Whirlwind - Barrett Tillman [41]
Though the 3rd Photo Squadron sent F-13s ahead of the main force, dropping aluminum strips that clogged Japanese radar scopes, some stations detected the approaching raiders. Thus, the defenders had nearly eighty minutes’ notice, permitting about 125 interceptors to take off.
Some Japanese pilots proved suicidally brave. Anticipating B-29s from the Marianas, Major General Kihachiro Yoshida had ordered his 10th Fighter Division to form dedicated ramming units that flew fighters without guns or armor plate. Thus lightened, the fighters stood a better chance of reaching the B-29s’ altitude.
Among the first Japanese to reach the formation was Corporal Yoshio Mita, flying a stubby Nakajima fighter the Americans called Tojo. He selected a 497th Group aircraft flown by Captain Sam P. Wagner. Pressing a run from behind, Mita ignored the .50 caliber fire that struck his Tojo. About 200 yards out he rolled almost inverted and slashed into the bomber’s tail, ripping off the elevator and right horizontal stabilizer. Mita’s plane fell away burning and exploded in midair.
Wagner and his copilot struggled with their crippled plane—ironically, it was named Lucky Irish—but the damage was fatal and it spun down offshore, crashing inverted. Another bomber had to ditch in the Marianas, its fuel tanks holed by AA fire, but the crew was saved.
B-29 crews reported downing seven interceptors (actually they got five) but the American gunners accidentally shot up three Superfortresses in addition to the eight damaged by Japanese flak. Despite the loan of a naval fighter group, General Yoshida’s command had failed to dent the first B-29 strike on the capital. He responded by doubling the number of ramming aircraft.
The Americans also studied the first Tokyo mission. Almost from the start, Possum Hansell and Rosie O’Donnell had differed over the best way to attack Japan, with Hansell favoring AAF doctrine of high-altitude precision bombing while his subordinate wing commander inclined toward more flexible tactics. In any case, later study showed that merely forty-eight of 240 bombs dropped on Musashino had struck the target, including three that failed to explode. Intelligence analysts assessed damage at one percent of the factory buildings.
Retaliation was not long coming.
On November 27, the Japanese launched a long-range attack of their own. Two night-riding Mitsubishi Bettys from Iwo Jima attacked Isley Field, Saipan, reducing a B-29 to rubble and damaging eleven more before getting away cleanly. But that was just the preview. That morning, led by two navigation aircraft, a dozen Zeros left Iwo for Saipan, flying more than three hours literally at sea level. One damaged its propeller on the waves and diverted to Pagan, north of Saipan, where it was downed by prowling Thunderbolts. Meanwhile, the other eleven swept over Isley Field, achieving complete noontime surprise.
Brigadier General Hansell had a front-row seat to the drama, even as mission San Antonio 2 was winging to the Musashino factory. While the Zeros strafed, torching three B-29s, Hansell sped to the scene in his jeep with his operations officer, Colonel John B. Montgomery. But one Mitsubishi bored in low, well positioned to kill the head of XXI Bomber Command. Hansell bailed out of his jeep and threw himself beneath it, only to find the smaller, more agile Montgomery already there. Then Hansell looked up with unbelieving eyes as the Zero passed overhead, wheels coming down. The Japanese pilot landed, braked to a stop, and jumped out. Pistol in hand, the enemy flier picked a gunfight with GIs on the flight line until killed in a hail of rifle fire.
None of the intruders survived, so the name of Hansell’s heroic assailant remained unknown. But if nothing else, the suicide raid on Saipan was testament to how