If you are interested in a very good (and long) writeup about world war II from a perspective you probably didn't hear about in school:
When we try to imagine what happened when the Japanese imperial navy approached Midway Island we're likely to get an image out of Star Wars -- daring attack planes, as graceful as swallows, darting among the ponderously churning cannons of some behemoth of a Death Star. But the sci-fi trappings of Star Wars disguise an archaic and sluggish idea of battle.
What happened instead was this: the American squadron commander gave the order to attack, the planes came hurtling down from around 12,000 feet and released their bombs, and then they pulled out of their dives and were gone. That was all. Most of the Japanese sailors didn't even see them.
One bomb fell on the flight deck of the Akagi, the flagship of the fleet, and exploded amidships near the elevator. The concussion wave of the blast roared through the open shaft to the hangar deck below, where it detonated a stack of torpedoes. The explosion that followed was so powerful it ruptured the flight deck; a fireball flashed like a volcano through the blast crater and swallowed up the midsection of the ship.
Sailors were killed instantly by the fierce heat, by hydrostatic shock from the concussion wave, by flying shards of steel; they were hurled overboard unconscious and drowned. The sailors in the engine room were killed by flames drawn through the ventilating system. Two hundred died in all. Then came more explosions rumbling up from below decks as the fuel reserves ignited. That was when the captain, still frozen in shock and disbelief, collected his wits sufficiently to recognize that the ship had to be abandoned.
The last of the carriers, the Hiryu, managed to escape untouched, but later that afternoon it was located and attacked by another flight of American bombers. One bomb set off an explosion so strong it blew the elevator assembly into the bridge. More than 400 died, and the crippled ship had to be scuttled a few hours later to keep it from being captured.
Now there was nothing left of the Japanese attack force except a scattering of escort ships and the planes still in the air. The pilots were the final casualties of the battle; with the aircraft carriers gone, and with Midway still in American hands, they had nowhere to land. They were doomed to circle helplessly above the sinking debris, the floating bodies, and the burning oil slicks until their fuel ran out.
This was the Battle of Midway. As John Keegan writes, it was "the most stunning and decisive blow in the history of naval warfare." Its consequences were instant, permanent and devastating.
It gutted Japan's navy and broke its strategy for the Pacific war. The Japanese would never complete their perimeter around their new empire; instead they were thrown back on the defensive, against an increasingly large and better-organized American force, which grew surgingly confident after its spectacular victory.
After Midway, as the Japanese scrambled to rebuild their shattered fleet, the Americans went on the attack. From Midway till the end of the war the Japanese didn't win a single substantial engagement against the Americans.
They had "lost the initiative," as the bland military saying goes, and they never got it back.
This overstates what Midway accomplished by a bit.
For the Japanese you might say "Midway was an island too far", like Arnhem. It was beyond the parameter they were establishing, and was prompted by Doolittle's raid and their ceaseless attempts to engage the US Navy in a "decisive battle". It resulted in something like temporary parity in naval power (i.e. carriers), and due to institutional failures they never recovered from their losses in trained pilots, Midway, before, and after (e.g. they didn't rotate experienced airmen back home to train new ones, they for the most part fought until they died).
Our landing in Guadalcanal and their failure to quickly snuff it is where they lost the initiative, that attacked and started to unravel their real parameter. Otherwise we'd have stayed on the defensive until enough new carriers and supporting ships and planes were built, then we would have done a much bloodier and somewhat more prolonged sole advance through the Central Pacific, which would no doubt have had even more adverse consequences.
Instead, they and we got into a knife fight in the Southwest Pacific, the Solomons and New Guinea, where both our carrier forces were essentially used up (of our serious fleet carriers only the Enterprise and Saratoga survived, and during this campaign the Saratoga got torpedoed and had to retire for a while for repairs, the Enterprise required serious stateside maintenance and refit while a British carrier covered for her).
Japan and the Allies were pretty evenly matched on paper, and this campaign was brutal in every way, we lost 40+ ships (and two Real Admirals (2 stars) in one night action), they lost 50+, and a slow war of attrition was waged in the skies. I'm reading Fire in the Sky (http://www.amazon.com/Fire-In-The-Sky-Pacific/dp/0813338697/) right now, which covers that in immense detail, e.g. one of the many reasons the Japanese lost was subpar civil engineering (in general their non-combat specialties didn't get any respect, this critically included intelligence), they didn't keep the taxiways between revetments and runways free of soft spots, resulting in lots of operational losses at critical time (on both sides, this operational losses destroyed more planes than combat)).
Industrially and institutionally they couldn't complete well, and when our 2nd generation of planes and ships came on-line, with adequately trained air crews, maintenance staff, the Japanese in comparison were "used up", and were never a serious threat in the air until they resorted to kamikaze attacks.
When we try to imagine what happened when the Japanese imperial navy approached Midway Island we're likely to get an image out of Star Wars -- daring attack planes, as graceful as swallows, darting among the ponderously churning cannons of some behemoth of a Death Star. But the sci-fi trappings of Star Wars disguise an archaic and sluggish idea of battle.
What happened instead was this: the American squadron commander gave the order to attack, the planes came hurtling down from around 12,000 feet and released their bombs, and then they pulled out of their dives and were gone. That was all. Most of the Japanese sailors didn't even see them.
One bomb fell on the flight deck of the Akagi, the flagship of the fleet, and exploded amidships near the elevator. The concussion wave of the blast roared through the open shaft to the hangar deck below, where it detonated a stack of torpedoes. The explosion that followed was so powerful it ruptured the flight deck; a fireball flashed like a volcano through the blast crater and swallowed up the midsection of the ship.
Sailors were killed instantly by the fierce heat, by hydrostatic shock from the concussion wave, by flying shards of steel; they were hurled overboard unconscious and drowned. The sailors in the engine room were killed by flames drawn through the ventilating system. Two hundred died in all. Then came more explosions rumbling up from below decks as the fuel reserves ignited. That was when the captain, still frozen in shock and disbelief, collected his wits sufficiently to recognize that the ship had to be abandoned.
The last of the carriers, the Hiryu, managed to escape untouched, but later that afternoon it was located and attacked by another flight of American bombers. One bomb set off an explosion so strong it blew the elevator assembly into the bridge. More than 400 died, and the crippled ship had to be scuttled a few hours later to keep it from being captured.
Now there was nothing left of the Japanese attack force except a scattering of escort ships and the planes still in the air. The pilots were the final casualties of the battle; with the aircraft carriers gone, and with Midway still in American hands, they had nowhere to land. They were doomed to circle helplessly above the sinking debris, the floating bodies, and the burning oil slicks until their fuel ran out.
This was the Battle of Midway. As John Keegan writes, it was "the most stunning and decisive blow in the history of naval warfare." Its consequences were instant, permanent and devastating.
It gutted Japan's navy and broke its strategy for the Pacific war. The Japanese would never complete their perimeter around their new empire; instead they were thrown back on the defensive, against an increasingly large and better-organized American force, which grew surgingly confident after its spectacular victory.
After Midway, as the Japanese scrambled to rebuild their shattered fleet, the Americans went on the attack. From Midway till the end of the war the Japanese didn't win a single substantial engagement against the Americans.
They had "lost the initiative," as the bland military saying goes, and they never got it back.
http://www.leesandlin.com/articles/LosingTheWar.htm