Midway Atoll: It’s not just for the birds

The atoll's historic past may lure future tourists to the refuge for countless birds

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Is the tiny atoll of Midway ready for prime-time tourism? Unless you're into flocks of albatrosses or lagoon diving, the primary reason to visit is its extraordinary military history.

PHOTO GALLERY Check out a full gallery of Burl Burlingame's photos from Midway: »: Midway Photo Gallery »: Midway Flash Slide Show

The Battle of Midway is described as one of the most decisive naval battles in history, right up there with Salamis and Trafalgar and the defeat of the Spanish Armada -- one of those hinge points in history when everything changes. More to the point, it was the battle that kept Hawaii an American territory.

After six months of stunning victories, the Imperial Japanese Navy hoped the lure the remnants of the American fleet into battle and utterly wipe them out. The point chosen was Midway, an atoll at the northernmost end of the Hawaiian chain. Established there, Japanese planes could raid Hawaii with ease, but the main thing was to draw the American carriers north and sink them all.

But the Americans had two bits of luck. The Japanese naval code had been broken, and U.S. Navy analysts were able to decipher ahead of time that Midway was the target. Also, carrier USS Yorktown, badly battered in the Coral Sea, had several months' worth of repairs completed in two days by dedicated workers of the Pearl Harbor Naval Shipyard. Without this accomplishment by the shipyard -- which turned 100 this spring -- the battle would not have been on an equal footing.

Although there were bombing raids on the atoll itself, the primary clash was between Japanese and American aircraft carriers. The Americans drove home their attacks with fury and courage, and despite incredible losses, sank all the Japanese carriers. It was the turning point of the war in the Pacific, and Japan never recovered.

Midway Atoll, also home base to trans-Pacific cable operations and a Pan Am base, became an important repair and replenishment facility during the war with the addition of a sheltered harbor. During the conflicts in Korea and Vietnam, it continued to serve as a naval way station.

In 1988, with active naval presence almost nil, Midway became a National Wildlife Refuge, sheltering albatrosses -- the famous "gooney birds" -- and other birds and monk seals. World War II facilities still standing were placed on the National Register of Historic Places.

Other than environmental clean-up teams, the Navy has had no presence on Midway since 1993. In 2006, President George W. Bush designated the Northwestern Hawaiian Islands, including Midway, as a national monument. The current population of the atoll, almost all federal Fish & Wildlife employees of the Interior Department, hovers around 40.

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The Pacific is blue, blue and more blue as the chartered airliner lets down toward Midway -- bursts of seabirds, white specks, wheeling and diving, occasionally sprinkled upon the waters -- and when the famous lagoon comes sliding over the horizon, you realize there's hardly anything there at all. A couple of tiny islands, like sandy baubles on a necklace of reef.

It's the namesake location of one of the most decisive military actions in history. We're there because it's the 65th anniversary of the battle, and something like 2,000 people have descended on an island that these days houses only a couple dozen Fish & Wildlife employees.

Most come from the Regal Princess, a cruise liner anchored offshore, with passengers shuttled through an artificial harbor built to service submarines during the war. We're riding in style, however, with Military Historical Tours, an outfit created a couple of decades ago by Marine Corps veteran Warren Wiedhahn. They specialize in "one on one," focused tours of famous battlefield locations, some very remote, and historians present put everything in context. This is their first trip to Midway, which seems tailor-made for their unique historical tours -- faraway, yet accessible; historically significant, yet largely untrammeled.

But is Midway ready for tourism?

A flight on a modern airliner takes about three hours from Honolulu. You also need a valid passport, as you're passing out of -- and then back into -- American territorial waters. Once on the ground, we're limited, essentially, to the larger Sand Island portion of the atoll, as the triangular "original" Henderson Field aircraft runways on Eastern Island have been abandoned since 1970, and all the island's trees have been cut down to make the ground-nesting albatrosses feel at home.

The extreme flatness of the landscape throws off your sense of perspective, as do many of the remaining buildings, which tend to be oversized hangars and huge, abandoned barracks. Everything seems closer than it really is, and since you're walking -- and walking and walking -- everywhere, there's a slow-motion quality to moving around.

The island residents use rechargeable golf carts and bicycles to get around. Anything gasoline-powered seems extravagant. Bottled water is also a necessity, as is sunblock and head coverings. Although we're nearly a thousand miles north of Hawaii, this is a hot, sun-blasted islet.

It's an extremely corrosive, salty environment, evidenced by the gigantic T-hangar that greets visitors, where paint hangs in scabby strips and metal objects are swathed in rust. Under the wings of the T-hangar, there's a constant patter of falling rust particles.

The federal Fish & Wildlife employees are cheerful proselytizers for bird sanctuaries. Through them we learn that the island's Australian ironwood trees were planted in 1903 by cable company workers; that the rat population was poisoned out of existence not that long ago, that it's a good idea to keep on the designated paths, as the burrowing petrels make sandy stretches unstable, like gopher tunneling, and you might twist an ankle.

It's hard to resist the big, cute Laysan albatrosses that squat, like an illustration of the territorial imperative, on any bit of open ground. It's like an army of yard gnomes, making sounds of jackhammer clicking and high-pitched moos, and they're irresistible when they go into one-upmanship behavior, heads bobbing like the dapping hands of kids play jan ken po.

MIDWAY IS NOT a wilderness. It's more like an abandoned city lot, a park gone to seed. We're here to see the World War II sites, and while the Fish & Wildlife folks appreciate the battle, it's clearly not their area of expertise, nor do they care much about preserving the buildings.

The famous "bombproof" power station, for example, where a bouncing naval shell entered a window the night of Dec. 7, 1941, and killed several sailors, and from the roof of which movie director John Ford shouted orders during the initial assault -- until he was wounded -- is a crumbling, spalling heap of rusting rebar and concrete bits. In other words, stand back.

The center of the island features the "Midway Mall" that once catered to Navy families, but now largely is abandoned, including a theater that once featured Bob Hope and a cinderblock Battle of Midway memorial with a couple of surplus naval guns and an 11-foot wooden statue of a gooney bird, reputedly carved by a bored Navy dentist.

There are some pleasant single-family military quarters that are now occupied by the feds, including the "Midway House" where President Nixon negotiated secretly with Vietnam's President Thieu.

Even older than the naval facilities are crumbling structures from the turn-of-the- century transoceanic cable company. These also are in scarily decrepit shape, but look like they were once swell places to stay.

Just a few feet away, however, is one of the most beautiful beaches in the world, looking north across the lapping waters of the lagoon. There are more monk seals than people here. The lagoon looks like a prime snorkeling location, although there are vague warnings about sharks.

Will Midway become a tourist getaway? Once you're on the ground, you're pretty much on your own. The historic sites are good for a day trip, but there's virtually nothing that interprets the battle itself. There's no place to sleep or eat. But if you're into swimming, snorkeling or hangin' with albatrosses, the biggest problem is getting there and back.