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My First Encounter with the Legendary Ryusei
I (author Eiichi Fuji) first encountered the Ryusei at the end of 1944. Around October of the same year, I was serving as an instructor for the Tainan Air Group in Taiwan. One day, all the pilots were gathered in a room, where the commanding officer announced the objectives of forming a special Kamikaze attack unit and encouraged volunteers to join.
Before the announcement, pilots with wives or who were only sons were asked to leave the room, but no one did. Naturally, I immediately requested to participate in the Kamikaze attacks. At that time, I met Captain Kō Yukio, the first pilot to join the Kamikaze unit, in front of the flight leader's office. Captain Kō, formerly an instructor at the Kasumigaura Air Base, had been transferred about a month prior. We became close friends, often drinking and walking together in Tainan. I still vividly remember his smile.
On October 25, 1944, Captain Kō Yukio led the first Kamikaze attack, hitting his target and earning a posthumous promotion to second rank as a military deity.
While I remained stationed in Tainan, I was suddenly assigned to the Yokosuka Naval Air Group. When I reported to the new flight leader, he said, "You've been assigned a special mission. You’ll join the Ōita detachment under Commander Takahashi Sadashige." I immediately flew to the Ōita base.
Upon arriving at Ōita, I saw not only the latest aircraft, such as the Suisei and Ginga, but also an unfamiliar plane with inverted gull wings and orange paint (Note 1).
(Note 1: Orange paint typically indicated training aircraft in the Imperial Japanese Navy.)
The Yokosuka Naval Air Group, abbreviated as Yokō, was a renowned experimental aviation unit, so it was no surprise they had new aircraft. However, this was my first time seeing what was rumored to be the "16-Shi Multi-role Torpedo Bomber," which turned out to be the Ryusei.
When I met Commander Takahashi, he said, "You're here. I want you to fly the Ryusei. I’ll organize a squadron of eight Ryusei aircraft with 15 excellent subordinates. After completing test flights and training, you’ll deploy to Rabaul to destroy enemy supply convoys in the South Pacific." Hearing this made me nervous.
In retrospect, that was 27 years ago. Even now, when survivors gather to reminisce, they recall missions such as training personnel for the aircraft carrier Shinano, bombing the Panama Canal using submarines, or deploying to Rabaul.
Regardless, this was undoubtedly a special mission, though I still believe it was Rabaul-bound. From that day on, I fell in love with the Ryusei.
A Glimpse of the Ryusei's Performance
The specifications of the Ryusei include a wingspan of 14.4 meters, a length of 11.4 meters, and a height of 4.07 meters. Fully loaded, it weighed 6.075 tons and was powered by an 1,850-horsepower Homare engine (18-cylinder air-cooled) with a four-blade propeller. It had a maximum speed of 560 km/h at 6,000 meters and a cruising speed of 360 km/h at 4,000 meters, with a range of 1,600 kilometers. Its armament included two fixed 20mm cannons, one 13mm rotating machine gun, and an automatic bomb sight.
The Ryusei’s unique ability to perform both torpedo attacks and dive bombing was unprecedented for single-engine aircraft of the time. It could carry a 1-ton bomb internally or an 800kg torpedo externally, allowing for versatile attack strategies. If only such an aircraft had been available during the Battle of Midway.
The Birth of Japan’s First Ryusei Unit
The Ryusei crew that arrived at Ōita after my assignment pleasantly surprised me. These battle-hardened warriors had gathered from across Japan. We formed a close bond, sharing our fates as comrades, with a mere 20-year-old as our squadron leader. From that day forward, we embarked on relentless high-intensity training, testing the Ryusei's capabilities day and night.
The Ryusei was manufactured at the Aichi Aircraft Factory in Koromo. As a young man, I vividly recall the thrill of flying from Ōita to pick up a brand-new aircraft and soaring over the Seto Inland Sea in early spring.
As the war situation deteriorated, many of our earlier plans became unfeasible. Our Ryusei squad was eventually assigned to homeland defense duties.
In April 1945, I joined the 5th Attack Squadron (K5), Japan’s first combat unit comprised entirely of Ryusei aircraft, stationed at Katori Air Base in Chiba Prefecture. The squadron leader, Lieutenant Commander Yakuji Ichio, had been my instructor during my early training days and had supported me extensively at Yokosuka.
Thus, the Ryusei officially became an operational combat aircraft. As the final attack aircraft and Kamikaze plane of the Imperial Japanese Navy, it embarked on its ultimate journey. From that moment until the morning of August 15, 1945, we underwent grueling training. During this time, 111 Ryusei aircraft were produced, starting with the prototype. Approximately 80 (72% of total production) were assigned to the 5th Attack Squadron. I personally received and test-flighted six of them.
Stories of Valor and Tragedy
Despite being an exceptional aircraft, the Ryusei wasn’t without flaws. While it boasted a wide field of vision during takeoff and landing, speeds comparable to American fighters, dual dive-bombing and torpedo capabilities, and heavy armament, some units exhibited peculiar behaviors.
For instance, during dive-bombing maneuvers, pilots would descend at a 45-degree angle from 3,000–4,000 meters, releasing bombs at around 600 meters before pulling up. This maneuver subjected pilots to G-forces of 3–5G. On several occasions, some Ryusei aircraft exhibited a torque-induced roll to the right during pull-ups, causing them to flip and crash—a tragic inevitability.
At Katori Air Base, while practicing dive-bombing with a white T-shaped target as a guide, one such incident occurred. I heard a loud explosion from the control tower. Rushing outside, I saw a massive 10-meter crater where the plane had crashed. Although there was no fire, the sight of two pilots entangled with the aircraft’s radial engine was horrifying.
After two or three more similar accidents, we suspended dive-bombing training to address the problem. Eventually, we traced the issue to fuel flow disruptions caused by sudden descent maneuvers. Testing resumed with modifications to the ailerons under the supervision of Masao Yamana, a technical officer at the Yokosuka Technical Research Division (who later became a Tokyo University professor). Through rigorous testing, the instability issue was resolved, and the Ryusei was battle-ready.
Close Encounters with American Fighters
One notable incident occurred in June 1945. During a training session, we encountered a formation of American P-51 Mustang fighters after an air raid on Tokyo. While my squadron attempted to retreat to Kisarazu Base, we were relentlessly pursued.
As squadron leader, I became the primary target. During the chase, the rear gunner provided critical alerts, helping me evade enemy fire with precise maneuvers. At one point, an American pilot caught up to me, and to my surprise, he smiled at me. I returned the smile.
In that fleeting moment, amidst the chaos of war, there was an unspoken mutual respect between adversaries. Even now, I sometimes wonder what became of that pilot.
A Lone Dive-Bombing Mission
Now, I’d like to recount the final battle of the 5th Attack Squadron (K5).
At the war's end, K5 was stationed at Kisarazu. From the seas off the Kii Peninsula to the waters near the Bōsō Peninsula, we conducted unrelenting attacks on enemy task forces, fighting until August 15, 1945—the last day of the Pacific War.
On July 25, intelligence reported that an American carrier task force was moving slowly northward, about 60 miles south of the Kii Peninsula. Our K5 squadron was ordered to attack. The strike was divided into two groups: the first led by Captain Seiichi Mori (Class 70), consisting of four planes, and the second led by me, with three planes.
We departed the base at 5 a.m. to engage the enemy. The attack was a standard bombing operation. Only three planes returned from the first wave. Later, five more planes conducted torpedo runs, but they failed to engage the enemy; one crash-landed, while the others returned.
During the flight, I lost contact with my squadmates while evading enemy aircraft. By the time I spotted the enemy task force under the moonlight, it was already 8 p.m.
The typical formation of an American carrier task force placed four carriers in the center, flanked by two battleships at the front and rear, with eight cruisers and 32 destroyers forming a defensive ring.
As I initiated my dive, the enemy opened fire, lighting up the night sky. It reminded me of the soft glow of light bulbs in Tokyo’s pre-war National Gymnasium. To evade radar-guided anti-aircraft fire, I scattered narrow strips of aluminum foil (chaff) as I weaved the aircraft left and right.
This tactic had been learned from the enemy. After air raids, American planes would leave behind piles of chaff, which we analyzed and repurposed. The U.S. had assumed we used radar to guide anti-aircraft fire, though in reality, we lacked such capability. Ironically, their strategy became ours.
Praying I wouldn’t be hit before releasing my bomb, I descended to a mere 350 meters—much lower than the usual 600 meters—to ensure accuracy. I targeted a large aircraft carrier, passing directly over it before releasing the bomb. Moments later, a massive shockwave rocked the plane.
Flying at ultra-low altitude to evade enemy fire, I radioed the enemy’s position to my comrades and made my way back to Kisarazu. I landed around 11 p.m., with only 10 liters of fuel remaining—barely enough for three minutes of flight. Looking back, it feels miraculous that I survived the barrage unscathed.
The Final Days of the Ryusei
Between July 25 and August 15, 1945, our squadron repeatedly launched attacks, striking an American carrier, two cruisers, and damaging other vessels. On the morning of August 15, the day Japan surrendered, Admiral Jisaburō Ozawa, commander of the Combined Fleet, announced these results to the entire Navy.
Reflecting on these events now, I never imagined I’d live to write this account of the Ryusei.
