LCA Squadron

[HighTone]

Here is a great story I found on the web. www.j-aircraft.com. I found it very interesting.


Kanbaku War Notes
A Narrative by IIZUKA, Tokuji
Translated by Dr. KAWAMOTO, Minoru
I began life in the northern part of Tochigi Prefecture in a place called Otagahara in Nasu County, on January 13, 1920. I was the youngest of the seven brothers in my family and all of us enlisted in the military. My six older brothers all went into the military, so my father and mother wished strongly that I, at least, would not go into the military. My six brothers served in the Army and it is a wonder that not one of us was killed during the war. I had no special reason I could think of in planning for my career other than the wish to fly an airplane and wear the Navy uniform which I thought looked much sharper than the Army’s. One uniform was white and the other was a black one with pleats and a dangling short dagger. That is about all for my so-called motivation to volunteer for the Navy!

The day before my enlistment, the family went to Enoshima to spend the night together and the next day, June 1, 1937, I entered the Navy at the Yokosuka “Chinjufu” or Naval District. I was still wearing my middle school uniform and carrying two or three books with me. I had joined the Navy during my 4th grade of the old middle school system, which is comparable to the 2nd year of the present high school. Those living in Hokkaido, Tohoku and, the present, Kanto Koshinetsu districts came under the jurisdiction of Yokosuka Chinjufu and all were inducted there. On July 7 of that year the so-called Marco Polo Bridge Incident broke out. It was the first step leading up to that Big War. To us in the Navy, however, we had no way of then knowing of such things.
I entered the Navy as a reserve student pilot. The physical fitness test was very strict and at that time there were only two hundred such students who had passed the fitness test. After undergoing further tests and training, one could usually tell whether or not he was qualified to fly. If one was not qualified to fly then he was ordered and placed into the observer group. Thus, we were further separated into 100 flight students and 100 observer students who would not engage in piloting airplanes.
At this point I would like to tell you about a certain man named Mr. MIZUNO* who was highly regarded by the Navy’s ONISHI Takijiro. To what degree of scientific grounds there was I do not know, but it was Mr. MIZUNO who tested us and then passed judgment on whether or not we were qualified to become pilots. He read our palms, studied our physical features and then he would say if we qualified or not. His words seemed to hit the mark with high probability regarding the new men who came to the Navy base at Tsukuba.
The base was full of all kinds of officers, pilots, paymasters, combat specialists, engineers, etc. A bunch of officers would be gathered at random to be looked over by Mr. MIZUNO, one by one. When asked how many pilots there were in the group he would say three, for instance, and pointed out the three pilots exactly; “This man; this man and this man”. Furthermore, he might add, “This man will die soon;” or “This man will stay alive.” Generally his words turned out to be so. He would come up to the pilots, and after talking to them for a while, passed out his verdict. Yes, I had the pleasure of meeting him, but what his verdict was for each one of us in my group we were not told. We did hear that he spoke to our higher ups on something pertaining to our aptitude.
Although we were reserve student pilots, we were in the Navy after all, and so in the early stages we had to undergo basic training as sailors. We did not have the chance of even touching an airplane for a year or so. We started with swimming and cutter rowing. As to schoolroom lessons we even studied English, as we were in the same age group as students in the late stage of the old system middle school where English was taught.
We had lessons in flag signaling, flash signaling, and Morse code. We were thoroughly trained in the code business. The Navy’s way was to take the first syllable of a common word and remember it; for example “I” from “Itoh” (a common family name), “ro” from “rojyohokou” (road walking), “ha” from “harmonica”, “ni” from niuekichoka (revenue increase), “ho” from “hokoku” (report) and “to” from “totsugeki” (charge), etc. In this way, relatively simple words were used to express the signals. We had to memorize the entire alphabet so it would come out spontaneously. And, even today I have not forgotten them.
Training, however, in cutter rowing and swimming was quite demanding. After we got used to swimming we were sent out on a long distance swim. We had to swim from Yokosuka to Yokohama and this took eight to ten hours. Of course, our swimming instructors came along on boats, but we had to swim breaststroke style all the way without stopping. On the way, rice balls would be handed out and we would eat them while swimming. All Navy men lived in hammocks whether on ship or at air force land base. For the first two or three days sleeping in hammocks was difficult, but one can get used to it because daytime training was so hard you fell asleep quickly.
As for the raw recruits, the Army had their Naimuhan (Home Duty Unit) system where the recruits had to live together in a single room with senior ranked soldiers and be subjected to constant hazing. In the Navy’s air force the class lived together independently and not together with their seniors. There were times when some instructors scolded us, but there was no bullying among us within the members of the class. Our instructors were about the same age as us, at the most three years older. Trainees were about seventeen years old and the instructors about twenty or twenty-one. And yet we were dressed down by our instructors, not all the time, but once a week or once in ten days. If the trainees showed a slack in their attention then they got a dressing down. For instance, while preparing to fly solo, if one made a mistake on landing and damaged the landing gear, that was when we all caught hell, “You guys are not paying attention!” Or, if I made a mistake in landing, I, alone, would not be punched in the nose, but the entire trainee group would be punished together and made to run around the airfield. This once around the airfield is quite a demanding punishment. The once around distance is about 4,000 meters. We had to run in our flying uniform with helmet and flying boots on. After running only 500 meters we were full of sweat even in the winter. But the worst punishment of all was to have our meals denied. Of course, not all food was denied us.
Our first flying lessons took place at Tsukuba Air Force Base in Ibaragi Prefecture, which is now called Tomobe. This was the Kasumigaura Detachment. We spent three months taking elementary flight training and there our aptitude was determined and we were divided into the flying group and the observer group.
All of the trainees were genuine novices on matters pertaining to airplanes. Nobody had ever driven a car or a motorcycle. I don’t remember ever having been taken on a motorbike ride. Such a thing as a motorcycle was rarely ever seen around my village of Otagahara. No one there had an inkling of an idea of what an engine looked like, let alone, how to fly an airplane, so flight lessons had to be started from scratch.
It was a time when few had ever seen a thing called an ocean prior to entering military service. I think today’s middle and high school students all know what an ocean looks like. In Tochigi Prefecture there was no ocean. So during my childhood, I didn’t even have a chance to go and see what an ocean looked like. Such being the times, it was perhaps thought better for the instructor to take a student with a fresh, clean slate by the hands and legs and mold him into a real flyer rather than have to give flying lessons to a student with a half-baked knowledge of, say, driving a car.

My first plane ride was in a two-seater primary trainer biplane. Both front and rear cockpits had identical equipment and it could fly only at a cruising speed of around 90 knots per hour. So, when there was even a slight wind, flying lessons had to be postponed. When the headwind was strong the speedometer would indicate 80 or 90 knots per hour, but respective to the ground the plane would not be moving forward.
At first, the instructor in the rear cockpit would demonstrate to the student several times how to take off and land and after further repeating it four or five times he would say, “Now, you take over.” The instructor would have his hands and feet at the controls to assist when needed. When making a landing the student would feel the guiding hands of his instructor on his control stick and was taught to understand whether the speed was too fast or too slow, or if the plane was tilted or slipping.
After takeoff from the runway and reaching an altitude of 150 meters, a left turn would be made. This was the first turn. At the second turning point we would rise to a height of 200 meters and keep the same height until the plane came to the opposite side of the runway. There we would make the third turn, gradually lowering the altitude and, at the fourth turning point, we would drop down to about 100 meters, lowering the speed gradually as we headed toward the runway. However, even at the given height, if the nose were pointed downward or very much upward this was not good. The nose angle must be exactly at three degrees-plus and at the precise speed. If not, you had to do it all over again. During these lessons the instructor in the rear cockpit would also bang us on the head for our mistakes.
Between the front and rear cockpits there is a voice tube to carry on conversation. This tube can be disconnected at the left side of the helmet. The length of the disconnected tube was about 50 centimeters. The instructor used this to bang us on the head. Say I was in the front cockpit flying the plane. When I sensed that the instructor was a bit dissatisfied I could tell by the noise that he was disconnecting the tube. “Woops, I’m going to be hit”. Well, it was a good thing my helmet was on so that the pounding did not hurt too much. Every now and then I would get disciplined with “the tube.”
When my take-off and landing exercises began, the cherry blossoms were in full bloom. On take-off from Tsukaba airfield I could see, just ahead, the Monopoly Bureau building where the cherry blossoms were really beautiful. My first turn would be made just at the point where the cherry trees stood; the second turn was made above the woods and returning to the opposite direction I could see the cherry blossoms in full bloom and after flying over the cherry trees I would land. In such a way I had my targets set in my own way. I recall that four or five days later, it rained, and, when I took off after it stopped raining, the cherry blossoms were no longer there. “Woops!” the cherry blossoms had all fallen and my targets had vanished. “Oh, I can’t see the cherry blossoms!” And, as I was fumbling around, there came a stinging bang from behind. In this manner my training progressed.
Even during level flight practice it was difficult to keep the plane flying straight until one got used to it. At first the instructor in the rear cockpit would give out an order to maintain height at 500 meters and fly level. The next order was “Mt. Tsukuba, yohsoro (keep her steady).” This meant that since Mt. Tsukuba could be seen up front, I must fly straight toward it. I flew as ordered, aiming my plane straight at Mt. Tsukuba. But the instructor was saying, “Hey, Mt. Tsukuba is going away toward the left”. It was not Mt. Tsukuba going away toward the left. It was my plane going toward the right side of Mt. Tsukuba. It must be the effect of the wind. The effect of side winds is actually strong. Even if one thought he was flying steady toward Mt. Tsukuba, if the wind was blowing from the left then the plane was swept away toward the right.
Landing on an aircraft carrier was also fairly difficult. One must first underwent training in a primary trainer, intermediate trainer, and then took the Practical Course. And when the Practical Course was completed then training for aircraft carrier landing began. This training first started on the ground. The so-called fixed landing on land runway was first undertaken. The body of the plane must stop exactly at the center of the runway. Furthermore, both front and rear landing gears must land within two lines set 20 meters apart. The reason for this was that when landing on an aircraft carrier a landing hook on the airplane was extended to hook on to the wire strung across the deck of the aircraft carrier. This wire was stretched at the center of this 20-meter distance. So, if the airplane did not land at that point it could not stop.
After one became capable of landing his plane, from nose to tail, within this 20-meter spacing he was sent to a carrier for the first time. First, however, a simulated deck landing had to be done several times. Then, finally, one got to land on the real thing. The carrier was about 200 meters long but, as expected, it would roll, pitch, and yaw. So when making the approach and flying past the stern one had to throttle the engine and pull back the control stick. When pulling back on the stick, its position must be moved to synchronize with the movement of the carrier. If, however, the bow of the carrier was about to be moved upwards by the waves the landing speed had to be slowed down a bit. Anyway, once one got used to it, it became natural without being instructed each time. Even if one underwent training up to this point, not all would be capable of making a carrier landing. Two or three out of ten pilots would not be able to do it and landing on a carrier became too difficult for them.
During basic training sometimes the flight instructor judged that the student was able to fly solo after about twenty-five hours of flying together. Others would not be allowed to fly solo until after thirty-hours. After forty-hours of flight instruction, if one was judged incapable of flying solo, then he was told that, despite all his efforts, he was not qualified to become a pilot and hw was urged to go into another branch, such as aircraft maintenance. Thus some were dropped from the pilot-training program.
Times were harsh and many were dismissed from this training program not because of their aptitude. For instance, student pilots, when going on leave, were told to have meals only at authorized restaurants. Movie theaters were off-limits. Being young, some would misbehave or would get drunk and go on a rampage. For such misconduct, a number of flight trainees were dismissed from the training program. The remaining pilots, around fifty of them, would be assigned to combat units after completing their secondary training course. They were then separated into type of planes they would fly. At that time the pilots were asked about their preference.
Being young, most of them wished to join the fighter plane units or carrier bomber units, very few volunteered for carrier attack plane duty. The instructors would then get together and make the decision after exchanging views like “he would make a good fighter pilot” or “this one is fit for flying a carrier bomber” and so on. If there were fifty in the graduating class, ten would be distributed to fighter-plane units, ten for carrier-bomber units, and thirty for the carrier-attack plane units. This distribution is made according to a preset quota. I became a carrier-bomber pilot because it was my choice and because of my instructor, NUMATA, who was a carrier-bomber pilot himself. He would say to me “Hey you! You join the carrier bomber group.” After all, it was natural for an instructor to want his student to join the same professional field as his own.
The so-called “kanbaku” or carrier-based bombers were dive-bombers. You dove from a height of about 8,000 meters and pulled up at about 400 meters. At this point a gravity force of 6 Gs would bear down upon you. Every time without fail your senses would go black. There is a saying “I saw stars”. For sure, bright stars will flash within your eyes every time we pulled out. For an aircraft of that time and age, the diving speed was about 400 kilometers per hour. Under the main wing there was a dive brake, which could be activated by changing its position from horizontal to vertical. With this dive brake extended one must dive at a speed of 450 kilometers per hour while adjusting the dive brake so as not to exceed this speed. This is done because 450 kilometers per hour would assure the best-hit accuracy for the bombs dropped. At faster speeds the accuracy was reduced. Also, if the plane over-sped then it could not be pulled up and it would nose-dive into the water below. There were several such accidents I witnessed during practice runs.
As to the timing of when to pull back on the stick, the observer in the rear cockpit read out the general altitude, like “1000…800…600 and so on. At about 600 meters he cried out “ready” and at 400 he shouted “Teh!” When he said “Teh” (release bomb), the altitude shown on the altimeter was 400 meters, but actually, the plane had dropped down to about 300 meters. At 300 meters you braced your legs up hard and with both hands pulled the control stick back with all your might, and at the same time kept an eye on the water surface or else you could not pull the plane upward from the dive. The dive-bombers, at the time, had their landing gears stuck out under the wings. So, if the landing gear touched the surface of the water, no matter how slightly, you were finished.
The rate of dive bombers being shot down by enemy anti-aircraft guns on the ground was about the same as for torpedo planes (carrier-attack planes) which skimmed the water surface. For the enemy anti-aircraft gunners our dive-bombers were easier shooting targets because they would dive from high altitude. Our dive-bombers dove at a set angle of 50 to 60 degrees and, because of the comparatively high altitude from which they dove, the distance was long and it took considerable time to complete the attack. So, to put it in extreme terms, if the anti-aircraft gunner on the ground would take aim and keep shooting a short distance in front of the angle at which our plane would be plunging downward, the plane would automatically come down to meet the bullets. If the plane attempted to avoid the bullets then the bomb would miss its target.
As one gradually got used to all of this, however, he knew that it will take some time to get down from 8,000 to 4000 meters and at about 2000 or 1000 meters he will be able to bank the plane slightly and slide it to avoid the on-coming bullets. And at around 1000 meters or so he began to enter the bombing stage. No! It is not a good feeling to be plunging downward from 8,000 meters and even worse when someone was shooting at you! In the case of the Hawaii attack, enemy battleships, cruisers, destroyers and land based artillery all opened fire at us with a big hail of bullets. When I flew my mission to Pearl Harbor, antiaircraft guns were already in action. My group was positioned at the very tail end of the Second Wave formation, and already the First Wave had finished their attack thirty or forty minutes earlier. Guns from vessels and from land bases were furiously firing at us. One could see through the tubular bombsight in the cockpit used to take aim at your target below as we dove. Looking through this bombsight I could see the bullets coming toward me in a bundle filling the sight with nothing but red color. The bullets, however, go astray midway. Really! I could see the bullets flying towards me and fill up the bombsight. All told, our side lost a total of twenty-nine planes with four dive-bombers from my wing failing to make it back. My plane was also hit over Pearl Harbor.




Kanbaku War Notes
A Narrative by IIZUKA, Tokuji
Part II
I had enlisted in the Japanese Navy air corps at Yokosuka in 1937, completed flight training, and, by early 1940, I had become a dive-bomber pilot. After getting some practical training at Usa and Ohmura air squadrons, I was dispatched to the battle theater squadron in Shanghai toward the end of 1940. At the time, I was still a green- horn. I was assigned to pilot an old Aichi Type 96 biplane dive-bomber. My duty was to be on the lookout for enemy movement at the front for our Army ground units preparing to advance.


In 1941, I received orders to return to Japan. I thought then that I could take it easy for a while. Upon arriving in Japan, however, I found myself posted to the aircraft carrier, Akagi and, in April, I reported for duty. As a flight-crew member of the Akagi I engaged in dive-bombing practices at Yokosuka and Kagoshima. The air groups of the various fleet carriers carried out training in consort. In mid-November we were all ordered to return to our carriers. Immediately after all the planes had landed our carriers began to leave port. When Saeki Bay passed out of sight, we were told for the first time that we were headed for a mission in the Hawaiian island area. Shortly after, the Akagi entered Hitokappu Bay of Etorofu Island and we joined up with the other five carriers, the Kirishima, our escort battleship, as well as other vessels. After departing Hitokappu Bay, we headed east and sailed in waters out of range of enemy scout planes based at Midway and Hawaii. En route we received instructions from the Combined Fleet to “climb Mt. Niitaka”.* It meant that US-Japan negotiations had broken down and, therefore, it was for us to “attack Pearl Harbor.” At last we felt the time for us had come to take the plunge.

On December 8 the wake-up call was made at 0 hours. We prayed in front of the Akagi Shrine as did the crewmen of the Kaga and the other carriers in front of their respective shrines. After lining up our planes on deck, we flew off the Akagi. My plane was in the Second Wave attack squadron, so it was only after the First Wave had taken off that we were able to take to the air. Originally, the attack would have been more effective if the first and second waves had gone together. However, due to the characteristics of our carriers, it was not possible to fly off all seventy planes on the Akagi and the other carriers at one time. So it was decided to attack in two waves.
At the time of take-off the weather was quite stormy. The carriers were rolling considerably, pitching, and yawing. Under such conditions it was very difficult to carry out take-off operations. On attack missions our planes carried full tank loads of fuel. Dive-bombers would each carry a 250 kg bomb while the attack planes each carried a torpedo weighing 800 kilograms or an equivalent bomb load. So the instant the plane left the flight deck, some would sink out of sight and then come up and fly away. Despite this stormy weather, however, all planes managed to leave the carriers and there was not one plane that plunged into the ocean on take-off.
Once in the air we assembled in a formation with fighter planes at the front, followed by the carrier attack planes and then the carrier bombers. In such a formation each group flew about twenty to thirty meters higher than the unit in front to avoid the propeller turbulence. Sitting in my plane flying at the very rear of the formation was like sitting in a seat at the rear of a staircase classroom and looking down. About one hour after takeoff, my observer, KAWAI, in the rear cockpit received a signal “all planes attack”. It was from the commander of the First Wave, Lt.Commander FUCHIDA Mitsuo. I felt then that this signal meant our attack was a success.
The flight to Hawaii took about two hours. At about that time, Oahu Island should have been seen, but heavy clouds had closed in and this made me worry a bit. Just then, there was a break in the clouds and I could see Oahu below. How can I express this moment in words? Good luck was coming our way, I felt. The standing order for dive-bomber squadrons was to go after enemy aircraft carriers only. That day, however, the American carriers were not there. So we proceeded to bomb the battleships instead. The 250 kg bombs carried by the dive-bombers could not cause any serious damage to battleships except, perhaps, we might be able to inflict some damage to the top structure. Piercing thirty-centimeter thick deck armor was asking for too much. So we were told to drop our bombs directly into the funnel, which proved to be a very difficult thing to do, perhaps an impossible task, I believe.
We knew from our intelligence, which vessels would be in the harbor, which vessels had left, and other movements up to about December 1. All this information was being gathered daily by a former graduate of the Naval Academy posted at our Consul General’s office in Hawaii. He had entrenched himself in a second floor room of an Oahu restaurant overlooking the harbor and reported daily on ship movements in the harbor, what ships departed, what ships entered, and so on, while sipping sake. And by observing U.S. naval exercises closely for many years we learned that Navy vessels tended to gather in the harbor in greatest numbers at this time. Thus the attack date was chosen. A considerable number of battleships and cruisers had gathered there. However, the two expected aircraft carriers could not be seen in the Harbor. Because of political tensions, we later learned, the two aircraft carriers had sailed out of Pearl Harbor to transfer airplanes to Wake and Midway islands.
When we arrived over Oahu the attack by the First Wave had already achieved very effective results. Warships in the harbor and aircraft on the airfields were fiercely burning, with smoke rising all over. Furthermore, when we arrived, enemy antiaircraft guns and machine guns had already opened fire on us. This was supposed to be a surprise attack, but to me it felt like a head-on assault! But, before takeoff for the mission, our approach route had already been decided on, as were the targets for the attack-bombers and dive-bombers.
I started my dive, aiming at the third battleship in the inner row of the battleships lined up in two rows. Those on the outer side of the two rows were for the torpedo planes to attack. Since the torpedoes could not reach the battleships in the inner row, it was the job for the bombers to undertake. As I mentioned earlier, while diving toward my target below, my bombsight became filled up with the red color of enemy machine gun fire aimed at my plane. It was like a stick of fireworks going off. Taking aim through my bombsight filled with the red fireworks, I dropped my bomb at an altitude of 400 meters and began my pull out. My bomb hit the target. It was recorded as a hit. But what battleship it was that I hit is not known. After all, this being my first battle, I had been wholly concentrated on getting my job done well and not these other fine details.

Incidentally, I would like to touch on a happening, which later became a humorous matter. The dive-bomber used at the time of the attack on Hawaii, was the two-seater Type 99 kanbaku. My observer, KAWAI Yu-u, from Kasama, Ibaragi Prefecture, was in the rear cockpit. As we made the steep dive toward our target, KAWAI read off the altitude and cried out “teh”, signifying “ release bomb”. When I pulled up KAWAI was still shouting “teh, teh, teh.” Later, I asked him why he had let out such a cry. He told me that the detachable ammo magazine dropped off from the machine gun due to the G-force at pull-up and hit him hard on the leg. He then thought for sure he had been hit by enemy fire and so he decided to cry out “Tennoheika (Emperor) Banzai!” But he could only cry out “teh, teh, teh,” repeating only the first syllable of the word for Emperor. As a matter of fact, I was also in a similar state of excitement as my comrade in the rear cockpit. It was our first combat experience and so we both must have been quite jittery. KAWAI was later lost in action in the air battle over the Solomons. A well-matched pilot and observer acting as one are ideal and such a pair makes a good team for dive-bombing missions. However, months later in the Solomons, KAWAI flew off in a plane with a different pilot and was killed.
Over Pearl we both must have been tense, but on the other hand, somewhat cool. After bombing the battleship in the harbor we looked down on Ford Island and strafed an airfield nearby as instructed.** After that, we retreated toward the sea off the Honolulu coast. There we circled and waited for the others to show up. We were followed and attacked by a enemy P-40 fighter plane. On Oahu there were several airfields such as Hickam and Wheeler and there were many fighter planes there. These planes were the first to be attacked by the First Wave so that no fighters could fly up to intercept us. The carrier bombers from the Shokaku and Zuikaku, which participated in the First Wave attack, had bombed the airfields. The carrier bombers of the Akagi, Kaga, Soryu and Hiryu of the First Air Fleet had received superior training so they were instructed to attack the vessels in the harbor. The training level of the crews on the carriers Shokaku and Zuikaku was somewhat less than the other four carriers therefore they had been assigned the airfields as targets. It turned out that one airfield, a small one near to Wheeler, was left untouched. So, when the Second Wave arrived, these P-40s, about ten undamaged ones, came up to intercept us.
Pilot GOTOH Gen, in the Akagi dive-bomber group and who had participated in the attack with us, engaged one of these P-40s in an air duel. Both ended up shooting each other down off Honolulu. The enemy plane went down and so did ours. Because we had observed this air duel, both were credited as having been shot down. About two years ago, a part of the plane piloted by GOTOH was salvaged out of the ocean. Author HENMI Jun wrote in her book that the piece found was identified as being from the GOTOH plane.
While continuing to circle, our shotai leader alerted us that fuel was spurting out from our wing tank. While engaged in the dive-bombing, I had heard a “knock” “knock” sound, which must have been the noise of enemy machine gun bullets hitting our plane. At the time we did not know of this, but we noticed the damage later. Looking at the spots where the bullets hit, they appeared to have been made by a 7.7 mm machine gun. If they had been from a 13 mm gun we probably would not have been able to fly. My wing petrol tank had taken three bullet hits. When I first noticed it, fuel was already leaking out in fairly big spurts. It had to be coped with just right! I thought of making an emergency landing at the pre-appointed place, however, we decided to fly back alone without waiting for the others to form up.
The Type 99 dive-bomber could keep flying for about eight hours after takeoff. In the case of the attack on Hawaii, the one-way flight had taken a bit longer than two hours. Given the thirty minutes used over Hawaii, it meant we could safely spend slightly less than five hours in order to return to our carrier. So we should have had at least two hours of fuel to spare. Therefore, as mentioned before, we had taken three machine gun bullet hits in the wing tank and the fuel was spurting out.*** So, what I did then was to open up the fuel valve to the leaking wing tank. By doing so, the engine sucked the fuel from the leaking tank to some extent, thus slowing the rate of leak. This procedure, I hoped, would also compensate for some of the fuel leaking by diverting some to be consumed by the engine. This proved to be an effective emergency measure.
Even under normal conditions, getting back to the carrier itself would have been no easy task. We would have been flying around four hours after takeoff. In the meantime the carriers themselves could have moved away over a hundred kilometers. Of course, for security reason, we could not use our wireless for help. So, in short, getting back depended, more or less, on guesswork. After flying off the carrier the first thing we had to do was to calculate the distance to Hawaii. By flying at cruising speed it would take close to two hours to get there. Before takeoff, we were briefed as to what direction, in degrees, the carriers will go after our takeoff. We did not take notes of this on our air chart so that the enemy would not be able to know the carriers’ position should we have been shot down and the maps recovered by the enemy.
We were then to make our own navigation calculations and determine the destination of our carriers six hours after flying us off. In doing this we always included the drift in our calculation. Unless we first calculated the wind speed at a certain height and at certain degrees, a big miscalculation could have been made. We also had to make a drift calculation by taking a look at the surface of the ocean in order to judge the strength and direction of the wind. This is common knowledge. When flying over land, the smoke from a chimney teaches us a very good lesson about the wind. In order to help us with our navigation, the fleet would have destroyers placed several kilometers apart. In our case, about fifty-kilometers away from the carrier, there was one of our submarines on the surface with a white cloth on it resembling an ordinary sail. This would show us the way back to the task force’s position. What a relief it was when we saw that submarine!
We were teenagers of nineteen then and had flown over five hours to return without losing our way. Even now I wonder how we ever made it back!
As I mentioned before, in the attack on Pearl Harbor twenty-nine planes of our side failed to return including the four dive-bombers from the Akagi. The GOTOH aircraft was confirmed as lost in a dogfight with an enemy plane, both planes having shot each other down. It is not known what happened to the other three dive-bombers and where they were lost. So, they were only reported missing. Perhaps they could not locate their carriers.

On our return to the Akagi we made an emergency landing. Landing on a carrier is hard to imagine. As each plane returns, one after another, it must be landed without delay. There were three elevators to lower the planes to their hangers below. While one plane was being lowered, but before it was stored in its hanger, the next plane landed. A barricade had to be set up on deck to prevent the plane that was landing from running into the plane in front of it. In my case, the wing hit this barricade and the body folded up, doglegged, at the spot where the hinomaru is painted. Both KAWAI and I got out without a scratch, but our plane was no longer usable. The fuselage must have also taken some bullet hits and it had weakened the part where the bullets had entered. This plane, nevertheless, was taken back to Iwakuni in as-is condition. The dive-bomber had proven to be a highly expendable airplane. Out of all the air losses at Pearl Harbor, there were a total of fourteen dive-bombers lost from our wave!
The Type 99 dive-bombers were designed to drop their bombs at a speed of 450 kilometers per hour (km/ph). This speed insured the highest degree of accuracy. As the dive begins the speed increases. The dive brakes under the wings are extended outward to adjust the speed. Later, as the war intensified, we sometimes dove at a speed of 500 km/ph. At such a speed the main wings of the Type 99 dive-bomber would begin to bend. When this happens crepe-like wrinkles will appear on the surface of the wings, a warning sign that it is one step from coming apart in mid-air. However, when chased by enemy fighter planes I usually escaped by going about 500 km/ph and I did not even bother to think of the danger of a midair breakup.
Sliding the aircraft while escaping requires considerable skill. For instance, let us say that I am in a dive-bomber being chased by a P-38. Most of the time P-38s would begin their pursuit from behind. When the distance closes to 500 meters or so the P-38 would open fire. So, I would have the observer in the rear cockpit measure and call out the distance, say, 1000, 800, 700 meters. At that point I would slide the plane and evade the enemy’s flight path. There is a reason for this. The enemy would commence firing far in front of my plane so the first two or three bursts would pass the front of the plane. The fourth or fifth bursts, however, would hit. The enemy would fire at me in such fashion. So, at the best timing, one kicks the rudder pedal hard to make the plane jump sideways and thus evade the enemy’s line of fire. When chased by an enemy plane, you are escaping at full power. So it is difficult to make this sort of sideway slip unless done just right. One can get by O.K. if chased by only one plane, but if chased by two it becomes a difficult operation.
Here, I will give another example of an evasion tactic. If I were flying a high performance Suisei dive-bomber while being chased by a P-38, I could escape by doing the opposite of what would be considered normal. Ordinarily, when chased by a fast fighter plane one thinks of fleeing by taking a nosedive to increase speed. But in this situation, I flew horizontally or kept the nose up slightly and circled upwards to escape. It is difficult to explain this in a few words but it can be done if one keeps in mind the performance of one’s own aircraft versus the enemy’s.
When the war began to get intense, Japan organized the so-called special attack squads, or “kamikaze” units. The first such squad, Shikishima-tai, was formed at an airbase in the Philippines. At that time I was stationed at the Mabalacat Air Base in the Philippines as a member of the Third Attack Air Group (Kohgeki Daisan Hikou Tai). ONISHI Takijiro came to the base there and announced that a special attack group would be organized, starting immediately! At the time on the Mabalacat base there were only two commissioned officers who were pure fighter pilots. Recently assigned was a Lt. Seki, with little experience flying in a Zero fighter plane. It was concluded that it would not be right if the special attack groups were made up only of non-commissioned officers. So, they turned to Lt. Seki and told him “You, be the leader!” We all felt very sad for him.



Kanbaku War Notes
A Narrative by IIZUKA, Tokuji
Part III Kanbaku were what we called our carrier-based dive-bombers and I flew several types including the Aichi Type 99 and the Suisei. During training, a 30% hit ratio was said to be O.K. so dive-bombing was considered a more difficult task than one would expect. Between the beginning of the War and the Battle of Midway, our hit ratio reached 80%! This meant that during the interim period the skill level of our dive-bombing crews was at its peak.

The following example may show the difficulties of our technique. Suppose one saw a target while flying at an altitude of 4,000 meters. Deciding where to start the dive to get a 60-degree angle was not so simple. We had learned that if a 250-kilogram bomb is released at an angle of 60 degrees, with a top speed of 450 kilometers per hour, at an altitude of 400 meters, then your success rate of hitting your target was the greatest. So you strove to meet these conditions as closely as possible.

While piloting my kanbaku I could only see the target from one side of the engine because of the engine location in front of me. I would first place the target in a position where a left turn dive could be made. With our dive-bombers, it was easier making a left turn than making a right turn because the propeller was revolving to the right and we would make sure to turn left when making our dive. In order to achieve a 60-degree angle of descent I would use a visual “yardstick” to guide me as to the moment when I would begin my dive. This occurred as a target came into view in relation to the engine and wing. For example, if I saw my target get to the front edge of my wing, I would commence my dive and I would then be at a 45-degree angle. I would increase the angle as I dove, keeping my target in view through the bombsight. This would differ if I had a tailwind or a headwind. With a strong tailwind, I had to start the dive a little earlier and with a weaker wind I flew a little further before I commenced the dive. I learned all of this by practicing under all conditions.

Over enemy territory our planes would fly in formation led by the air group leader. Over the target the formations changed. Very shortly would come a signal from our leader, “totsure, totsure, totsugeki taisei tore!” which meant, “Take up attack position!” At this signal, each plane separated and dove according to the judgment or instinct of its pilot. Inside the scope used for aiming there were parallel and vertical lines and a circle was etched on the glass used as a scale. The way we used our bombsight would differ according to the wind-angle and speed. If this calculation was not done correctly, a hit could not be expected, particularly on a moving target. Depending on the angle of descent, the point of aim would change. Crosswinds and headwinds would affect the aiming. The observer in the rear cockpit carried out the wind readings. The observer might report a 5-km/ph crosswind blowing from a certain direction. Based on this report, a pilot would have to adjust his aim considering the fact that the bomb would be blown by the wind after it had been released.

The foregoing was the procedure generally used for stationary targets. If the target was a moving ship, the ship’s speed had to be calculated. If it was moving at, say, thirty knots, we would then take aim a short distance in front of the ship and then release the bomb. In such an event the bomb had to be released within a window of time while making the dive. Usually the enemy would be firing at you with their ack-ack bursts filling the bombsight with their red fireworks. So, under such hectic conditions all of this had to be done within two to three seconds. The pilot’s flying ability and the observer’s wind-reading skills would require a great deal of teamwork. Without such training and practice hits could not be achieved.

When the altitude decreased to 400 meters, we would release the bomb and pull up. The altitude would be read from the altimeter by the observer. Usually the altimeter reading would be slower than the actual altitude, therefore, when the observer read out “400 meters” and gave the signal “teh” (release bomb), the plane had actually dropped down to 350 meters or even as low as 300 meters. Here, again, the pilot would use his own judgment. If the vessel was in view, the pilot kept his eye on it; if the vessel was not in view, then he kept his sight on the ocean surface and pulled up. This would depend almost wholly on one’s own instinct and judgment!

The instant you pulled up, your eyesight blacked-out. The G-forces take over and all your blood flowed down from your head. Then a blackout would occur and sparks would fly within your eyes. There is an expression, “I saw stars come out of my eyes.” Yes, they really flew like bubbles. When you are hit hard on the head sparks fly, but in this case, during our pull-ups many times more sparks would fly. However, this occurs only for an instant. Just at that instant, I would find myself pulling up on the control stick. We were taught to pull the nose of the plane up to a certain degree angle. Thus we were taught, but you could not actually know the exact number of degrees the nose was pointing. Usually, perhaps by habit or subconsciously, if the nose angle was too great, I would move the control stick to correct the nose angle of the airplane upward until it gradually pointed at about a thirty-degree angle and was flying upward. I would soon find myself regaining consciousness. To put this experience in extreme terms, at first I would see hundreds of stars and soon only four or five. Then it would darken and I would see no stars at all.

During my flight training, I witnessed two airplanes crash onto the surface of the sea. There is a place called Tarumizu in Kagoshima Bay. Offshore there is a reef, which turns into an island only at low tide. Day and night, before going to Hawaii, we practiced dropping bombs on it as a target. Before the war began we had actually only practiced dropping live 250-kilogram bombs three times. When practicing dive-bombing there, we flew straight in from the direction of Sakurajima and dove at our target. One day, one of our planes made a dive at the target, but its wheels touched the surface of the water. It was only for a split second because he had pulled up too late. The airplane slapped the sea surface and, at that instant, there was a big bang and a splash of water went up. At the same time, I thought, the landing gear must have torn off as the surface of the water broke. “Oh!” I thought. Then the plane flew up again climbing in the direction of Ibusuki. But the airplane was in too sharp an angle and it stalled and plunged downward. I think for sure that when the plane first hit the surface of the water the pilot was knocked unconscious. Ordinarily, the plane would climb at an angle of between thirty to forty degrees, but this one had risen at a more acute angle. I feel certain that the pilot had been knocked-out while pulling his control stick up to maximum position.

Sixty degrees, they said, was the ideal diving angle. At times, however, we used sharper angles. Military planes in those days had no backrest. There was no cushion to lean back on, only a bare duralumin sheet. So the folded parachute one is supposed to wear on his back acted as a back cushion. At seventy degrees or so, the parachute we placed behind us would begin to move downward upon you. When diving at 70 degrees or so I could feel the weight of this parachute bearing down on me. When putting on a parachute you fixed it to your body with a strap attached to the chute. A parachute could be opened manually. However, when the pilot is thrown out of the cockpit with a bang, the parachute would open automatically because a part of the chute was strapped on to the seat. When we went to Hawaii and later into other battle zones we carried no parachutes.

If you got hit, then you just died. You must die. That was the sort of rules of the times. Of course, there was no rule against wearing parachutes. The lieutenant class officers of the Akagi who were wing leaders told us not to wear parachutes. If you were hit, then you blew yourself up with your plane. It was just that simple. It was a sort of a rule the pilots voluntarily chose to obey. As the war got intense, however, the superior officers began to strongly advise against self-destruction, and we were told to wear parachutes. Later, when we knew that our ground troops were in the vicinity of our target, for example, at Leyte Island, or when Japanese troops were on our side of the hills, or when flying cover for our ground troops, we took our parachutes along. Zero fighter pilots who flew cover over our base also wore their parachutes. Over such places there was no worry of being captured and becoming a POW.

Also, when we flew into a war zone we normally took charts along with us. It was called a map but it is actually a sea chart. Prior to our missions we entered our instructions directly on the chart, such as time of departure, place of attack, and the point of return. Prior to our attack on Pearl Harbor we decided not to do this. The chart itself was to be taken along, but without any notes written on it. Should we have been shot down and our charts recovered, any notes on it could have given away the movement of our fleet.

We did take along our codebook, which had a red cover and “Top Military Secret” marked on it. If we happened to have been shot down there was the danger of it being recovered by the enemy so the cover had a lead sheet pasted on it. Once it dropped into the sea it would never float up. There were many kinds of code books, but those carried on planes were possibly rated about third in importance compared to those used by fleet commanders. Even if one like mine had gotten into enemy hands the security damage would have been slight. I remember that at the time of the attack on Pearl Harbor there was a fighter plane piloted by a Soryu officer, Lieutenant IIDA, who was killed by diving onto an airfield.* His plane must have taken a hit and he signaled, “I am short on fuel and cannot make it back. All of you return.” Then he plunged into the runway below.





Not long ago there was a gathering in Hawaii of American and Japanese soldiers and I was taken to the very spot where IIDA crashed and killed himself. The place is located at one side of the present airport and marked by a small stone memorial. It was well kept with Bougainvillea flowers growing here and there. It was explained to me that the first memorial was erected, not after the War, but in December 1941, right at the time of the attack on Pearl Harbor! The remains of the pilot were placed in a box with the Stars and Stripes, not the Hinomaru Japanese flag, draped over it. Then it was quietly lowered into the grave as a bugler played in tribute. Even a photograph was taken of this event. That such a ceremony was undertaken during wartime was an act the Japanese would hardly ever have thought of doing.

There was another person who crash-landed on one of the islands in the Hawaiian island chain. In Hawaii, there are the islands of Oahu, Maui and Kauai. When one visits Kauai one may see a small island in the misty distance. There lived a Nisei man, or second-generation Japanese, among other residents who were all natives of the island. We had been instructed to land on this island in the event we had been hit by enemy fire and were unable to return to our carrier. This Nisei man might be able to hide a crashed crew until one of our submarines, stationed nearby, could pick them up. It just so happened that a fighter plane from the Hiryu, piloted by NISHIKAICHI, was unable to make it back to his carrier so he made an emergency landing on this island.** Sure enough, the Nisei man showed up to help him. But NISHIKAICHI would not leave his crashed airplane. Most likely, he was waiting for the submarine to come and pick him up. The codebook, or something else important, had been left at the crash site, and NISHIKAICHI and the Nisei man both urged the natives to help find it. This made the natives suspicious and they surrounded the two at a distance. This confrontation continued for some time until finally NISHIKAICHI shot and killed himself with his gun. And, it is said, that the Nisei man also followed suit. I understood that it was said that there was to be a monument to be erected at this spot as well.

After the first attack on Pearl Harbor was over, apparently some officers and airmen submitted an opinion to carry out a second attack. Vice Admiral NAGUMO, the commander of the Hawaii Attack Forces, however, decided to turn back. If a second attack had been carried out we would have sustained considerable damage, therefore, we were greatly relieved. My airplane had been destroyed when landing and it was in no condition to fly and there was no extra plane for me to fly. Akagi carried only enough planes for its fixed number of crewmen and there were none of either to spare. This meant that the Japanese side had thrown their total fighting force into the attack on Pearl Harbor.

On the way back from Hawaii, I was kept busy gathering up the belongings of the crewmen of the four planes of Akagi dive-bomber group, which failed to return from Pearl Harbor. There was discussion supposedly regarding an attack on Midway Island but the commanders rejected such an idea. They could not bear losing more of their precious flight crew. It seemed also that they did not wish to run the danger of exposing this small number of aircraft carriers to the enemy. Attacking Midway did not materialize, but our air units took part in attacking Wake Island. The 4th Fleet, under command of Vice Admiral INOUE Shigeaki, took the lead role in making a landing on Wake Island. This Fleet, mostly comprised of destroyers, headed toward Wake after having bombed it by using long-range medium bombers. However, the four enemy fighters, which remained on Wake, were giving the Japanese attackers great trouble since the bombers flew with no air escort of their own. NAGUMO’s Hawaii Attack Force diverted two of its carriers, the Soryu and Hiryu to assist, enabling the landing on Wake to succeed.

When the Akagi returned to Hiroshima it was December 21. We left port again on January 5, 1942, to attack Rabaul, Port Darwin, Ceylon, and Java. The month of March came and an American auxiliary vessel was found cruising all alone. At first, our battleships and cruisers, which were accompanying our carriers, tried to hit it with their cannon fire, but they failed. Nine of the eighteen Akagi dive-bombers were called on to go after this vessel. Our planes dove from 5000 meters, but because of the vessel’s skillful evasive movement a hit could not be made.

In youthful carelessness, on my first dive I discovered that my sighting was not satisfactory so I made a second dive. This second attempt also failed, so I carried out a third dive. I dropped my bomb and, finally, I made a hit! But, when I pulled up, my front windshield was gone. Machine gun bullets had shattered it to bits. My engine was also hit and oil was leaking out in big spurts. A piece of the front windshield glass had hit my face, blood was coming out, and one of my eyes was gradually closing. I thought I really had had it then. With the front windshield gone I could hardly breathe in the air stream. Making my return to my carrier, it looked as though I was hiding myself behind the instrument panel. I was saved because my carrier was in the vicinity. I was the only one injured in this attack, so when I got back on my carrier I caught hell. I was told that it was not necessary to try three times. “Drop your bomb. Even if it misses, it’s okay.”***

In June, although I did not go along on this mission, I recall that a Zero fighter plane belonging to a group which attacked the Aleutian Islands made a forced landing on the tundra of one of the islands there. The plane had been hit by ground fire and could not return. The pilot made an emergency landing on what he thought was grassy land suitable for safe landing. But he landed instead on a muddy patch of land. On touching the ground the plane flipped over and stayed upside down. The pilot must have been killed on impact. In fact, that Zero which made the emergency landing was the No.2 plane of a fighter air unit from the Ryujo. The No. 1 and No. 3 plane followed No.2 all the way and saw it finally land and flip over. At close distance they kept looking at the plane after it flipped over but did not see the pilot emerge from the plane. The pilot was trapped inside the plane and, at the time, his fate was unknown. The air unit leader and the No. 3 pilot thought that if the plane was left as is, then the plane and codebook could fall into enemy hands. Both men thought of firing at the downed plane and burning it up. They made up their minds to act as devils and destroy their own comrade.

At the end, however, they could not do it. They could not open up their guns to kill one of their own that was trapped inside and could still be alive. If the two pilots had turned their minds into that of a merciless devil and opened fire on the downed Zero they may have prevented the secret of the Zero from being disclosed. But they just could not do so.


Some weeks later the American forces came and took the Zero away. Not only had the Zero been taken away, it was repaired and flown. The Americans had then secured the performance data of the Zero fighter and were able to figure out tactics to meet the Zero in the air. For the first time, the secret of the Zero fighter had been cracked.****

Simultaneously with the loss of the Zero in the Aleutians, Japan lost four of her aircraft carriers at the Battle of Midway. I was then still a flight-crew member on board the Akagi and I joined in attacking Midway. After completing the first wave attack, we were busy loading land bombs for the second wave attack. Just at that time a report came that an enemy task force was sighted. So a quick change from land bombs to ship bombs had to be made. This took some time. Preparation for take-off was completed and the time came to line up the attack planes on deck so they could take off first. Just at the moment two Zeros took off; the enemy bombs began to fall on our deck. At the time, I was already in my plane ready for take-off and I could see the bombs coming toward me, one by one. The explosions touched off the bombs and machine gun ammunition, which had been loaded onto our planes. Next, the petrol tanks full of fuel began to catch on fire.

The ship was still moving on its power, but burning fiercely. The order to abandon ship was soon announced and we got off the carrier. Akagi, Kaga, Soryu and Hiryu, all met the same fate. The captains of all the carriers went down with their ships except for the Akagi captain, AOKI. That a ship’s captain must go down with his ship was considered an unwritten rule. But, in fact there were no such rules, written or otherwise. Yet, most of the captains, when their ship began to sink, chose to share its fate. AOKI had already tied himself onto the bridge with a rope, determined also to go down with his ship. It is not right for him to do it, we all thought. Four or five strong sailors, trained in judo, were sent on board to cut the captain loose and they carried him off and away from his sinking ship. Our captain, AOKI, had been taken away from his sinking ship by force, survived, and returned to his homeland. However, AOKI was immediately cast into the reserves.





Kanbaku War Notes
A Narrative by IIZUKA, Tokuji
Part III In June of 1942, after returning from Midway, I was assigned to the Usa Air Squadron and I was engaged in carrying out my duties as a flight instructor. By 1943 the tides of war had turned against Japan. Fuel supplies became very scarce and it was difficult to carry out normal flight training. In October, I took my reserve student pilots to a base in Kainan-toh (Hainan), an island in the South China Seas more than a thousand kilometers from Taiwan, to resume flight training. When we arrived at Kainan-toh, we found Captain AOKI, the former skipper of the carrier Akagi. He had been sent all the way here and he felt isolated and abandoned.* AOKI must have been considered a very capable man at one time to have been assigned as the captain of such a reputable aircraft carrier as the Akagi. He could have gone on to a higher rank and position in the Navy if it were not for the Midway debacle. His ship had been sunk along with the three other carriers whose captains had, unlike him, gone down with their ships.


This same man now served as a mere commander of the Kainan-toh Air Detachment. The Kainan-toh base had a signboard up, but not a single airplane was in view. I told Captain AOKI that I had brought with me some reserve student pilots to train and asked, “Where are the airplanes?” “There aren’t any,” he told me. After conferring with him, Captain AOKI told me he would get in touch with Kure base right away and that I should go there to get the airplanes. I took a transport aircraft and to Kure base, but hey had no carrier dive-bombers either. “We have some Type 97 carrier attack planes. Why not take those?” they asked. Being a carrier dive-bomber specialist, I had not once flown a Type 97 attack plane. Type 99 carrier bomber planes had fixed landing gears while the Type 97 carrier attack aircraft had retracting gear with which I had no experience.


I had a lot of thinking to do. Kure airbase had a runway only about seven hundred meters long, yet, in spite of my experience, I had never flown an airplane with retracting wheels. I asked a mechanic how the retracting gear worked. He told me to do “this” and the wheels would retract; and do “that” and the landing gear would come down; and, “when the red light changes to green, you are cleared for landing!” It seemed simple, yet I was not at all confident and I would not be confident until after I had made a trial landing at Kure. However, after listening to the mechanic’s simple explanation, I decided to accept these planes and ferry them back to Kainan-toh.


I flew out of Kure airbase and from there I proceeded to nearby Usa air base. At Usa I practiced take off and landings until I was ready to return to Kainan-toh. I had brought with me the deputy chief of Kainan-toh airbase, a warrant officer who was not flight rated, and three others. I told the deputy chief that I was ready to return to Kainan-toh anytime. He said it was not necessary to return in such a hurry. Apparently, he wanted to stay in the homeland a little longer. We spent two more nights at Usa airbase while the deputy chief went off to Beppu, saying he would be back in a jiffy or something of that sort.


We went back and forth many times to ferry these planes to Kainan-toh. They were all Type 97 carrier attack planes. This meant, that at Kainan-toh airbase, the reserve student pilots had to be trained in carrier attack planes to become dive-bomber pilots! Enemy planes from southern China had begun to frequently fly over Hainan Island and many of our planes were shot down during our training flights. Only reserve student pilots manned our airplanes and the outdated Type 97 carrier attack planes had no fixed machine guns and only one 7.7 mm caliber flexible machine guns in the rear. In an air engagement with the enemy there was no chance of their survival. Such being the situation, sufficient training could not be undertaken even at Kainan-toh. We had to pull back temporarily to Tainan Airbase in Taiwan.

In May 1944, I was reassigned to the 3rd Attack Air Force made up of Suisei (“Comet”) carrier dive-bombers, which were a relatively new type of airplane. At the time of Midway we had taken two experimental models along and used them for reconnaissance purposes.**


The Suisei attack force was trained at Matsuyama. On 12 October, the so-called Taiwan Air Battle had begun and, on the 13th, we moved to Kokubu to prepare for the attack. The next day we got word that the enemy forces had pushed into offshore Taiwan and our leader, IKEUCHI-San, told us to get ready. How many pilots were there in our squadron who could pilot a Suisei bomber carrying a 500-kilogram bomb at night? It turned out there were only three; they were KAWABATA, YAMAKAWA, and myself. All three of us had been flying since the day of the Pearl Harbor attack. That night, the orders came for us to launch a night attack. We loaded the bombs and prepared to take off. However, it so happened, that GENDA Minoru had formed a special joint Army-Navy squadron called the “T Force” (T for “Typhoon”) using army bombers flown by army pilots, but with a navy crews acting as observers, navigators, and bombardiers. The “T Force” was to take the night attack, so our mission was called off.


Later on, the 3rd Attack Air Force, comprised of Suisei bombers, launched their 1st and 2nd attacks. On October 16th, the first wave, comprised of eighteen planes under Lt. Commander IKEUCHI, took off, but we did not hear from them. Later, we learned they had departed Kokubu and had flown close to Okinawa, where enemy task force aircraft had intercepted them. It ended with not a single airplane of ours surviving. Lt. OGAWA led the next attack on the 17th. The same number of Suisei as had been in the first wave, also departed. It was a night attack, but they failed to find the enemy, so they landed at Davao in the Philippines. From there, they launched an attack on enemy shipping in Leyte Bay and, again, not a single plane made it back.


The next day a third attack wave was formed using all flyable planes. Our twenty-seven Suisei got as far as the Philippines and comprised the last of any unified group of carrier dive-bombers. The leader was Junior Lt. 2nd Class, MOMOSE and I flew the No.1 plane. We left Kokubu for Taiwan and from there to Mabalacat located just north of Clark airfield in the Philippines. At that time, the general situation had gotten so confused that, although we knew that a certain air unit existed, it was difficult for us to find out who the commander or squadron leader was. Wherever we were sent, the local base commander there would declare that our unit, from that moment, would come under his command and we would be absorbed into his un
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HighTone


The Bell boys had some rough fights with the Tainan Kokutai in the April-May-June period, and had enough respect for their foes to say they flew "Double Zeros"--each Japanese pilot was twice as good as he had any right to be.