Chapter 233

< World War II - The Day (4) >

January 25, 1942

Hawaiian Islands, Northwest of Honolulu Island – Near Pearl Harbor

5th Carrier Division. Sanada Kazu, a fighter pilot aboard the aircraft carrier Shokaku, sat blankly in the cockpit of his Type 0 Carrier-based Fighter (Zerosen).

His first actual combat, fraught with tension, had been an incredibly arduous task—flying 390 kilometers over the vast ocean to attack the highly fortified Pearl Harbor and return.

He had suppressed the fatigue that had been building since dawn with a stimulant, but that didn't make the exhaustion go away completely.

Kazu glanced at his plane, at the spot on the wing where a bullet had grazed it, now hastily patched up by the maintenance crew.

The condition of the other aircraft wasn't much different.

Kazu recalled the faces of his comrades before he boarded his plane, worn down by fatigue and worry.

‘To think we have to attack again in this state.

’

But an order was an order.

With a gloved hand, Kazu caressed the photograph of his lover taped to the cockpit.

“Yuki…”

Although he could feel no warmth from it, a faint smile spread across Kazu's lips for a brief moment.

A fluttering signal flag was raised.

Seeing it, Kazu gripped the control stick.

Just as when he had sortied at dawn, the crew of the Shokaku lined the side of the runway he was about to race down, waving the Hinomaru and their caps.

But this time, there was no overwhelming emotion, no resolve to dedicate his body to the Empire.

Those people smiling and waving their flags and caps now were the ones who had pushed for this offensive, one that would clearly result in countless sacrifices.

And it wasn't even them who were going out to fight.

The flag dropped.

Kazu sped down the runway and took to the skies.

Flying in formation over the vast ocean was more exhausting than one might think.

As he flew, suppressing his fatigue, the radio crackled to life.

-This is Iwamoto.

The enemy has had ample time since the second attack, so expect strong resistance.

At the voice of the 5th Carrier Division's fighter commander, Iwamoto Tetsuzo, Kazu swallowed dryly.

-It’s okay, don’t worry. Just rely on the training you all received, and you will all make it back alive.

The words from Iwamoto, who was practically the mentor of the 5th Carrier Division, were a small relief.

It was far better than the higher-ups spouting nonsense about facing this with resolute determination for the Empire or accomplishing the mission even if it meant death.

But that feeling was fleeting. As Honolulu Island came into view on the distant horizon—

He could see a swarm of enemy aircraft descending upon them like a hive of bees.

---

Kazu frantically maneuvered his plane, yanking the control stick.

The strafing machine-gun fire from an enemy aircraft missed him by a hair's breadth.

“Too slow!”

Using the Zerosen’s excellent turning performance to get on the enemy's tail, Kazu fired his machine guns. The enemy P-36 was riddled with bullets and began to plummet.

When he had first landed on the Shokaku after his initial sortie, the thought of having killed a man had made his whole body tremble and he had even vomited. But the second time, he felt surprisingly nothing.

‘They are the white brutes. They’re like devils.

They are obstacles to the Empire’s liberation of Asia, and they deserve to die!’

Kazu repeated the words over and over as if to brainwash himself, frantically piloting his aircraft.

‘Why… why won't they back down?’

The difference in military strength was clear.

Although the Zerosen had a vulnerable airframe, its performance was vastly superior to the obsolete American planes stationed in Hawaii.

There was also an overwhelming gap in experience.

Even though the planes were tangled in a chaotic dogfight, the casualty ratio was absolutely in Japan’s favor.

And yet, the American planes charged forward as if they had no fear, even as their comrades went down in flames or were blown to pieces.

-The spirit of the white man is weak and cannot compare to the great Yamato Spirit.

‘What part of them is weak!’

No matter how many of their comrades died, the American fighters charged with desperation, their faces seemingly filled with rage, not fear of death.

‘Aren't they the ones who are like samurai!’

Kazu was breaking out in a cold sweat as he frantically piloted and evaded.

In front of him, he saw a Zerosen get hit by machine-gun fire, shudder, and then begin to fall.

-Th-This is Date! I'm hit! Aaaaargh!

A scream-filled transmission came through.

If only he had a parachute, he might have had a chance to survive.

-If you crash, all that awaits you is the vast ocean or death after being brutally tortured by the cruel white brutes. A true samurai must know that death for the Empire is a glorious thing.

They had taken away their parachutes with such pathetic excuses. Kazu bit his lip.

‘They should pick one: 'weak white people' or 'cruel brutes'! What kind of bullshit is this!’

The dogfight continued relentlessly.

---

By the time the attack force finally broke through the resistance of the American aircraft and entered Pearl Harbor, there were fewer than 200 planes left.

As he flew, Kazu looked down below.

Pearl Harbor, which had been so beautiful when they first sortied, was now scorched and spewing smoke from all over.

The sports field where people had been playing ball was now empty.

The urban area was filled with burned-out buildings and corpses.

The urban area they had set ablaze.

-To liberate Asia from the clutches of the white brutes, for the co-prosperity of Greater East Asia…

Kazu deliberately emptied his mind.

Who cares, this is war. Sacrifices are natural in war, and the white people who oppressed Asians were just paying the price.

As if to engrave it into his mind, Kazu fixed his gaze on his lover's photograph.

“I'm going to make it back alive.

My mother and Yuki are waiting for me at home. For now, that's all that-”

-Enemy anti-aircraft fire! Watch out!

The anti-aircraft guns of Pearl Harbor, only a few of which had been active during the second attack, now unleashed a torrent of fire.

He saw a bomber, which had been lowering its altitude to drop its payload on a fuel storage tank it had just spotted, get shredded to pieces in an instant.

“Tch!”

Kazu frantically gained altitude.

Just dodging the anti-aircraft fire required skill and luck, and the American planes were constantly taking off to harass the attack force.

The elite pilots of the Imperial Japanese Naval Air Service did their best to evade and bomb the fuel storage tanks and dry docks, but the grand sympathetic detonations the Japanese military had expected never happened.

-Damn it, why is it so tough!

-There are too many fuel storage tanks! We can't possibly destroy them all!

-Bombs depleted! What should we do! Return—Argh! H-Hit, can't maintain altitude! Aaaah-!

Chaotic transmissions flooded the radio.

Even as they spoke, another comrade, caught in the anti-aircraft fire, went down in flames.

They had used too many bombs in the first and second attacks, so they didn't have many left, but the number of targets to destroy was far greater than expected, and there were no chain reactions to take out multiple fuel tanks at once.

As confusion spread like wildfire, a strangely calm voice cut through the radio chatter.

-This is Aida. I've been hit and am leaking fuel.

‘How can he be so calm in a situation like this?’

-For the Empire and its subjects, I will use this plane as a bomb.

“Wh-What did you say?”

-This is Nishikaichi.

The Empire will remember the valor of Aida! O, samurai of the Empire! The aircraft you pilot is a more powerful bomb than any other! I authorize a charge on the target!

Madness.

-This is Iwamoto! What kind of nonsense is that! The operation is a failure! We must return immediately!

Confusion.

-This is Aida. Those who can return, do so.

I'm a goner anyway, so I will charge. Victory to the Empire! Long live the Emperor!!

Fanaticism.

The Japanese attack force clearly saw Aida's plane dance through the anti-aircraft fire as it dove and slammed into a fuel storage tank.

The heavy oil in the tank, which had a high flashpoint and wouldn't explode, finally ignited properly as the aviation fuel-filled fighter crashed into it.

-Ooooh! I-It's effective!

‘How can anyone be amazed by that?’

The exhilarated voice of Nishikaichi, the moron who had said parachutes weren't necessary, struck the radio.

-Those whose aircraft are damaged and cannot return, charge! If you're going to die anyway, offer your life for the Empire! Your noble great feat will lead the Empire to victory!

-Th-This is Yoshikatsu.

M-My wing is damaged, I can't maintain altitude. I-I, too…

He was sobbing.

“Hah, haah…”

-Even a coward like me, can I be remembered as a hero of the Empire?

-Of course, Yoshikatsu! I permit the charge! Long live His Majesty the Em—

Kazu switched off his radio.

“Hah, haah, they're crazy, everyone's gone crazy!”

They fell, burning from the anti-aircraft fire.

Or they dove willingly.

The air force that had filled the sky began to shrink in an instant.

The scattered American fuel storage tanks finally began to cause sympathetic detonations and explode under the chain of suicide charges.

“I-I'm going to live—Argh!”

As Kazu tried to turn his plane away from the scene, it suddenly shook violently.

“Damn it, anti-aircraft fire!”

The plane shuddered but didn't fall. Just as he thought he was lucky to have only been grazed, he saw the fuel gauge dropping noticeably.

“Ah…”

Despair filled Kazu’s eyes.

Still, he couldn't die like that.

His mother and Yuki were waiting for him at home.

“I'll never do something that crazy! I-I'm going to make it back alive, no matter what!”

---

Once again, over the vast waters of the Pacific.

Kazu piloted his aircraft, his blurry eyes glancing to the side.

Of the nearly 250 aircraft that had sortied so majestically, barely 100 were returning alive.

He turned his trembling eyes back to the precarious fuel gauge and shut them tight.

Would it last until he returned?

Even if he did return, it would soon be night.

Would he be able to land?

If he couldn't land on the aircraft carrier and had to ditch in the sea, would they rescue him?

Wouldn't they denounce him as a coward for not charging in when his plane was damaged?

He had to keep his promise to Yuki…

As his mind, crushed by fatigue as the effects of the stimulant wore off, drifted blankly, the radio crackled again.

-This is Iwamoto.

…Gentlemen, an enemy aircraft, which appeared to be American, just observed us and broke away. I believe it was for reconnaissance.

Kazu felt a chill run down his spine, startled.

-We are approximately 100km from the main force's current position.

I suspect an enemy aircraft carrier is nearby. We cannot let the enemy carrier discover the location of our main force.

Surely not…

As Kazu despaired, Iwamoto Tetsuzo's transmission continued.

-The return of the Type 97s and Type 99s is the priority.

The fighters are to buy time if enemy aircraft appear and block them from tracking the main force.

As Kazu stared at his fuel gauge, overwhelmed with despair, an additional transmission came in.

-Sanada. …And Hashida, Matsuda, you will escort the returning unit.

Kazu's head shot up. He could see Iwamoto's plane flying right next to his.

‘He saw the fuel leak.’

“Th-This is Sanada.

Understood. Th-Thank you.”

-…Return safely.

-This is Ichijo, multiple enemy aircraft approaching from the northwest!

Kazu watched as the fighters broke from the formation.

With a trembling hand, he saluted Iwamoto Tetsuzo's plane and piloted his fighter once more.

But that gratitude didn't last long.

-They're on our tail!

-G-Give me cover!

“Ah, ahh, ahhh…”

The sky was tinged with the setting sun.

On the way back, escorting the formation of Type 97 bombers and Type 99 torpedo bombers, a squadron of American fighters caught up to them.

They had over ten planes; we had three fighters. And even those had expended most of their ammunition and were too damaged to fight properly.

Not to mention the bombers and torpedo bombers, which had poor air-to-air combat capabilities to begin with and had used up almost all their ammunition.

Kazu glanced at his precarious fuel gauge and bit his lip.

‘Should I run away by myself?’

The deep fatigue clouded his judgment.

-Help me!

-Sanada, what are you doing! Hold the formation!

What are we even doing here?

For the victory of the Empire?

His hands instinctively turned the control stick.

He didn't even know why he was flying toward the enemy aircraft.

“Sanada, engaging-”

And at that moment, his plane began to lose altitude.

“Ah…”

In the end, his fuel-depleted aircraft went into a nosedive.

-Aaargh, I'm hit!

-Help me, help me! Mooooom!

Only the screams and shrieks-filled radio transmissions struck his ears, and then even that went silent as his plane plunged into the sea.

Feeling a deep exhaustion, Kazu lifted his head and looked up at the light above, which was growing distant.

Seawater rushed in.

He thought of the tatami room in his home.

Mother.

And the nostalgic bath he used to enjoy at home, he couldn't even remember the last time.

Yuki.

Kazu closed his eyes as he watched the photograph of his lover get soaked by the seawater and warp.

---

From: Admiral Ozawa Jisaburo, Commander, Imperial Japanese Mobile Fleet

To: Imperial General Headquarters, Navy Command

Military Gains Report

Enemy Battleships: 6 destroyed

Enemy Aircraft Carriers: 2 destroyed

Pearl Harbor Dry Docks: Moderately damaged

Enemy Fuel Storage Tanks: 80% destroyed

Losses Report

Type 0 Carrier-based Fighters: 122 lost, 17 damaged out of 140

Type 97 Carrier-based Attack Aircraft: 93 lost, 7 damaged out of 100

Type 99 Carrier-based Dive Bombers: 118 lost, 30 damaged out of 150

Operation Z concluded.

Commencing return to home country.

Long live His Majesty the Emperor