The Matsuyama brothers vs. the Allies. A Family Chronicle

[Vetamur]

My first AAR. Based on a PBEM using Stock everything, Scenario 15. Opponent is a friend of friend who isn’t active here (yet) who indirectly introduced me to the game last year. I’m not very experienced and may get destroyed quickly, that’s ok.

I have been toying with a World War II novel about a Tokko (Kamikaze) pilot and have decided to use this as sort of “practice”. This means I will be writing this in the “Hibiki/Cuttlefish” method. “Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery” and that AAR is clearly the inspiration for this AAR.

Rather than focus on a particular ship, this AAR will focus on 4 brothers, the Oda brothers, three of them IJN pilots, and one an IJA tank commander. Enough chit chat, on with it. We will pick up the story a bit before the war.


**Note.. family name just changed due to a technical mistake on my part. Experience is also different as listed below.
------------------------------


Aug. 13th, 1941

The train huffed and puffed its way up the mountain, over swift flowing rivers towards Petty Officer, Second Class Osamu Matsuyama’s family summer get-away home away from Tokyo’s late summer heat and humidity. Osamu checked his watch. The rest of his family had arrived early in the morning, while Osamu stole a few more hours with his girlfriend, a well-kept secret from his family. Certainly his father wouldn’t approve of her and his mother, well, he wasn’t brave enough outside of a fighter plane to confront her over his relationship with the daughter of a shoe maker.

A car was waiting for him at the station and the stares his pilots uniform earned him only increased more and he could hear the whispered speculation that was for the most part on the money, “Must be a Matsuyama…”.

Arriving at the inn he made his way to the private room furthest in the back, led there by the intoxicated voices of two of his brothers, already intoxicated, lively debating something the alcohol made important.. He slid the fusuma (folding wood and paper door) open and gave a tired smile to the assembled Matsuyama clan.

Hideo, the lone brother serving in the army, not the navy looked up. “I thought I smelled fish. I couldn’t tell if it was another Navy brother or the sushi we ordered. Could you go see about it, little brother?”

“Nice to see you too, brother.”
And with that Osamu settled into his place at the table and waited for his father to inevitably towards politics. It would happen as soon as he switched to the plum wine.

“Excuse me, waitress” the eldest Matsuyama called through the fusuma, “Bring us three? Better make it 4 bottles of plum wine.” Then he turned to his eldest son Junichiro and asked gravely “So, is it as bad as it seems?”

Junichiro stared into his empty sake cup for a minute. He avoided answering the question momentarily. “Hideo, where is your tank regiment moving at the end of this short stay here in Japan?”

“To the Pescadores…a bunch of little islands.. we can’t even run exercises there.”

Something clicked in Osamu’s head. “But..that doesn’t make any sense unless…”

Hiroyuki, the handsome third son cut him off, “doesn’t make sense unless its going somewhere else soon.. We just got a our new planes.. the G4M1.. that’s why I was able to come back for Obon. I’m meeting with the Mitsubishi guys for any further in field up grades they suggest.”

Junichiro started slowly, “And I’ve been given a new assignment.” His wife’s eyes registered surprise at the end of the table. She hadn’t heard yet. “You wont be working with Admiral Yamamoto anymore?”

“No. I’ve been assigned to the Hiryu. The admiral said he needed the best and most experienced pilots we had on our fleet carriers. I’m afraid of the implications…”

The eldest Oda locked his eyes on Osamu. “And you?”

“Actually, yeah.. uhm.. after Obon leave Im being transferred to Tainan.. F2. I’ll get to fly the Zero.. is that what you’ll be flying Junichiro?”

“Yes. B-II.”

Silence came over the table. Even the kids knew something wasn’t right. The waitress came in with the plum wine, Hiroyuki seemed a little too eager to help her out. Once she left their father started. “Junichiro.. you have to talk to the Admiral again. Do you remember the time we spent in America as a kid? Do you remember how long we spent driving across it?” As the oldest, at 30, Junichiro had the clearest memories of their family drive across America in the early 20s. His father continued, “America is not the weak country some of our so-called leaders make it out to be. We’ve bogged down in China.. America is many times more dangerous than China.”

Hideo could stand it no more. “We’ve bogged down in China because we don’t have the resources to fight properly. Because American and England deny us access! They stroll around the world, taking country by country.. and then deny us our own rights!”

Hiroyuki had seen this argument play itself out before over family dinners and knew he should stay out. But he couldn’t quite resist. “If America and England have strolled around the world taking what they want.. do you think we can just take it back so easily? It’s easy enough flying my bomber over China..they don’t have any fighters. England does. Even America does.”

Hideo turned to his wife. “Enough of this defeatist talk. Let’s retire to our room Katsumi.” Katsumi rose, silently expressed her apology in a bow and left, hands moving over her expecting, but just barely showing stomach.

The remaning three brothers discussed with their father the coming war late into the night, long after wives and children made their ways into the futons in their rooms.

Junichiro summarized things as they emptied their last cups. “Well. The admiral says he can give the Americans hell for six months. Then it will be up to us to make victory too expensive for the Americans. Maybe the Army is right. Maybe the Americans will give up the fight if bloodies. I cant really imagine they are willing to die to keep us from fighting in China.”

A deep sense of foreboding came over Osamu as he made his way into bed, until he remembered that next week he would be flying the A6M2.. a miracle of a fighter that would be as perfect of a weapon as a samurai sword in his hands.

Characters introduced:

PO1 Hiroyuki Matsuyama, Age 26. G4M1 pilot. Exp. 79 G2/Takao.
CPO Junichiro Matsuyama, age 30, A6M2 pilot. Exp. 93. B-II (Hiryu)
Corporal Hideo Matsuyama, age 27. Type 95 light tank commander. 4th Tank Regiment
PO2 Osamu Matsuyama, age 24, A6M2 pilot. Exp. 83. F2 Tainan Daitai.

Three of the four Oda brothers in simpler times.

[pauk]

oh, wonderful! I will came here to meditate (sp?) about Nippon happy days... it looks wonderful[&o]

I like Imperial Oda family very much![;)][&o]

[String]

Hehe, at first i thought Hideo served on an IJN Tanker

edit: It's nice to see the finer variations of AAR's catching on here. Ie. not just plain combat reports but actual storytelling [:)]

[Vetamur]

OK. I will fix that. Its ambiguous. Haha.

[Cuttlefish]

I love the picture of the train, it really adds to the atmosphere you create with the first entry. I look forward to following the fates of the Oda brothers. It's a nice idea to have four of them in different parts of the war, that should give a good perspective on events.

[Vetamur]

the second scene setting post. From the next one, it will be a true AAR, as I will send my first turn tomorrow)




Nov. 23, 1941.
Petty Officer 2nd Class Osamu Matsuyama swept in low over the Taiwan coast in his brand new Zero. Normally just being in the cockpit gave him a constant feeling of exhilaration but this had been nearly a 12 hour flight, his longest ever. He glanced at his fuel gauge and reminded himself that if he was as low on fuel as he way, his wingman must be on fumes. No matter, they were now just a few minutes from landing. The now familiar Tainan haze gave the sunset a soothing orange-red tinge and he had a moment to appreciate it as he adjusted his flaps for landing, checking one more time the location of his wingman.

After taxing up to his unit’s hangar his favorite aircraft grease monkey Honda greeted him with a wide grin. “Twelve hours! You’re giving Saburo Sakai in F1 a run for his money! Where was THAT mission to?”

Osamu frowned for a minute. He didn’t like lying or being forced into a lie, but these practice runs were classified. “Over China.. as usual. Escorted some Mitsubishi bombers”. Honda’s ever present grin got bigger and Osamu knew he’d walked into a trap. “Come on!”, Honda exclaimed, “Everyone knows we haven’t bombed China since summer! Besides, your brother and his commander are visiting base today. They would have flown to China in any missions!”
Osamu wished the conversation would end. Wished he was debriefing. Wished he could go find his brother. He looked at Honda with his best “Can we just forget this?” look.
But Honda just pressed on, now with the rest of the maintenance crew for Osamu’s fighter gathering around. “You flew to the Philippines, didn’t you?”
Suddenly PO2 Oba, Osamu’s wingman, was beside him, his sunglasses still on and looking unamused. He grabbed Honda by the collar and pushed him up against the propeller hub. “Listen! No one flew to the Philippines! No one has any idea what you’re talking about! Now get our aircraft ready in case we decide we want to fly BACK to China tonight!” He turned, stormed off towards the debriefing room and Osamu followed, shocked at the sudden shouting storm, something he hadn’t seen from Oba before.



Later that night Osamu caught up with his brother Hiroyuki at the teahouse (which served far more alcohol than tea) nearest the base. His brother was clearly trying to chat up a late teens waitress who, like most people her age, seemed to speak passable Japanese.

“Sorry miss, don’t let him bother you. He’s married. Isn’t that right, Hiroyuki?”

Hiroyuki looked up at him with a sour look. “Now, why’d you have to say that?” he asked, his eyes following the waitress as she scooted away to the next table occupied by a younger, and single, fighter pilot celebrating something or other with his ground crew.

“Well”, Osamu began, “for one, its true. For two, I like your wife. And your son.”
Hiroyuki looked into his lap for a second, shouted out an order for drinks. Osamu took folded his legs beneath him and reached for a cup.

“Don’t get me wrong.. Haru is great. Great! But a bomber pilot in a foreign land is a lonely job.” Hiroyuki gave by way of excuse.

“So, don’t you have a picture and a sense of duty to keep you happy?”

“You just want that waitress for yourself!”

Osamu paused. Could he tell his brother? “No. Im waiting. Or rather, someone is waiting for me back in Tokyo.”

Hiroyuki looked at him. Looked long and decided: “Liar.”

“No. Really.” He reached into his wallet and pulled out a photo of Yasue taken in August, the day before his family gathering.



The two brothers spent the rest of the night drinking and discussing the significance of the books their father had sent them claiming that they would all need new skills when the upcoming war was over. He had sent English text books and tourist guide maps of Tokyo.

==============-

Earlier that day on the Pescadores we find Corporal Hideo Matsuyama strolling into the town of Xiqing, not far from the 4th Armored Regiments current base in the Pescadores.
“Tell me again why we are going to a photo studio?” Iida, his tank’s driver asks.
“Don’t you ever say ‘sir’?”
“Sorry, sir. Why are we going to a photo studio again, sir?”
Nakata, the tank gun loader interjected “The corporal is sentimental. He wants to send another picture home to his expecting wife you moron.”
“Im NOT sentimental”, protested Hideo.
“Uhm.. you think you’re going to die? So you want us to remember you?” asked Iida.
“Im not MORBID!”, protested Hideo again.
They arrived at the studio.
“Then why are you getting a picture taken in a studio?” asked Nakata.
Hideo swallowed and said in his best “inspiring” voice: “We are on the dawn of great events. We will be part of these events. At the forefront. And they should be recorded for history.” He nodded to the photographer.
His crew looked at each other and stifled a laugh. “Well, then you better button your jacket properly!”

CLICK!




Later, picture taken Hideo looks at a hardware and automotive shop. “You guys.. go get a bunch of spare parts. A bunch. See if they have Ford spark plugs. Those damn Mitsubishi ones in the new engine are never any good. Why is it to get quality car parts we have to buy American? Cant Japanese factories make quality parts?”

His crew looked back. “Uhm.. the tank is working. Why do you want to buy spare parts at a civilian shop?” Iida asked.
Hideo gave him a long look. “I just have a feeling that pretty soon, we are going to need all the parts we can get our hands on. I don’t know how many parts they have in the Philippines.”


=========

True to its cruiser origins, the Hiryu weathered the rough waves fairly easily thought Junichiro Matsuyama as he made his way to a briefing room for a meeting with Daitai leader Lt. Mori.
In his three months on board the Hiryu Junichiro had quickly regained his fighter pilot instinct which had been slightly dulled during his year and a half of administrative duty on Admiral Yamamoto’s staff. His airplane, he had one assigned to him personally, was a dream to fly, better even than the A5M it was replacing.



Despite missing being in “the know” at Naval HQ, Junichiro at least appreciated that the down side was being able to take an active part in the conflict that seemed inevitable now..had seemed inevitable since the fleet of 6 carriers had weighed anchor. And, when he was honest with himself, he had to admit he was a better at flying the Zero than his Tokyo Desk.

He knocked on the door and entered to a waiting Lt. Mori.

“CPO Matsuyama, sit, sit. We haven’t had much of a chance of a sit down since you’ve arrived. So, you served on Adm. Yamamoto’s staff right? It’s a strange move..back into a fighter squadron.”

“Yes, I suppose it is.” Junichiro hedged.

“What should I read into it? I know you didn’t request the move.”

“I wouldn’t read too much into it, sir. I think Adm. Yamamoto got tired of the son of a merchant, born with a silver spoon, corrupting his staff’s spirit, sir.”

Lt. Mori shook his head. “I know that’s not it. I will tell you what I think. I think it means war. He is sending me the best pilots he knows of to do the fighting. And I think you think so too. Those Inland Sea exercises.. the ones with the shallow running torpedoes. Your arrival. The clearing out of flight school instructors to fill out combat units. This tells me the Admiral expects war. A bloody and short one.”

Matsuyama felt uncomfortable being asked to confirm things he also felt but didn’t KNOW. “Yes..sir. That’s possible, sir. I really wouldn’t know about that now sir. If there is a war, I would hope it would be short.”

“I don’t know how it could be otherwise.. they are unprepared. I think we strike quick, take what we can, prepare to defend it and present the Americans with a fait acompli.”

“I hope you’re right sir. I truly do.”

Lt. Mori read something into Junichiro’s voice.”But you don’t think I am?”

“I didn’t say that sir.”

A knock on the door interrupted them. “Lt. Mori, youre requested by Cpt. Kaku to report to the bridge”.

Mori looked at Junichiro. “We will talk again later. I do want to give you this. Read into THAT what you will as well.” He passed over a bag. Opening it Junichiro found a 500 gram bag of sugar. Hawaiian sugar.





(next AAR will be first turn of the game)

[kaleun]

Looking forward to it!

[Vetamur]

Dec. 7th, 1941, 145 miles northwest of Oahu.



Chief Petty Officer alone in the small private area his rank afforded him in the crowded flight crew are of the ship gathered his thoughts, sipping on bitter green tea. Though he viewed the war that was now just hours away with marked ambivalence, he was still a fighter pilot at heart, and the soon he would be doing what he had been trained to do: clear the skies of those who opposed his nation. He tied on his thousand-stitch haramaki that was supposed to protect him. He didn’t really believe the superstition but wearing something his wife Yuko had hand made brought a sense of comfort.

Just then, a knock on his door. It was Lt. Mori. “Matsuyama.. last minute change. You’re on CAP.”
“CAP? It’s a surprise attack.”
“Yeah.. so the CAP will be light..so I need someone experienced to lead it. Its not going to be the glamorous position today, but there will plenty of chances for glory later.”
“Yes, sir.. I understand”. He didn’t really. He didn’t understand it at all. Instead of going into combat he would be flying circles, protecting against a threat that if really there, would mean that the strike flights shouldn’t even be flown.



An hour later he took off, leading a CAP of just 12 planes. They circled the fleet watching the attack bombers and their escorts take off. Junichiro was sure he wasn’t the only, or the least frustrated pilot on CAP but was equally sure Lt. Mori was right, he would get his chance.

Four hours later Matsuyama watched as the attack force arrived back, noting a storm arriving from the west. That would preclude a second strike today he knew. Hopefully the first strike had gotten it right. At the very least, most of the aircraft seemed to arriving.

One hour later Junichiro himself landed on the Hiryu and immediately headed to Lt. Mori’s headquarters. The look on Mori’s face told him what he needed to know: It wasn’t enough.

“Well Matsuyama.. Adm. Yamamoto was right..and wrong. We surprised them. But we didn’t cause the damage we hoped.”
“What are the estimates?”
“The good news first.. nearly 200 aircraft destroyed in the air and on the ground. We didn’t lose a single plane in air to air combat by the way. The bad news.. we didn’t sink any battleships, and only managed to severely damage 4 or 5 of them. We needed a second strike but that storm coming in means we wont get the chance.”



“Could we hit them again tomorrow?”
“I don’t know.. Adm. Nagumo is considering it now. We will know soon enough.”

Matsuyama felt sick to his stomach. A surprise attack had to be devastating to be worth it all. His country was gambling literally everything on this.. but the strike hadn’t produced what they had expected. He moved to the hangar and searched out Honda, his favorite aircraft support man. He found him patching up a dive bomber. “So, what’s the damage on our side?”

Honda looked up. His usually ever present smile barely a grin. “Four dive bombers didn’t come back. One of the torpedo bombers as well, but someone Fukuda might have just landed on the Soryu instead. If he didn’t..” His voice trailed off. Everyone liked Fukuda. Son of a politician, he nevertheless loved to poke fun at himself, his father, and any other “off limits” target of humor. Junichiro didn’t believe for a moment he had landed on the Soryu. It was wishful thinking by those who didn’t want to face up yet to what this war was going to cost them.

If they did strike tomorrow, Junichiro would insist he be in the strike force protecting those bombers so that they needn’t lose any more Fukuda’s or Ohara’s or Suzuki’s than usual.
“Make sure you check my aircraft one more time before you call it a day, Honda. Please.”
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Same day, over the Philippines.

PO1 Hiroyuki Matsuyama was tense at his controls as they crossed over the coastline. They were now in Philippine airspace, and the Americans defended it. He had no illusions that the Americans would be as easy to keep away from his Mitsubishi bomber as the poorly trained Chinese in their inferior Russian aircraft.

Yet, as the minutes passed, Matsuyama unconsciously started to relax. No flak rose to meet him. No fighters. He glanced at their escorts.. new Zero-sen fighters. His brother Osamu was in one of them. But none of them seemed to be peeling away to meet any danger. They were fairly close to Clark Airfield now and still no opposition. It was eerily quiet. Of course some Zeros had swept the air ahead of them, but they couldn’t have eliminated ALL the American fighters. Could they?



Clark Airfield came into sight and the Hiroyuki brought the two engines up to full throttle. “Takahashi”, he called to the navigator/bombardier, “get ready.” Takahashi, his 33 year old veteran bombardier moved into position. Finally a bit of flak started to erupt around them. “Well, the Americans are at least awake” thought Hiroyuki.

“Fighters, 2 o’clock” called out Uedo, the copilot. Hiroyuki took a look at them. They looked like the older Mitsubishi fighter.. must be P-26s. “Keep an eye on them, but if they get any where near I’m sure my brother or one of his friends will take care of them.”

As they passed over the airfield Takahashi released his bombs and the airplane jumped at the sudden loss of weight. As Hiroyuki had predicted, the 2 P-26s kept their difference.

Turning to make their way home Hiroyuki did another scan of the sky.

“Was anybody hit at all?”

“I don’t think so” Ueda answered.
“Ogura’s plane took a hit but they seem fine” chimed in Morita from his 20mm cannon position.
“Ok. Keep an eye on them. Let me know if they fall behind.”
“Will do”.

Two hours later Ueda pointed out Batan Island. “I heard that’s Imperial Japanese soil now.. in case we ever have engine trouble.”

“Ive heard the women there are real beauties.. we may just have to arrange to have “engine trouble” one of these days” shot back Hiroyuki.

Their first run over the Philippines had ended up easier than some of their runs over China last summer and the crew were in good spirits. Despite their pilot’s half hearted warnings about the war, mostly parroting his business man father, perhaps the American’s weren’t to be feared at all. Perhaps the Army was right, as rare as that was.
Well, it was only the first day.

-------------------------------------------------



On the rain soaked beach on some unnamed Philippine beach Hideo paused in cursing out his tank crew just long enough to light another cigarette. “You low lifes are LUCKY we were unopposed on this landing! Now get this tank OFF the BEACH and onto that road over there!” He pointed to a road that ran up to what looked to be a sugar plantation. The landing had met token force that had quickly evaporated and then spent the better part of the day getting their tanks and equipment on shore. By Corporal Hideo’s count 3 of the Type 95 tanks had were already disabled and also one of the medium tanks. One squad of mechanics had been badly shaken when the dock they had been standing on had proven too weak to hold them and the tons of supply they had been organizing to move.

By late afternoon Hideo’s driver, Iida, had gotten the tank parked with the rest of their platoon near the sugar planation.



Nakata passed out sweets his “girlfriend” in the Pescadores had made and passed on the rumors he had heard. “Well, I heard we got cheated out of some real adventure. All other landings were opposed, but of course our guys made short work of the Americans. And I heard the locals who are supposed to fight with the Americans just melted away. Wars of liberation sure seem easy!”

Corporal Hideo grinned. “That’s right! Asia for Asians. We kick the Americans out and teach the Philippinos their place in the Empire. I bet the Americans realize they cant hold onto the Philippines if the Philippines have our help and try to withdraw. Hope we at least get a taste of action before then!”

His crew nodded agreement. They had expected to at least fire their 37mm cannon today. Well, tomorrow is a new day.

[Yava]

[ny59giants]

[denisonh]

Nice format and excellent reading. Look forwad to the next installment

[Vetamur]

Ok..first AAR..first major mistake. Just spent 2 hours writing it.. then realized I was writing straight here.. couldnt copy and paste..and I had "timed out".. sigh. So will write again tomorrow.
I apologize to anyone who is reading this.
Really. Really. Frustrating.

[bradfordkay]

A trick I learned some time ago... when a long reply of mine "timed out" I could hit the back button to get to the page with my disturbingly long treatise (so you guys say...) and then cut and paste onto a new screen.

[kaleun]

That's a cool trick![:)]

[Vetamur]

I tried that..when I hit back button it just gave me a blank page to scream at so I will rewrite my "disturbingly long treatise" again tonight. I feel like an idiot. I had already opened up Word to type into but somehow started typing in the wrong place. Anyway, will repost tonight (my time..Japan time) and then another tomorrow, then Im back in Guam for 5 days, then will continue.
 
 

[bradfordkay]

Sorry about that... they must've changed the way the forum works. YOUR writing here does not qualify as a "disturbingly long treatise"! It has been quite enjoyable. There's only a very few AARs that I read with regularity, and this is fast becoming one. Keep up the good work.

[kaleun]

ditto

[Vetamur]

Dec. 8th, 1941, a few miles north of Oahu.


SUNRISE OVER OAHU as seen from Junichiro's cockpit


CPO Junichiro Matsuyama checked again behind him as he crossed the coastline over Oahu Island. Against everyone’s expectations, but playing to their hopes, Adm. Nagumo had ordered a second day of strikes on Pearl Harbor and the American ships fleeing the area. As a pilot, this suited Junichiro just fine. He considered today the first day of his war, after spending yesterday doing figure “8”s over the fleet.

Once more he checked behind to his right. His wingman, PO2 Minobe was right there. Alone among the major powers, the Japanese navy pilot doctrine didn’t have a strict policy of flying as pairs, but it was slowly catching on as lessons from Germany’s experience filtered back. There was considerable resistance to the idea, many preferring the “pairing up for the duel” philosophy, attractive to those raised with supposed Samurai ideals. Junichiro suspected Minobe harbored those thoughts, but in discussions last night and in pre-flight he had insisted he would be right with Junichiro and only leave his if they were “mopping up” fleeing Americans. Junichiro had been satisfied with the answer this morning on the flight deck, yet, something about the answer was gnawing at him. Minobe was of equal rank and Junichiro was a relative newcomer to the unit.

JUNICHIRO AND MINOBE's Zeros


Twenty miles out from Ewa Airfield, the first target of the sweep, Junichiro caught sight of a flight of four American fighters at 10 o’clock low. He signaled to Minobe and turned his Zero to a heading to come up behind the Americans, with Minobe right behind, and PO1, loosely the third pilot in the sweeps lead formation, trailing behind Minobe.

The flight of American fighters, now easily identified as F4Fs (Navy! The Americans best!) were late in picking up Junichiro’s attack and broke in all directions just before Junichiro was in range of his 20mm cannon. He stayed on the lead, who promptly made his first mistake by turning rather than diving away, turning hard right. Junichiro’s Zero-sen easily stayed with him and he closed the range. Just before he opened fire however the American reversed his turn, desperate to shake him. Again, the Zero easily matched the turn and when the moment was right Junichiro pulled the trigger and felt the “thud thud thud” of the slow firing cannon.

OVERSHOT! Junichiro muttered a curse to himself as he again turned hard to keep the stubby American fighter in range. He had been practicing more with the 7.7mg machine guns of late and had inadvertently used the deflection for those. He wouldn’t make the mistake again. Two passes of the scissors later Junichiro switched over to the machine guns, he was too close for the cannon now. He used the rudder to line his shot up when the Grumman “Wildcat” (it seemed far more domestic than wild at the moment) exploded before him and he yanked the flight stick back to avoid the debris, looking back in bewilderment, just in time to see another Zero diving through the space the American had just been!

He turned and followed the mystery Zero’s flight. Minobe! Already knowing the answer, Junichiro reflexively looked behind him. Of course, Minobe no longer was on his wing. The sky was clear and he wondered to himself if Minobe and Oba had shot down the other 3 American fighters. The answer would have to wait, but if they had, Junichiro felt rather embarrassed to be leading the the flight when Minobe was such a superior pilot.

PO2 MINOBE


Three hours later back on the Hiryu Junichiro stepped into the debriefing room in the middle of Minobe giving an account of the shoot down to the other B-II Daitai pilots. Excitedly he related “And the pilot didn’t even see me.. I let loose with the 20mm and he exploded all over the place!”

Junichiro interrupted with a smile. “He didn’t see you because I was stalking him.”

“Really? I didn’t notice.” Minobe looked at him, obviously irritated with the interruption.

“I was right there..you must have been really..focused. I was about 80 meters back about to shoot him down myself.”

“Well, I don’t know about that..” Minobe turned back to his captive audience.

The fighter pilot pride rose in Junichiro. Or maybe it was the the bushido code. Or maybe just the lessons on honesty from his father. “You don’t know? I was right THERE. YOU were supposed to be MY wingman!”

The conversation was ended by Lt. Mori’s entrance into the room. He gave the details of the days activities. Despite the successful sweep, no further raids on the American base had gone through, the weather had been too poor. However an oiler and two small destroyers had been sunk by Hiryu and Soryu attack aircraft. It wasn’t enough. For what they were risking, six fleet carriers, they needed to sink most of the Pacific Fleet. Just as the day before the pilots left the debriefing wondering if they would get another chance. Would Adm. Nagumo risk the fleet 72 hours just 2 hours from the American harbor?

Leaving the room, Junichiro headed straight for the ship commissary. He purchased a small 35mm Leica camera and film. No one would doubt his word again.

JUNICHIRO'S NEW LEICA CAMERA


---------------------------------------------------
Same day. 20 miles north of Clark Field.

The day had begun with optimism and laughs as the crews made their way to their bombers. Yesterday there had been almost no opposition over the Philippines and there was no reason to suspect it was going to get any worse.



And yet here Hiroyuki was struggling to keep his plane aloft with a port wing shredded and its engine smoking, amid the black clouds of flak the newly inspired American defenders were throwing up. To make matters worse the 20mm gunner was somewhere in the back putting pressure on the wounds shrapnel from the plane’s fuselage had opened in on the the waist gunners leg and he hadn’t heard from the rear gunner for what seemed like eternity.

“Well, maybe they were luring us into a false sense of security…” cracked Ueda. Just then a 3” inch shell exploded just in front of the nose, the burst created a vertical crack the length of Ueda’s forearm in the glass in front of the copilots face. “Excrement!” he shouted.

Hiroyuki looked over his shoulder to Takahashi, the bombardier. “You’re sure we were on target?”

“Oh yeah. No doubt. We punch holes in that runway like I used to punch in the fusuma in my bedroom. They won’t be flying anytime soon.. if we left them anything to fly.”

“Well..guess that makes it worth it.” Hiroyuki said grimly. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Ogura’s bomber to the left of him rock violently from an explosion of flak nearby. When the smoke cleared he noticed a gaping hole in the fuselage, just aft of the cockpit. The Mitsubishi bomber, the only one that had been damaged yesterday started to lose altitude.

Just then, the flak stopped. “Keep an eye out for fighters” Hiroyuki said nearly automatically. But his brothers unit, F2 Tainan, was still flying with them and he was sure the Americans would keep their distance after the thrashing they withstood yesterday. “Morita, how is Ishii doing?”

“He’s fine. The bleedings stopped. He won’t be able to get out of flying with us tomorrow that easy!”

That settled it for Hiroyuki. “Ok. Good. Now, what we are going to do is fly back with Ogura’s plane.. they are having some trouble.”

Ueda gave him a nod. No one voiced any objection. Not that they would have anyway.

Two hours later they were on the ground safely. Hiroyuki briefly bemoaned their lost chance to try and sample the beauties on Batan Island, but in fact it was better to be back at their own base.

At debriefing they were introduced to Cpt. Moritama, their new Sentai commander. No explanation was given, but rumor had it that leadership changes were underway all over the military since the war began. Cpt. Moritama detailed the presumed damage they caused, another 30 planes destroyed at least. The cost to them was still light, despite the increased resistance: 7 planes wouldn’t be flying tomorrow, but none were destroyed. One airman had died, no one mentioned whose crew, and a few others were wounded but the wounded would all be flying again soon.

Meetings and paperwork over, Hiroyuki looked for Ogura and found him on the tarmac watching repair crews patch his Type 1 bomber up.

OGURA'S BOMBER UNDER REPAIR



“Hey, I’m heading for the teahouse. I think the new waitress..Lim? Ling? is working tonight. Coming?”

“No. I have to meet with my new 20mm gunner…” Ogura’s voice trailed off.

“Oh.” That was it. Hiroyuki immediately understood the implication. But he didn’t know what to say. His mouth moved. Once. Twice. But no words came. Finally he turned and made his way off the tarmac and back to the world he preferred to think about. A moment of concern for his brothers crept in for a moment. But just for a moment. Lin..no, it was Ling.. was working tonight and she had certainly smiled at him on the night before the war started.

--------------------------

Tainan Airbase, Taiwan, Empire of Japan.

Osamu Matsuyama fumed. He had flown just once today.. a ten hour flight in the morning.. sweeping the skies over the Manila, that had already been swept clean by the F1 Tainan Daitai the day before. No opposition rose to meet them. Nothing. The F1 Tainan pilots were still demanding beers and cups of sake for their 38 (38!) kills yesterday, while Osamu and his squadron mates skulked around waiting for their chance, doing nothing more productive than taking "commorative photos" of their squardron.

NCO PILOTS OF F2 TAINAN
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The good news was that their were already rumors they were being transferred to where they would be put to better use, perhaps Malaya where the British were putting up a (presumably) more spirited opposition.

The sooner the move came, the better. Here he was.. a proud Matsuyama, a Petty Officer Second Class in the most highly trained aviation arm in any military anywhere, with the premier fighter in Asia’s skies.. and so far, he had accomplished nothing in the war he was sure would decided his nation’s future.

[kaleun]

Not to rush you, but your readers are holding theit breath.

[Japanese_Spirit]

I, sir, am very much enjoying this spiffing tale! Do update soon, sir!