“This is Admiral Phillip Kolhammer, United States Navy. Acting commander of the USS Hillary Clinton and task force commander of UNPROFLEET, operating under the mandate of United Nations Security Council Resolution Three Three One Two. I request that you cease fire, Admiral Spruance. There’s been a terrible mistake. You are engaged with friendly forces. I say again, cease fire. We are American and Allied ships.”

A stream of invective poured out of the bridge speakers. Kolhammer waited until it abated and repeated himself as calmly as he could. The forward laser pods destroyed another five-inch shell as he spoke, emphasizing his lack of success in getting through to Spruance. He watched a medic pull someone from the sea of flames that covered almost a third of the flight deck behind the ops tower. A dark, oily smear marked the passage of the body.

“Admiral Spruance,” he repeated, “you are firing on an American-led force. We have ceased offensive fire. I request you do the same.”

USS ENTERPRISE, 2314 HOURS, 2 JUNE 1942

In the cramped, fetid flag radio room of the Enterprise, Ray Spruance clamped his hand over the mike and spoke to the operator.

“Have you had any luck raising Pearl yet, sailor?”

“Sorry, sir. This Kolhammer guy is all over us. He’s blocked out every frequency. We can’t even talk ship-to-ship. All anyone is getting is this transmission.”

“How is that possible?” Spruance asked angrily. “No, forget it. That’s not important. The fact is, he’s doing it.

“Who is he?” he continued, scanning the room. “Does anyone here know of an Admiral Kolhammer? And that ship, what the hell is he talking about? Hillary Clinton my ass!”

The four staff officers who had crammed into the shack with Spruance exchanged blank looks and shook their heads.

“Admiral,” said Lieutenant Commander Black. “These sons-a-bitches have destroyed the Yorktown and the Hornet. They’ve sunk our cruisers and most of the destroyer screen. Even making the worst kind of mistake, no American force would do that. It’s gotta be a load of horseshit.”

Spruance went quiet for a few seconds, a pause that seemed interminable. Finally, he brought the mike back to his lips.

“This is Spruance. There is no ship or admiral by the names you have given us, anywhere in the U.S. Navy. Identify yourself truthfully and cease firing on us. I’ve only got to walk a few paces and stick my head out a hatch to know you’re lying about that. I can see your goddamn fire all over the sky.”

Kolhammer’s voice crackled out of the speakers. “That fire is not directed at you. I know it sounds ludicrous . . . but it’s directed at the shells you’ve been firing on us.”