Zero

Home > Other > Zero > Page 9
Zero Page 9

by Masatake Okumiya


  We have stressed, perhaps repetitiously, the role of this one airplane in the initial phases of the Pacific War. We feel, however, that at Pearl Harbor, as well as in the Philippines and Dutch East Indies, we could not possibly have achieved our sea, land, and air victories with a fighter plane of lesser performance than the Zero. Our entire strat­egy depended upon the success of this aircraft.

  CHAPTER 9

  The Sea Battle Off the Coast of Malaya

  ON DECEMBER 10, 1941, the third day of the Pacific War, Japan received news of a tremendous victory which was greatly to affect our future military operations in Pacific and Asiatic waters. Two of England’s most powerful warships, the dreadnaught Prince of Wales and the battle cruiser Repulse of the British Asiatic Fleet, had been sent to the bottom off the Malayan coast.

  The victory was accomplished without the participation of Japanese surface vessels. Seventy-five twin-engine, land-based attack bombers of the Navy’s 22nd Air Flotilla, under the command of Rear Admiral Sadaichi Matsunaga, had carried out the devastating attack and, in a single blow, ren­dered Britain’s Asiatic sea power impotent.

  Even more dramatically than the Pearl Harbor attack, this action typified the sudden changes in a balance of mil­itary power which could be wrought by bombing aircraft. Japan’s air power accomplished England’s reduction from her position as a major naval power in the Indian Ocean to a state of helplessness at the unbelievably low cost of only three bombing airplanes, all of which succeeded in crash­ing into a British warship as they went down.

  During the summer of 1941, the 22nd Air Flotilla had been undergoing intensified combat flight training at the Naval Air Force Base in southern Formosa. In late October the flotilla was ordered to move its headquarters to Saigon, the capital of French Indochina. Two air corps of the flotilla were simultaneously transferred to new bases. The Genzan Air Corps, consisting of forty-eight Type 96 land-based attack bombers, moved to Saigon via Hainan Island; and the Mihoro Air Corps, similarly equipped with forty-eight Type 96 bombers, transferred to Thudaumot, north of Saigon.

  The flotilla’s fighter-plane unit, consisting of thirty-six Mitsubishi Zero fighters, and the reconnaissance plane unit with six Type 98 land-based reconnaissance planes, were moved under direct command of Rear Admiral Matsunaga to the advanced base at Soctrang, south of Saigon.

  These air units were specifically charged with (1) destruction of enemy fleet forces and the protection of our troop transports carrying the Army Malaya Landing Force; (2) destruction of the enemy’s air forces stationed around Singapore; (3) maintaining a sea patrol.

  The strategy adopted just prior to the opening of hostil­ities in the Pacific War called for the Army Air Force to assume air responsibility for this area. At this time, however, the Army Air Force lacked striking power and was almost useless for air combat operations. The Navy had lit­tle faith in the ability of Army units to attack with any suc­cess the enemy’s surface vessels; indeed, the Army was sadly deficient in the means and the experience with which to carry out overwater military activities.

  Had the war broken out at this time (October) rather than during the planned date of the first week in December, the Army would not have possessed a single aircraft capa­ble of bombing Singapore, the largest and most powerful British base in the area, from our main base in French Indochina.

  This deporable situation prevailed despite the fact that the British fleet and the bombers based at Singapore were considered the greatest menace to the Army transports which had been scheduled to carry the Army Landing Force from French Indochina for the invasion of Malaya. Considering the vital objectives at hand, Admiral Isoroku Yamamoto, Commander in Chief of the Combined Fleet, personally interceded and ordered the 22nd Air Flotilla to move immediately to its new bases in French Indochina.

  In late November of 1941, we received intelligence reports stating that two British battleships had been sighted moving in an easterly direction through the Indian Ocean. Additional reports from the area indicated later that the two warships had arrived at Singapore on December 2 or 3. It was also determined that the commander of the newly strengthened fleet was Vice-Admiral Sir Tom Phillips, and that the two large warships were the new King George V and the fast battle cruiser Repulse.

  Subsequent to the action of December 10, the battleship was identified as the Prince of Wales, of the same class as the King George V, which six months previously had played an important role in the sinking of the German dreadnaught Bismarck.

  The Japanese plans for the Malayan invasion were seri­ously threatened by the unexpected appearance of the two powerful British warships in the area. Conservative esti­mates by our intelligence indicated that the two British warships were even more powerful than our fast battleships Kongo and Haruna, then under the command of Vice-Admiral Nobutake Kondo, the leading Japanese Navy commander in the theater, and Commander in Chief of the Second Fleet.

  Admiral Kondo had under his direct command not only the two battleships, but also two heavy cruisers, one light cruiser, and ten destroyers. In addition to this force, five heavy cruisers, one light cruiser, and fourteen destroyers were under Vice-Admiral Jisaburo Ozawa, Commander in Chief of the Malaya Force.

  To support this surface strength Admiral Yamamoto, when informed of the appearance of the Prince of Wales and the Repulse at Singapore, ordered twenty-seven Type 1 land-based attack bombers of the Kanoya Air Corps, which had been stationed in South Formosa, to move immedi­ately to a new base in French Indochina. They were placed under the command of Rear Admiral Matsunaga.

  This was the final disposition of our forces in the area as the scheduled date for initiating the war approached.

  By the middle of the first week in December our air, sea, and ground forces were poised to strike against the enemy. Our operations involved the taut period of waiting and patrolling. We paid particularly close attention to the movements of the British Asiatic Fleet. Starting early in December, partly for the purpose of tracking the Prince of Wales and the Repulse, we patrolled the ocean waters sur­rounding French Indochina, Malaya, and Borneo daily with land-based attack bombers.

  Tension among the air units was at a high pitch. To date all our movements had been carried out successfully, but at any moment the enemy might discover our plans and cause confusion among the closely coordinated activities of our air, sea, and land elements.

  Lieutenant Sadao Takai, a squadron leader of the Gen­zan Air Corps, who participated in the preattack sea patrol and later in the Malaya sea battle, kept detailed notes of activities at the time:

  “Two days before the scheduled date of opening hostil­ities, we patrolled the ocean as far as one hundred nautical miles south of Singapore. Patrol duty was an unpleasant experience; we were a single lonely plane flying through the cloudless skies over the southern sea. My crew uttered hardly a word during these long flights, almost constantly holding their breath, their eyes turned toward Singapore. The great British military base had been set as our target on the first night of the war, in the event that the British fleet should fail to leave the protection of the shore guns. Perhaps my men were carrying out their duties too intently; they seemed to be attempting to gain useful expe­rience from every moment spent in the air during the tedious patrol missions. Everyone in the aircraft was in a confused state of mind, which was caused by the need for constant caution, by anticipation as to what would occur when the fighting began, and by a strong desire to be as proficient as possible in his duties.

  “Not a single vessel or airplane was seen. The sea stretching endlessly before our bomber was so calm that not a wave was visible. It was hardly believable that only two days from now the war would start.”

  Full-scale patrol of the ocean area in which the first attacks would take place had commenced several days before the scheduled opening of hostilities but, as is evi­dent from Lieutenant Takai’s detailed report, many of the searching bombers failed to sight any movement on the part of the British fleet or air forces. So
me British planes were observed by the Japanese bombers, but without hos­tile action taken by either side.

  Lieutenant Takai’s report continues:

  “The Navy had ordered that all personnel engaged in search missions were to concentrate on the movement of the two British battleships. We flew our patrols every day, seeing nothing, growing more and more tense as the attack date approached. The nerve-racking stillness over the ocean might well be described as the ‘calm before the storm.’

  “December 6, 1941. The troop transports carrying the Army landing force scheduled to invade the east shores of Malaya were proceeding westward off the south Indochina coast. Troop convoys are always infuriatingly slow in their movement; this phase of the attack operation was the bot­tleneck in our scheduled invasion of the enemy-held terri­tory. Under constant fighter-plane cover, however, the fleet was advancing slowly toward Kota Bharu in Malaya. For­tunately, the sea was calm and the transports went unob­served, but this Japanese feudal-lord procession-like fleet could not remain completely safe forever!

  “On this same day our worst fears were realized. British flying-boat patrol bombers discovered the convoy of troopships! Our entire invasion plan was completely exposed to the enemy long before we were able to launch the invasion of Malaya. It was perfectly clear to the British what a fleet composed of thirty vessels in formation repre­sented, to what area it was headed, and when it would arrive at its destination. We were compelled to immediately change our tactics from secret operation to open move­ment. The possibility of an enemy aerial attack on our air bases in French Indochina was a cause for grave concern. Immediately we began to disperse our bombing squadrons to bases covering a wider area than they embraced.

  “The day before the opening of the war dawned quietly. We hoped and prayed that the enemy would not take any action. Every radio dispatch was carefully studied for a hint of possible attack. We were worried that the British might attack the troopship convoy. Whenever a long inter­val went by without receipt of a radio dispatch, we feared we might have missed the news of possible fighting. On the other hand, whenever a radio message was received, we were afraid it would bring bad news. The scope of the area and the size of the forces involved were so great that almost anything could happen. We all wondered if our meticulously laid plans would really succeed. The constant waiting and wondering made sleep almost impossible.

  “My most important duty was to have all my bombers prepared to launch an attack at a moment’s notice. The armament we were to carry would, of course, depend upon the object of any attack. If land objectives were to be bombed, then special bomb racks would have to be mounted, because we would carry a large number of small-size bombs.

  “If enemy ships were to be attacked, we would carry either heavy bombs or torpedoes. Unless my airplanes were in constant readiness to be loaded with any of these three types of weapons, they would be useless for the forthcom­ing air battles, in which even the slightest delay in joining the action could prove disastrous. The ground crews which maintained our planes in combat-ready condition were lit­tle known to the public in contrast to the attention bestowed upon the flight crews. It often happens, however, that the armament and ground crews hold the key to vic­tory or defeat.

  “No sign was received to indicate that the British fleet would leave Singapore to attack our surface vessels. The order was given; we would bomb Singapore on the first night of the war as originally scheduled.

  “The flight crew of every airplane had been trained to perfection. This was our final moment. We had studied the bombing and attack plans so many times we had memorized every detail. Special preparations were unnecessary. Beyond the normal need for mechanical maintenance and the loading of our aircraft with bombs or torpedoes, we were ready to attack. Our only worry was the strength of possible enemy aerial counterattacks.

  “However, as the war was to be opened in this theater by bombs dropped by our own aircraft, everyone was in high spirits. We were determined to frighten the enemy out of their wits. This was to be our first large-scale naval action, and our concern was not for our safety, but rather how much damage our aerial bombs and torpedoes would inflict on the enemy battleships.

  “December 7, 1941. The day just before the opening of the war passed quietly and without incident. The British failed to attack. Three squadrons (twenty-seven planes) of the Mihoro Air Corps and three squadrons of the Genzan Air Corps roared from their bases in south Indochina into the black of night for Singapore, as scheduled.

  “The southern sky was filled with cumulo-nimbus clouds which were peculiar to this area. My fears of very bad weather were realized when the twenty-seven bombers of the Genzan Air Corps, to which I belonged, suddenly were enveloped in thick clouds as we were climbing. As squadron leader of the 2nd Squadron, I placed my plane at the head of a nine-bomber flight.

  “Visibility was so poor that it was almost impossible to recognize the formation lights of the two aircraft immedi­ately behind me. The air was extremely rough; the plane rocked and shook. Sheets of rain drummed on the wings and fuselage and smashed against the cockpit windshield. Without changing course I began a descent to a lower altitude.

  “Behind me, some high, others low, could be seen the glowing red, green, and yellow lights of the bombers in my squadron as they struggled to maintain formation in the rough air. Every now and then great flashes of lightning were reflected from the whirling propeller blades of the bombers. The pilots were trying desperately to hold the group together, so that they would not be left behind or separated from the formation, to become lost over the sea.

  “I was still losing altitude when directly below the aircraft there appeared the dull white crests of waves streak­ing the black ocean surface. I pulled up from the steady descent, and searched for the other bombers; only two of the original squadron of nine were in sight. It seemed almost impossible to reorganize the formation. I was still looking vainly for an area of clear sky amidst the boiling clouds and rain when a “Return to base” order was received by wireless from Lieutenant Commander Niichi Nakanishi, our wing commander. All bombers returned to their takeoff points.

  “Later that night we received a radio message telling of the successful first bombing attack on Singapore. The Mihoro Air Corps bombers were unobstructed by weather and had carried out their raids as scheduled. Our bomber crews were annoyed and disgusted that, in the first attack of the war, the Genzan Air Corps had not even reached its bombing objective and, because of weather conditions, had been scattered all over the sky.

  “December 8, 1941. This morning dawned quietly. By some miracle the enemy had still not attacked our air bases in French Indochina, much to the relief of all pilots and crew members. Our Army planes were already active and were carrying out their bombing missions against the enemy forces. It was inconceivable that the enemy would not launch a heavy attack against our airfields, and my squadron moved at once to a nearby French army air base.

  “A French army officer approached my bomber this morning, smiling broadly and speaking rapidly in his native tongue. It had been a long time since I studied French at the Naval Academy, and I was unable to understand a word he was saying. We later discovered that the French officer had been congratulating us for our Navy’s successful attack on Pearl Harbor.

  “Until that moment, when we discovered what the excited French officer was trying to tell us, we were unaware of the great assault on the American air and naval bastion.

  “Neither our constant bomber patrols over the ocean, or the reconnaissance flights over Singapore, had yet discov­ered any activity by the British battleships. We could not understand what caused the enemy to delay throwing these powerful vessels into action.

  “Today was the most critical phase of our operations; the Army troops were scheduled to invade Malaya. Should the British warships or their bombers attack our transports during the assault operation, we might be in serious trou­ble. The absence of the enemy fleet made us feel that something was amiss,
that the British might spring a sudden attack upon us. I know that, had I been the commander of those two mighty warships, I would have taken them out to sea off Kota Bharu, the Army’s invasion point on Malaya, and attacked.

  “While we were standing by, waiting for orders to take off in the event of enemy action, we received word that our transports were moving into Kota Bharu.

  “All the men of the Genzan Air Corps were sorely disap­pointed that the first great bombing of the war was made by the aircraft carriers attacking Pearl Harbor. On the other hand, our questions as to the effectiveness of our aerial bombs and torpedoes were fully answered by the smashing success of the carrier planes which had raided the Hawai­ian Islands.

  “December 9, 1941. This morning one of our Type 98 reconnaissance planes flew over the Singapore Naval Base. All squadrons anxiously awaited the crew’s report which might reveal the location of the British battleships.

  “The news was good; the two battleships were still anchored at Singapore. Everybody relaxed; our troopships were free of the threat of the big British guns. Although we had nothing to fear from the warships as long as they remained in Singapore, at any moment the British might move the ships out to sea where they would be in a posi­tion to attack.

  “Rear Admiral Matsunaga called a staff conference in his headquarters to determine the feasibility of having our bombers make a mass torpedo attack against the warships while they remained within the base.

  “All pilots and aircrew members were in high spirits. We had found the battleships, and the opportunity to gain even more glorious fame than the men who had successfully attacked Pearl Harbor beckoned to us. Everybody was busy investigating the water depths at the Singapore Naval Base, the best directions from which to attack, and the most advantageous flight formations to utilize.

 

‹ Prev