Chapter 231

< World War II - The Day (2) >

January 25, 1942

Hawaiian Islands, near the northwest coast of Honolulu Island – Pearl Harbor

At dawn, the sky was still dim.

The expression on the face of Admiral Ozawa Jisaburo, Commander of the Imperial Japanese Mobile Fleet, was as dark as it could be.

Just when he thought they had safely crossed the vast expanse of the North Pacific, they had the misfortune of encountering a fishing boat near Hawaii.

Admiral Ozawa had sunk the unlucky fishing boat without a second thought, and to keep to the operation's schedule, the Mobile Fleet had sped toward Hawaii, leaving the fishermen floundering in the sea.

Even so, Ozawa couldn't hide his anxiety, worried that the fishing boat might have sent word to Hawaii, or that its disappearance might have alerted the US military.

“To think that mere fishermen could become an obstacle to the great plan on which the fate of the Empire hangs!”

“Admiral, we will dispatch the midget submarines (Kou-hyoteki) as per the operation!”

“No, cancel it!”

“What? But the plan is to…”

“Did we not have an unplanned encounter with a fishing boat? Forget the plan! In the unlikely event they received a report of the missing boat, they would already be suspicious! If the submarines are discovered, Operation Z will be a failure!”

Admiral Ozawa’s opinion was quite valid, but his staff officers were still reluctant.

To the staff officers of the Japanese Army, who planned their operations with an obsessive-compulsive attention to time down to the minute, modifying a meticulously crafted plan was far from welcome.

“B-But, Admiral.

The plan…”

“Agh, you fools! A plan can change depending on the commander’s judgment on the scene!”

“F-Forgive us, Admiral.”

Finally, after the already on-edge Admiral Ozawa shouted hysterically, the staff officers fell silent.

However, there still seemed to be no small number of them who were dissatisfied with the operation not proceeding according to plan.

'To think I have to fight a battle that will decide the fate of the Empire with these fools!'

Admiral Ozawa clicked his tongue as he looked at his subordinates, then turned his head to stare impatiently at the distant horizon, which was slowly beginning to brighten.

The encounter with the fishing boat was grating on his nerves, and according to the latest intel, the only American capital ships currently in Pearl Harbor were two aircraft carriers and six battleships.

They had known the Pacific Fleet to have four aircraft carriers and eight battleships, meaning four capital ships were unaccounted for.

Ozawa grit his teeth.

Still, having come this far, he could not cancel the undertaking.

A declaration of war document would be delivered to America today.

It was too late to turn back; the die had already been cast.

-

The pilots of the Imperial Japanese Naval Air Service were writing their last wills, praying before symbols of Shinto, their national religion.

“Amaterasu Omikami, please protect me…”

“May the blessings of my ancestors…”

“If I should die, to my younger brother…”

Most of them were men who had never thought deeply about the meaning of the war their fatherland had started.

To them, the justifications their country presented—the Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere and the glory of the Empire—were righteous causes.

Their country, their superior officers, had made them think that way.

After finishing their last wills, the pilots wrapped the Hinomaru around their bodies and put on their flight suits over it.

On their heads, too, they tied a Hinomaru, inscribed with all manner of prayers and resolutions in blood-red letters, and put their caps on over it.

Admiral Ozawa and the high command watched the pilots preparing with the resolute posture of samurai.

A specially prepared glass of sake was provided to each pilot, who was about to sortie with the resolve to die for their country.

“Long live the Emperor!”

They all solidified their desperate resolve, stood facing the direction of the Japanese archipelago, raised their glasses in a shout, and drank.

The entire process was one of effacing their individuality and transforming them into great patriots who would lay down their lives for the Empire.

Finally, as parachutes were being distributed before they boarded their aircraft, formation leader Nishikaichi Shigenori shouted.

“We don't need parachutes! A true samurai must consider only the success or failure of the mission.

How can one who schemes for his own survival succeed in a mission upon which the fate of the Empire rests?”

It was nothing more than crazy talk, born from a mix of light intoxication, tension, and patriotism.

As all the pilots were flustered, Admiral Ozawa, who had been staring intently at Nishikaichi, slowly approached him.

“Is that resolve unshakable?”

“Y-Yes, sir!”

Ozawa gave a slight smile.

“Your resolve for the Empire is truly great.

His Majesty the Emperor will also be pleased.”

Japan’s elite pilots, who had accumulated experience through a long war and were superior to any other naval air service in the world, were an irreplaceable and precious asset.

The admiral, who should have stopped a decision that could lead to losing such men over even light aircraft damage, was instead pleased with their death-defying resolve.

And watching this, the pilots who had been about to take their parachutes quietly put them all down.

Soon, the news was transmitted to all six aircraft carriers of the Mobile Fleet.

'They've all gone mad.

'

Aboard the Shokaku, the 5th Carrier Division's fighter commander, Iwamoto Tetsuzo, clicked his tongue. But in this situation, if he told them not to talk such nonsense, he would surely be accused of having a negative mental attitude.

In the Japanese army, lacking ability was acceptable, but lacking mental armament meant being weeded out. In the end, Tetsuzo reluctantly returned his and his subordinates' parachutes and boarded his aircraft.

Tetsuzo watched the dawn slowly breaking over the horizon, then lowered his gaze to the flag that was raised high, flapping in the wind, signaling the sortie.

The captain of the aircraft carrier Shokaku and even the crew members were out, waving their hats, waving the Rising Sun Flag and the Hinomaru.

Finally, the flag dropped, and Tetsuzo steered his Zerosen, racing down the Shokaku’s flight deck and taking to the skies.

From the six aircraft carriers of the Japanese Mobile Fleet, the 180 planes of the 1st Attack Wave began to fly toward Pearl Harbor.

They were filled with the grim sense that the fate of the Empire rested on them.

Not one of them doubted that they would lead the Empire to victory, even if it meant gladly sacrificing their own lives.

-

United States, Washington D.C.

The US Intelligence Department had decrypted a long telegram that had arrived at the Japanese embassy in the early hours of the morning, but they were now in a dilemma.

The lengthy telegram was filled with a litany of "Japan is innocent and America is bad," and the final part left the intelligence employees scratching their heads.

[The Japanese government regrets to have to notify the American government that, in view of the attitude of the American government, it cannot but conclude that it is impossible to reach an agreement through further negotiation.]

“So, what do you think this means?”

“W-Well, I don't know…”

From the content, it seemed Japan had many complaints against America, but just from the document, it was impossible to tell what Japan was asserting.

“Well… it doesn’t seem to be anything serious, so let's deliver it when the government officials come to work in the morning.”

And so, what Japan considered its ‘declaration of war document’ was decrypted by US Intelligence even before the Japanese embassy finished decrypting and delivering it, but because no one understood it as a declaration of war, it failed to serve as a warning.

As the Imperial Japanese Naval Air Service approached Pearl Harbor, a radar station at Pearl Harbor picked up suspicious movement.

“Lieutenant Tyler! A large number of aircraft are approaching from the north!”

“Hmm?”

Lieutenant Arthur Tyler glanced at the radar, then replied nonchalantly.

“It's nothing, don't worry about it.”

The mainland happened to be sending B-17 bombers to prepare for a potential enemy fleet, and since the path seemed to roughly match, this was his reaction.

“Y-Yes, sir…”

Lieutenant Tyler gave a light yawn and turned away, then paused.

“Wait.

The B-17s aren't scheduled to arrive today, are they?”

“N-No, sir?”

As the radar operator grew flustered, Lieutenant Tyler rummaged through the radar station's duty log and slowly narrowed his eyes.

“Send a telegram to the home country.

Ask them to confirm if the B-17 arrival schedule has been moved up.”

“Yes, sir!”

Tyler stared intently at the radar with narrowed eyes, then spoke again.

“Relay this to Headquarters as well. The radar has detected unidentified aircraft approaching from the north, and we are confirming if they are the B-17s that the mainland said would arrive tomorrow.”

“Understood!”

-

A clear sky without a single cloud.

On Honolulu Island, where Pearl Harbor was located, many residents were out exercising or playing on Sunday morning.

They looked up with puzzled faces at the sight of over 100 aircraft suddenly appearing and covering the sky.

The Imperial Japanese Naval Air Service, which had deliberately circled around from the south to misdirect their attack vector, passed over the heads of the clueless Honolulu residents and entered Pearl Harbor.

The first to encounter the Japanese aircraft was the CV-5 Yorktown.

On the judgment from superiors that a surprise Japanese attack on Midway was a concern, it was just leaving port to deliver additional fighter aircraft to Midway.

“What, was there a training exercise planned?”

Naturally, no one could immediately identify the aircraft flying over Pearl Harbor as enemies.

But as the Type 97 Carrier Attack Bombers and Type 99 Carrier Dive Bombers began to dive rapidly toward the Yorktown, even the sailors who had been staring blankly at the scene began to grasp the situation.

“Captain, doesn't something seem strange?”

“Wait, don't tell me that's—”

“E-Enemy aircraft, launching torpedoes!”

“What?”

Japan’s skilled pilots performed the feat of dropping torpedoes while flying just 6 meters above the shallow waters of Pearl Harbor.

And in that instant, the entire crew of the Yorktown felt a chill run down their spines.

The captain shouted, almost by instinct.

“Hard to port, evade!”

“Enemy bombers, diving! Approaching!”

“Damn it, turn, turn!”

As the Yorktown’s hull screamed and twisted violently, its captain desperately grabbed the radio and shouted.

“Headquarters! Headquarters! We're under air raid!”

And at the same time, the Japanese torpedo bombers, gliding just above the water's surface in horizontal flight, launched their torpedoes in unison at the moored battleships.

Seeing bombers flying in a line from the front of the battleships, the Yorktown’s captain added, like a scream:

“Pearl Harbor is under attack!”

-

The Zerosen in the lead had been worried about a dogfight, but there were no US aircraft in the skies over Pearl Harbor.

One aircraft carrier they encountered while flying into Pearl Harbor had evaded their torpedoes, but it was hit by a dive bomb, causing an explosion that sent a pillar of fire erupting from its deck.

Judging the aircraft carrier neutralized, the Japanese pilots immediately began to attack the carriers and battleships moored inside.

The Imperial Japanese Naval Air Service was overcome with ecstasy.

“We did it! No sign of a dogfight, no strong anti-aircraft fire! Fighters, attack the enemy airbases! Send a telegram to the main force!”

[Tora Tora Tora]

Surprise attack on Pearl Harbor successful.

Charge!

The code that would go down in the original history was transmitted just the same.

Sirens began to wail frantically throughout Pearl Harbor.

Almost simultaneously, torpedoes struck the moored battleships, and columns of water shot up with a roar.

“Ah, ahhhh!”

The sailors, who had been lazily cleaning the deck while cursing their weekend duty, were thrown by the shock, screaming as they fell, rolled, and tumbled into the sea.

As the ships on the outside of the two-row formation—berthed that way to cram many capital ships into the narrow bay—were struck by torpedoes, bombs dropped by bombers rained down mercilessly on the ships on the inside.

“Damage!”

“Aaaack!”

Countless unlucky sailors, who could have been saved by the decision of their superiors, were sacrificed.

The massive hulls of the battleships screamed, and those that could not hold began to sink into the waters of Pearl Harbor.

In the midst of it all, the Pacific Fleet’s flagship, the Pennsylvania, was unlucky enough to take a direct hit from a heavy bomb, suffering a massive sympathetic detonation and breaking in two.

“Aaaah, save me!”

The ship’s bridge collapsed, crushing the unfortunate crew, and for the sailors flailing in the water, toxic heavy oil leaking from the battleships spread toward them.

The tranquil waters of Pearl Harbor began to transform into a sea of death in an instant.

“Man the anti-aircraft guns!”

“Why, why won't it fire?”

“Damn it, there's no ammunition! Aaaaargh!”

Even in the chaos, the brave soldiers who manned the anti-aircraft guns were panic-stricken to find that the guns had not been supplied with live ammunition. They were cut down by a hail of machine-gun fire from an incoming fighter.

Admiral Kimmel had been enjoying a round of golf when he received the call from headquarters just before the air raid began and had rushed through the city streets.

As soon as he entered the headquarters, he was met with Lieutenant General Walter Short’s urgent shout.

“Admiral, we are under attack! We've started distributing live ammunition for the anti-aircraft guns, but we still need time! The airbases were also caught defenseless in the surprise attack, and we are suffering massive losses without our fighters even getting off the ground!”

Admiral Kimmel looked down at the burning Pearl Harbor, his face a mask of shock and terror.

“O-Oh God, oh my god…”

“F-First, let's notify the home country.

The telegram…”

Admiral Kimmel ordered, his face drained of all color.

Even at that moment, through the window, he could see the massive form of the battleship Oklahoma erupting in a grand explosion and being rocked.

The communications officer also typed out a telegram with trembling hands and sent it.

[Air raid on Pearl Harbor.

This is no drill.]

“Admiral, a telegram has arrived from the radar station!”

Admiral Kimmel, his face as white as a sheet, looked at the telegram sent from the radar station.

[Reply from home country. B-17 squadron arrival schedule unchanged.

The large-scale unidentified aircraft that have now arrived over Honolulu Island are presumed to be hostile!]

The back-and-forth communication with the home country for confirmation had made them too late. Admiral Kimmel’s hands trembled with shock as he spoke.

“H-Halsey. What about Admiral Halsey’s fleet?”

“They departed yesterday and should be en route to Midway—”

“Relay this to Admiral Halsey! There's an enemy fleet north of Pearl Harbor! Tell him to find it and attack!”

“Y-Yes, sir!”

Admiral Kimmel approached the window and stared with a vacant expression at the Japanese planes flying outside, setting Pearl Harbor ablaze.

“A-Admiral! Take cover!”

At that moment, a Zerosen flew toward the headquarters and strafed it with its machine guns, and the headquarters' glass windows shattered into pieces.

“Aaaaargh!”

A bullet that flew through the broken window pierced Admiral Kimmel’s leg, and he writhed in agony.

“Admiral!”

“Admiral!”

While Lieutenant General Short and his subordinates rushed over and dragged Kimmel away from the window, Kimmel cried out, tears streaming down his face.

“Damn it, I should have just taken the hit and died!”

The Pacific War had begun.