

"It was important to me that we commemorate this day from the modern version of the Hornet, Yorktown and enterprise, which struck the decisive blow to the Japanese fleet and tie together what those Sailors did then to what our Sailors are doing now," Harvey said.[49]



Howard Snell is the Uncle of Jeffery Lee Goodlove

June 4, 2012



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Credit: Getty Images

WASHINGTON, DC - JUNE 04: WWII U.S. Navy veteran Howard Snell bows his head during a ceremony and commemoration of the 70th anniversary of the Battle of Midway at the U.S. Navy Memorial on June 4, 2012 in Washington, DC. The battle of Midway took place in the south Pacific, six months after Japan's attack on Pearl Harbor and is regarded as the most important naval battle of the Pacific Campaign. (Photo by Mark Wilson/Getty Images)[50]

Howard Snell is the Uncle of Jeffery Lee Goodlove.

June 4, 2012

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Credit: Getty Images

WASHINGTON, DC - JUNE 04: WWII submarine veteran Henry Kudzik (R) sits with other veterans while holding a Life magazine picture of a Japanese ship sinking after being torpedoed by the U.S.S. Nautlis, during a ceremony and commemoration of the 70th anniversary of the Battle of Midway at the U.S. Navy Memorial on June 4, 2012 in Washington, DC. The battle of Midway took place in the south Pacific, six months after Japan's attack on Pearl Harbor and is regarded as the most important naval battle of the Pacific Campaign. (Photo by Mark Wilson/Getty Images)[51]

Howard Snell is the Uncle of Jeffery Lee Goodlove. Norman Snell, Howards brother,also my uncle, was on the Nautlis submarine.









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[1] http://thisdayinjewishhistory.blogspot.com/


[2] Ancestry.com


[3] Captain Molitor, Enemy Views, Bruce Burgoyne pgs. 55-56.


[4] Bardeleben: Enemy Views, Bruce Burgoyne pg 147


[5] Rueffer: Enemy Views, Bruce Burgoyne pg 149.


[6] http://doclindsay.com/spread_sheets/2_davids_spreadsheet.html


[7] The Brothers Crawford, Allen w. Scholl, 1995


[8] The Lyman Draper Papers 2S 242-246, University of Wisconsin, Madison, Wisconsin. The Brothers Crawford, Scholl, 1995, pg 25-26


[9] That Dark and Bloodly River, Allan W. Eckert




[10] Reenactor dressed for the “225th Anniversary of the Battle of Olentangy, at the William and Hannah Crawford Schools, June 9-10, 2007. Photo by Gerol Goodlovel.


[11] Crawford now ordered Rose to take 24 light horse north in search of the elusive enemy. The scouts rode north on the Inidan road and soon approached a woods that straddled the road. Within hours fighting would be focused upon the possession of this wooded “vantage ground.” It would latter be called “Battle Island.”

(The Sandusky Expedition, May-June 1782, by Parker B. Brown, 1988.)


[12] As a precaution, Rose’s troops hid their baggage near the road in these woods along with provisions.

(The Sandusky Expedition, May-June 1782, by Parker B. Brown, 1988.)


[13] Following the road three more miles, they were then almost snared in a well-laid ambush. The place was on the outskirts of McCormick’s Town, an Inidan settlement that included a British trading post. Rose glimpsed the “roofs of 3 houses” just as Indians began to fire from cover.

(The Sandusky Expedition, May-June 1782, by Parker B. Brown, 1988.)


[14] The town was on the highter ground on the western river valley bank overlooking the river now spanned by Parker’s Covered Bridge. The Indian lines extended east and west of the road in a wide “V.” The right wingran southward from the town through woods along a stream later naqmed “Crane Town Run” because of a later Indian town established in the vicinity. A couple draws today still run into the river from the west just north of the covered bridge. Bothy are deep and in them Indians concealed their numbers and waited in ambush. The road the scouts followed can no longter be seen. It came over several rises (or “eminences” as Rose refvers to them) past some marshes. As the road reached the edge of McCormick’s farm house occupied by Frank Walton, joining the present Kilbourne Road there as it goes north today. Three miles due north lay the army’s objective: the Wyandot Half King’s New Town at the juncture of the Sandusky Rover and the Big Tymochtee Creek.

(The Sandusky Expedition, May-June 1782, by Parker B. Brown, 1988.)


[15] When Major Rose first glimpsed the roofs of three cabins, he also became aware of “a party of Indians upon my right along the edge of a wood, and a large Body trying with the utmost velocity to gain my Rear.” The ambush having failed to snare the scouts, the enemy in considerable numbers was now shifting to the east in a flanking maneuver aimed at cutting the scouts off from their army.


[16] Rose at once dispatched two couriers south to warn the army. He also sent a party of scouts to protect the provisions and baggage left behind. The remaining scouts he stationed on a series of low knolls or “eminences” to fire upon and delay an advancing line of Indians now in sight. As these warriors approached, Rose and his sentinels retreated by stages along the road. It was an orderly withdrawal and time-consuming which, no doubt, was Rose’s aim to give the army more time to come in support. After several miles, however, as the woods hiding the supplies appeared behind him, Rose saw the “main body” of Indians beginning to outflank his scouts.

A race for the woods between scouts and Indians now ensued. Anxiously Rose noted that Captain William Leet and some scouts previously left alon the road during the advance had not remained where stationed. They had gathered and returned to the woods and so could offer no immediate help in slowing the larger enemy force to the east. Rose and others on the road therefore had to hurry to rejoin the scouts at the northern edge of the woods as almost 50 Indian “naked & painted” openly emerged on the plains.

(The Sandusky Expedition, May-June 1782, by Parker B. Brown, 1988.)


[17] Rose had cause to be anxious. His scouts were outnumbered, and Indians were already in the skirt of timber that extended eastward from the wooded island from which the Americans were firing. As the army’s forward units rode up the island’s southern edge, the fighting escalated in and about the timber extension. Support arrived just in time.

One today must use his or her imagination to relate the fighting to the present terrain. The “eminence”covered then by an island of woods is now a slight rise of ground northwest of the Battle Island Monument. The “leg” of light timber or “fringe of woods” extended eastward beyond the present State Highway 67 at and/or immediately north of the Monument. At the same time, on slightly eleveated ground, woods extended westward from the Sandusky River. Between the eastern end of the leg or fringe of trees on the one side and the western side of the river-woods on the other lay a stretch of high grassy prairie 150 feet wide. (“Private John Clark reported in his federal pensiondeclaration that he and others “occupied astrip of timber on the west side of a small prairie & the Indians occupied the timberland on the East side of said Prairie about fifty yards from us…”)

(The Sandusky Expedition, May-June 1782, by Parker B. Brown, 1988.)


[18] Angus McCoy, a private in Bilderback’s Company, soon found himself pressed into the growing combat. “Finding that the Indians were concealed in the long grass, (Brigade Major) Daniel Leet mouinted his horse, and as he passed me looked me in the face [and] said follow me. …I took after Leet…and I suppose between fifteen and twenty after me. We routed [Indians] in groups out of the grass. …we passed at least one half the Indian line.”


[19] The “leg” of light timber became the center of the fighting until dark. The army’s right wign under John McClelland and the left wing under John Brenton rode up to the island woods in parallel columns and soon were fully engaged. Brenton’s force on the left became over-extended and lost some ground, but McClelland’s advanced into the fringe of light timber already penetrated by Indians and British rangers. Indians were also in the prairie south of the light timber in a flanking maneuver agaist Rose’s scouts. To remove this threat, the army’s adjutant, Daniel Leet, acted independently to bring part of McClelland’s division against the flanking enemy as described by McCoy. The action was successful. As darkness arrived, the Americans at last occupied the “small neck of woods,” the Indians and British rangers falling back to the woods bordering the river. Fifty yards of prairie now became a “no man’s land.” Whele some Indians were seen to return to their town for the night, others lighted fires in the prairie to prevent surprise sorties by the Americans. A lack of men prevented the American perimeter’s being covered for a quarter of a mile on the expeditions right (southern) flank.

(The Sandusky Expedition, May-June 1782, by Parker B. Brown, 1988.)


[20] Journal of a Volunteer Expedition to Sandusky, Baron Rosenthal, “John Rose”.


[21] Narrative by Dr. Knight


[22] Narrative of John Slover


[23] (The Sandusky Expedition, May-June 1782, by Parker B. Brown, 1988.)


[24] History of the County of Westmoreland, Pennsylvania, with Biographical Sketches of its many Pioneers and Prominent Men. Edited by George Dallas Albert. Philadephia: L.H. Everts & Company 1882




[25] (Ancestors of Forrest Roger Garnett pge. 454.21)




[26] History of Fayette County, Pennsylvania, by Franklin Ellis, 1882 pg. 492.


[27] The Papers of Andrew Jackson, Volume V, 1821-1824


[28] Vol. -6, page 137. Vol. 4, page 38. Typescript Record of Marriages in Clark County 1816-1865, compiled under a DAR-WPA project. (MIcrofilm copy available through LDS). Volume and page numbers from Ancestors of Forrest Roger Garnett Page 112.47 Record Books provided by Mrs. G. W. (Sylvia Olson), 1268 Kenwood Ave., Springfield, OH 45505, June 28, 1979.


[29] Becky Bass Bonner Email: bbbonner@cox.net

Home of the *HARRISON* Repository

WWW: http://freepages.genealogy.rootsweb.com/~harrisonrep OR http://freepages.genealogy.rootsweb.com/~harrisonrep

Data Managed by me and my mom Josephine Lindsay Bass (jbass@digital.net)


[30] JOSIAH MCKINNON (NANCY5 HARRISON, SARAH4 CRAWFORD, WILLIAM3, JOHN2, WILLIAM1) was born 1804 in Clark Co., OH, and died February 20, 1837 in Logan Co., OH. He married CATHERINE GRIFFIN June 4, 1826 in Clark Co., OH.


[31] http://worldconnect.rootsweb.com/cgi-bin/igm.cgi?op=GET&db=mp648&id=I9416


[32] Timetable of Cherokee Removal.


[33] William Harrison Goodlove Civil War Diary annotated by Jeffery Lee Goodlove


[34] Encyclopedia of the Holocaust, Israel Gutman, Editor, page 1763.


[35] Proposed Descendants of William Smyth.


[36] Encyclopedia of the Holocaust, Israel Gutman, Editor, page 1771.


[37] http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/German_nuclear_energy_project


[38] Encyclopedia of the Holocaust, Israel Gutman, Editor, page 1771.


[39] http://www.cv6.org/1942/midway/default.htm


[40] http://www.cv6.org/1942/midway/midway_3.htm


[41] http://www.cv6.org/1942/midway/midway_5.htm


[42] Encyclopedia of the Holocaust, Israel Gutman, Editor, page 1771.


[43] Encyclopedia of the Holocaust, Israel Gutman, Editor, page 1779.




[44] On This Day in America by John Wagman.




[45] http://www.wvec.com/video/featured-videos/Ceremonies-in-Norfolk-mark-Battle-of-Miday-95618969.html


[46] http://www.public.navy.mil/airfor/cvn77/Pages/MidwayPhotos.asp


[47] http://www.public.navy.mil/airfor/cvn77/Pages/MidwayPhotos.aspx


[48] http://www.wavy.com/dpp/military/Naval-Station-Norfolk-to-mark-Midway-Battle


[49] http://www.public.navy.mil/airfor/cvn77/Pages/MidwayStory.aspx


[50] http://www.kmov.com/news/slideshows/182560831.html?gallery=y&ref=%2F&img=47


[51] http://www.kmov.com/news/slideshows/182560831.html?gallery=y&ref=%2F&img=47#/news/slideshows/182560831.html?gallery=y&ref=%2F&img=48&c=y