“CAP duty is more important than the attack force in my opinion. You’re protecting the lives of everyone aboard the carrier.”
“Then switch with me.”
“I’d gladly trade places if I could.”
“Then do it!”
But we both knew it wasn’t possible. It would be unreasonable to allow aviators to rearrange mission assignments according to their own wishes.
I plopped down on the deck, tears of frustration welling up in my eyes. Miyabe sat down next to me.
I gazed out absentmindedly at the dark seas. There were no stars in the sky and it was a freezing night. But I didn’t feel the cold.
Miyabe kept me company without uttering a word. After a while I started to calm down. I think having Miyabe sit quietly by my side probably helped.
Unexpectedly, Miyabe said with a sigh, “I told you I’m married, right?”
I nodded.
“I got married after coming back from Shanghai, before leaving for Omura. I had just one week to enjoy my newlywed life.”
I hadn’t known that. It came as a surprise.
“If I’d known I was going to participate in the attack on Pearl Harbor, I wouldn’t have gotten married,” Miyabe said, and then smiled.
That was the extent of that conversation, but for some reason I remember it very well. I still wonder why he decided to tell me that just then.
Hm? Did they marry for love? Oh, I didn’t ask about that. In our day, such marriages were rare, though. You married the person that people around you said you should. Rushed marriages before heading to the front weren’t uncommon. Parents and relatives probably wanted the young men to at least experience marriage before they faced possible death in battle. And of course there was probably also the desire to create an heir beforehand.
Back then, marriage wasn’t thought of as some big deal. It was just something that everyone did. No one really considered the reasons for it. Young people these days seem to think differently—that you only get married when you find your ideal life partner. My granddaughter apparently feels that way, which is why she’s still single even though she’s in her mid-thirties. She says she’ll happily spend the rest of her life alone if she doesn’t find the right man. What a handful.
I don’t know why Miyabe got married so hastily. Perhaps it was a marriage of love. Not getting married if he’d known he was going to attack Pearl Harbor can be taken either way.
Even though there were brawls and fights on the night of the mission assignments, the next day everyone, me included, faithfully carried out our duties without any hint of enmity. I just pulled myself together and resolved to fulfill my mission to protect the aircraft carrier.
At dawn on December 8th, I took off with the CAP team to patrol the skies above the carrier group. Soon afterwards the first attack wave departed. I saw off the formation with a salute from my cockpit.
During the operation, not a single enemy aircraft was spotted in the skies above the carriers, so I never engaged in combat.
* * *
—
As you are aware, the surprise attack on Pearl Harbor was a resounding success. In the first-ever, all-aircraft naval attack, the two waves sank five battleships and extensively damaged three more. Over 200 land-based aircraft were destroyed. It was an unprecedented exploit. Right after the attack on Pearl Harbor ended in triumph, the pilots and crewmembers all celebrated wildly.
With one exception. Miyabe. “What’s wrong? You don’t seem to be enjoying yourself,” I asked him.
“Twenty-nine planes didn’t make it back today.”
I was already aware of that. “It is unfortunate. But compared to the damage we inflicted, our losses are almost nothing.”
Miyabe nodded silently. His face put a damper on my good mood.
“It’s war. People are going to die,” I pointed out.
“I saw an attack bomber destroy itself today,” Miyabe said quietly. “After dropping its torpedo, it was hit by an anti-aircraft gun while passing over an enemy ship. Initially, the bomber ascended. I drew up to her. I could see a long white stream of fuel leaking from one of her wings, but luckily it hadn’t caught fire. The bomber was flying toward the carrier, but suddenly turned around and headed back towards Pearl Harbor. I turned as well and pulled up alongside her. The pilot looked at me and pointed downward. Then he went into a dive and rammed the bomber into an enemy battleship.”
His story made me shudder. In fact, I’d heard that many of the planes we had lost that day had similarly immolated themselves. We had been ordered to destroy our aircraft if it was damaged during battle in a manner that precluded a return trip. We’d been taught to avoid the shame of being taken captive, so it seemed inevitable.
“Before they dove, all three crewmembers looked at me and saluted, smiling.”
“They were true soldiers.”
Miyabe nodded. “I think it was mere minutes between their initial ascent and their turn back towards the harbor. They probably spent that time assessing the damage to the plane and gave up on making it back to the carrier. Either they saw that they’d run out of fuel or their engine was hit. In any case, in those brief moments they chose to blow themselves up.”
Carrier-based attack bombers had three crewmembers: the pilot, the bombardier, and the radio operator. In the Imperial Navy, crewmembers of the same aircraft were called pairs, as in the foreign word. Flight teams had to become one in body and soul. They said that if the crew’s breathing was not in sync, their torpedo attack would be imperfect. The bond shared by them was far stronger than your usual friendship. People sometimes speak of “sworn friends,” and the crew on attack planes and bombers were literally that.
Most likely the pilot had decided to destroy the plane, communicating his resolve to the other two. They’d probably concurred straightaway.
“Their smiles were so vibrant. They didn’t look like the expressions of men who were about to die,” Miyabe added.
“Maybe that’s because they were able to partake in a successful operation.”
Miyabe mulled over my words a bit and then replied, “I suppose so.”
“When I die, like them I want it to be after I’ve dealt a lot of damage to the other side.”
Miyabe was silent for a while, but he sighed and said, “I don’t want to die.”
I was shocked by his statement. I had never expected to hear such words from anyone in the Imperial Navy. Of course, military men, too, feel that they don’t want to die. Such is human nature. But a soldier cannot just leave it at that. Just as people in general must control all sorts of instincts and desires in order to exist in society, I believe it’s important for military personnel to figure out how to relinquish that desire to survive. Isn’t that right? If the troops prioritized survival, no war effort would be sustainable.
Our military had won an overwhelming victory. Yet, we had lost 29 planes and 55 lives. Looking back now, I understand something that I didn’t back then. For the families of the pilots who died that day, the grief over the loss of their loved ones was far greater than the joy of victory. Whether it was a battle where thousands fought to the last man or just one soldier was killed in action, a bereaved family was robbed of an irreplaceable member. Thousands dying in action simply meant a greater number of tragedies; every one of those individual tragedies was the same.
But I didn’t get it back then. And my reaction to Miyabe saying “I don’t want to die” was intense contempt. Those were words that a sailor of the Imperial Navy, let alone a fighter pilot, should never utter. We should all have been prepared to die with our boots on the moment we became pilots.
“Why do you not want to die?”
Miyabe’s reply was soft-spoken. “I have a wife. It’s for her sake that I don’t want to die. So I value my life more than anything else.”
I was left momentarily s
peechless. And I was thoroughly disgusted. I felt like I’d caught a thief and asked him “Why did you steal it?” only to have him answer “Because I wanted it.”
“Everyone values their lives. And everyone has a family. Although I’m not married, I have a father and a mother…” but damn if I ever said I don’t want to die, I almost added, just barely holding my tongue.
“I’m a disgrace to the Imperial Navy, aren’t I?” Miyabe gave a bitter smile.
“That, you are,” I replied.
Miyabe went silent and hung his head.
* * *
—
Ito suddenly fell quiet.
He folded his arms, closed his eyes, and didn’t speak. After several long moments had passed, he said in a voice barely louder than a whisper, “Miyabe was an odd man.”
He continued, “Back then we pilots were living in a strange world, a place divorced from reason. We lived in a world where death was always right by your side, or rather where life and death always intermingled. You couldn’t live in such a world if you feared death. Yet Miyabe feared it. He lived in the everyday world while fighting in a war. How could he manage to hold on to that feeling?”
Ito seemed to phrase it like a question for me, but it wasn’t one that I could answer. Or perhaps he was asking himself.
“After the war and demobilization, I got married and started a family. It was only then that I was able to comprehend Miyabe’s desire to keep on living for his wife’s sake. But,” Ito then said forcefully, “I cannot agree with Miyabe’s words that he ‘valued his life more than anything else.’ Wars are not fought alone. Sometimes you have to fight on, even if it means sacrificing yourself.”
“I couldn’t say, sir.”
“Here’s another thing that happened. In February of 1942, during an air raid on Port Darwin, Miyabe returned from the mission early after his machine guns failed. Even if an escort fighter can’t fire its guns, it can still chase off enemy aircraft. And just having a Zero by their side is heartening to the bomber crews. But Miyabe pulled out and left in a hurry.”
“Oh…”
“It might sound like I am bragging, but had I been in his place I would have stayed, even if it meant getting shot down.”
I simply nodded.
“Please don’t misunderstand me. I’m not criticizing his principles. I just can’t say they were praiseworthy. I feel bad saying this to his grandson, forgive me.”
Ito bowed deeply. I could sense the old man’s sincerity.
There was a knock at the door. A genteel old lady appeared.
“This is my wife.”
She placed a plate of fruits on the table. “Please make yourself at home,” she said and left.
“I married her after the war,” Ito explained with a shy smile. “It was an arranged marriage, though.” He glanced at a side table. On it sat a photo of the couple standing side-by-side on vacation somewhere.
“She seems very kindhearted.”
“It’s her only asset. Yes, she’s been very devoted to me,” he said quite earnestly.
“Where is that picture from?”
“Hawaii. We went there three years ago for our golden wedding anniversary.”
I was a little surprised when he said Hawaii.
“It was my first time,” he added, apparently sensing my reaction.
I looked back at the photo. Ito was standing at attention before a bright blue ocean, his wife’s hand firmly clasped in his right hand.
“My granddaughter used to tell people, ‘Grandpa went to Hawaii a long time ago.’ But as I said, I actually never made it to the skies over Hawaii. It’s been over sixty years, but I still regret it.”
“Really?”
“On second thought, if I had flown over Hawaii back then, I might never have met my wife, let alone have a granddaughter,” Ito said and laughed.
I recalled that 55 pilots had died in the attack on Pearl Harbor. Ito seemed to remember it too, and lowered his gaze.
After a brief silence he said, “There was one very unfortunate thing about Pearl Harbor.”
“What was that?”
“It ended up being a sneak attack made with no proper declaration of war.”
“The declaration was delayed somewhere on the way, wasn’t it?”
“That’s right. We were told that we would be attacking at the same time the declaration was made. But that isn’t how it panned out. They say the reason for the delay was that the Japanese embassy in Washington took too long decoding and delivering the declaration of war. But the delay was really due to the fact that the embassy staff were out drinking at a farewell party or something that went well into the night. They were late getting to work that day.”
“Is that true?”
“We suffered the disgrace of being accused of foul play all because of some damn embassy staffers. Not just us, but Japanese as a whole were labeled a nation of cowards. We’d been told that the attack would take place with the declaration. Yet as it happened…Nothing could be more mortifying.”
Ito’s face contorted.
“At the time, yes, the U.S. was exerting extreme pressure on Japan, but they say the prevailing public opinion was anti-war. Back in those years, we were made to believe that America was a country with no history, whose disconnected, unpatriotic, and individualistic citizens enjoyed pleasure-seeking lives. We were told they didn’t have our willingness to offer up our lives to our country and to the Emperor. Combined Fleet Commander-in-Chief Yamamoto wanted to smash the U.S. Navy’s Pacific forces to pieces at the outset so the American people would completely lose spirit.”
“And the exact opposite happened.”
“Indeed. In response to our cowardly sneak attack, public opinion in America changed overnight to ‘Remember Pearl Harbor’ and giving us hell as many people rushed to enlist in the armed forces.”
Ito continued. “Furthermore, even though the attack was called a tactical victory, that wasn’t completely true, because we didn’t send the third wave of attackers. While we succeeded in destroying much of their Pacific fleet and the aircraft there, we left the dry docks, oil reserves, and other important land-based facilities wholly intact. If we had destroyed everything, Hawaii would no longer have been viable as a military base, and total supremacy in the Pacific would have been ours. The squadron commanders offered to do a third attack, but were turned down. Vice Admiral Chuichi Nagumo, the fleet commander, chose to withdraw from the area. Looking back, I don’t think Vice Admiral Nagumo had it in him to lead. The Imperial Navy missed more crucial chances after that throughout the Pacific, and it all stemmed from the indecisiveness and timidity of his leadership.”
Ito sighed deeply. “I’ve really wandered off topic. No point in criticizing the Imperial Navy now, is there. Let’s get back to Miyabe.”
* * *
—
In the crew quarters on the journey back to Japan from Pearl Harbor, the squadron members who participated in the strike told the rest of us what it had been like. They raved about their magnificent attack. Those of us who’d been on CAP duty listened with one part excitement and two parts jealousy and envy.
Suddenly someone asked, “Hey, Miyabe, what were the American ships like?”
Miyabe replied, “The carriers weren’t there.” Everyone stared at him blankly, but he went on, unperturbed. “There were only battleships in Pearl Harbor.”
That was common knowledge, as the pilots had already vented their frustrations over the lack of carriers. Everyone was confused as to why Miyabe was bringing up that point again.
He kept talking, unfazed by our reaction. “Eventually the Americans will attack us in the same way we attacked them today. That’s why I wish we’d gotten their aircraft carriers.”
“True, sooner or later we’ll take on their carriers,” someone said.
“G
uess we saved the best for last, eh?” someone else joked, making everyone, including me, laugh. “Leave some for us,” one of the CAP guys said. And another one of us, “Yeah, I want to be in the attack force next time, not in the CAP.” Everyone who had been part of the patrol team that day agreed and laughed.
Miyabe was the only one not smiling. “That day will surely come,” he said.
“Well, when it does we’ll make mincemeat of any American aircraft carrier,” someone retorted.
Miyabe finally cracked a smile at that. “I think we shall. Today was the first time I saw the attack bombers and dive bombers in action, and they were quite magnificent. Their airmanship is truly divine. I’m sure American carriers will be helpless in the face of such attacks. I don’t know what kind of technology their bombers have, but they sure can’t compete with our skills.”
Since they weren’t the hyperventilations of a blowhard but the detached observations of a calm fellow, Miyabe’s words had a lot of impact. Everyone was well aware of his ability as a pilot, so his speech carried even more weight.
I found myself feeling profoundly disappointed that I hadn’t been able to witness our attack force delivering its pinpoint strikes at Pearl Harbor.
“We can win, can’t we?” I asked.
“If we take them head-on, we’ll overwhelm them,” Miyabe replied.
He was both correct and incorrect in that assumption.
* * *
—
Following Pearl Harbor, the Mobile Task Force under Vice Admiral Nagumo’s command swept over the Pacific. “Mobile Task Force” refers to a carrier battle group. Aircraft carriers had greater speed and mobility than battleships, hence the term.
We freely ran riot from New Guinea in the south to the Indian Ocean in the west, our carrier-based aircraft sinking many enemy warships. “You’ll see us run wild, for half a year,” Commander-in-Chief Isoroku Yamamoto is said to have promised, and we were indeed invincible.
Of course, the Mobile Task Force came under several attacks from enemy aircraft, but the Zero squadrons protecting their motherships never let them lay a finger on our carriers. At the time there wasn’t any fighter aircraft that could beat the Zero. If I do say so myself, Nagumo’s fighter pilots were easily the most competent in the world. The bombers boasted near-superhuman skills as well. When we sank a British cruiser and small carrier in the Indian Ocean, our dive-bomber squadron had an accuracy rate of almost 90 percent. That was an astounding number for dive bombing.
The Eternal Zero Page 6
