A Zero Pilot’s Tale
by Sir
Hamilton
The training we endured was
worth it. Punishment for not doing well, being punished for doing good, your instructor wanted more from you.
All that was now behind us. To be a pilot in
the Imperial Japanese Navy is an honor. We knew we were the best as we stood
erect at our graduation ceremonies as new pilots.
These were my thoughts as I
stood like a statue. Our families were so
proud and we did celebrate. A young solider knows no fear. You are made of
steel. You are immortal.
The war was now a month old
and our navy controlled the Pacific. We knew the Americans had three aircraft
carriers and if we act quickly we may decimate the balance of their fleet and
remove
My older brother had been
one of the “Betty” bomber pilots that sank the Prince of Wells and the
Repulse. How war had changed. Our aircraft and warships were invincible. Where
ever Japan
attacked we were victorious. Now the Philippines
would be in Japanese hands by spring.
Carrier training was a
challenge but thrilling. To watch the flag drop and the deck captain throw his
baton forward with his whole body pointing to the end of the flight deck your
fighter rolls forward. Faster and faster the wind whips into your open canopy as
the end of the deck disappears beneath your wings. Then as if a hand lifted
you up your wheels leave the deck and spin freely. We were like flying spirits.
Free. Bound for heaven. Soaring over the fleet. From our carrier decks flew our
best, our bravest.
And to land back onto your ship, I had no problem. I saw the ship as wanting me back. The carrier was as a mother wanting to take in her young fighters to feed and rest them. I lined up my Zero with its flaps lowered and throttled down just slightly. Your landing gear reaching toward the safety of the deck. It was as if the wind set me down. We loved our ship and we loved our airplanes. Our crews were well trained and ready to serve our country.
My first assignment was on
the Soryu. My first battles were in the Java
Sea. The A6M2 was my fighter, my Zero. My squadron mates and I flew on escort
missions either with Val dive bombers or Kate bombers. Sometimes the Kate’s
carried torpedoes. I watched the USS Langley sink as I fought off English and
American fighters.
Seven Americans and three
English fell to my guns. I felt no remorse as I fired into an enemy fighter. I
felt immortal. I was praised by my commanding officer. I would soon led my own
squadron.
We then sailed into the
We caught two cruisers, the
HMS Cornwall and Dorsetshire off the English base at Colombo. Eighty of our dive bombers led by Lt-Commander Takashiye Egusa, our air group
commander sank them. I watched as our fighters covered our bombers. I watched
one of the rear gunners in a Val wave at me and my group as we passed them.
Number 347 was on the tail of the aircraft. I wished them well.
Within minutes we were
attacking. The enemy cruisers started to turn at high speed in order to throw
off the dive bombers. I thought I saw an enemy fighter pass by so I kicked
rudder in pursuit. I leveled out and saw no enemy fighters, only our aircraft
and thousands of cotton balls hanging in the air from anti-aircraft shells
exploding.
I banked hard with my wings
parallel with the sea. I pulled the control stick back in order to orbit above
the ships. I looked down my right wing past its tip and saw a cruiser on the
ocean three thousand feet below me, There were a flight of three Val’s
pointed down towards the ship in their dive. I flew and watched for a moment. As
I watched I saw the skill of our dive bomber pilots as they tracked the
direction of the fleeing ship determined in their pursuit.
I had to level out and banked left. I flew level and banked again to look over my left wing at the ship. I had not seen the dive bombers drop their bombs but they must have been painfully accurate because a blossoming mushroom cloud of fire boiled into the air from the ship. All I cared about now was to protect the dive bombers as they left the target area.
Along with the two cruisers
the aircraft carrier HMS Hermes was sank by another group. Are we invincible!
Were the Gods smiling on us? Was this a divine wind? Were we riding history as
it wrote itself?
We returned to
My brother was now stationed
in Burma
and was fighting against the voluntary American squadrons called the Flying
Tigers. He wrote me that he had seen much combat and had lost many friends. I
wrote him back to tell him of our victories and that my squadron and I had
hardly been scratched. I did not realize that my brother was seeing another side
of aerial combat. Combat where you may be victorious but at a very high cost.
For the few that we lost so far we knew that we caused our enemy great defeat. You did not morn the loss of a fellow pilot or seaman. You celebrated their deaths. Their deaths were glorious.
As we regrouped for another
cruse the Battle
of the Coral Sea
brought our first loses. The carrier Shoho was sunk and the Shokaku was
damaged. Many aviators were lost. We may not be invincible after all.
June 4th, 1942
with the wind coming over the flight deck of the Kaga I took flight north-west of
It was a stiff fight we
received from the American fighters however I was able to fire into the barrel
bodied fighter called a “
We had our losses also. On
the trip back to the Soryu I came upon a smoldering Val. As I got closer a fire
became visible behind the cowling in front of the pilot. I got to within a
hundred yards looking off my right at the Val as the flames suddenly engulfed
the pilot. I watched the rear gunner get up and stand on the wing root holding
on to the canopy rail. The flames were coming down the fuselage, there was no where
for the gunner to go. The gunner put his hands together as if praying and as if
by magic he separated from the disabled airplane. He fell free praying.
I wish that I could have
reached out and grabbed him but I could not. As the nose of the Val dropped and
started to fall I noticed the number on the tail of the Val, 347! I was stunned.
I convinced myself on the flight back to my ship that the crew of the Val died a glorious
death. We had hit the
When we returned to our
carrier we learned that the fleet had been attacked by torpedo and dive bombers
from Midway. All enemy aircraft were shot down or driven off. There were rumors
of enemy carriers near by because there had been too many attacking aircraft to
just come from
This was going to be a
battle that would last all day or until Midway surrendered. I headed to debriefing to get some
rice and tea. The air raid horns sounded and
as soon as I entered the door to the island I stepped back out to see if I could
see anything. Everyone was running. Aircraft sat on the deck with fuel hoses in
their wings. Bombs and torpedoes where everywhere on deck secure in their
dollies.
I looked around I could see
nothing. The anti-aircraft guns were filled with rage as they sang in a chorus.
Their roar was all consuming. My body pulsated with the repeated percussions of
their firings. I put my hand up to me eyes and looked above me. I turned white.
I saw dive bombers perfectly lined up on our ship. I saw small black dots
separate from the falling aircraft. These were bombs and they were aimed at me!
No time to holler out a
warning, I turned and ran the thirty feet to the side of the flight deck and
jumped over the side. I just missed jumping into a side gun well. The gun crews
were too busy to watch my dive past them. The water came up as fast as the bombs
came down. Hitting the water hard I went under and just as I stopped descending
I felt the concussions from the exploding bombs. Fortunate for me there were no
near misses in the water on my side of the carrier.
As I came up debris of
everything imaginable showered down on me. Compressors, tools and equipment.
Wings of airplanes and men on fire flew through the air around me. My guts were
in my throat. I looked up as the Kaga sailed past me. The entire deck was
ablaze. I am sure no one from my air group survived. Burning men were leaping
from the flight deck. I cried.
I was pulled from the water
and sailed back to Japan
in the medical unit of a destroyer. I faced the wall. I herd the stories passed
around the ship. We had been defeated. Horrible defeat. Thousands of sailors and
hundreds of airmen were lost. I never turned my head and talked to anyone until
I was home.
My mother looked over me in
my hospital bed. I had broken ribs, and a concussion. But I was also broken
inside. I was taken out of combat and managed to spend two years at a desk
trying to get aircraft parts out to our remaining carriers and airfields in the
January 1945. My brother is
dead and most everyone I originally trained with has also perished. I requested to be transferred
back to flying. We were preparing for the attack on
We had a fight on our hands
as waves of carrier flights arrived in the day and B-29 raids at night.
Specialized squadrons were put together making up our first kamikaze volunteers.
I was to help train and lead them into combat. Their only combat. With my
experience I told them that they should follow me. Their aircraft did not have radios. I will go in and attack
first and fire all my guns into the gun wells of our target ship. My attack should
help spoil the anti-aircraft fire from the ship for our heroes to be able to fly into.
I would try to pave the way for them to be successful.
I flew towards the enemy
fleet with three young men following me to their deaths. All I could do for my
inner self was to hope that if they give their lives then let it be glorious. I
will tell their parents they died honorably.
Now here I am speeding
towards my death. My Zero has lost its right wing and is in an uncontrollable
spiral towards the ship. My arms are frozen to the control stick.
Looking forward locked in a
trance I see everything spinning. It’s strange how time slows in such
stressful circumstances. I see in the center of my field of vision an American
curser. From stem to stern the vessel is blinking like an American Christmas
tree going round and round. From those flashes come up towards me yellowish
orange fireballs. One such tore off my wing as I was approaching the ship. Now I spin. No controls are working. I know that my dive has
frozen my efforts. My fate has been written. So my beliefs are true. When it
happens to you, then you have been chosen.
I squeeze the trigger on my
control stick. Only one of my guns is firing. I see my bullets reach out towards
the ship in an oval. This too traces my incoming path. The crews of the guns are
furiously working to feed the shells into the overheating antiaircraft guns. I
see them clearly wearing life vests and helmets.
If I die let me hit the ship. I did not sign up as a kamikaze pilot, but now I am doomed. Let me offer my last efforts to my country. The ship increases in size spinning. My vision becomes a gray whirlpool sucking me into infinity.
This short story was written by and is property of Sir Ernie Hamilton Boyette!
For god's sake can you creeps NOT steal this story also!
I am getting sick and tired of the worthless filth that openly steal from me.
Just ask permission.
5-27-07