The Twilight Warriors Part 5

"What the h.e.l.l do you think I'm trying to do?" Erickson snapped back. He swung high and wide to the far side of the weave, then returned his sights to the j.a.panese fighter. It was a high-angle shot, nearly 90-degree deflection. If Erickson missed this time, Hill would be in flames.

He saw his tracers bending back toward the Tojo-and connecting. Abruptly the enemy fighter burst into flame. Erickson watched the burning Tojo enter a steep death dive to the green hills below.

They were safe, for the moment. Low on fuel and exhausted from the long mission, they steered toward Intrepid Intrepid using their ZB homing receivers, which picked up signals from a transmitter aboard the carrier. The transmitter sent a different Morse code signal every 30 degrees of arc from the ship. A different sector was chosen each day as the official inbound gate to the ship, to prevent the enemy from using the code. using their ZB homing receivers, which picked up signals from a transmitter aboard the carrier. The transmitter sent a different Morse code signal every 30 degrees of arc from the ship. A different sector was chosen each day as the official inbound gate to the ship, to prevent the enemy from using the code.

Hill was still rattled by the close call with the Tojo fighter. The belly tank that he couldn't jettison had nearly gotten him killed. Then he found that one of his .50-caliber guns wouldn't fire. Finally, his oxygen system failed, meaning he was forced to remain at low alt.i.tude. He was having a bad day, and it only got worse. Arriving back at the ship, he botched his first landing pa.s.s and had to come back for another try.

Finally aboard, he climbed out of his Corsair and trudged down the labyrinth of ladders to the squadron ready room. The old fighter pilot swagger was gone from Hill, at least temporarily. He flopped into a seat in the back row and stared at the bulkhead in what infantrymen called the "thousand-yard stare." As in an endlessly looping film, Hill kept seeing flak bursts, tracer bullets, and dark green silhouettes of enemy fighters.

It had been a grim second day of battle for Intrepid Intrepid's air group. More Tail End Charlies were missing. Ens. Bill York was killed in a noncombat accident. A h.e.l.ldiver crew, Ens. Bob Brinick and his gunner, Crawford Burnette, of VB-10, had been shot down over Kure harbor and were missing. Another h.e.l.ldiver crew, also hit at Kure, was luckier. They made it far enough offsh.o.r.e to ditch near a picket destroyer.

Even VBF-10's skipper, Lt. Cmdr. Will Rawie, had been forced to ditch his Corsair. Rawie was picked up by a destroyer and delivered back to the Intrepid Intrepid.

Erickson found that he had sweated off five pounds during the three-and-a-half-hour mission. His tan leather gloves had turned an evil dark brown. His flight suit was so stiff from sweat he could prop it up against the ready room bulkhead.

In recounting the action over j.a.pan, Erickson and Hill found that each thought he had shot down the first j.a.panese fighter they encountered. Unable to agree on whose bullets did the job, they split the kill. Each would get one and a half victories for the day.

They weren't the only ones who scored kills. CAG Hyland, whom they'd last seen pulling off the target at Kure, had gunned down the Rufe fighter he'd chased across the harbor. It was the thirty-four-year-old Hyland's first air-to-air kill, and there was no mistaking the grin on his face in the wardroom that evening. The old man was keeping up with the kids.

9

WE WILL SAVE THE SHIP WE WILL SAVE THE SHIP TASK FORCE 58

150 MILES EAST OF SHIKOKU, j.a.pAN

MARCH 19, 1945

Rear Adm. Gerald Bogan, standing on Franklin Franklin's flag bridge, was one of the first to spot it. The peculiar object was silver-colored, slanting downward from a broken cloud layer.

It was a few minutes past 0700, and Franklin Franklin had just finished launching her strike aircraft. That morning she had steamed within 50 miles of Shikoku, the closest any U.S. carrier had ventured to the j.a.panese homeland in the war. had just finished launching her strike aircraft. That morning she had steamed within 50 miles of Shikoku, the closest any U.S. carrier had ventured to the j.a.panese homeland in the war.

Bogan could see crewmen on the flight deck readying planes for the next launch. They were arming Corsairs with the new Tiny Tim rockets. In the next few seconds, Bogan heard Franklin Franklin's antiaircraft guns open up.

Gerry Bogan was no stranger to kamikaze attacks. He had been the task group commander aboard Intrepid Intrepid during her three kamikaze strikes off the Philippines. Now he was an observer aboard during her three kamikaze strikes off the Philippines. Now he was an observer aboard Franklin Franklin, which was the flagship of Rear Adm. Ralph Davison's Task Group 58.2.

The silver object was still diving, becoming more visible, somehow evading the hail of antiaircraft fire. Spotters had already tagged it as a Judy dive-bomber, though other observers would report it as an older fixed-gear Val.

But everyone would later agree that the dive bomber's pilot was not a single-mission, poorly trained kamikaze. His attack was a masterpiece of precision. While his two 250-kilogram bombs flew straight and true toward their target, the dive-bomber pulled back up and escaped into the cloud deck.

The results were catastrophic. The first bomb punched through Franklin Franklin's forward flight deck and exploded on the hangar deck. Fires and explosions consumed every man and plane in the forward hangar bay and two decks directly below.

The second bomb struck further aft, just behind the island, exploding as it penetrated the wooden flight deck. The number three elevator, in the center of the aft flight deck, was flung to the side by the explosion. Armed aircraft on the flight deck, preparing to launch, were caught in the conflagration and exploded one after the other. Tiny Tim rockets on the wings of the Corsairs were lighting off and sizzling across the flight deck, adding to the carnage.

Franklin's executive officer, Cmdr. Joe Taylor, remembered the deadly missiles. "Some screamed by to starboard, some to port, some straight up the flight deck. Some went straight up and some tumbled end over end. Each time one went off, the firefighting crews forward would instantly hit the deck."

On the navigation bridge, Franklin Franklin's skipper, Capt. Leslie Gehres, was slammed to the deck by the impact of the first bomb. Stunned, Gehres staggered to his feet to find the starboard bow of his ship engulfed in flame and smoke. He ordered full right rudder to bring the wind to the port side and deflect the flames from the airplanes parked aft. Then, to his shock, he realized that the aft part of the ship was also ablaze. He countermanded his order, swinging Franklin Franklin back to port, putting the wind on her starboard side. back to port, putting the wind on her starboard side.

Nothing seemed to help. Explosions were racking the ship. "In a very few minutes," recalled Admiral Bogan, still on the flag bridge, "the forward part of the ship was an inferno." Firefighting crews were thwarted by exploding ordnance. All the ammunition in lockers and gun mounts behind the island structure exploded.

From 20 miles away the men of Intrepid Intrepid could see the smoke and flames. Radarman Ray Stone, watching from could see the smoke and flames. Radarman Ray Stone, watching from Intrepid Intrepid's flight deck, was shocked. "Hearing the numerous, repeated explosions from the fully-armed, about-to-be-launched airplanes was sickening," he wrote. "You could virtually feel and smell the fire."

Franklin was dead in the water. All communications on the ship were lost. The cruiser was dead in the water. All communications on the ship were lost. The cruiser Santa Fe Santa Fe was already gathering up survivors who'd jumped into the sea to escape the flames. Admiral Davison advised Captain Gehres he should consider abandoning ship. Gehres declined. After transferring more than eight hundred men, mostly wounded, to was already gathering up survivors who'd jumped into the sea to escape the flames. Admiral Davison advised Captain Gehres he should consider abandoning ship. Gehres declined. After transferring more than eight hundred men, mostly wounded, to Santa Fe Santa Fe, he kept seven hundred officers and men with him to try to save Franklin Franklin.

For the rest of the day and the following night they fought the fires that raged inside the carrier. By morning, the skeleton crew had most of the fires under control. Towed by the cruiser Pittsburgh Pittsburgh, the shattered carrier began a slow withdrawal to the south. Most of her unexploded ammunition had been heaved overboard.

At midday, Santa Fe Santa Fe blinkered Admiral Mitscher's flagship blinkered Admiral Mitscher's flagship Bunker Hill Bunker Hill: "Franklin says fire practically under control, skeleton crew aboard, list stabilized at 13 degrees. If you save us from the j.a.panese, we will save the ship." says fire practically under control, skeleton crew aboard, list stabilized at 13 degrees. If you save us from the j.a.panese, we will save the ship."

By early afternoon Franklin Franklin had four boilers back on line and her steering control back. Still spewing smoke, her flight deck now a shredded wreck, the wounded carrier limped under her own power toward Ulithi. From there had four boilers back on line and her steering control back. Still spewing smoke, her flight deck now a shredded wreck, the wounded carrier limped under her own power toward Ulithi. From there Franklin Franklin proceeded to Pearl Harbor, and then all the way to New York for major repairs. She would never see combat again. proceeded to Pearl Harbor, and then all the way to New York for major repairs. She would never see combat again.

Franklin had suffered the greatest damage inflicted on any aircraft carrier without being sunk. Her losses-724 killed and 265 wounded-were among the most on any single U.S. warship. The carrier owed her survival to a combination of human courage and skilled firefighting. Much had been learned about shipboard damage control since the battles in which the carriers had suffered the greatest damage inflicted on any aircraft carrier without being sunk. Her losses-724 killed and 265 wounded-were among the most on any single U.S. warship. The carrier owed her survival to a combination of human courage and skilled firefighting. Much had been learned about shipboard damage control since the battles in which the carriers Lexington, Yorktown, Wasp Lexington, Yorktown, Wasp, and Hornet Hornet were lost. Improved techniques, special firefighting schools, and new equipment including fog nozzles, foam generators, and independent fire mains were saving ships that otherwise would have gone to the bottom. Each carrier's damage control crew received intensive training before going into combat. were lost. Improved techniques, special firefighting schools, and new equipment including fog nozzles, foam generators, and independent fire mains were saving ships that otherwise would have gone to the bottom. Each carrier's damage control crew received intensive training before going into combat.

Franklin wasn't the only victim that day. Soon after sunrise on March 19, the fast carrier wasn't the only victim that day. Soon after sunrise on March 19, the fast carrier Wasp Wasp was launching strikes when a dive-bomber appeared directly overhead. No one had picked up the intruder either visually or on radar. The bomber, probably another Judy, put its bomb through was launching strikes when a dive-bomber appeared directly overhead. No one had picked up the intruder either visually or on radar. The bomber, probably another Judy, put its bomb through Wasp Wasp's flight deck, but it penetrated to the hangar deck, then pa.s.sed through the number three and number two decks before exploding in the crew galley. Despite the slaughter in the mess compartment and fires that spread to five decks, the blazes were quickly extinguished.

But it wasn't over for Wasp Wasp. Fifteen minutes later, while she was recovering aircraft, yet another bomber dove on the carrier. This one, a bona fide kamikaze, narrowly missed the deck edge and exploded in the water alongside the ship. Wasp Wasp's losses from the attacks amounted to 101 killed and 269 wounded, but she stayed on line for several more days before withdrawing to Ulithi for repairs.

The next day, March 20, it was Enterprise Enterprise's turn again. A swarm of fifteen to twenty j.a.panese warplanes bore down on the veteran carrier. One managed to get close enough to score a near miss with its bomb and rake the flight deck with its machine guns.

At the same time, yet another carrier, the Hanc.o.c.k Hanc.o.c.k, was fighting off an incoming Zero. At the last moment, Hanc.o.c.k Hanc.o.c.k's gunners managed to pick off the incoming kamikaze. The flaming wreckage skimmed past the carrier's flight deck edge, crashing into the main deck of the destroyer Halsey Powell Halsey Powell, which had just completed refueling from Hanc.o.c.k Hanc.o.c.k.

What happened next was a cla.s.sic example of why Navy men called destroyers "tin cans." The kamikaze's bomb penetrated Powell Powell's thinly armored deck, punching completely through the destroyer's hull without exploding. Still, ten of the tin can's sailors perished in the attack, and twenty-nine more were wounded. Powell Powell's steering gear was wrecked, and the destroyer was out of the fight.

That night Vice Adm. Marc Mitscher pulled his carrier task force southward from their dangerous stations close to j.a.pan. The strikes had been effective but costly. The operation they were here to support, the amphibious invasion of Okinawa, was still a week away, and already four fleet carriers-Franklin, Enterprise, Yorktown, and Wasp Wasp-would have to retire for damage repair.

To Mitscher, the past three days had been an ominous preview of the coming battle. The j.a.panese could hurl hundreds of kamikazes at the U.S. fleet and lose almost all of them. If only one slipped through, it could mean the loss of a ship.

Pilots on the strikes against the j.a.panese bases claimed a total of 528 enemy aircraft destroyed on the ground and in the air. It was an inflated number, mostly derived from the claims of multiple pilots. .h.i.tting the same targets. The j.a.panese reported that they'd lost 161 out of 193 aircraft in addition to an undetermined number of unflyable airplanes destroyed on the ground.

The truth lay somewhere in between. Exaggerated action reports were not unique to either side. Both the j.a.panese and the United States overestimated the numbers of ships and planes destroyed and troops killed by their side. Airmen were like prizefighters who, after landing a punch, believed they'd scored a knockout. A h.e.l.ldiver pilot would swear his bomb sank a battleship. A torpedo plane pilot refused to believe that after he'd penetrated a wall of flak to deliver his weapon, the enemy vessel could still be afloat. A fighter pilot, seeing his tracers. .h.i.tting an enemy plane, knew knew that he'd shot the bandit down. that he'd shot the bandit down.

And not just pilots. Intelligence officers, squadron skippers, even fleet commanders were biased toward swollen damage estimates. This sometimes resulted in dangerously flawed decisions. At the Battle of Leyte Gulf, when dive-bomber and torpedo plane pilots, full of hubris and adrenaline, reported fatal hits on the battleships and cruisers of Admiral Kurita's striking force, Adm. William Halsey concluded that the j.a.panese force was no longer a serious threat.

It was a nearly fatal mistake. h.e.l.l-bent on pursuing the j.a.panese carrier force, Halsey left the San Bernardino Strait unguarded while he chased after a decoy j.a.panese carrier force. Kurita's still-formidable striking force slipped through the strait and by dawn were firing point-blank into the unprotected ships of the Taffy group.

However, the j.a.panese were even more susceptible to believing their own exaggerations. One of the most willing believers was Adm. Matome Ugaki, who concluded that after the tokko tokko attacks of March 1819 on the U.S. fleet, his pilots had sunk five carriers, two battleships, and three cruisers. Whether or not Ugaki actually believed such nonsense, it reflected the j.a.panese high command's detachment from reality. attacks of March 1819 on the U.S. fleet, his pilots had sunk five carriers, two battleships, and three cruisers. Whether or not Ugaki actually believed such nonsense, it reflected the j.a.panese high command's detachment from reality.

Because of the finality of the tokko tokko missions, results were difficult to a.s.sess. When it could be confirmed that a kamikaze pilot did, in fact, crash into a ship, the vessel was usually declared sunk. The j.a.panese public was fed a steady stream of lies about the successes of the missions, results were difficult to a.s.sess. When it could be confirmed that a kamikaze pilot did, in fact, crash into a ship, the vessel was usually declared sunk. The j.a.panese public was fed a steady stream of lies about the successes of the tokko tokko warriors. During the battle for Okinawa, warriors. During the battle for Okinawa, tokko tokko airmen would be credited with sinking half a dozen U.S. aircraft carriers when, in fact, not one was actually sunk. The carrier airmen would be credited with sinking half a dozen U.S. aircraft carriers when, in fact, not one was actually sunk. The carrier Lexington Lexington received the distinction of being reported sunk four times. received the distinction of being reported sunk four times.

One purpose of the misinformation was to divert attention from the rain of incendiary bombs falling nightly on j.a.panese cities from American B-29s. Bad news was glossed over or not reported at all. The truth about the Battle of the Philippine Sea in June 1944, in which most of the Imperial j.a.panese Navy's airpower was lost, was kept from the public. So was the fall of Iwo Jima in February and March of 1945, when almost all of the twenty-one thousand defenders of the island perished.

Action was light for the next few days while Mitscher reorganized his task force into three task groups, leaving one-TG 58.2-to protect the wounded Franklin, Enterprise Franklin, Enterprise, and Yorktown Yorktown as they limped to Ulithi. The only combat missions being flown were those by CAP fighters and a few sweeps over the enemy airfields to keep the j.a.panese fighters grounded. as they limped to Ulithi. The only combat missions being flown were those by CAP fighters and a few sweeps over the enemy airfields to keep the j.a.panese fighters grounded.

Off Okinawa, the armada of attack transports and landing craft was swelling in numbers as new arrivals came from their staging bases at Ulithi, Leyte, and Saipan. Two naval bombardment forces under Rear Adm. Mort Deyo had moved in toward the western sh.o.r.e of Okinawa, and the big guns of Deyo's battleships and cruisers were sh.e.l.ling j.a.panese positions, preparing the landing zones for the coming invasion on April 1.

Aboard Intrepid Intrepid, Johnny Hyland took advantage of the breather to evaluate his air group's performance. In a dizzying two days of action, his pilots had bombed, rocketed, and strafed targets up and down the coasts of the j.a.panese home islands. There had been losses, some of them avoidable. Hyland's own wingman, George Tessier, had run out of fuel and put an expensive Corsair into the sea. Several others, including Erickson, had come close to joining him in the water.

It was one of several lessons that were being learned the hard way. Long-range mission planning, particularly fuel management, would take some fine-tuning.

Hyland had also been surprised at the numbers and tenacity of the j.a.panese fighters who rose to meet them during the strikes on j.a.pan. The j.a.panese fighter pilots who dueled with Erickson and Hill were skilled airmen, not the neophytes who were flying the suicidal kamikaze missions.

To Hyland, it was an ominous sign. It meant the j.a.panese were keeping their best airmen in reserve. They were h.o.a.rding them for the battle to come.

10

THUNDER G.o.dS THUNDER G.o.dS KANOYA AIR BASE, KYUSHU

MARCH 21, 1945

Ohka. It meant "cherry blossom," and the poetic name disguised a deadly purpose. The men who volunteered to fly the It meant "cherry blossom," and the poetic name disguised a deadly purpose. The men who volunteered to fly the Ohka Ohka had never imagined such a thing before they saw it. The had never imagined such a thing before they saw it. The Ohka Ohka was both a giant leap in technology and a crude attempt to change j.a.pan's fortunes late in the war. was both a giant leap in technology and a crude attempt to change j.a.pan's fortunes late in the war.

The Ohka Ohka was a manned bomb, 19.7 feet long, with wings that spanned 16.4 feet. The flimsy craft's fuselage was constructed with a metal alloy, and the stubby wings were made of wood. The c.o.c.kpit bulged from the top of the fuselage as if it were stuck there as an afterthought. was a manned bomb, 19.7 feet long, with wings that spanned 16.4 feet. The flimsy craft's fuselage was constructed with a metal alloy, and the stubby wings were made of wood. The c.o.c.kpit bulged from the top of the fuselage as if it were stuck there as an afterthought.

The Ohka Ohka was intended to be lugged beneath a twin-engine Mitsubishi G4M bomber and released 55 miles from its target. The pilot would glide the craft until he was within range, then he'd ignite the three rocket motors, which would hurtle the was intended to be lugged beneath a twin-engine Mitsubishi G4M bomber and released 55 miles from its target. The pilot would glide the craft until he was within range, then he'd ignite the three rocket motors, which would hurtle the Ohka Ohka to over 400 knots, faster than any pursuing American fighter. The to over 400 knots, faster than any pursuing American fighter. The Ohka Ohka carried enough explosive power-a 1,200-kilogram (2,646 lb.) bomb-to devastate virtually any warship. The exotic craft was the brainstorm of an enigmatic navy ensign named Shoichi Ota, who presented the idea to the naval general staff in July 1944. Ota's timing was perfect. The high command was still reeling from the extermination of j.a.pan's naval air forces at the air battle off Saipan called the Marianas Turkey Shoot. The admirals were receptive to any idea that sounded like a wonder weapon. The carried enough explosive power-a 1,200-kilogram (2,646 lb.) bomb-to devastate virtually any warship. The exotic craft was the brainstorm of an enigmatic navy ensign named Shoichi Ota, who presented the idea to the naval general staff in July 1944. Ota's timing was perfect. The high command was still reeling from the extermination of j.a.pan's naval air forces at the air battle off Saipan called the Marianas Turkey Shoot. The admirals were receptive to any idea that sounded like a wonder weapon. The Ohka Ohka stirred in them a fresh excitement. stirred in them a fresh excitement.

The weapon's very existence was kept secret. The idea was controversial, even to the bushido-inclined officers of the high command. It was one thing to send men to their deaths in conventional warplanes; it was another to actually construct a fleet of aircraft for the express purpose of immolating the pilot.

The first Ohka Ohka unit, the 721st Naval Flying Unit, took the name unit, the 721st Naval Flying Unit, took the name Jinrai Butai Jinrai Butai-Divine Thunder Corps. The pilots selected to fly the Ohka Ohka gave themselves an equally grandiose name-Thunder G.o.ds. The commander of the gave themselves an equally grandiose name-Thunder G.o.ds. The commander of the Jinrai Butai Jinrai Butai was a veteran naval aviator, Capt. Motoharu Okamura, who had fought in almost every battle since the war began and was one of the early proponents of was a veteran naval aviator, Capt. Motoharu Okamura, who had fought in almost every battle since the war began and was one of the early proponents of tokko tokko warfare. warfare.

By August 1944, Okamura was recruiting volunteers. Okamura's candidates were given only cursory information: a special new weapon was being developed that could turn the tide of the war. The volunteers who flew it might be able to save j.a.pan.

There was no shortage of volunteers. By now, the stench of defeat was in the air, and young j.a.panese fighting men were filled with a mixture of frustration, anger, and a desire to strike back at the hated enemy. Okamura likened his volunteers to a swarm of bees. "Bees die after they have stung," he explained.

The Thunder G.o.ds began their training at the Konoike air base, northeast of Tokyo. After rudimentary training in tokko tokko tactics in conventional fighters, they received their graduation flight-an actual practice drop from a Betty bomber mother ship. tactics in conventional fighters, they received their graduation flight-an actual practice drop from a Betty bomber mother ship.

The graduation flight was almost as dangerous as the real thing. The trainer was a version of the Ohka Ohka loaded with ballast instead of rockets and a warhead, and it was fitted with a skid so it could land back at Konoike. It was a wild two-minute plunge back to earth. Several graduation flights ended in disaster, strewing metal and wood and pieces of the pilot over the airfield. loaded with ballast instead of rockets and a warhead, and it was fitted with a skid so it could land back at Konoike. It was a wild two-minute plunge back to earth. Several graduation flights ended in disaster, strewing metal and wood and pieces of the pilot over the airfield.

The Jinrai Butai Jinrai Butai had a fleet of specially configured Mitsubishi G4M Betty bombers. The new version, the G4M 2E, had its bomb bay doors removed to accommodate the had a fleet of specially configured Mitsubishi G4M Betty bombers. The new version, the G4M 2E, had its bomb bay doors removed to accommodate the Ohka Ohka and was wired for communications between the and was wired for communications between the Ohka Ohka pilot and the Betty crew. A panel of red and green lights was installed in the bomb bay for transmitting last-minute orders. pilot and the Betty crew. A panel of red and green lights was installed in the bomb bay for transmitting last-minute orders.

The Jinrai Butai Jinrai Butai would also require fighters, lots of them. The vulnerable Betty bombers were even more vulnerable with the would also require fighters, lots of them. The vulnerable Betty bombers were even more vulnerable with the Ohka Ohkas strapped to their bellies. Until they shed their loads, they were sitting ducks for h.e.l.lcat and Corsair fighters.

Unlike most tokko tokko volunteers, the Thunder G.o.ds had to endure an agony of waiting. Nearly six months would pa.s.s after their training before any flew a mission. When the day finally came for them to die for the emperor, it was not in the way they had expected. volunteers, the Thunder G.o.ds had to endure an agony of waiting. Nearly six months would pa.s.s after their training before any flew a mission. When the day finally came for them to die for the emperor, it was not in the way they had expected.

On the morning of March 21, Vice Adm. Matome Ugaki stood gazing into the sky over Kanoya. The cloud cover was gone and, at least for the moment, so were the enemy airplanes.

This would be the day. For the past three days he had been waiting for the chance to send the Jinrai Butai Jinrai Butai into the battle. Each day the enemy's carrier-based warplanes had raided the airfields on Kyushu, including Kanoya, destroying every airplane they could find in the open. They'd cratered runways, destroyed hangars, and generally raised h.e.l.l with his Fifth Air Fleet. There had been no opportunity to a.s.semble the into the battle. Each day the enemy's carrier-based warplanes had raided the airfields on Kyushu, including Kanoya, destroying every airplane they could find in the open. They'd cratered runways, destroyed hangars, and generally raised h.e.l.l with his Fifth Air Fleet. There had been no opportunity to a.s.semble the Ohka Ohka rocket-powered missiles, the Betty bomber mother ships, and the fighters that would fly cover. rocket-powered missiles, the Betty bomber mother ships, and the fighters that would fly cover.

According to reports from search planes, the American carrier task force was pulling back to the south. To Ugaki, it was a clear signal that they were preparing for the expected invasion of Okinawa. After six months of training and waiting, the time had come to launch the Thunder G.o.ds against the enemy carriers. The Betty bombers were being loaded with their Ohka Ohka cargoes. The pilots had burned their old uniforms and donned new ones. Each had written a final letter and placed locks of his hair and nail clippings in a box to be delivered to his family. cargoes. The pilots had burned their old uniforms and donned new ones. Each had written a final letter and placed locks of his hair and nail clippings in a box to be delivered to his family.

Then the commander of the Divine Thunder Corps, Captain Okamura, burst into Ugaki's headquarters. Okamura had just come from the flight line. There was not nearly enough fighter protection for the plodding mother ships and the Ohka Ohkas beneath their bellies. "Can't we have more fighters?" he demanded.

The answer was no. Ugaki's chief of staff, Rear Adm. Toshiyuki Yokoi, informed Okamura that he was getting all the fighters they had left. The last three days of combat had decimated the squadrons. The most they could muster was fifty-five fighters.

Okamura was furious. It wasn't enough. The attack would have to be canceled.

Admiral Ugaki slumped in his chair while he considered the matter. He understood Okamura's feelings. Okamura had shepherded the Ohka Ohka project through its inception. He had a personal bond with each of the young Thunder G.o.ds, and he didn't want to see them slaughtered for nothing. project through its inception. He had a personal bond with each of the young Thunder G.o.ds, and he didn't want to see them slaughtered for nothing.

But Ugaki felt the time for action slipping away from them. His reconnaissance and intelligence reports all led him to believe the American carriers could be caught by surprise, even in broad daylight. He was certain that they still had no awareness of the Ohka Ohka weapon. weapon.

The admiral rose from his chair and clasped Okamura's shoulder. "If the Ohka Ohka cannot be used in the present situation," he told Okamura, "there will never be another chance for using it." cannot be used in the present situation," he told Okamura, "there will never be another chance for using it."

Whether it was true or not didn't matter. A look of grim resignation settled over Okamura's face. "We are ready to launch the attack, sir," he said, and stormed out of headquarters.

Returning to the flight line where the 18 G4M Betty bombers were being readied, Okamura was in a rage. Admiral Ugaki was not an aviator. He could not possibly understand the grave risk in sending the bombers with their unreleased Ohka Ohkas against the enemy fleet without a protective umbrella of fighters.

As he joined his young pilots waiting to depart, he reached a decision: he he would personally lead the attack. would personally lead the attack.

He hadn't counted on Lt. Cmdr. Goro Nonaka, the officer already a.s.signed to lead the mission. Nonaka was a charismatic leader, a cult figure famous for telling his volunteers, "All right, you little G.o.ds, you've had the b.a.l.l.s to come this far, now we'll see if you can go all the way!"

Nonaka was even more enraged than Okamura. "Is it, sir, that you lack confidence in me? This is one time I refuse to obey your order."

In the Imperial j.a.panese Navy, such impertinence could result in arrest, or worse. But these were extraordinary times. Okamura understood Nonaka's feelings, and he acquiesced. The younger man could have his moment of glory.

It was midmorning when Admiral Ugaki gave the order for departure. Each of the Thunder G.o.ds was wearing a ceremonial hachimaki hachimaki-a white headband with the symbol of the rising sun. Nonaka gave Ugaki a farewell salute, declaring, "This is Minatogawa!" Minatogawa was an ancient shrine erected to the fourteenth-century hero Masashige Kusunoki, who supposedly said before his samurai death, "Would that I had seven lives to give for my country!" Nonaka intended to follow Kusonoki's example.

To the steady roll of the traditional warriors' drumbeat, the Thunder G.o.ds ran to the bombers. One after another, the engines of the Betty bombers coughed and rumbled to life. They taxied as fast as possible toward the runway. It was critical that they not be caught in the open by another enemy air attack.

Solemnly Ugaki watched the bombers lumber into the sky. Of the eighteen Bettys, sixteen were carrying Ohka Ohkas, and two others were specially equipped for navigation. Close behind went the fighter escorts. As the last one left the runway, Ugaki was informed that because of mechanical problems only thirty fighters were now escorting the bombers.

Then came worse news. Fresh reconnaissance reports indicated that the enemy task force now amounted to three complete carrier groups. It meant that fighter resistance would be even heavier than they had estimated. Ugaki's senior staff officers urged him to recall the attack force.

For good or ill, one of the traits that had distinguished Ugaki from his fellow admirals was his reputation for decisiveness. When he chose a course of action, he stayed with it.

Today would be no different. The Thunder G.o.ds would proceed to their target.