Whirlwind - Barrett Tillman [120]
Though the enemy had agreed to surrender on the 15th, there ensued a tentative testing of the waters by the Japanese, coupled with the Americans’ lurking dread that something might go wrong. Two days later it did.
On August 17, four brand-new B-32 Dominators from Okinawa photographed the Tokyo area and three were intercepted by Imperial Navy fighters. The Japanese were led by veterans: Ensign Saburo Sakai and Warrant Officer Sadamu Komachi, both multiple aces. In a prolonged shootout both sides scored hits but sustained no losses.
The next day, the 18th, two more unescorted B-32s again were attacked by Komachi’s flight. Gunners in Lieutenant John R. Anderson’s bomber claimed two definite kills but the defenders also scored. Anderson’s plane was badly damaged with an engine knocked out and three men badly wounded. On the return flight a photographer, Sergeant Anthony Marichone, bled to death. He became the last American combat fatality of World War II.
Years later Sakai described his reason for the attacks, stating, “While Japan did agree to the surrender, we were still a sovereign nation, and every nation has the right to protect itself. When the Americans sent over their B-32s, we did not know of their intentions . . . by invading our airspace they were committing a provocative and aggressive act. . . . It was most unwise for the Americans to send over their bombers only a few days after the surrender announcement! They should have waited and let things cool down.”
On August 25, while Navy planes searched for POW camps, two Army pilots became the first Americans to land in defeated Japan. Lieutenant Colonel Clay Tice had fought the Japanese in 1942–43 and the Germans in 1944. Upon returning to the Pacific he led the high-scoring 49th Fighter Group from Okinawa. On the morning of the 25th, he headed six P-38s on armed reconnaissance up the Kyushu coast. After inspecting Nagasaki and other cities, Tice had been airborne more than three hours when he learned one of his pilots was critically short on fuel, which had siphoned out in flight. Flight Officer Douglass C. Hall had only about 240 gallons remaining—insufficient to make Okinawa.
Tice had to work fast. He contacted a rescue B-17 and said he would lead his wingmate to Nittagahara on Kyushu’s east coast, 450 miles from their base. The Americans could only hope for a hospitable reception.
The two Lightnings landed at noon, finding the airfield largely deserted. Hall was understandably nervous, fingering his pistol, but his CO enforced calm. An hour later the B-17 landed, much to the bemusement of the Japanese army personnel who had arrived. Tice reported, “We were greeted in a friendly manner,” contrary to what he may have expected. Having fought both Axis powers, he respected the Germans but held little regard for the Japanese. Nevertheless, the Nittagahara delegation began with a lone bicyclist and ended with the local mayor in top hat and tails.
With help of the B-17 crew, enough fuel was transferred to Hall’s P-38 for the two-hour return flight to Okinawa. There Tice was beset by correspondents eager to relate the drama of the first Americans to land in Japan. (They were three days ahead of General MacArthur’s advance team coordinating the surrender.) Tice recalled, “I started off by saying . . . it was a routine fighter mission with no highlights that made it newsworthy. I was promptly put in my place by being informed that my business was to fly airplanes, and it was their business to decide what was newsworthy. The interview continued.”
Naval aviators were not to be outdone. Two days later, on the 27th, a Yorktown fighter pilot landed at Atsugi and, vastly exceeding his authority, ordered the Japanese to erect a banner: “Welcome to the U.S. Army from the Third Fleet.” The Japanese complied, and American paratroopers