A Day of Fire and Steel: How Lt. Stanley Vejtasa Helped Save the USS Enterprise

Before sunrise had even warmed the flight deck, alarms were already echoing throughout the USS Enterprise. Pilots sprinted to their F4F Wildcats as officers shouted orders across the wind-whipped carrier. Among them was Lieutenant Stanley “Swede” Vejtasa, a man whose calm intensity and hard-won experience would soon help determine the fate of an entire task force.

Just months earlier, Vejtasa had astonished his peers by defeating three enemy fighters while flying a dive bomber—an aircraft never meant for air-to-air combat. That achievement earned him a new aircraft, a new squadron, and a new responsibility: leading eight Wildcats of the famed “Grim Reapers” in defense of the American carrier group.

That morning, the stakes could not have been higher. Two U.S. aircraft carriers—Enterprise and Hornet—lay at the center of a large battle group. Roughly twenty escorting vessels surrounded them in concentric rings. Somewhere beyond the horizon, an enemy strike force was closing in, its objective unmistakably clear: cripple the U.S. fleet during the critical months of the Guadalcanal campaign.

A Late Scramble Into a Growing Storm

“Get those birds in the air—we’re already late to the party!” Vejtasa shouted as he climbed into his Wildcat.

The squadron launched in a rapid, chaotic scramble, engines roaring as each plane clawed into the sky. At barely 10,000 feet, the pilots began forming up. They were far too low. And far too late.

“Heading 295. Enemy aircraft forty-five miles out,” came the call from Combat Information Center.

The implications were immediate: the incoming force would approach at a higher altitude, and the Wildcats would have to fight uphill. Every second counted.

Yet below, the immense U.S. task force continued steaming forward. Hundreds of sailors on the carriers went about their duties—arming aircraft, maintaining engines, manning anti-aircraft guns—unaware of just how thin the line of defense above them would soon become.

The First Wave: A Race They Couldn’t Win

“Contacts—two o’clock, high!”

From between scattered clouds emerged a formation of Aichi D3A “Val” dive bombers, already beginning their deadly descent on the Hornet. Vejtasa reacted instantly.

“We’re too low—they’ll go right over us. Climb at maximum speed!”

The Wildcats pushed their engines to emergency power, but altitude could not be gained fast enough. The defenders reached firing range moments too late.

With a deafening cascade of explosions, multiple bombs struck the Hornet’s flight deck. Plumes of smoke and flame rose across the ship as crewmen struggled to contain damage.

“We’re too late,” Vejtasa muttered into his mask, the weight of the moment settling in. But the mission was not over—not while enemy aircraft still darkened the sky.

The Grim Reapers Strike Back

The Wildcats fell upon the retreating dive bombers in a series of sharp, punishing attacks. Vejtasa lined up behind a Val and emptied his guns into its fuselage, sending it tumbling end over end into the sea. Seconds later, he destroyed a second.

Across the sky, his squadron brought down additional enemy aircraft, but the cost had already been paid below: the Hornet was burning, and more attacks were inbound.

“Regroup,” Vejtasa ordered. “Protect the Enterprise.”

Phase Two: A Desperate Defense Above the “Big E”

Climbing hard, the Grim Reapers regained altitude just as another group of four Vals emerged through the high clouds. This time, Vejtasa reached them first.

He burst from the overcast head-on, guns blazing. His initial burst struck a bomber’s fuel tank, igniting it in mid-air. The remaining Vals faltered in confusion as the Wildcats surged through their formation.

Still they came—wave after wave—forcing the American fighters into a rhythm of climb, dive, attack, and repeat. The enemy pilots were determined, but the Wildcats had the advantage in both speed and tactics.

“We need a second pass—regroup!” Vejtasa called as the remaining Vals dove away, attempting to reach safety.

But the battle was already shifting toward a new and more dangerous threat.

The Torpedo Bombers Arrive

“Below! Torpedo aircraft!” came the shout from Lt. Leroy “Tex” Harris.

Vejtasa looked down to see a formation of Nakajima B5N “Kate” torpedo bombers sweeping low over the water—one of the deadliest threats to any carrier.

Vejtasa and Tex dove like stones.

Their first combined pass tore through the unsuspecting Kates. One fell smoking into the sea. Another disintegrated under the impact of .50-caliber rounds. The formation broke apart in panic.

Yet dispersal was not defeat. Several Kates survived and continued toward the Enterprise.

“Conserve ammunition,” Vejtasa warned. “More are inbound.”

But nothing could prepare the squadron for what came next.

Eight Kates Against the Enterprise

When Vejtasa spotted the next formation—eight Kates flying in perfect torpedo-attack formation—he understood the danger immediately.

“Torpedo bombers! Eight of them—heading straight for the Enterprise!”

He shoved his throttle forward.

Below, the carrier’s anti-aircraft guns erupted in a wall of shrapnel. Black columns of flak tore holes in the formation, but torpedo bombers were trained to press on through fire.

Vejtasa plunged into the chaotic airspace, threading through bursts of friendly flak to reach the enemy aircraft. The Kates scattered in evasive maneuvers, but the lieutenant stayed locked onto one.

A Kate dove into a cloud. Vejtasa followed blindly—trusting instinct, experience, and momentum. He emerged from the far side already lining up a shot.

His burst set the bomber ablaze.

Over the next minutes, Vejtasa and his squadron shot down multiple attackers, breaking the enemy strike and saving the Enterprise from a deadly torpedo attack.

But one final duel remained.

The Last Battle: An Empty Magazine and a Final Sacrifice

As the sky briefly cleared of enemies, Vejtasa spotted movement: a lone Kate, damaged but still flying.

He checked his ammunition—almost gone.
But he had enough for one more pass.

He fired—and watched flames spread across the bomber’s wings.
Yet astonishingly, the aircraft held steady.

Then it turned.
Not toward home.
Toward the Enterprise.

Vejtasa instantly understood what the pilot intended.

He tried to reach the Kate’s tail in hopes of physically disabling it—one of the most dangerous maneuvers a fighter pilot could attempt. But before he could intervene, the enemy aircraft rolled inverted and dove straight toward the destroyer USS Smith.

Moments later, a fireball erupted.

The Smith shook from the impact, but her crew continued the fight. With no ammunition remaining, Vejtasa turned back toward the Enterprise.

The carrier was still afloat—thanks in no small part to the furious defense he and his squadron had mounted.

Ace in a Day

By the time Vejtasa landed, the adrenaline had faded, replaced by exhaustion.
But in the skies overhead, the battle still raged.

He had achieved something extraordinary: seven confirmed victories in a single day, an achievement that earned him the title “Ace in a Day.”

More importantly, his actions—along with the brave efforts of every pilot and gun crew in the task force—helped protect the Enterprise, the last operational U.S. carrier in the region.

Without it, the Guadalcanal campaign might have fallen apart.

Legacy of a Relentless Defender

Stanley Vejtasa survived the war and went on to build a long, distinguished career in the U.S. Navy.
He never boasted about that day.
Others did it for him.

The Battle of the Santa Cruz Islands, where his legend was forged, remains one of the most intense carrier battles of the Pacific War—a bitter struggle that cost both sides dearly.

Yet for those who served aboard the Enterprise, the memory of Wildcats streaking through flak to stop incoming attackers remains vivid even decades later.

And among those Wildcats, one name stands tallest.

Lt. Stanley “Swede” Vejtasa—
the pilot who refused to yield,
the leader who kept fighting even when the odds turned bleak,
and the man who helped keep the “Big E” alive on one of its darkest days.