Chapter 237

< World War II - Saving Field Marshal MacArthur (4) >

February 8, 1942

Waters near the Dutch East Indies (Indonesia), Sumatra Island

The Graf Zeppelin's Air Wing sank the aircraft carrier Zuiho, struck the heavy cruiser Maya with torpedoes and bombs, and after inflicting other minor damage, began to retreat without a second glance.

The enraged Imperial Japanese Navy scrambled every fighter they had, and the Bf 109T fighters began to engage the Imperial Japanese Navy Air Service to cover the retreat of the dive bombers and torpedo bombers.

The pilots of the Graf Zeppelin’s Naval Air Service had prepared for their engagement with the Imperial Japanese Navy Air Service with considerable intensity.

When pilots from the Royal Navy's Naval Air Service and even the RAF stationed in India were dispatched to recount their shocking combat experiences against Japanese fighters, everyone had felt as if Japan's fighters were some kind of monster.

However, the actual battle was somewhat different from their predictions.

“What the? Why do they catch fire so easily?”

Erich Hartmann was dumbfounded as he watched a Japanese fighter burst into flames and crash the moment his machine gun fire grazed it.

The German Naval Air Service fighter pilots, who had been wrought with tension, were now dominating the Japanese air wing in a nearly one-sided fashion.

“Those Brits made such a fuss.

Turns out they were just incompetent.”

This was a deeply unfair assessment from Britain’s perspective.

The experienced, super-elite Japanese pilots they had faced had been deployed with the six fleet carriers for the Attack on Pearl Harbor. The ones the German Naval Air Service was now facing were merely second-rate.

Even so, the pilots of the Zuiho, personally trained by Iwamoto Tetsuzo, were quite skilled, but when they were unluckily blown up right at the start, most of what remained were rookies.

To make matters worse, with all the new model Zerosen fighters having been mobilized for the Attack on Pearl Harbor and the Zeros on the Zuiho being destroyed in one blow, more than half of the Japanese aircraft were now the older Mitsubishi Type 96 Fighters.

Of course, the Germans neither knew nor cared about any of that.

“Cowardly Germans! You devils!”

A Japanese pilot flying a Zerosen ground his teeth.

The German pilots, who had been warned ad nauseam by the British not to get into a turn fight, were exclusively engaging the Japanese using their preferred Boom and Zoom tactics.

In a turning battle at the same altitude, the Japanese fighters would have had a fighting chance, but the Germans would dive from high altitude, attack, and if they missed, immediately climb rapidly to escape.

Against the German planes that only repeated hit-and-run attacks, the Japanese fighters, which had little to offer besides their turning ability, were being slaughtered, especially with their inexperienced pilots.

Worse yet, a few pilots, seeing their comrades shot down so brutally, became hot-headed and chased after the Bf 109Ts, unwittingly exceeding the Zerosen's maximum dive speed.

The Zerosen, built with holes drilled into its frame to secure superior turning ability and a range that surpassed that of a typical fighter, couldn't withstand the air resistance of the steep dive and simply disintegrated.

From the German perspective, who knew nothing of the Japanese fighters' structural durability, it was a comical sight to see enemy planes inexplicably fall apart while they were just trying to get away.

Just then, the Zerosen pilot saw the Bf 109T that had just shredded his comrade diving straight toward him.

“How dare you!”

Sparks flew from his eyes, and the Zerosen pilot began to sharply bank his aircraft.

“Ha, to dare challenge a Zerosen to a turn fight head-on— Huh?”

The opponent also began to turn head-on, and just as he thought, Got him!, he lost sight of the enemy aircraft.

The Zerosen pilot frantically turned his head and saw the enemy aircraft performing a maneuver that shattered common sense.

“What the, is that— he’s diving while turning?”

While he was still in shock, another of his comrades was shot down.

Then, the enemy aircraft he had lost sight of reversed its turn and began to climb.

“N-No way, ghk.”

Before he could finish his sentence, bullets from the enemy's machine gun tore through the cockpit and riddled his body with holes.

“M-Monste—”

The pristine Zerosen, having lost its pilot, plummeted into the sea.

---

Aboard the flagship Bismarck, Admiral Wilhelm Marschall watched the carrier-based aircraft returning to the Graf Zeppelin through his binoculars.

“Fifty-two returning.”

Fifty-four had sortied, and fifty-two had returned.

The combat results, which the excited pilots were scrambling to report over the radio, would need verification, but in any case: the sinking of one aircraft carrier, moderate damage to one heavy cruiser, and a not-insignificant number of enemy fighters shot down.

Even for a surprise attack, it was an astonishing military gain.

And as Admiral Marschall watched, the last fighter coming in began to lose altitude before spectacularly crashing into the sea.

“…Fifty-one, then.”

At least the pilot of that fighter could be seen parachuting and landing safely on the Graf Zeppelin.

“Admiral, enemy fleet detected on radar!”

Admiral Marschall slowly hung the binoculars around his neck and grinned.

“They’ll be mad as hell. Let’s get out of here, fast.”

---

The pilot who had returned last, crashing his Bf 109T into the sea and landing by parachute, was immediately put in a headlock by a fellow pilot the moment he stood up.

“Ugh, gack! It hurts!”

“You crazy bastard! That’s the seventh one! You trashed another fighter! Do you think you’d have any fuel left when you fly like a maniac!”

“Arnold, it hurts, I said it hurts!”

“Sigh…”

As his friend, Hans-Arnold Stahlschmidt, released the headlock, a dazed-looking Hans-Joachim Marseille opened his mouth.

“I… I think I’m starting to get the hang of it.”

“Is that so.

But…”

“Yeah?”

“Shouldn't you be more worried about surviving than getting the hang of it?”

“Huh? Hngh—”

Marseille could see his Air Wing Commander, Neumann, glaring at him with a face like a Yaksha.

---

February 9, 1942

Malay Peninsula, Singapore – Japanese Southern Fleet Headquarters

“Wh-What is this! What in the world is this!”

Admiral Nagumo Chuichi, Commander of the Southern Fleet, stared at the telegram in his trembling hands, its contents unbelievable.

Enemy surprise air raid. Aircraft carrier Zuiho sunk, all carrier-based aircraft lost.

Heavy cruiser Maya moderately damaged. Eleven Type 0 Carrier-based Fighters lost, four damaged.

Nineteen Type 96 Carrier-based Fighters lost, seven damaged.

During pursuit of the enemy fleet, destroyers Yayoi and Kisaragi were sunk by enemy battleship fire, and the light cruiser Naka was heavily damaged.

The enemy was accompanied by two battleships, all of them high-speed ships, making pursuit impossible. The chase was abandoned.

Military gains: one enemy fighter and one torpedo bomber shot down.

Nagumo felt his blood boiling and clutched the back of his neck.

“What the hell have these idiots been doing!”

The final passage, which stated that the enemy had used Japanese over the radio to taunt their forces, made Nagumo seethe with rage.

He had already been treated poorly despite his victory at the Battle of Ceylon, taking the blame for the annihilation of the Hiei and the convoy, which wasn't even his doing.

Now, his forces had been beaten without being able to do a thing, and the enemy had slipped away leisurely.

Filled with fury, Nagumo ordered, “Have the man in charge commit seppuku immediately! I can forgive a man who fails in an operation, but I cannot forgive one who fails in vigilance!”

“Yes, sir!”

Nagumo pressed his hand to his forehead.

Even if he pinned the blame on that man and had him commit seppuku, he himself could not completely evade responsibility.

Two battleships and one aircraft carrier? The great Southern Fleet of the Empire of Japan was thoroughly trampled by such a meager force?

The atmosphere was already grim after losing all the elite air wings at Pearl Harbor.

It was painfully obvious that the Imperial General Headquarters would be in an uproar.

Nagumo ground his teeth with an audible creak.

“Gather all aircraft carriers at Sumatra Island! We will strike those bastards while they’re arrogant from their victory!”

The Royal Navy would soon join the fray once they had repaired their damage from the last battle. If they let the German Navy be, there was no telling when they would be cornered again.

Ozawa’s excessive greed at Pearl Harbor had tarnished the light of his successful surprise attack, but he, Nagumo, could strike the enemy while they were drunk on their initial victory and withdraw in time.

“B-But Admiral, we must pressure the American fleet to support the Philippines Landing Operation…”

“Sending a few heavy cruisers will be enough for that! It's not like they can enter Manila Bay anyway, with its fortified entrance!”

The US Army had fortified the four islands at the entrance of Manila Bay, among which was Fort Drum, armed like a battleship.

The Navy can’t get close anyway, so it’s better to let those Army grunts on the ground blow it up with artillery. So thought Nagumo as he ground his teeth.

“Is some trivial matter like the Philippines the problem right now!

The Philippines was not a trivial matter, and it was indeed a problem.

“I will show those damn Germans, who provoked us with just one aircraft carrier, a true carrier fleet!”

But if he didn't show those Germans something right now, Nagumo's own neck, already on the line for losing the Hiei and the convoy, might truly be on the chopping block this time.

To Nagumo, who was obsessed and had lost his perspective, the Philippines was not important. Even if that was exactly Germany’s intention.

---

February 11, 1942

Northern Philippines, Luzon Island – Coastal Waters

“We’ve been hit again, again!”

“Damn it all! Are the lookouts slacking off!”

Admiral Zengo Yoshida, commanding the Philippines landing escort fleet, felt a fire burning in his gut.

The lookouts were staring intently, but as if mocking them, torpedoes flew in constantly, blowing up transport ships and the soldiers aboard them.

The new German Type XXI U-boat was, unlike conventional submarines, designed to operate entirely submerged.

As they were designed from the outset to move underwater, they remained completely below the surface except when surfacing near the water to fire torpedoes.

Naturally, the Japanese Navy, which was vulnerable to anti-submarine warfare, was helpless against a submarine that shattered the conventional wisdom of submarines moving on the surface and only diving upon spotting an enemy.

If he had enough escort ships, he could have surrounded the convoy and tried to provide cover, but what could he possibly do with only nine destroyers and one light cruiser?

Nagumo's Southern Fleet had ultimately turned a blind eye to the Philippines Landing Operation, and there was a limit to what the Army Air Service's searches from Taiwan Island could accomplish.

The crew of the Type XXI U-boats were simply hiding under the sea, enjoying cool air conditioner breezes and firing torpedoes. For the Japanese Army, which lacked proper sonar or anything of the sort, there was nothing to do but pray to the gods that their transport ship wouldn't be the next one hit by a torpedo.

Of course, the headquarters on Taiwan Island was trying everything it could.

But when lookouts and aircraft failed, their efforts to do something, anything, through information warfare were met with utter ridicule.

-Awooo, awooo-!

“…Do we have to keep monitoring this?”

At the question from the Japanese radio interception team, who were on the verge of a nervous breakdown from the sounds imitating wolf howls, the team leader pressed a hand to his forehead.

This damn German submarine fleet only played games on the radio; all commands and information were being transmitted via telegram.

“Damn it, when are we going to decrypt their codes!”

The Japanese Army was, of course, desperately trying to decrypt the code system used by the German submarine fleet's telegrams.

They even had an Enigma machine provided by Germany during the Nazi era, and the Japanese, who had been using a modified version of it, thought they would be able to decipher the German Navy’s code system.

However—

“M-My apologies. This is presumed to be a significant advancement from the Enigma we previously received.

It is impossible to break it in a short period…”

The decryption of the new Enigma, enhanced through the painstaking efforts of German communications officer Erich Fellgiebel and genius engineer Konrad Zuse, was not easy.

The Japanese would faint if they knew that the German military, aware of the limits of mechanical encryption, was already developing an entirely new code system.

The Japanese generals at the Southern Expeditionary Army Group Headquarters who received all these reports were left speechless.

They had launched their offensive expecting to land in the Philippines in an instant and easily crush the meager Philippine Army.

But just crossing the sea was resulting in the rampant destruction of their troops and transport ships.

Even if they managed a difficult landing, they had to engage the defending US-Philippine Alliance forces on every beach, and with the supplies meant to support them being relentlessly torn apart by a wolf pack, the offensive could not proceed smoothly.

Of the 120,000 Japanese soldiers scheduled to land in the Philippines, 30,000 were lost just in the process of landing.

It was the fault of the high command, who had ignored General Imamura Hitoshi's insistence that the Southern Expeditionary Army Group Headquarters request reinforcements for the escort fleet from the Navy.

But they shifted the blame to the Navy’s lack of cooperation and chose to request more troop reinforcements from the Imperial General Headquarters.

“We are severely short on troops for the occupation of the Philippines.

We need reinforcements!”

“We are aware of that. But from where are we supposed to pull the troops?”

The Imperial General Headquarters itself was in a dilemma.

They couldn't pull the troops gathered in Burma for the Imphal Offensive. After such a long time and so much political infighting to prepare for it, how could they pull out the troops that were just now getting ready?

Having concluded that they had to conquer India to solve their unbearable troop shortage, the Imperial General Headquarters was ironically caught in the trap of being unable to move the very troops gathered for that purpose.

The army in China was stretched so thin that just maintaining the vast front was a struggle, and they were constantly requesting reinforcements while being plagued by the Republic of China’s guerrilla warfare.

Indochina (Vietnam), where Mutaguchi Renya’s bloodless entry had sent the Imperial General Headquarters into rapture, began to see immense resistance under a rebel leader named Ho Chi Minh after the local commander was replaced from Mutaguchi to Kimura Heitaro and exploitation began.

The entire, overly-extended front of the Empire of Japan was sucking up manpower and equipment like a black hole.

In the end, after much deliberation, the decision made by the Imperial General Headquarters was simple.

[Join the great war for the glory of the Empire of Japan and the peace and co-prosperity of Greater East Asia! His Majesty the Emperor expects your loyalty!]

The last remaining skilled engineers, the university students.

The core personnel left unconscripted to be responsible for Japan's future were all being conscripted and driven to the battlefield under the name of patriotic loyalty to the Empire.