Zero

by Masatake Okumiya

  Murata was one of Japan’s outstanding naval officers. We had the opportunity at Truk to discuss the forthcoming battle in which we were now engaged. “I am grateful, Masatake, for all the work you have done with us in the past,” he told me at Truk. “This time especially we are depending on you.” He smiled, “The operations command does not always understand the finer points of air attack. Remember the Second Sea Battle of the Solomons? Even those ships on which Mamo (Lieutenant Commander Mamoru Seki) scored direct hits and which were set afire managed to escape. This time I hope the staff will be wise enough to use as many torpedoes as possible. Perhaps then we will be able to avenge our losses at Midway.”

  Murata’s second attack group reached the enemy warships at approximately 8:25 A.M., and attacked a fleet unit which included one aircraft carrier. Murata encountered the new force about twenty miles southeast of the carrier which already had been heavily damaged. We received reports from his group that three 550-pound bombs and at least two torpedoes struck a Yorktown-class carrier, and that a battleship was hit with two torpedoes and a cruiser with one torpedo.

  We heard Murata give the familiar “All planes go in!” command. That was our last contact with him.

  Lieutenant Sadomu Takahashi of the Zuikaku suddenly discovered an enemy fighter on the tail of his dive bomber. Frantic maneuvers saved him from being shot down but his plane was so seriously damaged that the rudder jammed and the bomber flew in wide circles. After six hours of frustrating circling flight, Takahashi’s fuel was nearly exhausted and he decided to abandon the airplane. By a stroke of luck he sighted one of our tankers and dropped the plane into the water near the ship, which res­cued Takahashi and his crew. Lieutenant Yutaka Ishimaru, another former student of mine, was shot up by enemy fighters as he was returning to his carrier. Seriously wounded, he ditched his plane near a destroyer which picked him up. A few minutes later he died.

  The Second Carrier Division Pursues the Enemy

  The Kakuda Force listened anxiously to the battle reports of the 1st Carrier Division. The news of the damaging strikes against the first carrier cheered our men, who were anxious to join the assault. Shortly after 10:00 A.M., Lieutenant Masao Yamaguchi led eighteen dive bombers escorted by twelve fighter planes under Lieutenant Yoshio Shiga from the Junyo. Soon afterward the second attack group of nine torpedo bombers and five fighters led by Lieutenant Yoshiaki Irikiin took off. One of the fighter plane leaders, Lieutenant Shigematsu, was forced to return to the carrier because of mechanical difficulties. There was talk among the other pilots of the unusual “mechanical trouble”; Shigematsu waited impatiently on deck for engine repair and took off alone to rejoin his planes. A courageous fighter at Midway who survived the loss of the Hiryu, Shigematsu realized the vital role even one experi­enced pilot could play in a large-scale air battle.

  A little past the noon hour the first attack force sighted a burning enemy aircraft carrier and several other warships, but failed to sight the second carrier which had been reported in the area. The attack-force leader notified Kakuda that he was going to attack a battleship in the enemy fleet; as his planes formed for the dive-bombing attacks, Kakuda received a message from one of his recon­naissance planes which had sighted an undamaged enemy carrier. Kakuda ordered his planes to attack the carrier; Lieutenant Commander Okada, communications staff offi­cer, transmitted the new order to Lieutenant Yamaguchi.

  The minutes dragged by and finally the radio crackled with the familiar combat commands. We heard Yam­aguchi’s voice:

  “Enemy aircraft carrier in sight. . . . All planes go in!”

  Aboard the Junyo’s bridge one of the officers grinned and shouted with joy. We now had a chance to destroy two of the largest American carriers. Everything depended upon Yamaguchi’s men. Rear Admiral Kakuda smiled at the news of the attack and turned to Okada and me: “Our men have become quite proficient. The ship functions as a team. Perhaps we shall compensate for Midway.”

  As Lieutenant Irikiin led the torpedo planes of the sec­ond attack group to the scene of action he learned that the formations preceeding his planes had attacked the undam­aged carrier. Irikiin anticipated that the carrier would either be crippled or sinking before he arrived; his expectations were justified, for when he arrived at 1:15 P.M. the ship was aflame. The lieutenant’s planes dove in to attack. Three torpedoes blew open the carrier’s hull for the final strike against the ship.

  The battle appeared to be entirely in our favor.

  Once her planes were launched, the Junyo continued toward the enemy ships under full steam with only three destroyers as escorts. Kakuda ordered this bold maneuver because he wished to shorten the distance between the car­rier and the planes returning from the attack. Kakuda was an aggressive fighter; the lessened distance between his carrier and the enemy fleet would permit, if it should prove necessary, additional bombings to be made.

  In the early afternoon our lookouts sighted in the eastern sky several small planes rapidly approaching the Junyo. The planes skimmed just over the waves, so low that our radar failed to pick them up. We could not identify the aircraft and alerted the ship for the air attack. Finally we identified the first plane as a friendly; the pilot rocked the airplane, raising and lowering his wingtips to identify himself; he was a stray who had lost his own carrier.

  Shortly afterward the Junyo’s planes began to return. Lookouts sighted the planes straggling toward the carrier; only six Zeros flew formation. The remainder flew in from all directions. We searched the sky with apprehension. There were only a few planes in the air in comparison to the number launched several hours before. We could see only five or six dive bombers. The planes lurched and stag­gered onto the deck, every single fighter and bomber bullet-holed. Some planes were literally flying sieves. As the pilots climbed wearily from their cramped cockpits they told of unbelievable opposition, of skies choked with antiaircraft shell bursts and tracers.

  Amidst the confusion of the returning planes Kakuda turned to me. “Air Staff, go to the hangar deck and see how many of our remaining planes can be sent out immediately for further attacks.” The admiral had only one thought in mind: he wanted that carrier!

  Flight Officer Yoshio Sakinaga was occupied with the landing planes and could not leave his post. I ran down the three long ladders to the hangar deck where the mechanics attended to the battered airplanes. Of all the planes aboard the Junyo, including the strays from the 1st Carrier Divi­sion, only six dive bombers and nine fighter planes were in condition to fly.

  Kakuda ordered a third attack to be launched as soon as the planes were armed and fueled. The carrier’s captain, Okada, sent the orders throughout the ship. “Prepare nine fighters and six dive bombers for attack. Planes will take off immediately after servicing.”

  Lieutenant Commander Sakinaga assembled his pilots for the mission, and assigned Lieutenant Shiga, the Junyo’s flight group leader, to lead the new flight. Lieutenant Ayao Shirane of the Zuikaku, who had made a forced landing on our ship, also received orders to fly with the group.

  Shirane was a veteran warrior who had fought in China and who had led the Nagumo Force’s fighter planes into Pearl Harbor. He was an outstanding fighter pilot who came from a distinguished Japanese family. Skilled, well-educated, and of unusual build, he commanded the respect of his fellow fliers. The eight fighter pilots who would fly again for the third time today were more than pleased to have Shirane with them.

  The dive-bomber unit had lost its leaders, Lieutenants Yamaguchi and Naohiko Miura. The surviving senior pilot was Lieutenant (J.G.) Shunko Kato, a young officer with an unusually childlike face. Because of his weight his fellow pilots jokingly called him Ton-chan, or Fat Pig. Kato was the youngest reconnaissance officer assigned to the Junyo; his baby face and cheerful disposition made him one of the most popular men aboard the ship.

  When the third attack was ordered, however, Kato was anything but cheerful. Today was his first experience in battle against an enemy carrier force, and Kato ha
d literally gone through hell. Enemy fighter-plane attacks and the incredible antiaircraft defenses had taken a heavy toll of Kato’s friends; his own plane had been hit many times and he had narrowly escaped death on several occasions on his first missions. When he reported the details of the dive-bomber attack to Captain Tametsugu Okada, Kato was so shaken that at times he could not speak coherently. Young and lacking experience in circumstances where his friends died all around him, he had suffered a nasty shock.

  Less than a half hour after he completed his report, the admiral issued the new attack orders. I found Kato in the aircrew waiting room on the flight deck, and told him he was to fly again. To our astonishment, Kato rose from his seat and asked, “Again? Am I to fly again today?” He could not believe after the terrible losses we had suffered that he would be ordered to return to the carnage he had gratefully left. It was difficult for me to explain to someone like Kato why he had to fly again; I remained on the ship.

  Lieutenant Shiga jumped to his feet and shouted across the room. “Ton-chan; this is war! There can be no rest in our fight against the enemy . . . we cannot afford to give them a chance when their ships are crippled. Otherwise we will face those same ships again. We have no choice . . . we go!” A veteran of China, Shiga fought at Pearl Harbor and in the Aleutians and since that time had served with me in the Kakuda Force. Ever since the Aleutians attack he had been the Junyo’s fighter-unit leader. Even now he was preparing to take off with the few remaining planes.

  Kato stood silently and then stated simply: “I will go.” He was not a coward; he had been unnerved by his shatter­ing introduction to actual combat and, in a weak moment, he needed the harsh but sincere assistance of his senior officer. I silently thanked the Fates which allowed me, on this ship at least, the company of experienced and capable officers. We had avoided what could have been a serious blow to the morale of the ship. Kato would be all right.

  Before takeoff, the young pilot addressed his dive-bomber crews. “We are about to leave for our third attack mission of the day. Our mission is to destroy the enemy’s aircraft carriers. Follow me when I attack. Take your planes as low as possible to assure hits. That is all. Man your planes.”

  All through the preparations for the third attack Admi­ral Kakuda did not utter a single word. His subordinates carried out their tasks quickly and efficiently. The Junyo was a good ship. Kakuda ordered full steam ahead in the direction of the enemy. That was his only message to his men. So long as the ship continued on this course, every airplane capable of taking off from the deck would be launched to attack the enemy forces. If it were necessary, Kakuda would not hesitate to sail his ship directly into the enemy fleet and ram the largest enemy carrier he could find. Kakuda was a hard but a courageous taskmaster.

  The third attack force took off to deliver the coup de grâce.

  By late afternoon several hours had gone by without any attacks against the Nagumo Force. We estimated that by this time the Zuikaku’s third attack force should have completed its missions and, were this true, Kato’s small force would be the only air-attack strength remaining of both the American and Japanese battle fleets. It was a ludi­crous situation, for Kato controlled greater power than any of the dreadnaughts, cruisers, and other warships on the vast ocean surface below him. I regretted that I could not be in his place; I would have given anything to be flying that lead dive bomber. But I never flew at the controls of a plane again after my last crash; I was no longer strong enough to handle the plane. I could not help but feel uncomfortable, for I remained on the ship while Kato and his men followed my orders.

  Every man on the Junyo had his heart with Kato. Everyone waited, anxious and quiet, for the first reports to come in. The first metallic words over the radio startled us.

  “Enemy aircraft carrier is now in sight.” Then silence, and the familiar, cheering words: “All planes go in!” How many times this day had we heard the last command before combat; now, only six dive bombers of the former great air fleet were left to execute the order.

  On the bridge of the Junyo we sweated out the next reports. The minutes dragged by. Officers and crewmen paced back and forth silently. I stayed close to the speaking tube which led to the radio room, waiting for the first news.

  Suddenly the tube roared into life “Succeeded in bomb­ing. The attack is successful!” The commander called to the communications room: “Is Kato still flying?” Then silence, and the cheerful single word to us as he put down the phone: “Good!”

  An hour later we sighted the first returning plane. The sky was darkening quickly and the blinking red and green lights in the wings of the bomber grew brighter as the plane glided in for its landing. A flushed and triumphant Kato climbed down from his bullet-riddled bomber.

  The day’s operations were complete. Our men had fought continually and had suffered severe losses in their attacks against the enemy carriers. I summarized the day’s events in my personal memo book:

  “The efficient radio communications between the carri­ers and airborne planes allowed the first attack force to locate a new enemy aircraft carrier. In the vicinity of the carrier broken clouds were thickening at seven thousand feet. Lieutenant Shiga discovered the enemy ship through the clouds but soon lost sight of the vessel because of the rapidly forming cloud masses. Lieutenant Yamaguchi dove toward the sea in an attempt to find the enemy warship but soon became lost in the swirling banks. Finally breaking into the clear, he discovered an enemy battleship directly beneath him and released his bombs. He scored several direct hits and the other pilots in the formation attacked cruisers which were nearby. Consequently only a part of the original force which finally found the carrier was available to attack the ship. Fighters which later flew over the combat scene reported the carrier in flames.

  “We judged that the second torpedo-plane unit had suc­ceeded in breaking through a fierce antiaircraft defense and intercepting fighter planes to score at least four or five torpedo strikes against the burning warship. The attack was extremely costly, for only two of the planes of our torpedo force returned to their ship. As the third attack failed to arouse enemy fighter opposition, we confirmed our esti­mated direct hits against the ship.

  “These reports were brought in by the fighter pilots who flew escort high above the dive and torpedo bombers. The battle proved so intense and enemy opposition so severe that the bomber crews were unable to assess the results of their attacks.”

  With the operation completed, the Junyo was still steaming at full speed toward the enemy fleet. We had many reports which claimed that both American carriers had gone to the bottom; however, most of these reports were assumptions and could not be confirmed. We must be ready to carry out additional attacks on the following day. All through the night the weary mechanics and aircrew personnel labored to prepare their battered airplanes for flight.

  Last Moments of the Hornet

  Admiral Yamamoto was kept fully informed of the battle’s progress during his stay at Truk. With the battle clearly in our favor, he ordered the entire fleet to pursue the remain­ing enemy ships and to take every means of destroying the major combat vessels of the enemy force. This was sweet revenge, for the plight of the enemy fleet fleeing after los­ing its aircraft-carrier strength was exactly what we had experienced—only on a larger scale—at Midway. We could not afford to lose for a moment the advantage we had fought for so desperately.

  All through the night, as our warships plunged at top speed through the Pacific, we could hear enemy flying boats searching for our fleet. The pursuit became increas­ingly difficult to maintain. The destroyers escorting the Junyo and the Zuikaku sent out urgent appeals for fuel oil. Their plight was so desperate that they risked enemy attack by sending out direct radio signals. Other vessels began to lag behind and the fleet’s formation began to stretch out. Many of our captains hesitated to race at full speed toward an enemy fleet which we suspected might harbor yet another aircraft carrier; they did not want to expose their vessels to heavy u
nexpected air assault. We had moved recklessly at Midway in almost this same situation and paid the price for our folly. We could not be sure that a third carrier was not waiting to attack, for our second attack group had encountered enemy fighters after previ­ous planes had poured their bombs and torpedoes into the carriers under attack on the twenty-sixth.

  Because of this overcautious maneuvering and the reluctance of many commanders we failed to catch the fleeing enemy warships, although we continued the chase until the morning of the following day. At midnight of the twenty-sixth advance warships were maintaining full speed when they suddenly encountered several enemy destroyers preparing to sink the crippled Hornet. We were under instructions from Combined Fleet headquarters to capture, if possible, the Hornet, which we knew to be seri­ously disabled. Our fleet units, however, did not close; at least we confirmed that the Hornet’s demise was but a mat­ter of a few minutes.

  From the Junyo’s bridge I saw a red glow lighting the horizon far to the east of our carrier; this I presumed to be the blazing hulk of the sinking American carrier. I won­dered at the time how the war might have been changed had our Navy been fortunate enough to have more combat officers like Read Admiral Kakuda.

  The other enemy carrier which had been attacked by our planes was the Enterprise. The badly damaged ship managed to make good its escape from our pursuing fleet and, as we had been warned, we could not afford to allow even a single enemy warship to survive. By the middle of November the Enterprise had been repaired.