We Zeros were escorting the bombers, and while we flew and flew, nothing but clouds and the sea greeted us. I realized in spades just how very far Guadalcanal was from our base.
The medium bombers were slow, and the Zeros had to fly in a zigzag pattern shaving the air to match their speed. As the Zeros had shorter flight ranges and needed to conserve as much fuel as possible, the zigzagging wasn’t exactly enjoyable. As we could be on our own for the return trip, I periodically marked my location during the flight, relying on compass and ruler.
Before departing, Flight Leader Miyabe had insisted, “The battle isn’t just aerial combat with the enemy. It lasts until you return to base.” He’d also told me that more than a few planes lost track of their course over the seas and failed to return. Not making it back to base equaled death.
I glanced at the clock. It was nearly 11:00. We would be close to Guadalcanal at that point. I passed through a cloud and saw the island far in the distance ahead. I looked at Guadalcanal’s waters and gulped. Innumerable warships lay at anchor in the island’s bay.
I was horrified to discover that the Americans sent out so many ships to capture just one little island. How much could we accomplish by taking on such a huge force with just twenty-three medium bombers? I felt gloomy about the prospects but was committed to my mission. I roused my fighting spirit.
That day, I was guarding the medium bombers. Escorting consisted of two tasks: tactical air control and guarding the bombers. TAC was about establishing supremacy in hostile airspace, while the guard contingent stayed close to the bombers to protect them from enemy fighters.
I caught sight of hostiles ahead. The TAC which had sortied first was already engaged in combat with enemy interceptors. The TAC fought hard, trying to keep them away from the bombers, but slipping through, the enemy approached.
These fighters were Grumman Wildcats, and it was my first encounter with them. I would learn after the war that the U.S. fighters there belonged to the aircraft carriers Saratoga, Enterprise, and Hornet. The U.S. Navy had deployed every carrier it had on hand to take Guadalcanal.
The hostile fighters took advantage of their higher altitude and swooped down. Their tactic was the simple hit and run. They would plunge down, fire a volley of bullets, and then continue downward to escape.
Their fighters did not engage the Zeros. They dove in and focused their attacks solely on the bombers. Since our primary mission was to guard the bombers, we devoted ourselves to driving away the enemy rather than dogfighting. The guard contingent could not stray from the medium bombers. That would be playing right into the enemy’s hands. The fighter guard’s mission was to protect the bombers even if it meant giving up our lives.
The TAC team, too, had to conserve enough fuel for the return trip, so they could not chase the enemy very far. After diving down to flee, the Grummans pulled up into a climb to repeat the same style of attack. Once they were high in the air, the TAC team tried to close in on them, but the Grummans shied away and instead went after the medium bombers again. That day, we suffered a number of these recurring strikes.
The fighter guard strove desperately to protect the bombers, but in the face of such persistent interception, they began spewing flames and dropping one after another. It was humiliating.
Although the land-based Type 1 attack plane was the Imperial Navy’s standard-bearing bomber craft, it had exceedingly poor defenses. The Americans gave it the unenviable nickname of “one-shot lighter” since it could catch fire from just one shot. Despite the fact that it was a slow-moving bomber, its fuel tanks were unprotected and there was practically no armor for the cockpit, which meant it was easily taken out by fighters. In fact, Admiral Isoroku Yamamoto, Commander-in-Chief of the Combined Fleet, was killed in 1943 when a Type 1 that had been transporting him got shot down.
Even so, the bomber formation managed to draw close to the troop transports. Just when we thought the enemy fighters had scattered, we faced a storm of anti-aircraft fire. The fighters soared to escape the onslaught, but the bombers had to continue their descent headlong into the barrage in order to launch their torpedoes. The tempest of AA fire from the enemy fleet made columns of water spout up around the bombers as they entered level flight. One plane after another caught fire and crashed into the waves, but the other brave crews pressed on through the blaze of gunfire. It was a bloodcurdling sight.
I watched as a torpedo delivered a death blow to the hull of a transport.
As the surviving bombers attempted to flee after the torpedo attack, enemy fighters pounced on them, and Zeros set upon them once more in turn. The enemy was tenacious, and our escorting fighters had a hard time of it.
The fruits of that day’s battle according to our reports: two warships and nine transports sunk. A splendid achievement—only, the American tally made available after the war lists the loss of just one destroyer and one transport.
I departed at 0800 and finally returned at 1500, having spent seven hours in the cockpit. My first sortie to Guadalcanal had been unbelievably exhausting, and for a moment I felt faint when I landed at Rabaul. I’d never experienced such severe fatigue. I barely managed to crawl out of the aircraft, feeling like every bone in my body was about to rattle right out of my skin. I remember walking back to the barracks feeling like the ground was slowly rolling and pitching beneath my feet. I wanted to just collapse if I could.
That day, we lost eighteen medium bombers and two Zeros. Twenty-three bombers had taken off and only five had returned. In just two days, we had lost nine Type 99 bombers, twenty-three Type 1 bombers, and eight Zeros, which were almost all the attack planes and nearly half the Zeros at Rabaul. We had lost the lives of some 150 aviators. Since the medium bombers had a crew of seven each, the loss of one plane took the lives of seven men at once. Pilots, bombardiers, mechanics, radio operators—all of them first-rate in their fields, valuable aircrew who had spent years to get there. And we had lost 150 of them in just two days.
I thought back on Miyabe-san’s warning that this battle was going to be incredibly tough.
And our losses that day would be hardly exceptional.
Chapter 5
Guadalcanal
“May I rest for a moment?” Izaki asked, reclining on his bed. His daughter Suzuko pressed the call button for the nurse.
“Are you all right, sir?” I asked.
Izaki, still lying down, raised his right hand in reply.
After a moment, a nurse entered the room. “I’m in a bit of pain,” Izaki told her. She gave him an injection. He closed his eyes and turned onto his side.
“We probably should be going,” my sister said to Suzuko Emura.
As soon as he heard her, Izaki practically shouted, “Wait a minute. I still have many things I need to tell you.”
“Are you sure, Father?” Suzuko asked worriedly.
“I’m fine. The pain is already gone.” Izaki sat up, but his face belied him.
“We’ll come back again in a few days.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Izaki said. “After living for eighty years, it’s a given that one’s body starts to fall apart.”
The nurse sat down in a chair and told us that she could stay a bit since her shift was over.